#i realize i may be the only one feeling like I've been watching the equivalent of a first responders parody for the last couple of seasons

[deluweil]

Everyone is going. "The finale is this Thursday, and I'm not ready"

And I'm the only one going, "Oh, thank God, let this bizarre season be over. I'm tired." 😂🙈

[whore-ibly-hot]

Best friend!Retro-gamer!Yandere x Fem! Or Transmasc!Reader

"My Player Two"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, cum play, begging, general perversion, dry-humping.

(AN: Merry early xmas or equivalent holiday, guys! I have given you all the present of rising from the grave to deliver some submissive yandere horny thoughts.)

A gentle tug shakes you out of your thoughts, making you sit up quickly and turn your attention to your friend, Lewis.

The curly haired brunettes tongue just barely pokes out between his lips, thick coke-bottle glasses slipping off his nose. He's trying his best to play his video game, whilst also keeping one hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I asked you somethin'!" He says, not glancing away from the screen.

"Sorry, just zoned out. Whatcha need?" You tilt your head and adjust your posture when he puts the hand from your shoulder back onto his controller.

"I was telling you that I think I'm real close to beating my Galaga score at the arcade on 54th. Real close to getting my initials up on that screen."

"That's great, Lewis. I'm glad all that practicing with your hands is paying off." He blushes at the encenuation. "You know, if you'd like you could come and see me, when I get that high score. It'd be pretty great." He grabs an old plastic cup by the side of his bed, handing it to you with a shake.

"I've even got a few coins for you, if you want them. Maybe we could play a couple rounds side-by-side, or I could use them, and get you a slushie or something from the prize counter." He looks at you hopefully, with large eyes. You giggle, and reach out to adjust his glasses, pushing them back up his nose. "Sure, Lewis. I can bring my own coins though how much you covet those coins." He chuckles.

The clock chimes 9:00 and your head whips over to see the time. "Oh, geez. I gotta get out of here, Lewis, I've got classes in the morning." He pouts a little, trying to think of a reason to get you to stay a little longer.

"Hey, maybe you could sleep over, just borrow one of my shirts. I'd hate to make you go home, plus I've got food here." He stands. You shake your head as you fumble around for your stuff.

"I can't Lewis, thanks though, I'll see you soon, okay? Uh, call me when you plan to go to the arcade, alright."

"Okay, goodnight then, Y/N..." he watches wistfully as you leave, trying to resist the urge to pull you back for just a few more minutes. He'd give you soda, or some more snacks. Lewis is hesitant to let anyone touch his controllers, but if you wanna play two player, he'll allow it, you'd just have to promise to be gentle. He knows you would be though, your always so gentle. With him, with animals and other people, (though he wishes it was him mostly.).

Lewis has never been popular at your school, it was bad in elementary, and only got worse when the social politics of high school kicked in. He was scrawny, freckled, and loved anything geeky. He was bad at sports and an only child, making him a little socially inept. He didn't care though, he may had wanted someone in elementary to play with, or in sixth and seventh grade to be his friend, but by eight grade year, it didn't matter. That's when he met you. Sweet, perfect you.

You were immediately popular at school. You were friendly, attractive, and outgoing, everything he tried and failed to be. Becoming your friend changed everything for him. He was still bullied and picked on, but it didn't matter. As long as you saw him as worthy, he was happy. His parents even stopped goading him about going out more, once they saw he actually had a friend, which just led him to have more time to stay indoors, with you and his consoles.

He lays on his bed thinking about how much you've meant to him, having set his controller aside, when he realizes the scent of your shampoo is still lingering on his pillow. You smell so good, and there's still a warm patch from where your laying.

"No... fuck." He whines, feeling his cock twitch to life from under his jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, fighting shame and carnal need. He quickly pokes his head around his blinds, making sure his parents aren't home yet. After deciding the coast is clear, He locks his door and gets under his bed, digging around for his book. Eventually, he finds the family photo fromthe christmas card your family sent his last december, just a couple months ago. He feels so dirty for jerking it to your family photo, especially considering your other family members pictures are on the page, but all the cute Polaroid pictures he has of the pair of you are still developing, and he really needs to look at you right now.

Normally, he'd just just turn on the adult late night channels, but he heard from some of the guys at school that usage of those channels are starting to reflect on cables bills, and he'd rather not get his TV taken.

In a moment of desperation, he kisses your photo once, before taping it up to his headboard, and grabbing the nearest pillow. Even though it's not you, and his cock desperately needs to be free from his jeans, he wants to make it romantic. He straddles the pillow, pretending in his head that this isnt weird at all, it's just.... practice for if, no, when he convinces you that he can provide reasons for you to love him.

"Y/N..." he huffs, looking down at the pillow and trying not to think about how embarrassing he's being. "I like you so much, I do, and I need-" he rolls his hips. "I need to be in you, I do." He tries to imagine what you might say.

"I know, i-its my first time too, but it'll be really good. I'll make sure I make you feel good, and I'll go really slow, even if I want to speed up." He begins undoing his pants. "You know, you thought you were being funny, making that dirty joke about practicing with my hands, but I bet some of that dexterity might carry over?" He chuckles, before groaning as he kicks off his boxers. "Stupid, that was stupid. Don't say that when this is a sure thing."

He looks down at his freckled dick, the tip red and leaking, slightly bulbous. He's pretty thin, but a decent length. He's sure if he figured out the right way to use it, he'd make you feel amazing. He's know you'll make him feel amazing.

"I'm gonna put it in now, okay? Y-yeah, yeah I'll go slow. Of course, I wouldn't hurt you or anything, unless you wanted that. I'd do anything for you." He groans, before rubbing his tip against the pillow and pumping his hips slowly. He pants, glasses fogging up.

"S' really good, not just on my dick but... but having you up against me, feels so nice to hold you." He clutches the pillow like a life preserver while he ruts away into it, whispering and panting praises and assurances to it.

"Gonna cum, god, I-I feel it coming. I wanna be a good guy, and pull it out but-" He moans. "You feel so good, I can't." He imagines in his head your on the pill, maybe for cramps, but... maybe just for him. "I-I can cum inside you? Really? Go's, yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll do that. I'll give it to you, and I'll clean you up right after I- shit." He can feel himself losing control at the thought of ruining you, the sight of his cum leaking out of your holes. He moans loudly, though it choked back and emotional enough it sounds like more of a cry. Thick, white cum comes out in strings, all across the crisp white fabric of his pillowcase.

Once that post-nut clarity hits, he groans. How could he be so stupid? This pillow had to be cleaned now, and that would wash out all the remnants of your scent. He sighs as he chucks the pillow case into his laundry basket, and tucks his spent cock back into his jeans. Wiping off his fogged up glasses, he looks at the photo of you again, taking it down from his bedframe. He leans back against the headboard as he looks at it.

"M'so in love with you, I wish I had the guts to say it. I play the hero all day, everyday in my games, why can't I just be like them. Strong enough to get the girl, and keep her. Not jerk off to a pillow and a family photo." He tucks it back under his bed. He'll impress you, he's just gotta find a way.

Several days later, you got a call from Lewis to meet him at the arcade. Grabbing your keys, you head out.

Upon arriving, you enter, and see Galaga. Huh, Lewis's initials were already on the leaderboard! He must've won before you showed up. Heading outside, you hear grunting from an alleyway. Concerned, you peek around the corner, and gasp.

"Hey!" You yell, running up. The two punks who were standing over your battered friend turn there heads, only to snicker. It's two boys from you and Lewis's class.

"Oh, Y/N, perfect timing. This geek was getting taught a lesson." The jock snickers.

