#if you think you're better than those people COOL but then don't waste your time writing about it

[jdorian]

could people posting 'kinky' fics not kinkshame the characters and the readers please? I'm tired

[zooophagous]

I do understand where you're coming from when it comes to incompetent people just wanting an excuse to kill wild animals and using their neglect of their own animals as their excuse HOWEVER it did kinda sound like you had smth against hobby farmers near the end there. What is your opinion on hobby farmers?

I actually aspire to own a hobby farm some day. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with having goats and chickens because you think they're cool and fun. They ARE cool and fun.

I just don't think your right to have cool and fun pets also gives you the right to kill wildlife around you with no season, no permit and no bag limit because it's threatening what is only your hobby.

If my hobby involved poisoning waterways or felling trees people would rightfully ask me what the fuck I think I'm doing. Especially if there were steps I could take so my hobby wouldn't do that, but I refused to implement those steps because I found them inconvenient.

I'm not even wholly against hunting or trapping in general. I am however of the opinion that wildlife and furbearers such as raccoons and coyotes should be treated like a valuable natural resource and not a pest to be wantonly wasted because it's easier to kill them than to manage your own property better.

If you have a real barn and try your best and an aggressive dog still gets in and mauls your stock and you're forced to shoot it, that's an unfortunate tragedy and the fault of that dogs owner.

However if you decide you want both an unleashed yard dog AND free range unfenced chickens, and your dog, that you are responsible for, is killing your chickens, that you are also responsible for, it's not fair of you to kill the dog when you could easily remedy the situation with a pen or a tie out.

It's the immediate jump to "kill it" as a solution to me. It's never "this isn't working, can I build a better shelter or fence? Can I get creative with what I already have? Is this a good environment for the animal I wanted as a pet?"

And they seem to believe that this approach is just fine because that's how working homesteads did it back in the day. Without realizing they aren't on a working subsistence farm in 1845. They're a yuppie who can order supplies on the internet and have a solution literally dropped off at their front door in a day.

It's sort of like Marie Antoinette play acting at being a shepardess for me. You can take off the costume and go back to normal house life at literally any time, you're doing this because you thought it would be fun, not because you have to; but you refuse to take it seriously enough to prevent death and chaos in any meaningful way.

I might shoot a wolf if I was a poor shepherd on a working farm and my sheep were my entire livelihood. I would not, however, have a cute little herd of pet sheep in a flimsy chicken wire fence with no barn and spend my weekends killing wolves for daring to get too close to them.

I consider it similar to shooting bears over bait barrels full of apples, except it's coyotes over a group of fat poorly bred tractor supply chickens.

[iceclew]

Part 2 is out as well, have a look! c:

Well GUESS who's got some days off of work, and is about to waste them solemly with drawing fandom -> THIS GURL HERE IS, WOOH!! (๑♡⌓♡๑)

Haaah...yes, me and the words again.. This is way to much dialogue for a comic isn't it? I hope it helps that I put down the whole text in the description as well (see below)..

Ah, yess the old "we ran into each other sometime somewhere before, but we cannot remember of course" (honestly, I just wanted to draw the two of them to interact as kids so badly, I just had to make something up for it)

Since Soshiro would have sort of a dialect, I tried to "englishify" that with slang..? (Slang I am not familiar with, because I am not a native english speaker, and just know about it because of the internet. Sorry if this is causing confusion somewhere) And when Kafka is speaking rather different than he does, I imagine it would sound funny to a 8 y/o... in case you've been wondering his comment..

Also I don't know if ppl would go on vacation, I literally just made everything up, analyzing a universe's law is so not my speciality... (*ﾟｰﾟ)ゞ

*transcript below*

*getting out of a shelter right after a Kaiju attack*

Soshiro: 'Scuse me, have ya seen ma brotha? He's like this tall! Kafka: Uh... sorry dude, I haven't S: Can you like ... look for him? (since you'r taller and stuff...) K: Sure. So what does he look like? S: Like my brotha... K: Uh.... ok.. S: Hehe, ya sound funny! K: You think? Yeah, I'm not from around here. I'm on vacation right now. S: REALLY?! People come on vacation? HERE? Like for real?? WHY? XD K (thinking): what an annoying brat, better find his bro soon...

---

K: So, are we just looking for your brother? Your mom and dad are not around? *looking for anybody slightly resembling* S: NAH, they kill'd the Kaiju, they won't be home anytime before ev'ning. K: So they're Defence Force officers then? S: Tkch, as if! My dad's a platoon leader! K: Really? That's cool! I want to get into the Defence Force too in a few years! :) S: HAH! YOU? You look like a whimp! There's more to a D.F. Officer, than being tall, you gotta have what it TAKES!!

---

K: Oh, let me guess. And you think YOU have that? S: YEAH? Well.. MOST OF IT!! I'm not allowed holding a gun yet... But just you wait! I'mma BEAT those Kaiju's BUTTS for sure!!

---

K: Relax, I believe you, don't worry! Look at ya, a feisty one like you can become Captain in no time! S: Ah! D: K: Keep going, so we get to spare in Tokyo one day! Let's see who's the better fighter when we're grown-ups, okay? S: ... YEAH! I'mma beat ya ass, tall guy!!

[max-nico]

Sonic noticed Tails glaring at him a few minutes ago. He hasn't called it out or said anything, after about a year of being with the kid he's learned it's better to let Tails come to him first. Though he will say his patience has been wearing thin, it's been a week of nonstop staring and cutting eyes.