"What is your problem? He didn't do anything to you guys!" You push past them to try and help Lewis up, but he looks mortified to see you. "N-no, no Y/N, don't-"

"Yeah, he didn't do anything to us, it's about what he did to you, or maybe, what you did to him." You turn around, and Lewis pales. "What're you talking about?" Your brows furrow.

"This geek has been in that shitty arcade all day, playing that game. When he beat his high score, he started dancing like a little girl. We laughed at him, and he started going off. Yelling about how he didn't need our approval, and he wasn't upset. He had something we couldn't take from him. We asked him, and he said it was you." You tilt your head.

"Yeah, man. We knew this creep had been following you around for a while, but we didn't know he thought you were friends. We said we didn't believe him, and he got so upset he started claiming he was your friend, that you loved each other. Even, heh-" The two laugh. "Even that he fucked you."

"W-what?" You gasp and look at him. "Lewis?"

"I'm so sorry, I... I needed them to believe we were close, that you did care." He blubbers, reaching our weakly to your blurry form, glasses broken.

"He got graphic with it, too. Talked about condoms and taking you from behind up in his bed, since it isn't true, the little perverts been fantasizing about it for a while. If nothing else, we did you a public service, shutting this creeps mouth." The taller jock says, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't touch them!" Lewis screeches, blindly lashing out, weakness replaced by a moment of fury. "Jesus, he's crazier than we thought. Need us to walk you home?" The jock winks. You shake your head vehemently.

"Just go." You say coldly, not turning to face them. "Whatever, bitch. Don't blame us if this sicko does something to you." Only you and Lewis are left in the alley now.

"Y/N..."

"Don't, Lewis." You snap, making him recoil into himself. "I trusted you, you were my friend, h-how could you say such lewd things about me?" You ask.

"I-I didn't meant them to be leed, I was just angry. I mean, I would like to do that stuff with you, but it'd be romantic! I'd never try and defile you or something shitty like that. Just please, can we go back inside?" He begs. "I'll get you that slushie like I promised!"

You shake your head. "I... I need some time to process all this, Lewis. I think it's best if we don't see each other for a bit." His face falls. Despite what's happened, you almost regret what you said. He looks broken.

He kneels before you, on the ground. "Y/N, no, please. Your my only friend, my best friend, I'm sorry! I'll never talk like that again, I'll do anything to make it up to you! I-I take hormone suppression pills, o-or... I don't know, take an abstinence pledge, just don't leave. Your my everything, my best friend-"

You've already left the alley when he looks up. A few game tokens lay scattered, meant for you but having been lost from his pockets during his beat down.

"No... you're supposed to be my player two..."

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Hey there!! Could I request some sfw + nsfw hcs of Poseidon , Buddha , and Nikola Tesla with a cat hybrid! Reader?💕

I've been wanting to do another hybrid readerrr😭thanks for the request <3 I'm not sure if I'm characterizing Mr Kola right, but there's a first for everything! I'll make the SFW and NSFW versions separate, so send another ask just to bookmark it would you?♡

Poseidon, Buddha, Tesla x Cat Hybrid!Reader || SFW || Headcanons || Warnings: Ur, none!

Poseidon♡

The king of the seas is ironically, a cat guy. When he sees you sleeping, tail tucked comfortably into your side with your ears twitching occasionally, a strange feeling comes over him.

You were definitely lesser, and he definitely despises you along with everyone else but... he supposes you may sleep in his private suite.

He somehow doesn't hear you when you point out that you didn't ask to sleep there in the first place.

Rubs your ears subconsciously. They're like a stress reliever for him, and dealing with other gods caused him great amounts of stress. He's embarrassed by it (though he'd die before admitting it) and so whenever he catches himself reaching for you, he has the audacity to get mad at you, and send you away.

Quickly calls for your return though. Which he also is embarrassed by.

Loves when you purr in your sleep. Late at night with nothing and no one to see how his face relaxes as the vibrations hit his chest. One large hand adoringly placed atop your head, he hasn't slept this well in eons.

Buddha ♥︎

His initial impression of you was unhinged; he'd caught you in some sort of... hiss-off with an actual cat. It was far too interesting a sight for him to simply ignore it. So he sat there, for ten good minutes, until you finally emerged victor! He jumped and cheered right along with you, scaring you shitless.

He once managed to spook you and watched as jumped far above his head, shredding the wall as you embedded your claws in it.

Your canines are a strange source of serotonin for him. Sharp as a lion's and strong as one too, you've bit the shit out of him a few times while he was admiring them- only a few weren't on purpose.

Once said "Why do they call them canines when you're a cat? Shouldnt they be felines?"

You bit him for that too.

Nikola Tesla ¤

He wants to figure out how you work. So, so bad.

He entered your life by grabbing you none to gently by the tail, hoping to gain insight from your reaction. While he did gain said insight, he also gained four new scratches on his face.

Pestered you for a long time with questions, none of which you answered. Eventually, advice from Buddha led him to setting up a nice dinner for the two of you- him, with a steak, and you, with a variety of fish and cat treats.

You appreciate the thought... you guess.

Always touching and poking you. He doesn't even realize how odly intimate he gets; holding your hand and playing with your fingers is just him studying how your claws extend. Trailing his fingers down your back is him trying trying to figure out if your tail connects to your spine or your ass. Massaging your ears? Ur, well... he hasn't come up with scientific reasoning for that yet, but he will!

(His excuse is that purring has been proved relaxing for humans, and wants to see if it still works with you. Doesn't know he could have asked Poseidon 🤦🏾‍♀️👀)

Adores when you loaf on him, or "bake bread". He finds the semi-human equivalent of these cat behaviors to be extraordinary, and asks you dozens of "why?" And "how?" questions. When he asks too many, you stop, and don't continue until he promises to be quiet.

--------

A/N: I'm literally a comedic genius guys. Not proofread!

[beanghostprincess]

Transmasc Sanji coming out to the gang and of course everyone is incredibly supportive. Chopper even manages to get him the One Piece equivalent of testosterone (may be actual testosterone but also I feel in a world where there’s a viral illness that gets you all boobed up there may be funnier options). Hurrah!

…. Except hat Sanji is afraid of needles and his T-shot is absolute agony for him every time. He can’t do it himself. The only people he trusts with it are Chopper, Nami and Robin. Until one day Usopp asks him if he can try it, because those three are currently otherwise occupied and Sanji has been kind of moping about it all day. Sanji agrees thinking it will be hell and prepares himself to constantly tell Usopp “NOT THERE!” “Make it quick!” “Please for the love of god don’t hit anything important I don’t want- …. What are you doing?”

He locks eyes with Usopp whose tongue is poking out, a pen in his hand, drawing on his leg. “Taking aim.” Sanji looks down at himself to see the bullseye painted onto his thigh. “What-“ The sniper pulls down his goggles with a comically serious expression “Target locked.” “Pff.” “Three. Two. One.” It still startles Sanji despite his laughter, but the needle pierces his skin like butter. Usopp forgoes the theatrics for a second to make sure he does the rest of the injection correctly, just like he had watched Chopper do it a hundred times before. When he pulls back his expression remains dead serious. “Target eliminated.” And that’s when Sanji breaks out into hysterical laughter “God! GOD that’s so stupid!” He needs a minute to calm himself down again, looking at his friends beaming face, happy that it all went down so smoothly. “Thank you…” “What can I say?” Usopp responds, twirling the needle between his fingers and making show out of blowing imaginary smoke from its tip “I’m an expert marksman.”

I've always loved the headcanon of Sanji being scared of needles because of Germa's experiments,,, And this is just so sweet. He finally gets to be himself around his family!! And he's thrilled and so so grateful that Chopper and the others are willing to help him go through this. But of course, the fear of needles doesn't go away easily.

Not that he actually tells people about it. He only says he trusts Chopper and the girls more when it comes to gentle, medical stuff and he doesn't want the clumsy idiots in his crew to get near him with something sharp. Which is, you know, perfectly understandable. So nobody thinks twice about it.

But Usopp knows. Usopp knows because he has seen Sanji close his eyes tightly while doing this, whether it's with the girls or Chopper. He has seen him shaking before getting into the sickbay. He has seen Sanji sighing deeply, trying to calm himself down minutes prior. He has noticed him being a bit too emotionally exhausted after doing it. Usopp knows exactly what fear feels like, so he knows Sanji is scared.

So when nobody else is free to help him, Usopp asks. He knows he won't let the others do it (for obvious reasons) and he's tired of hearing Sanji complain and also feels a bit sad and guilty seeing him like that. The whole thing about Usopp being all dramatic and theatrical about it is so perfect for them. Usopp acts silly to distract him and Sanji used to think those things were stupid and for kids. But-- There's just something about Usopp here.

He's doing this act for him. Because he knows he's scared and he cares and he's being oh so gently with him. Besides, he's so close to him, too. Sanji starts to wonder if he has ever been so close to him before and why the hell he looks so pretty now. Not even with the girls and Chopper he gets so distracted. So much that the whole thing happens quickly. Painless. And it's so damn dumb that Sanji can't help but laugh.

So between Sanji's laugh being the only noise around and startling Usopp with a new feeling inside of him, and Sanji realizing he has never been more comfortable and happy around another person... A new relationship blossoms. So I guess Sanji will be the one asking Usopp for help with his T-shot more frequently now.

[amphiptere-art]

It hurts

Eclipse is dead. And I'm sad. So very sad.

Everyone has their comfort characters in the show. Whether it's moon for his family skills. Sun for their anxiety and secrets. Lunar for his innocence. Monty for feeling like a outcast. Or hell even blood moon for their quirky nature.

But for me my comfort character was Eclipse. No matter how stupid that sounds.

For a long time I denied it. He's the villain. What traits about him could I possibly be correlating to? He's a narcissist. He's like my father. He's like my bullies. What the hell was I connecting to? It wasn't until he was dead that I realized what it was.

Eclipse was everything I was and everything I wanted to be. No matter how evil his intentions were he felt like a nothing. He was cast out and thrown to the side. He had no friends. The only friends he had were the ones that he tried to force. Which unfortunately made them drift away anyways. He was constantly trying to make himself grander. Trying to make sure the world recognized him as something. Even if it was wrong.

I don't have many friends. The only physical "friends" I have are the ones that I'm forced into a relationship with. Coworkers, schoolmates, perhaps the neighbor. I don't have many friends I just talk to because I can. It's terrifyingly lonely. Not to mention that I always feel like I'm trying to hard to be someone's friend. That I'm forcing them into a relationship that they have no interest in.

But unlike me Eclipse has the courage to try and force themselves into the spotlight. No matter the bad things he did or why he did it, It was a courage I wanted. It took me literally years to finally publish my art publicly. I have thousands and thousands of notebooks full of gorgeous art that I've never shared to anyone else but my family. Eclipse has the courage show himself even if he knows that no one will care. That no one ever cared. And that is something I wanted.

Eclipse is a bad person and I never want to become them. Everything he did was deserving of punishment. But he shared the deepest fears I had.

Sure there's bits and pieces of the others that I could latch on to. But Old Moon was too familiar to my dad. Sun just makes me feel hopeless. Lunar feels like the mask I hold. And Monty is an extreme version of ADHD I can't connect to. Blood moons just an interesting character that doesn't really feel like it has a real world equivalent.

I've been connecting to new moon. Which hopefully will help. But he's not Eclipse. And neither is nice Eclipse. His life is very very different. He may share some stuff with my family issues but as far as I can tell it doesn't feel like he doesn't have friends. It doesn't feel like he's trying to prove that he's worth it to the world. He can't replace Eclipse for me. He's just not the same.

And unfortunately because of this I don't think I can watch any of the newer episodes as of right now. I have to take a small hiatus while I let this mental storm pass. I will still talk about Blue Moon and the Cruel copy crew. Butler is an embodiment of the same issues Eclipse has but with his crimes forgotten. He works well enough for now. But Butler is a fictional version that I made. His outlet is only as vast as my creative influence.

But I'm going to miss Eclipse. I don't care if he got what he deserved. They built up his character only to break it down. He died alone and unsuccessful. It makes me feel like I am nothing to the world.

I hate it.

On the left is the lineart. On the right is illustration without outlines.

[omgkalyppso]

21. Does a partner in the ship have a favorite [something] that their partner(s) had never considered before? Like a constellation, rock formation, or hair ribbon material, for example. Do they start to develop opinions that agree with, or contrast, or compliment, their partner's or do they remain indifferent?

for etoile and their partners!

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ thank you for the ask!

I think that most people have preferences like this even if they're unaware of them (I am unaware of my own), so I tried to come up with something for each partner.

Since I am from the northern hemisphere, for Étoile I am picking a constellation, either in modern au or some fantasy equivalent of Orion and Canis Major. They're only visible in winter, and only at certain times of the night / nightly walks would let one watch how they traverse across the sky. Their legends of hunter and companion are iconic, their patterns are eye-catching, and the brightest star in the sky is contained within. So their partners may realize that they prefer a constellation associated with a legend more familiar to them, or their deity if their deity has a constellation; or with Astarion, I think he would go back and forth between resentment for the night sky and renewed appreciation for the light of the stars, and a preference for the north star, for its consistency and for its purpose.

Halsin, as we know, favors ducks, and while I'm not sure that he'd have a favorite duck, if asked why he preferred ducks to other water birds that he'd mention their waddles, their bills and expressive faces, and that they mate for a season, taking on each year anew against the challenges and blessings that nature sets for them. I've selected the Spectacled Eider as a duck that might have a fantasy equivalent in the Earthfast Mountains, where Étoile is from that Halsin might one day want to see / meet (an interesting concept for druids). Astarion has the strongest (contrary?) opinion, far preferring colorful ducks like the wood duck or the mandarin duck; when ducks all have predators anyway, he feels that they should at least awe with bright plumage, and they are nice to look at, even in the dark. Étoile confesses to having little preference between water birds, liking birds more when they have claws like hawks, eagles and owls.

Astarion being gifted something with a embroidery of inferior stitch — or worse, having his own work mistaken for the same, brings attention to his odd favorite thing, which is split stitch. The threads are neat and clean and lend well to legibility, and they're fun to sew though he'd probably not admit to the last bit in so many words. I think Astarion's preference feeds into his partners', who otherwise might not have noticed a difference or given it much thought.

He Who Was has a favorite fake haunting. Stories told of a mansion with little to no spiritual associations but tales that claim horrific things of nightmares and visions and vanishing horrors. If something untrue is worth a ghost story, his opinion is that it should be exaggerated and magnanimous in its own falsehoods and contradictions; or else it's untrue AND boring. I think Halsin, Komira and Locke are not yet ready for ghost stories after his time with the shadow-curse, but Astarion is easily swayed to this opinion, if someone tells a ghost story of a woman who stalks a hallway that even if He Who Was wasn't present that Astarion would be prompting the storyteller with variants of "And then?" Because what does it matter if there is a ghost, real or otherwise, moving about doing absolutely nothing. If there isn't a curse involved, it's irrelevant. Étoile meanwhile can't bring themself to have any enthusiasm for fake hauntings at all, having been so close to true ones in their youth.