Sonic glances at Tails with an eyebrow raise making the fox flush in embarrassment. For another few minutes Tails sits with his namesakes on his lap and his head buried in their fluff. Sonic gives him privacy and looks the other way, hoping not to embarrass him any further, he'd really prefer not to prompt the kid more than he has to.

"I uhm- I have a question. If that's okay." Sonic shrugs, reaching down to dig in his bag, but he's not reallt looking for anything. "Oh, if you're looking for the cans of chili we put them in my bag, remember?"

Sonic plays it off as if that's what he was looking for, it's basically dinner time anyway so it's not a waste to start cooking.

"Right uhm- anyway, what makes you different?" Tails asks.

Sonic raises an eyebrow again, asking him to elaborate.

"I just... We're friends right-" Sonic nods without hesitation- "okay good. It's just that the people back at Westside didn't like me much, so... So why do you?"

Sonic gives another shrug. Is he supposed to have a reason for liking him? It just came naturally. He had a good heart, big ambitions, and an even bigger brain. Is there a reason he shouldn't like the fox?

"Is there a reason I shouldn't like you?" Sonic signs.

Tails' snout wrinkles a little, "Obviously."

The hedgehog gestures for Tails to keep talking.

"I'm weird, and I can't brush my fur by myself yet, I talk too much, I take half a portion of your food, I slow you down I-"

"It's our food, and you don't slow me down," Sonic huffs. "Those things don't matter. Why would they make me not like you?"

Tails frowns, gripping his Tails between his fingers, seeming unsure of the answer himself. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to gather his thoughts into a neat sentence, and Sonic continues food prep. An anticipatory silence sits between them.

It's not until Sonic's almost done with the first chilidog that Tails speaks again. His voice is a quiet murmur under cracking fire and a few distant flickies, but Sonic still catches his voice and it's little sniffles in the wind.

"I can't understand how someone so cool can like something that wasn't even tolerated by its parents..."

And isn't that heartbreaking? Sonic could join Tails crying after hearing that. What's he even supposed to say? Is there anything he can say?

Sonic places a hand on Tails' shoulder to get his attention, making the fox wipe his tears away.

"Your parents were dumb."

"But they were the smartest people in the village! My dad was the head research-"

Sonic places a hand over Tails' muzzle to quiet him.

"Being the smartest dumb person in a room full of dumb people isn't the win you think it is."

Tails looks away from Sonic with a sniffle and huff, wiping his eyes again.

If Sonic could take it all away he would. Unfortunately, he doesn't have memory altering magic, at least as far as he knows.

"How about I become your new family. I can be your brother or something." He says on a whim, looking for something to make the kid feel better. Maybe offering a replacement family would be better than claiming the old one.

And for just a moment Tails looks starstruck. His already teary eyes grow large and seem to well up even more before he tilts his face down, his eyes glistening in the ever brighter glow of the campfire.

Sonic swears he didn't do anything wrong, but those tears make him feel like the scum of the earth.

"You're just trying to make me feel better... You wouldn't actually want that. No one in their right mind would."

Sonic crouches down in front of Tails, waiting for him to turn and look him in the eyes. It feels like an eternity before the fox actually looks at him, and Sonic grasps desperately at the patience he's never had, but is determined to find.

Tails' face fur is wet and sticks up awkwardly, and the eye contact he gives is minimal at best but Sonic will take that over nothing.

Gently, Sonic bumps his fist to Tails chest, right above where his heart is. "We're brothers!" He says, in a voice that's just as foreign to the fox as it is to him. The re in the word we're doesn't quite come across, neither does the br in brothers making the word sound like buzzers, but Tails seems to understand him anyway.

Sonic can't tell if the fox is surprised by him standing his ground or by him talking, but it's probably a healthy mix of both. He repeats himself, pushing just a little harder on Tails chest to get the point across.

Tightly, Tails squeezes his eyes shut. Heaving out a sob, dropping his head down to stare at the log he's sitting on.

"Okay." The fox mumbles, "Let's be brothers."

Yooooo guess who finally wrote something !!! (Hint, it's me !!!) After receiving some of the most devastating news of my life, I decided to write some hurt comfort !!! Welcome back unbreakable bond fans, I'm glad I could keep us all fed this winter's night !!! I have so many unfinished drafts but take this, and thanks for reading !!!

This is NOT ship content. I am under the same name on AO3, and will post this there soon ! Come hit up my DMs or my askbox for now !! Toodles !!

[joannasteez]

"im with you" - installment two

featured characters: mother's milk & female reader. warnings: alcohol usage (misuse) and angst. MM being his supportive, caring self. mutual pining? (kinda) authors note: this second installment has been sitting in my drafts since the release of season three, so over a year maybe? i don't see myself progressing the story (sorry?) but i was tired of seeing this in the drafts. so i give it to you all who wish to read it!

You hate 'The Reserve', not just for its sordid means of molding into fruition false delusions of grandeur, but because it is also a reflection. A mirror, smudged and stained, bitter callousness webbing sharply from the heart of it, mangling its way to the furthest reaches, but a mirror all the same. And when the sun wanes low into the horizon, that bombastic need for liquid comfort livening up the bar, in the solace of yourself you say 'I am not like these people; degenerate drunks and reckless hedonist, bleeding the poison of a heartless raging machine who thinks them too low to even consider their existence. I am not like the super-abled, I am better'. The hatred is beautiful enough in those times, consistent enough that it waters the dust and forms thought into palpable word. Then where is this mantra now? As the weeks grow colder, air nipping sporadic bites into the skin, lethargy soothing something still and lukewarm into your veins.