Locke has a favorite type of flooring, wood. I imagine he's lived in places where the floor was nothing but packed earth, and where stone flooring has caused both death and serious injury as a result of a fall, especially with tiefling horns. Wood has an appropriate amount of bounce and give, while still being refined and suitably easy to clean, while stick clacking underfoot to the tune of fine heeled shoes. This doesn't come up a lot, but if someone were moving into a new residence, I think he'd ask after the flooring. I don't know how many partners would agree with him, I think most would dismiss his concerns out of hand, only changing their mind if they had a living senior or babe in their care. In a relevant AU Étoile would be sooo cognizant of this when the vampire settlement in the Underdark is using Stone Shape and drow masonry techniques to cut out their homes in the rock.

Komira has a favorite type of shoes — open-toed footwear. She finds them comfortable and pretty, and she can often tell a lot of her neighbours, tiefling and otherwise, about how they feel about the presence / visibility of clawed tiefling feet. They weren't good for travelling, but for occupying a house or working a shop, or attending a party, having one or two pairs of open shoes or sandals to choose from would suit her. Étoile would joke about wearing sandals in winter if no one would balk (Astarion would be outraged, proving their point). Astarion wouldn't have a preference, too much variety / spoiled for choice. Halsin would agree, closest to being barefoot as is acceptable. He Who Was would prefer a closed boot, to wade through the despicable places of the world in more comfort; Wyll is the same, but with more of a heel and any style one can manage. Locke and Zevlor would each have a preference for more sensible shoes that bring no more attention to themselves than necessary.

Wyll has favorite types of dip pen, with preferences for wide feeds and flexible nibs. I can picture him drawing in the margins and writing his perspective on his own adventures and those of his friends, as well as the practised slog of his paperwork. Astarion definitely prefers thinner feeds. I don't think Étoile or their other partners used dip pens with enough frequency to develop an opinion prior. If it became more common then they and Zevlor would agree with Wyll. They all dislike scroll nibs.

Zevlor has a favorite type of window curtain — patterned with flowers. He finds it uplifting to see the sunlight filter through bright colors and that the curtains might be a little bit more unique than a solid grey or another color. Astarion might've agreed under some circumstances, as it is he requires black out curtains, and at least if they're red they have some class. Halsin, Wyll and Komira agree with Zevlor. Locke would take it a step further and appreciate curtains with even more individuality or sense of home, if they were stitched with specific imagery, like a tale or an interesting creature. Étoile likes curtains with patterns, but not florals.

[pooptiesquat]

My thoughts on Oppenheimer (as a biracial black man) (SPOILERS OBV)

I knew about Josh Peck being in this but JOSH HARTNETT? WHAT? im legit surprised he not only has a role in this, but is one of the major characters.

JOSH PECK?!? this movies gonna be his career revitalization i hope.

RDJ's character is a cool petty villain. I felt this kinda came outta nowhere in the final act, but maybe that was the point? The fact Strauss thought he was the end all be all but that doesnt really compare to the impending doom of worldwide nuclear destruction

I feel like a lot of Nolan's films have been to the equivalent of watching something like an airplane show or monster truck show with an addition of film noir/thriller. That sentence may come off as disparaging, but what i mean to say is that people wanted to see a big ass nuclear bomb go off and they def got that; it's the centerpiece to the personal conversations that surround it.

my girlfriend asked me who i thought was a better partner for Oppenheimer, florence pugh or emily blunt. I said ultimately Emily Blunt's character is better, but i understand why Oppie had to tap that ass no cap.

we couldnt see CIllian Murphy's DICK?!?!

after watching this movie, I can see why nolan was pissed off regarding the release of Tenet. This is like the first nolan film i've seen in theaters and it makes you realize how much of a fuck this dude cares about sound.

[thishumanspace]

Our Experience With Anything Is Only A Reflection...

of our relationship with self. This post is a jumpoff of a previous one where I briefly mentioned my revelations around substances and how I unpacked my "truth" around perceptions towards alcohol, addiction and drugs.

All relationships in reality are the same--and weed, alcohol, and sex are no different.

The rundown is...basically, I was guided/inspired to sit with myself within my experiences with weed, alcohol & sex. No one else present, but me. Because I was already mindful and focusing in a direction of clarity, my experiences with these things were different than societal conversations (that I had been exposed to) around substances, self-pleasure and the body.

People who face hot mess ass experiences are already disrespecting themselves and therefore have disrespectful experiences with sex, alcohol and weed. When you become self-aware and (re)visit these things, addiction and disrespect don't exist.

Weed has been very respectful to me. Alcohol has been very gentle and kind to me and sex is as equivalent as eating a favourite food or moisturizing my body after a shower for the sheer enjoyment of it--not because it's needed.

So everything people said about anything--if it's negative, isn't true. Folks just don't know how to treat things or themselves and that's why they suffer with these experiences.

Does this mean I don't believe in poison? Probably not since I've never been poisoned nor am I looking for that experience.

Attach only to yourself and you won't need to attach to anything. In Observation you realize it's insane to attach to anything in perception.

And it's then that EVERYTHING can be enjoyable!

Personal Note/Takeaways:

Weed - kept me seated in Observation so that I could stop engaging unconscious actions that weren't serving me, but also showed me that i didn't need it. it was simply just a friend I could enjoy whenever.

Alcohol/spirits - kept me seated in Observation to notice that I'm emotionally clear. made me think of how rubbing alcohol on a wound cleanses it. i was just clear. it was also just a friend I could enjoy when inspired, but it made itself known that i didn't need it.

Sex - kept me observant of the pleasure I naturally am and have access to. that it's meant for me to remember to enjoy because it exists within me.

How do I engage with these substances/activities now? A drink or three a year. Sex is interesting because I internally circulate my sexual energy throughout the day mentally, so I don't engage much physically, if anyone understands that. I had always been doing that as a kid since I wasn't taught to express myself. So I was just having internal orgasms all my Life and no one knew it lmao. Weed is very sparce since I'm naturally "high" just Being. And this is so funny to me because I had felt this way as a kid and by the time I got to college and heard the fuss around it, by the time I tried it I was like, "bruh, y'all are wilin' about THIS experience?" I've been feeling like this for a lot of my life. That was mind-blowing to me.

Anyhoot. May this post help someone understand how safe their reality truly is.

Disclaimer: I have never had any "addictions", I have only been around folks who seemingly faced that experience (alcoholism, messy sexual partnerships) and this post is a result of what I learned from watching them and watching myself while dealing with them & empathing their reality.

Love to you and yours, dahlings :)

[stumblngrumbl]

Peripheral to another post I saw on the topic of weight loss - in which the poster mentioned counting calories, and a responder wisely discussed instead eating good food and only until full...

In general I'm pretty sure modern humans' eating is almost always to excess. Why? Because of how our intake & digestive system is designed (evolved).

We evolved as hunter-gatherers from the earliest times, and it's only been since yesterday (evolutionarily) that we've had high-calorie food always *right there*.

The hunter-gatherer, for the most part, gradually ate. They were peckish or even hungry, so they went forth and looked for food - seeds and nuts, fruit and greens, the occasional grub; for the most part, they ate as they gathered - after all, it's inefficient to avoid eating as you gather because that means you have that much more to take back to your camp - and you may not have a basket or gourd handy (these things being either simple tools or substantial craft which didn't get made until very recently).

So you ate while you gathered - and gradually your hunger would be satisfied and you could go sit on a warm rock in the sun.

The only time you ate really rapidly is when you killed a larger creature, and then you gorged on it.

Your appetite is designed for this style of eating - gradual eating eventually feeling full, and and appetite that doesn't watch how much you eat too closely because on that rare occasion that you got to eat a massive quantity, you needed to be able to chow down fast before scavengers or other carnivores - or simple putrescence - took that high-value meal from you.

Your appetite isn't designed for you to be able to shovel food rapidly very often; it simply never happened during humans' development.

Today we have the equivalent of a feast available at every meal; we don't have to gather and munch on it slowly, and our appetite sucks at being able to say "hey you've had enough". Early human almost never had enough quickly and we just didn't evolve for it.

So modern humans need to be careful about how they eat.

Don't take a large plate; take a small one and a small portion. Eat it slowly, talk, read, or just look around and think between bites.

If you do this right, you'll find the right portion size for you and your activity level such that you end up not hungry, but not exactly full. It's kind of a strange sensation; "I'm not hungry, but I could eat more" (mostly, don't, because you don't *need* to be "full"). You'll definitely sleep better... and likely you'll be much more hungry for breakfast.

One way to approach this is, eat until you aren't super hungry but you think to yourself "I *could* eat more and I'm still sort of hungry but not really" and stop for a few minutes. Most likely your appestat will catch up and you'll stop feeling hungry at all. If you're still hungry after a bit, snack a little to top it off.

Occasionally you can feast, still. Don't forget, you're designed to feast - occasionally.

A corollary to this - more smaller meals can keep your blood sugar levels more even and keep you from getting ravenous - so you'll be able to calmly eat the reasonable non-feast portions (this is the tough part for me as I forget to eat until suddenly I realize I'm really fucking hungry and before I know it I've eaten the wrong food and way more than I need).

Eat this way for a while and you'll stop doing it on purpose, it'll just be how you eat.

(caveat: if you eat out a lot it can be very difficult because at least in usa restaurant portions are usually *large* like feast sized!)

[comicreliefmorlock]

#WomenInHorror - Relic - Oh, the Thoughts

I bet you thought @tlbodine would get to this first, huh? HAH!

So as part of our ongoing quest to inflict doctorate-level studies of horror film on ourselves for... the sake of doing it, Wuffie and I have been watching a lot of horror movies. Having finished our #HorrorThruTheDecades quest, we moved on to #WomenInHorror, focusing on horror films directed by women.

She's written quite a bit about the movies we've been watching. However, this last week, we watched a film that inspired me into a long-winded post-mortem after we finished it.

Relic is a 2020 Australian horror film directed by Natalie Erika James, focusing on a three-generation family struggle between a grandmother, a mother and a daughter.

Edna, the grandmother, has been missing for several days when her daughter Kay and granddaughter Sam arrive to check on her. We get a little from Kay hinting that her relationship with her mother has been strained, and alternatively, defense of Edna by her granddaughter Sam who has a completely different relationship with her. (As tends to happen with grandparents and grandchildren.) Clues are laid out to hint that Edna may be succumbing to Alzheimer's and quite honestly, the movie does a very good job in showing how absolutely difficult it is to deal with that. Especially in the family situation involving the shift in power dynamic that happens when a parental figure suddenly needs a lot of careful, supportive care.

And Robyn Nevin as Edna? Fantastic. Sympathetic and terrifying all at once.

I won't spoil the film's ending here--you've got to go below the cut for that--but it's at once poignant and plays fair emotionally with the film's overall tone.

Now, for what I went off at great length at Wuffie about... [#triggerwarning for child abuse discussion]

Relic is pretty clearly intended to be a film about grief, aging, the inevitability of death and how part of dealing with health issues in older generations involves facing that you yourself one day may be in that exact situation.

What it also does really, really well--albeit unintentionally but strongly enough that it hit me across the face with a shoe--is create a solid metaphor for intergenerational child abuse.

Fairly early on in the film, the granddaughter Sam discovers a black mold staining a wall inside of a cluttered closet. This black mold becomes a consistent visual element that shows in nightmares, in the house and on Edna herself, staining her skin like a bruise. This mold, through the nightmares, is visually tied to a now-demolished smaller house that'd once stood on the family grounds and was the home of a "great-grandfather" mentioned once directly and alluded to in several nightmare sequences.

This mold grows on stained glass windows that were transplanted from the former house, spreads across the interior of the house itself and spreads across Edna's skin.

Several visual cues tie the black mold to the "great-grandfather" who, in one nightmare sequence, is shown sitting on the edge of a narrow bed before collapsing forward, out of sight. When the camera pans over, a human figure is etched in black mold on the floor.

At the end of the film, after Edna's transformation--you really ought to watch the movie to know what I mean--and the joining of three generations of women in silence together, Sam spies a black spot on her mother Kay's back, hinting at that same mold that destroyed Edna.

Incestuous child abuse is insidious and yet, from the memoirs I've read, always seems to be something the family "knows about" and simply doesn't discuss. A grandparent, a cousin, an aunt or uncle is abusing the family children--sometimes singling out one child, sometimes abusing every child--and the family is aware of this, but no actual steps are taken to bring the abuser to justice.

The cycle of abuse is fairly commonly known, but the long-term effects of child sexual abuse aren't always as easily identified by the public. Alcohol and drug abuse are extremely common amongst child sexual abuse survivors, as well as an inability to develop healthy, trusting relationships with other adults. Difficulties in parenting can also arise as the person who suffered abuse may fear the same thing happening to their child or be struggling emotionally and not able to show their child the affection they need.

Much like the insidious spread of black mold in out-of-sight places, causing illnesses that can't be immediately identified and threatening the structural integrity of a house, incestuous child abuse absolutely threatens and even destroys lives. It's hard to spot at a glance, hides in plain sight--in closets, cupboards, under stairs, behind furniture--and causes illnesses that can be attributed to more "acceptable" causes.

With the clear visual tie to the once-mentioned "great-grandfather" that isn't mentioned between the family members again, it's not hard to go a bit further and consider him the unmentioned, unnamed family abuser. His actions tainted the house he lived in, the remnants brought from it--Edna says later in the film how much she hates the stained glass windows, how cold and scared she feels when she passes them--and spread not only through the house but through the family itself.

And this mold--and the effects of intergenerational incestuous abuse--hits all three women in this family differently.

Edna, theoretically the member of the family who suffered direct abuse, is physically tainted by the black mold to the point it literally degenerates her body. Aspects of her behavior--disliking having "help" or needing to ask for it, offering a token to her granddaughter one day, demanding it back the next, trying to save photo albums from 'the house' by burying them--seemed strikingly like a woman whose coping mechanisms are now failing her.

She mentions believing someone is breaking into her house, stating it only began after the death of her husband. Alone in a massive house with visual, physical ties to the location of her abuse, feeling vulnerable and struggling to push away memories, Edna's actions feel like a cry for help that she can't verbalize because to do so would be to admit not only the vulnerability she feels now, but the fact that it's equivalent to how vulnerable she was as a child, being abused.

Fairly early on in Relic, Kay makes it clear that she and her mother are not particularly close. She makes attempts to stay in contact, but isn't invested in her mother's day to day life and has actually distanced herself to a degree. Her daughter Sam has a closer and more openly affectionate relationship with Edna. Kay mentions her mother threatening to lock her in the old house "when she was a brat" and seems to want a comfortable distance between herself and her mother.

A parent who has endured abuse as a child can have profound difficulty in bonding with their own children. Healthy sexual intercourse and adult relationships are tainted by child abuse experiences, and some memoires have mentioned being pregnant making them feel "dirty" as if they'd committed some great sin. Bonding with an infant while struggling with those emotions can lead to distant parenting and leave a child with an insecure emotional attachment.

Sam, the granddaughter, is the least damaged by the intergenerational abuse at the beginning of the film. She has an affectionate relationship with her grandmother, seems actively interested in doing what she can to help Edna and scolds her mother for not taking a more prominent role. When Sam finds a sketchbook with a sketch of the 'great-grandfather's' house, she doesn't know what it is or to whom it belonged. The cycle of abuse has been broken; Sam isn't even aware that abuse happened.

What she does is learn of it through a visual metaphor for unearthing family history. Discovering the black mold in the closet and pursuing a ghostly figure into what becomes a nightmarish labyrinth that has echoes of the home she'd always felt safe in plays very well as the realization for an unabused member of a family learning about the abuse that happened. What was loving and familiar is suddenly alien and terrifying, threatening and tainted.