Grief is loud, 'where is your mantra now?', and your need for comfort is as bombastic as theres.

On this unsteady line of desire, here must be where the attraction falls short for him. Clips its wings, falling from on high.

'He sees you', the brandy says, auburn and taunting. 'He pity's you'.

All those years ago when the ache was new, splitting raw and lethal at your chest, you're almost sure it was pity that drew him in, that made him linger. It had to be, or that's what the sluggish, drunken part of you thinks, the part that takes comfort in dark hard spirits and makes you believe all the untrue shit that stains the foreverness of wayward esteem and memory. But sipping from the bottle is good, it's easy, feeling like a drizzle of fresh rain on the skin. The burn goes dull after while, when the sky bleeds something angry and orange,  leaving just the smooth glide down the path of your throat, and when your eyes shut to escape the welling of tears, you hear that everlasting crunch of metal.

It's a hard piercing, that cringing screech and scratch of metal etching into itself, the friction tearing into flesh and bone, and just mere seconds remain before the face that shares your own fades into something distant and lifeless.

Twins, a true phenomenon, and yet as you stare into the bottle, it all feels false and unnatural, like retribution. Something beautiful and different, worth no more to the state than a cover up story and a check for $75,000.

She was worth more. She deserved more, true justice, and yet here you are wasting away, your stomach a pool of brandy.

Like clockwork your phone vibrates. 'Here comes the pity', you think.

--How you holdin' up?

His wonder is a grey text bubble, nothing more than routine and after several years still its consistent. Maybe that's why desire has etched into your skin so, a slow gradual drag into nerve, entangled to the pulse of your veins, because at least some semblance of him cares. Even if it is all just obligation, when others stopped their award wining performances of sympathy, he'd still roll around in the early cool of October asking 'Are you holding up?', and 'How are you doing?'

The tears and liquor screw your senses well, fingers slipping over some of the right keys and missing others. It takes a while to gather thought, and even then it's driven by lies and poor motor skills.

--Mi fi.

--Im fie.

--Fire*.

--Fuk Im fine*.

--Fuck*.

The disappointment is palpable, heavy on the tongue and an uncomfortable warmth to the skin. You know it, can picture the way those brows of his pull together, mouth screwed and on the verge of disgusted. Well fuck him, if he thinks you care, he isn't the one in pain, drowning in perpetual heartbreak. Saturated to the bone with it really and its ripping at you slow and dreadful, a vicious tear of tissue and vessel. And God-- but...but doesn't he know? No, no, no he has to, he's suffered similar... but it's not the same... but it is, you stress to yourself, it has to be... but it isn't, and the tears taste more salty as they come. An aged bitterness that makes you wince.

--... are you drunk?

You keep him suspended, seconds, minutes even.

--No

--A but,, Im ok.

--A bit but Im ok*.

He's quick to reply.

--Where are you?

He waits, with a staling patience just at the top floor of the flatiron building, where the city bustles and groans, exhausted and restless. In just a few measly minutes, still nerve goes erratic with impatience and then comes the hammering of his pulse.

You're drunk and alone, drowning in the memory of shitty circumstance. His chest aches in that familiarity-- Harlem and a blazing summer sun, the hard blow of barely cool air, a child's excitement and then the coming in of doom, Soldier Boy, and then the swooshing in and fatal crunch of metal-- the ache a vicious sting. Growing nails make slight indents in his skin, fingers coming into his palm, to ball and harden, to feel and never to forget.

He was lonely then, just a wild vengeance to keep him company.

Marvin moves before he can think, leaves, turns the key in his ignition and joins the hard rush of the city before resolution melts loose and hesitant.

Your Brooklyn apartment is old, as old as the house he loved destroyed by the hurling in of a benz, and as he breathes, alleviating the hard brick of tension in his shoulders, he understands why he's here. Why-- in the most inconveniencing of times-- he thinks about you. Why desire, a fervent stream in his blood, has become more ungovernable by the day. You are new but familiar. Soft and alluring but recognizable to the bone, a reflection of pain and survival that wholly scares him and excites him just the same.

When the door opens, it's the petulant embrace that catches him first, the bottle of brandy nestled in your palm, but the smell curls about the air bitter and heavy, unsullied by shame. Even in the most dismal affair, your eyes are blood-shot, daring him to go beyond whatever is shy and lingering, a plead to make the pain go away. To call out the itching twitch in his skin by name and validate its presence.

"What?", you start, feeling his eyes. The stony weight. "You're not gonna wish me happy birthday?"

"You're a mess".

You'd waited for this, hoped for it even, to have the burn and the break of desire collapse against you. For it to scorch flesh and that unrelenting part of the heart that says 'yes, i want him, need him', but it never comes. There is no fracture, even when he tears you open with concerned eyes, just the unreconcilable truth that if you are a mess, royally fucked up and drunk out of your mind, that you do not want to be. Not when or where he can see. Because there is no middle, no point at which allure and brokenness meet in a charming enough compromise... right? So this must be judgement then, 'you're a mess', the knocking in of the gavel.

The quiver to your lip is fragile. You are fragile. "If you're here to judge, you can fuck off".

The lone tear you give makes his heart squeeze. Maybe he shouldn't have led so strong, so exacting.  

He brushes in anyways, like a piece of him belongs here and steals the bottle from your fingers. Palms growing idle now, fearful, balling and releasing, grasping at air --like your whole being-- grasping at everything, anything and gaining nothing. Nothing but the soreness of muscle once bent about glass fighting for strength, for the will to straighten. All there is, is the leaning in of silence, as he cracks the windows for a fresh breeze, a hard press that leaves you scorching and loose with a raw bare boned awareness. The mantle of your belly churning and awakened with a sullen impatience to hear his words, the charge of his thoughts.