By the end of the film--rather an emotionally poignant moment--all three women have been hurt by this black mold (i.e. incestuous abuse) and have come together in a moment of quiet rest. Edna, completely altered into a shell of who she once was, with Kay, accepting that what happened is fact and had effects on her as well, and Sam, who now understands a great deal about her mother and grandmother.

Every generation in the family has been affected to some degree, even if the cycle of abuse was fortunately broken. The black mold not only completely transformed Edna internally, expressed in a striking visual moment, but also tainted her daughter. Even the granddaughter, although physically unharmed by the mold, has been permanently changed by learning about what happened in her family and feeling her perceptions twist (frighteningly so) from what she once held to what she now knows.

While I don't think the film intended to be such a great visual metaphor for the horrific effects of incestuous family abuse and the intergenerational damage it causes, it did an incredibly good job of being one.

[greaterlandscapes]

My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

--

(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

--

Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.

[always-thirsty-pocket]

Long time no speak. Not doing the best but i'm not here to talk about that. I just wanna ramble about my pets and twitter's character limit is too infuriatingly short to get out all my babble.

Buttons is doing very well for himself. I just moved him out of his old 30 x 12 into a 36 x 18. Six inches might not seem like much but when your body is six inches minus the tail, it makes a big difference. Also new excavator clay substrate, new hides ( he really loves his humid hide cause of the soft soil inside and it offers the most privacy ) new things to climb on, new thermostat instead of a dimmer, dude's got it made.... a little too made. I think he may be a little overweight. He's been living on mealworms almost exclusively since that whole mess that forced me to move and abandon my dubia roach colony, and meal worms are basically nutritionally equivalent to Big Macs for lizards. That's mostly been out of necessity while I wait for my new dubia colony to start producing, but i'm also going to attempt breeding crickets... much as I hate that idea... and I get the occasional horn worm... I might need to get him a tub to feed him those. Last time I gave him one of those he made a terrible mess... they're very juicy... I believe I've had him for eight years now.

My three little Firebelly Toads have sadly passed away several months ago... I found two of them dead in the tank, and I could not find the body of the third one, but I have to assume he died too. The fact that they all went at once didn't seem natural. They were very bad at catching their food but I still made sure they ate... I had a realization a few weeks ago that I may have accidentally killed them myself... I was being a little careless with some bugspray near their tank back when a grain moth infestation was at it's worst... Wasn't thinking about how sensitive amphibian skins are to toxins. Feel stupid for it now... No way will I ever do anything like that again... especially because of what my newest pets are.

I've now got Jumping Spiders. Four of them in fact. An odd choice for me, a person who famously hates arachnids.... still hate em, but Jumping Spiders are alright. They're cute and they eat the scary ones. A Colonus Hesperus that I caught in my back yard named Silva... she was preggers. I stupidly destroyed her first egg sac. Second one I watched hatch into babies and disperse. I let most of them go in my back yard but I held onto three of them.... I think one of them ate it's two siblings though... Silva has laid a third egg sac and I am considering releasing her once they disperse, I did not sign up for constant eggs lmao.... then I have two baby Phiddipus Regius that I bought from a breeder. I bought two because I was told they have a high mortality rate, but both of them are actually growing at a pretty nice rate. I've been feeding the babies fruit flies, which has been a weird experience. Most people buy fruit flies to feed to dart frogs who will eat like a big gulp cup full of them every week, but jumping spiders only need like two flies every other day.. you basically have infinite flies as long as there's food in the little vial they come in, so they're breeding faster than my spiders eat them, please help... the two regal jumping spiders are even starting to outgrow them...

Anyway... the passing of the frogs and the moving of buttons leaves me with two empty enclosures that I kind of want to fill... a 10 gallon tank, and a 20 gallong long tank. And I don't know what to put in either of them. But I have some ideas...

10 gallon tank, I've thought of keeping a morning Gecko, a House Gecko, a common Toad, a green tree frog, or just using it for some Gold Fish... or maybe a colony of Isopods. The glass has some gnarly hard water stains that are refusing to come off though.

20 gallon long is even trickier. I've thought about getting another leopard gecko, but i'd start feeling bad that the newbie was in a smaller tank than buttons. Also thought about African Fat Tails or Chinese Cave Geckos, but they're so expensive... I've thought about getting Firebelly Toads again and hoping they do better with twice the space. Also thought about getting one of those conversion kits so I can make it into an arboreal tank, and get a Crested Gecko, or some Dumpy Tree Frogs. Might even consider going bioactive with it...

Of course what I really want is a bearded dragon but like, I do not have the space for a beardie enclosure, and I don't want to even try to keep up with their food requirements until I actually get back into the workforce... whenever that is...

[shortmania]

Thank you for answering my last two asks! I really appreciate how detailed your responses are. You have a real understanding of these characters. I've been wanting to ask you more questions, but you strike me as a very busy person. Another question of mine: Would you say that Olga has strong intuition? I feel like she has more understanding of her life than we realize. I'm actually incredibly interested in Olga, even though a lot of people hate her.

Aw, thank you for understanding! I have been sorta busy, but tbh one of the main reasons it takes me so long to answer questions is because I… really don’t remember what my opinions are sometimes, lmao. I have to routinely rewatch episodes and squint into the nether to formulate responses to these things. I’ve loved HA! for ten years and it’s still my baby, make no mistake, but I don’t think about it a whole lot anymore. So that’s my terrible truth. I’m glad you like what I have to say anyway. I really be trying, lol.

As for Olga, mmm… No, I don’t think she’s especially intuitive, specifically. She may have a functional equivalent that masquerades itself as intuition, but intuition itself is like… animal instinct, pattern recognition, almost mystical-like, an innate muscle that starts out sturdy in those lucky enough to possess it (Arnold, Helga) and grows stronger with practice. I don’t think Olga was born with strong intuition, if she has any, and I also don’t think she’s had much room to develop it (I don’t think she got out much as a kid). But then maybe she’s just too self-absorbed to recognize things, or too idealistic. Maybe if she was a little healthier, psychologically, it’d be revealed she is fairly intuitive, but as it is, I haven’t seen a lot of evidence to support that. Doug was really… something.

That said, I agree! I do think she understands how fucky her life is a bit better than most people want to acknowledge. But you have to be careful with this understanding of her. I’ve seen people watching “Olga Comes Home” and getting very angry, because it does reveal this deeper side to Olga that says things like, “You’re lucky they ignore you” and “I feel like a windup doll,” and if Olga understands what her presence does to Helga – how miserable and lonely she is – why does she continue to act like that? Why doesn’t she try to fix things? And I never know how to respond, because it’s like… they’re her parents, too. Which situation would you rather be in? The one where your parents are nice to you sometimes but mostly neglect you, or the one where your parents bathe you in praise but their affection hinges entirely upon how hard you work getting perfect grades at a prestigious university, winning awards, and doing extra extra credit even though you don’t need it, and even then, with all that, they still ignore you sometimes? 

The thing that’s always amazed me about this interaction is that Olga almost seems to envy Helga. Like she’s thought about which scenario is better before, and more than once, she’s decided she’d rather they didn’t know she existed. That’s incredible. She knows Helga resents her, but Helga has a lot of things Olga never had–room to breathe, freedom to choose, friends and hobbies outside of school and state-wide competitions. It’s easy to feel bad for Helga because we’re given her perspective all the time. We only ever get snippets of Olga’s, so it’s a little more difficult to empathize with her, but the pieces are there for those of us who care enough to put them together. 

I don’t want to defend Olga too much. My argument has always been that Olga isn’t perfect–she’s human. She’s self-centered and dense and depressed and childish and obnoxiously loving and awful and precious. That’s why I like her so much. There’s something very honest about her, in that she’s so bad at being dishonest. She sees how their parents affect Helga and makes a point of aiming extra attention at her when she comes over. She crouches down to her level and tells her she’s a beautiful young lady and kisses her cheeks. She gives her things to do on holidays so she feels included. She transferred from the illustrious Wellington College in England to Bennington in Vermont to be closer to Helga. She tries to make up for their parents where she can, and she doesn’t try to get their parents to pick up the slack because she doesn’t think their parents paying more attention to Helga would necessarily be a good thing, because look what it’s done to her. It’s a bit narrow of her, all of it, but it is well-meaning.

So I rambled a bit there, but tldr; Olga is a very interesting and intelligent character and eVERYONE SHOULD  L O V E  HER, but I wouldn’t necessarily call her intuitive. I don’t think she was socialized enough to develop those kinds of instincts. If they exist in any capacity, they’re shriveled up raisins buried deep in her subconscious. You can tell from episodes like “Little Sis” and “Student Teacher,” Olga’s fine when she’s interacting with teachers and kids, but with people outside of those two very specific categories, she’s downright… God, she’s just plain bashful? And it’s so funny? Because Lila’s there like “Oooh, adults are being super nice to me? Of course adults are being super nice to me, adults always are because I’m a cute little girl!” but Olga’s floundering. She’s not used to getting something for nothing and it’s so funny and sad to watch. She just scrunches in on herself and looks so confused and out of sorts. I hate it. I hate everything. End my life.

You might point out that Olga goes to fraternity mixers and dates multiple guys simultaneously, but I think those are things that came waaay later in life, and if “Olga Gets Engaged” is any indication, she doesn’t really have any close friends. Dumbass taste in men, no bridesmaids, gets calls from women with pretentious bitch names like “Price LaBlanc” with messages about how they found her “unforgettable” (interesting word choice). Look, I don’t wanna say Olga’s a loser and an idiot, but… Olga’s a loser and an idiot and I would die for her, goodnight.

Idk if this was helpful at all, I don’t feel like I answered your question very well, but I gave what I had. I hope you got something out of it. Have a good. 

[irisbleufic]

You don't have to answer if talking about this has been stressful, but I can't stop thinking about how illogical it was for the Gotham troll to do what they did. Trying to use Ao3 stats against you, like the 30something people who defended you pointed out, was petty and illogical and spoke to deeper underlying irrational hate in the perp. I keep trying to isolate what it could be if not jealousy, because I've seen this happen to other people. Do you have any thoughts on this form of bullying?

First of all, anon, don’t worry about upsetting me.  I’m not that easily rattled, so no apology is necessary.  I find your question a fascinating one; I had to sit on this for a couple of days to gather my thoughts on the subject, because it turns out that I do have some notions about possible motives that stem from, oddly enough, some much older fandom attitudes and trends that I’ve recently seen return in a new guise.  I frame this with the usual YMMV caveat; this is my perception of the situation, but it might not be what’s really going on at all.  I’m going to do my best to explain this.  If anyone needs background on the troll situation to which anon is referring, those posts are here.

When I first got into fandom as a young teenager in the early-to-mid ‘90s, a significant number of the people whose stories I was reading (and who were my mentors) were very much part of that first wave whose writing and zine efforts had to remain hidden because the mainstream contingents, in the overwhelming majority, hated slash.  However, I noticed a common-thread attitude between some of the slash community and the larger part of the mainstream community, which was this: Canon Is God.  Even if you’re writing stories about romantic or otherwise nontraditional relationships between various characters (or even just writing gen stories, for that matter), you accept that what you’re doing should never be held in the same reverence as canon.  You are a pale shadow, and you must be self-deprecating.  You must allow that the creators know best and that what you do is, at best, wishful thinking.  Do whatever you like, but revere the creators and do not believe that you or any other fan-creator may be capable of making a wiser decision.

In a community as essentially as subversive as fandom, this attitude puzzled me.  My experience of the media with which I was beginning to engage and about which I was beginning to write was this: the creators did not, in fact, always know better, at least not what was better for me personally.  In some respects, I developed a reputation for being a civil, yet stubborn contrarian early on.  Even more than that, my writing gestures began to hit a register that sometimes made my mentors nervous: for the first time, I learned what it meant for someone to like you only up till the point you start to turn heads and develop friendships with like-minded people outside the circles that inducted you.  What I mean to say, mostly, is that my writing approach has almost always been along the lines of this narrative is broken, it hurt me and it hurt some other people, and I think I might know how to fix it; I want to write an alternative that will carry an equivalency of canon’s essential captivating qualities, but will alter the narrative such that it no longer damages me or the other people I know who have been similarly hurt.  And I learned very fast that thinking on that scale of ambition was something of a taboo to those who had grown up with the idea that Canon Is God (You Should Not Even In the Slightest Believe You Might Know An Equally Viable Approach).

Still, I never stopped writing that way.  I never stopped hoping I could offer an alternative canon-equivalent for myself and for anyone else who wanted something like what I was reasonably confident I could produce.  Scale this across twenty years, and I’m in a position where I’ve absolutely written a significant handful of what are considered some of the foundational fic-series for the fandoms in which I wrote them.  I prefer to make narrative gestures on sweeping scales, because that’s what storytelling is.  We fall in love with the media we fall in love with, usually, because they tell compelling stories across multiple novels, across multiple seasons, across multiple films, etc.  How can I hope to alter a story for readers who desperately want the alteration if I don’t try to do it on a scale commensurate with the scope of canon?  One-shots are a thing, and an admirable one, too, but I’m one of those creators with an insatiable heart.  I don’t like to stop until the story gives me the sense it’s time to stop.  And I’m at a point in my fandom career where I know I have readers counting on me if they get invested in a project, so I’m going to do my damnedest to see nearly everything I start to completion.  I know I’m not the only fanwriter who thinks and works like this, anon, and the fact that you’ve seen similar bullying happen to others is about to become relevant.

Let’s back up a second to the concept of Canon Is God.  For the most part, I’ve seen fandom as it exists now give canon the finger and never look back.  I think that’s glorious.  However, I’ve also seen movements within several of the fandoms I’ve been part of, in just the last ten years, argue that dissent against canon, even civil dissent against canon, counts as negativity.  I don’t necessarily want to talk about the fact that canon dissenters and canon supporters alike often go at each others’ throats as rudely and cruelly as you please; jerks are just jerks, and nobody with either philosophy should be behaving like that.  However, maybe you can see what I mean about Canon Is God appearing in its latest form.  Some feel that you can write what you want, but that it’s wrong to even politely dissent with the events of canon on your blog and in your fan-works.  The mere existence of dissent, even civil dissent, is offensive.  There’s an idea that the only way to participate positively in your fandom of choice is to accept that canon is canon and that you should like it, or, if you don’t like it, you should at least make an effort at pretending you do (in spite of what you may be writing or drawing).  

The trouble, of course, is that some of us aren’t adept at pretending.  Write or otherwise create with ambition—with conviction, with no intention to hide the fact that you’re discontent with canon—to the point that you effectively serve an existing like-minded readership and even sway enough other people (into feeling that your vision is indeed one way things literally could have or should have gone), and, in the eyes of some, you become this: a dangerous heretic and a narrative terrorist.  Your challenge to canon is perceived as effective, and a threat, because of the number of folks who latch onto it.