Wont he do it now?

"Just say it already", knotting pain in your throat leaving your urgency dry. Brittle. "Whatever straight laced bullshit speech you got about effective coping, and-and-and pain... and whatever the fuck".  The new air is chilling, makes the grate of your voice wane and shiver. "Just say it".

He's next to you, sinking into the couch, and it's the closest he's ever been. "What's the point of preachin' shit you don't practice".

"Drinking isn't effective coping but tearing through the city, through the damn country, offing supes left and right with Butcher is?"

You were both wrong, but so terribly right. The through-line of your lives, just narrowly escaping death, broken already but always seeming still to be on the precipice of breaking.

For some time there's nothing, no word or deed, and then, there's everything. A delirious unearthing, barbarous and desperate. 'Look at me, understand me, please', fragile, on the borders of begging. "I never meant to drink so much, it-it just happened I-", your tongue goes lax and dry from temporary thoughtlessness or the swimming and draining of liquor in your veins, you aren't sure. "I don't even like the taste but June she... she made it a thing. Our thing".

You look to him, and see through the blur of your vision, the forming together of intent and attention. No crease of pity, just tenderness and patience, without blame. Just understanding.

And then it's here, nostalgia, a wistful coming together again of memory. "My father liked to have his taste every now and then y'know... a little sip just to feel some shit I guess", you start. A finger pulling at and curling into another. "So he'd hide little bottles of brandy around the house. A stash here, stash there, but he'd always end up forgetting. He had shitty memory that way... still does", the knot in your throat grew, forming a choking sensation. "But June would find them  and re-stash them, so when our birthday came around we'd sip and get shitfaced together".

You can feel the build, a hard rushing in, the levee soon to break. "We both hated the taste, but we were doing stupid shit together and thats all that mattered".

She comes clearly in your minds eye, a replica yet different. Glassy eyes dazzled by the soft burning away of innocence. The liquor is strong on her tongue, makes her touch something tight to the skin, a holding on to that bites but comforts all the same, and the air is pungent. Rife with rebellion. In the shared bedroom of an old family owned Brooklyn Brownstone, the world opens, teems founded and un-conforming with the blazing of this single moment. Oh sister, my sister. She was your mirror, your opposite. Everything. "She was just here my whole life and now she's gone. What thing am I supposed to have that I can touch, that-that-that I can feel other than this, other than our thing".

Something in Marvin wonders, if he reaches out, forms you with his hands, will you take him in or stretch away? Will you break? Shatter into a fragmented loathing because he is not her. And there is the curt twitching in his finger, he feigns for the answer.

"You never told me that".

You laugh, mirthless and ironic. "I never told anybody because I feel like a fucking joke. I speech those kids to death almost every damn day, about being present and making room, growing in grief and look at me." Your head feels full and heavy, a sharp pounding meeting just at the forefront of your skull. "I didn't even have the fight to do anything about it. They took her away from me and I just let that shit fade. I let her go Marvin, me".

He pulls at your chin softly to face him, smearing away a lonely rolling tear. From here, just inches away, everything about him is tender and warm. But if you lean further into him, will he pull you in?, or will the comfort of his touch fall away?

It travels instead, holding firm at your shoulders. His eyes settling light and easy.

"You wanna go all Rambo with the shit, and find out what happened, I'm with you 100%, but what happened to June isn't on you, its not".

The brandy on your tongue wears old, the solace of it going stale.

'I'm with you'

His embrace is a furnace, a delicate purging. A new opening of the world.

"Thank you Marvin".

[itsnesss]

Hi! Could I request a Zara malik (cobra kai) x female reader because I feel like you're the only one who writes for her lmao. Where they are enemies to lovers, and the reader thinks Zara is one of those straight pick me girls who obsess over guys, but she doesn't know Zara only does that to get her attention? and later on they get into an argument at the bar in Barcelona and end up kissing?

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡��𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | zara malik × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | romance, mild language, physical tension, enemies to lovers dynamic

word count | 1.06 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You were the last person in the world who wanted to be near Zara Malik, yet there you were, sharing the same space with her in a crowded bar in Barcelona. Your plans for the night were simple: unwind after a long day of training and enjoy some tapas with your Cobra Kai team. But of course, Zara had to show up like a storm of ego and perfection, accompanied by her signature laugh that never failed to get on your nerves.

Ever since you met Zara at the Sekai Taikai, you found her unbearable. She was the kind of girl who seemed to live for attention, always surrounded by guys who fell at her feet with a single glance. In your opinion, Zara Malik was nothing but a distraction on long legs, someone who could never take anything seriously—least of all you.

So, when she walked into the bar with her usual arrogant swagger, you deliberately ignored her presence. But Zara was not the kind of person to be ignored.

“Wow, what a surprise to see you here, Cobra Kai,” Zara said as she approached your table, her smile full of challenge.

“Zara,” you replied flatly, barely looking up from your drink. “Don’t you have some poor guy to dazzle with your games?”

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and irritation.

“Jealous?” she shot back, leaning over the table just enough to trap your gaze in hers.

Your teammates exchanged uneasy glances as the tension between you two thickened. You tried to keep your cool, but Zara had a knack for getting under your skin like no one else.

“I don’t waste my time on spoiled little girls who don’t know what they want,” you snapped, hoping to end the conversation.

But Zara didn’t back down. Instead, she let out a sarcastic laugh and leaned even closer.

“Trust me, I know exactly what I want. The problem is, you’re too blind to see it.”

Before you could respond, Zara turned on her heel with a triumphant smile and headed to the bar. You could feel your teammates’ eyes on you, but none of them dared say anything. They knew better than to try and get in the middle of whatever this was.

The rest of the night passed with palpable tension hanging in the air. You tried to distract yourself, but every time you glanced at the bar, there she was—Zara, laughing and flirting with a tall, handsome guy. The irritation in your chest grew, though you didn’t want to admit why.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up and walked over to the bar, determined to confront her.

“Really?” you said, interrupting her conversation with the guy. Zara raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your interruption.

“What’s the matter, Cobra Kai?” she asked with mock innocence. “Does it bother you that I’m having fun?”

“No. It bothers me that you always have to make a spectacle out of everything,” you shot back.

Zara crossed her arms and took a step closer to you, challenging you with her gaze.

“Maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s that you can’t handle it when you don’t have all my attention.”

The anger bubbled inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you fired back in a sharp tone:

“What attention? Zara, you’re just a rich girl who needs constant validation.”

That was enough to ignite her temper. Zara shoved you lightly—not too aggressive, but enough to stake her ground.

“And what are you?” she fired back. “A tough girl who thinks no one can love her because she hides behind a dojo?”

The situation escalated quickly. It wasn’t long before the two of you were outside the bar, arguing more intensely. Zara, with her sharp retorts, and you, with your resentment-laden replies.

Until, in a moment of heated silence, the anger gave way to something else. Something you couldn’t quite explain. You were face-to-face, breathing hard, and the proximity between you was undeniable.

“You know what your problem is?” Zara said, her tone a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “You always see me as a threat when all I want is for you to see me.”

Her confession left you speechless. Before you could respond, Zara leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss full of tension and pent-up emotions, as if everything you’d been avoiding had finally exploded in that single moment.

And to your surprise, you kissed her back. Because, in the end, all that anger and resentment were just masks to hide what you really felt for her.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless, but something in the air had shifted. Zara looked at you with a small smile, less arrogant and more genuine.

“Do you get it now?” she whispered.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you took her hand and led her back into the bar, ready to face whatever came next—together.

[dragon-in-a-fez]

Hi. I read a recent ask from someone else, where you say that you are now divorcing your partner, so this may be a little awkward but; I have seen your post about your (ex-)partner several times now, and I wanted to ask. I am AFAB non-binary. Funnily enough, I’m also pan. But I have recently started to think- albeit in the vaguest of senses- about dating, and I realised that I almost certainly will struggle to find cis guys who will date me and be chill with my gender. So, I was wondering if you had any insights? Feel free to ignore this!

I hope you're cool with me answering this publicly, because it's giving me the kick I needed to say some things I want out there for anyone who sees that post and finds my blog.

it's getting easier to talk about. the truth is, my ex treated me very badly in the last couple of years we were together, worse than I was willing to admit to myself before a lot of therapy and a lot of kindness and patience from friends. there was a lot of gaslighting and intense emotional volatility along with financial and legal abuse. I have lingering post-traumatic symptoms from it - frequent nightmares, panic attacks, even a massive months-long gap in my memory.

but none of that really has anything to do with your question, because the fact is, respecting their identity has fuck all to do with our relationship, or their character, or their actions.

I actually had a big fight with my mother recently because she was upset that I don't talk to her about all this enough, and eventually I was like, "after 7 years you still can't even get their pronouns right, how am I supposed to go to you for support about how that relationship fucked up my life when I have to stop to defend them from your ignorance every five minutes?" she seemed surprised that I still cared about being respectful and I was just like, yeah and that's why you and I have spent 30 years not understanding each other lol

and I think that's kinda the best advice I can give you: don't trust anyone who only cares about respecting the truth of who you are when they're happy with you. they should care when you've fucked up and hurt them. they should care when you're yelling at each other because they're being a selfish dickhead. they should care when you break up, or when they ask you out and you say no.

that doesn't mean they always have to get it right. people slip up on pronouns because of how they're used to talking, or they repeat dumbass stereotypes or ask inappropriate questions because they don't know better yet. but don't waste your time with anyone whose level of respect for your gender is based on their attitude to you in that moment. you deserve better than that. someone who only gets your pronouns wrong when they're angry is a way bigger red flag than someone who just occasionally gets them wrong at random times.

and yeah, you might struggle to find people who meet that threshold, depressingly low though it is. but the good news is, once you do find those people you're automatically in a better starting place than a lot of relationships. and knowing you've found the right person is way more important than how long it takes.

[spopsalt]

Horde Prime is just such a lame final villian, He has no ersonality beyond just evil cult leaderrr like you have SO MUCH potential there! There is SO MUCH you can do with having a literal CULT LEADER as your main antagionist, I say this as someone who's written a story with a cult leader before. Y'know a show that does villians right? RICK AND MORTY BABY!

Honestly I don't get the hype around Rick Prime, he's not the greatest villian, he's fine, he's passable, but he doesn't have much personality, kinda seems like wasted potential. Especially considering that he didn't personally know Rick c137, and only brutally killed his wife and child because he bruised his ego. And I struggle to say three words about him, I mean uhhhh he's evil, sadistic, and uhm....has a big ego. I mean he's a fun to watch, and is admittadly very memorable. Also, it's honestly refreshing to have a villian that doesn't have some tragic backstory, honestly though, I feel like Evil Morty is a MUCH more interesting villian. He's smart, manipulative, cunning, arrogant, and is shown to have a sense of humor (Example Rick c137 saying "Are you better than me?!" And Evil Morty replying "Jesus Chirst, I hope so!) and is very good at making plans. Needing only one day to completely control Evil Rick, he also has a belivable backstory, his Rick is implied to be physically abusive, since he has a tendency to flinch, we actually see him flinch and shield himself in his backstory when Evil Rick yells at him, but both of these villians are WAY better than Horde Prime because THEY HAVE PERSONALITIES.