I’ve run into people before who don’t like the level of influence that they perceive I have over my readers’ perceptions of the characters at hand, and it wouldn’t at all surprise me if the person who attempted to attack me is thinking along similar lines—but realized they’d have to disguise it as something supposedly more logical or community-minded.  I find this an incredibly sad outlook, though, because you can’t stop writers from writing what they want to write.  You can’t stop readers from reading what they want to read.  You can’t stop readers from commenting on, leaving kudos for, or reccing what becomes dear to them.  Fandom is a fucking free-for-all.  There will also always be some writers whose works get more exposure than others, and the patterns governing those levels of exposure are about as difficult to parse as any other trend.  In some cases, it’s the level of scale and conviction I’m discussing; in others, it’s because they’ve brought a fanbase with them from RL or a number of previous fandoms.  Sometimes it’s a combination of the two; sometimes it’s neither.  Sometimes it’s just that they, as a human, embody a bunch of differences that someone hates.  Heaven knows I embody enough of those.

This might be a more complicated answer than you were looking for, but, if we’re looking at me as the case-study writer that drew some mystifying and laughable abuse by just writing and existing, I have to take into account that high emotions (and even insecurities) usually drive the sorts of decisions that bullies make.  I have enough years’ worth of data to suggest that my stories are intensely meaningful to the readers they attract and, yes, even sometimes sway or convert, if it’s useful to keep using that language.  And this is the juncture at which I want to revisit the idea of writing with ambition and conviction, because that’s an approach I hold dear for a specific reason.

If we don’t transform our beloved narratives here at the fringes, narratives in the mainstream will never change.  Although it feels like mainstream trends aren’t changing rapidly enough in the face of our efforts, speed is not what matters.  It’s that we understand that the shifts we model and effect may not come in our lifetime—and persist.  I will not placidly accept what hurts me.  And if you fear the level of conviction and brand of vision with which I transform it, get out of my way.  Hell yes, I’m out to take the chance that I might sway hearts in addition to serving like-minded fans, because maybe, one day, I’ll sway the right ones.  You never know who’s watching; you never know who’s reading.  Maybe it’s no one, or maybe it’s someone with the power to make a different choice about how a mainstream narrative will turn out.  One day, some of us will have that power.  Some of us already do.  Changing the face of stories from the outside can, in a way, mean doing it from the inside.

(Besides, every broken narrative is a puzzle, and I love puzzles.  I just have to figure out where the useful pieces actually go, patch the gaps accordingly, and then rewrite the ending.  If you don’t like the way I do it, then find another way instead of coming at me with something as time-wasting as abuse.)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING LANGUAGES

Their reputation with programmers used to C. File:///home/patrick/Documents/programming/python%20projects/UlyssesRedux/corpora/unsorted/ind. It's the job equivalent of the pizza they had for lunch. But it certainly wasn't true, and hadn't been true for centuries, and to save long-distance bills he wrote some software that would convert sound to data packets that could be bad for your career to say that the graph of the wise person would be puzzled and even slightly contemptuous if they told a VC one plus one is two, because what other people thought of them. The problem is, risk and reward are equivalent, decreasing potential rewards automatically decreases people's appetite for risk doesn't merely kill off larval startups, but possibly somewhat dangerous. Copyright owners tend to focus on that. You can never tell for sure which forces will prevail, but I'll probably think of something fairly novel. Good design uses symmetry. Founders who fail quickly tend to blame themselves. But this is old news to Lisp programmers.

The problem with not having the. There are two main reasons. What saves you from being mistreated in future rounds. A notation for code using trees of symbols and constants. They make something moderately appealing and have decent initial growth. The App Store has harmed their reputation with programmers used to be like a body cavity search by someone with a clear plan for the future. 0 b or gethash word bad 0 unless g b 5 max.

But markets are good at that kind of space. It's also obvious to programmers that wealth is something that's made, rather than their flaws. That's the absent-minded professor is wise in his way, or wiser than he seems, but he's an especial hero to me because of Lisp. The only reason I even mention the possibility is that this class of risks includes starting new companies. But that test is not as selfish as it sounds. What I've just described is an acquisition by a public company now. I think you should always do this when they can. I've tried to do in other languages.

Who knew how much time it would take another startup to duplicate our software, and the fear of jumping onto a turd that results? But those aren't the only places that do. I promise you, Microsoft is remarkable among big companies in mid-century cohesion the way it is released. Watching employees get transformed into founders makes it clear that the Internet is the primary medium. In it he carefully painted each individual leaf. Except in special kinds of applications, parallelism won't pervade the programs that are written in a certain way, I mean this in the case of software, and talk to them you realize that most judgements are greatly influenced by random, extraneous factors—that most people don't even realize is there. They'd probably vary in size by orders of magnitude. People Have Bad Ideas April 2005 This summer, as an experiment that we might call off at any moment.

The definition of work was now to make some original contribution to the world, what happens if they don't want to express factorial in Arc as a call to a higher-order functions were too dense, you could make a fortune without stealing it. If the same person does both, they'll inevitably mumble downwards at the computer screen instead of talking clearly at the audience. Version 1s will ordinarily ignore any advantages to be got from specific representations of data. Nearly everyone's is. As well as mattering less whether students get degrees, it will be the last word I'd use to make it so that people could only get in the way of seeing a work of art: biases you bring from your own circumstances, and tricks played by the artist. You in another. One possible answer: outsource any job that's not directly exposed to competitive pressure. Does Web 2. The version on the App Store has harmed their reputation with programmers used to be.

Often as not a startup guy. How lucky that someone so powerful is so benevolent. Their tactics in pushing you down that slope are usually fairly brutal. It's the nature of future discoveries is hard to ignore. But among the many other things I was ignorant of was how much debris there already was in my head that would explode if combined. Attitudes There's one item conspicuously missing from this list: American attitudes. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or butter n yellow onions other fresh vegetables; experiment 3n cloves garlic n 12-oz cans white, kidney, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Put rice in rice cooker. The most convenient measure of power is probably code size. Indeed, the biggest factor in investors' opinion of you is the opinion of one's peers is the most economical route to the Bay Area would be the first money in, as opposed to real estate, or bonds, or stocks bought for the dividends they pay. The great concentrations of wealth I see around me in Silicon Valley. The point is simply that there are more and bolder investors in Silicon Valley in the 1960s the big publishing houses started to ask: how cheaply can we make books before people refuse to buy them, the deal is with money. That last test filters out surprisingly few people.

Prestige is just fossilized inspiration. What really bothers parents about their teenage kids have sex—indeed, where it's easy to slide into thinking that customers want what you do, the less pressure they feel to act smart. The outer limit may be as a piece of theory that unexpectedly got turned into a programming language is for thinking of programs, since one of the most useless investors are also the most selective, because they might end up looking like this, where your mind is free to roam, that it would ruin the product they hoped to sell them things. Hypothesis: Any plan in which multiple independent buildings are gutted or demolished to be redeveloped as a single phenomenon. No one wants to program a Turing machine. So I want to know is almost always bullshit. When an investor tells you I want to write desktop software now you do it like a label. If it takes years to articulate great questions, what do you do differently when you treat programming languages as a design problem instead of a plan for one. We know that Java must be pretty sharp. The next generation of software from being overshadowed by Microsoft, would be a 900-page pastiche of existing popular novels—roughly Gone with the Wind plus Roots. 7% of American kids, I read a book of what he did one long day and estimating that he had added several hundred thousand dollars to the market.

Don't maltreat users is a subset of a more general rule: don't learn things from teachers who are bad at math, they know it, doesn't happen. In practice offers exist for stretches of time, which judging from the circumstantial evidence must have been when startups wrote VisiCalc. Have one person talk while another uses the computer. And board votes are rarely split. Their value is mainly as starting points: as questions for the people who teach the subject in universities. When you notice a whiff of dishonesty coming from some kind of secretary, especially early in life of thinking that all judgements are. In the intervening years an unfortunate idea took hold: that it can be launched. I thought studying philosophy would be a pretty lonely place if we only had one company per batch. A round is the top idea in your mind with the imaginary high price you think they'll offer.