While Rick Prime doesn't have a ton of personality, they make up for that by having him be fun to watch, Horde Prime is just boring, he has no interesting dialogue, as of writing this I can't remember a SINGLE line from him, just the god-awful deleted victim blaming line "You always wanted more, all she ever wanted was you"

Meanwhile the lines I remember from Rick Prime off the top of my head "You think it's cool being the smartest man on earth, but once we give you this technology you become the smartest thing in every concieveable universe, the infinite Rick, a god." "It's a non-stop where all the guests are the only people we like" "Or me! Again it might be me! But like a saw thing! I'm veryyy sneaky." "Look it's the wife guy! Dead wife Rick! I'll tell you this guy does not know when to quit (...) You brought two Mortys with you? What are they, your cheering section?" "What're gonna do? 'Aw Jeez' me to death? Oh you don't want those scematics buddy, those are for grownups. (...) Listen, Rick to Rick, he's got the weapon plans, buddy, nip this in the bud! He's 14! What's gonna happen the next time he gets mad at Grandpa?" And my all time favorite lines from him that he says while literally getting brutally beaten to death by the guy who's wife and child he brutally murdered "Haha! Let's do this then! You're welcome by the way! I MADE you! I showed you infinity! And what did you do with it!? Hang out with MY grandson?! Raise echos of MY daughter?! What's your LIFE without me!? Admit it! You would've been me! I just walked into your garage before you walked into mine! But eventually you did! YOU LIVED IN MY HOUSE!" He made it abundatly clear that he regrets NOTHING! Not. One. Single. Thing. Meanwhile I literally cannot remember Horde Prime's last words.

How do you screw up THAT badly with a final villian? Rick Prime isn't the greatest villian, but at least he's fun and memorable. What's memorable about Horde Prime besides his character design? That's right! Nothing! Evil Morty is an amazing villian with an interesting backstory that makes sense, being one Morty who finally snapped after years of emotional and implied physical abuse. Meanwhile Horde Prime is just uhhhh evil and uhmmm that's it. He's evil, deal with it. HE'S A GOOD FINAL VILLIAN!

Sorry I kinda blabbered on about Rick and Morty for too long, it's just AMAZING how many things it does better than spop, it's not the greatest tv show ever, but I like it nonetheless, and when it does good, it does GOOD! It just has a bad reputation because of those godawful episodes in seasons 4-6, I won't specify, but if you know, YOU KNOW! Ok, I'll stop talking now, I hope you enjoyed this comparison!

[skullamity]

I don't make a whole lot of personal posts on here anymore, but yesterday was @femonologue and I's 17th wedding anniversary. We bucked the trend of forgetting it until like a week after it occurred (thank you adhd) and actually made plans (and this pasta holy shit it was good).

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I would like to take a minute to reflect on how much a relationship that lasts this long is work. Not to scare anyone off, but the two of us made the decision to get married at age 22 and of all the friends who got married in the few years after that, we are one of two couples that I know of who have not been divorced and/or remarried one or more times.

It was crazy lucky that we ended up being as compatible as we are, and it has not always been easy. I am confident in making the statement that neither of us knew who we were as people OR as adults when we tied the knot, as evidenced by the fact that I came out as trans and transitioned in 2016, and that she came out and started transitioning last year. Those are big changes that really threw both of us for the loop, and I understand that a lot of relationships where even just one of the participants transitions have pretty high failure rates for an infinite number of reasons.

I guess if I could give any advice about being married, it would be this:

- don't get married before you're ready, even if you feel like pressure you're getting from family members to not 'live in sin' seems reasonable. Breaking up because you lived together first is messy but cheaper and less traumatic than a divorce.

- LIVE TOGETHER FIRST! I know so many relationships that were great for years while the participants lived separately, and then fell apart after they moved in together and became acquainted with all of each other's annoying habits and clashing ideas on how to maintain a household. Don't let your incompatibilities be a surprise for after the wedding, move in together first and try and come to a mutually agreeable way of living when there's less pressure for you to figure your collective shit out.

- kids are stressful, never have them as a gamble to "make things work" because I have never seen them not make things WORSE when the parents split. Have a straightforward talk about how many kids you want, when you wanna have them and how you want to raise them before you are even married, and if you cannot see eye to eye or find yourself hoping your partner will change their mind about key points of contention in the future, STOP. It is okay to break up and stop wasting each other's time!

- never get married because you think you will never find anyone else who wants to marry you. You will, and you do not have to settle for someone who you aren't even sure likes you as a person 90% of the time. It is NEVER too late to call off a wedding. It doesn't matter if you have down payments on services or venues, or sent out save the dates or invitations. It isn't too late even if you've accepted shower gifts or the wedding is next fukken week--it's embarassing to call it off that close to the line, but it's better than trapping yourself for years because you feel like it's too late to back out. I promise you that your friends and family want you to be happy and would not like it if you only married someone shitty or incompatible because you thought they would judge you for calling it off the night before. They WILL understand, and if they don't? You can re-examine your relationship with them, too, while you're taking out the trash.

- we all bring our own baggage and traumas into relationships, and the only way for them to mesh is communication. I NEED to address things right away because my brain just does not settle into cooldown mode if we take a fifteen minute breather or decide to sleep on it, and my wife NEEDS space to cool down before we talk things out, and it took a lot of actual communication to figure out where we were not meshing in these instances and how to work around that. If you want things to work out, you HAVE to talk about it, and if talking about it is not productive or makes things worse, then couples therapy is NOT a death knell for your relationship and you should try it.

- Being married is learning to put someone else first in ways you couldn't imagine. When I came out as trans, even though I knew we were solid and had a fairly good idea about how she would react, I still made it clear from the get-go that I knew that being married to a dude was NOT what she signed up for, and that if we needed to split for that reason, I understood. Did it get me called a dumbass? Yes. But did she understand where I was coming from and what I meant and why I was offering? Also yes.

- T4T marriages rule, and if you are trans and set on bagging a cis person, think very carefully about why you want that and if it will actually get you what you want. I can recognize that being with a cis person who accepts you as your gender can feel validating and reinforce the need to be and feel normal in a hundred different ways, but if that's the main reason you have mentally nixed the idea of ever dating another trans person, you have some stuff to work though and might wanna get that sorted before you marry anyone.

- you've got to be able to think of yourselves as a team, even when you disagree. Personally I have always pictured us as goofy old timey black and white cartoon bankrobbers with bandit masks, one of us driving the getaway carriage full of sacks with crudely drawn dollar signs on them while the other cackles and throws lit sticks of dynamite at the pursuing sherriff and deputy. Even if we are disagreeing, that image instantly makes me laugh and take whatever I was mad about a little less seriously.

Finally, I am using the app and accidentally clicked the poll option thinking it was a bullet point list and now I can't figure out how to get rid of it, so I'll take this opportunity to ask the most important question:

Here are pictures of how ours turned out:

I could not have imagined how delicious these turned out, eating it was transcendent, neither of will ever be the same.

[whochromatic]

I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must...

*reads it anyways*

Why did I do that. Damnit, I should've known that reading that chapter would have re-activated my need for more. I was way better off ignoring anything related to Yohaji and just went about my day, not thinking about Yohaji every minute of the hour of the day of the week. But the damage has been done. Now I have to read the whole manga all over again just to satisfy myself once again. But no. That's not enough. I searched every corner to hunt every single content of Yohaji. Tumblr. Twitter. Youtube. Tiktok. Ao3. Our lord and savior Canada's account. The giver of reason in life, one who resurrects the dead, the sailor uniform to my life, Tanamai-sensei's account. I know that the Yohaji content in this world is not enough and will NEVER be. The moment I discovered this manga, I knew that it would be my life. The fact that it had only reached me last year, ber month is unforgivable. Why did it not have content as many as the amount of numbers there are to exist so that it could reach me at the start of it's existence? It should have been Yohaji. Not BNHA! Nothing against that anime by the way. Well, I am grateful that I stumbled upon Yohaji while it had 100+ chapters though. And the fandom being small enough to only have nice and cool people in it. But those fics in ao3 though? Why- I mean, I don't really care or pay attention to them but the fact that the amount of nsfw fanfics is probably (I'm saying probably because they might just be more) equal to the amount of sfw fanfics in there is- I swear, WHY ARE THERE SO LITTLE FANFICS OF YOHAJI?! 3 PAGES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? There might be more in other places but I only read in ao3 and Tumblr if I find some there. I'm so thankful for the translators though!!! I love y'all. I love the fandom. I love the characters. I love Yohaji. I love the creator. God- sorry I forgot I can't use sensei's name in vain. I'm telling y'all, Tanamai is the GOAT. A GENIUS!! Your brain is beautiful. What goes on in head yours? Tell and everyone might gain more braincells. What's with you? What's with your humor?? What's with your lore?! WHAT'S WITH YOUR ART??? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?! SENSEI WHEN I CATCH YOU OHH WHEN I CATCH YOU. But of course, it's not your fault that I'm starving for more Yohaji chapters. One month is nothing to me- IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CREATE THIS WONDERFUL AND HEAVENLY HOOK THAT CAUGHT ME EVEN ONLY WITH IT'S TITLE AND ART?? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?! Senseiiiiii*sob* waaaaaahh... Still, I'm sooo happy this is getting an anime this year!! I've been waiting for this ever since I found out it existed along with other Yohaji fans. I knew it would happen soon enough because it's the law. It's a crime to not make an adaption of amazing yet weird yet amazing manga like no other. Death row. DEATH ROW!! It's fine even if it's low quality. As long as it exists, I can finally pass on peacefully- when it airs it better be as good as the manga and look immaculate, I'm telling you. Haha, just kidding. Or am I..? I cannot wait until April or whatever how long it takes for the anime to air just please. Please even the trailer only. But I'm sure everyone is already working hard to make the anime for it. Do your best!! You're doing the right thing! And.... uhm.. 24 episodes... please..? AHHH HARUAKI'S SMILEEE!!! IT'S INVADING MY MIND!! GET OUT! PLEASE GET OUT!!! THIS LOWLY UNGRATEFUL UNDESERVING WORSE THAN DUST BUZZ BUZZ KILLABLE STUPID MORTAL ABOMINATION CAN'T HANDLE OR DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I can't do this. More. More. More Yohaji. I NEED IT. IF AIR AND SAILOR UNIFORM IS LIFE THEN SO IS YOHAJI!! RAAAAAAAHHH

Also I accidentally deleted a longer version of this and rewrote it with my memory. Thanks for wasting your time on this like I did.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: July Wrap-Up.

This month, I picked my knitting back up with a vengeance, started a Three Sentences Writing Challenge, AND participated in several work-adjacent Social Events (who am I, even), On Top Of accidentally nerfing myself with several brick-like books, so! This little stack isn't half bad. Photos and/or reviews linked below:

ORDINARY MONSTERS - ★★ This was a miss for me, y'all, AND it was a brick, so it took a hot minute to read. I wanted it to be better than it was, but it rambled and wandered Too Much (which, coming from me, you KNOW is bad). Salty also-rambly 1.5k review linked.

IF FOUND, RETURN TO HELL - ★★★½ Way cuter than I was expecting!! I had a good time with the second person. Hugely relatable (which. wild. all things considered.).

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE - ★★★½ Funnier than anticipated, and very readable for something out of the '50s! I see why it's a cornerstone of the (sub)genre. Glad I have a copy on hand now.

THE ACTOR AND THE TARGET - ★★★★★ This Rewired My Brain. It took me three (3) weeks to get through. It was so good. If you're a writer, definitely check this out, 10/10 recommend.

WHEN AMONG CROWS - ★★★½ I checked this out from the library because hardback novellas are Expensive if you're not sure you vibe with the author's style, but I had a good time! Witcher fans should descend on this, I think.

ALWAYS COMING HOME - 76*/618 pages read; will report back later. I asked the People about this one, and the People have Spoken (read: this won my What Do I Read Next Poll), but I may or may not have miscalcuated how many brain cells I have available lately between work and writing, so I may or may not be cutting this with library books. I'll finish it. Eventually. (*asterisk because she keeps referencing Other Pages In Line, and every time she does I jump ahead to read those pages instead and then come back to where I was. I'm dual wielding bookmarks through this tome, it's an Experience™ so far!)

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of this month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[erose-this-name]

Hey, I really like your whole universe and how you set up your lore, and kinda want some tips.

I want to finally work on a story I have been fleshing out in my head for over half a decade, but I don't know where to start, or what information is needed, or even which character to follow.

Do I start at the basics of the multiverse, a multi paragraph info dump that is basically integral to understanding the system, do I start with the character, the setting, the themes?

I can't even choose which plotline to do because I have such a backlog of cool story ideas that I basically am stuck in decision paralysis. Same exact problem with characters too. Turns out, having around a hundred characters, each mostly fleshed out and with unique personalities, causes problems when you gotta focus on one

The first step is to not be worried or intimidated. Anyone can write. It's not a task of innate talent or current experience, but of passion and willpower. If you don't have those then idk, advice givers usually just assume you do. But they're the main thing.

Writing is as easy as bleeding.

You start with world building, but you probably already have enough to get started. World building is easy, just write shit down when you think of it and keep doing that. When you can't think of something, just plagiarize Tolkien or Dune. Everyone does it.

Btw, the world building is the least important part. Never exposit on it unless it's relevant to the story, and try to do so with show don't tell. Readers are only interested in relatable characters going through relatable character development. Not even hyperfixating autistic people will read your multi paragraph lore dumps without those relatable character arcs to draw them into the world.

This is very unfortunate if you are autistic like me and care most about world building.

Where you start depends on your writing style.

If you do an episodic shonen/journey to the west style format it's a lot easier to just do all the stories, but that's a lot harder and time consuming and might not be as impactful. (I do that because shorter plotlines helps with ADD, but it has it's downsides).

You can just write individual short stories for them all and never really have any central plot. This is a lot more difficult than writing a long story, though.

If you do want a single main plot, you might have to accept most of the characters and plotlines won't get any attention.

KILL YOUR DARLINGS.

Just look at Arcane. There are 168 champions in League of Legends lore, all with varying degrees of having their own character arcs, plotlines, and fleshed out-ness. Only like 9 or 10 of them appeared in season 1 of Arcane, and I imagine season 2 isn't going to introduce nearly as many new ones in addition to that cast.

Would Arcane have been better if there were 168 deuteroganists? Hekatonhexekontoktoganists? Of course not!

Don't worry about getting all the OCS. Just pick the one or two or five you like the best. Those are your primary cast. Then picking the rest is easy because you only need the ones that would best support that story line. If they come up, you can give a few others passing mentions to give the world a feeling of being big a fleshed out, but most you can just forget as they will serve no purpose.

Cut out the fat.

Think about identifying characters that would make good narrative foils to the main cast, or could logically be involved in the main plotline. Then give some of those guys their own character arcs / b plots. Then you're done!

Well, you still need to actually write the story. Some people just start writing without really planning it out, which is valid and lots of famous authors do this. These authors are cowards.

What I do is start with a rough plot outline. Decide on the basic narrative arc, what happens at the beginning, the climax, and the end. The consequences and how/if this furthers any character arcs.

Make a checklist of all the events that have to happen between those points (don't waste time on complete sentences here, no one but you and maybe a coauthor will see this). Then think of all the other stuff that will happen between those to make sure its actually a logically possible chain of events (you will really regret it if it isn't).

Now delete it and start again because you realize it will have poor pacing or have irresolvable plot holes or just isn't very clever. Do this several times until you're happy.

Perfection is when there is nothing more that can be removed.

The whole process should only take an hour or two at maximum. (For me, one page of plot list roughly translates to 5-10 pages of short story, unless there's combat or dialogue. Then idk, it just takes longer.)

Oh, and don't forget to kill your darlings! Like, literally kill them. You're not really writing unless it's physically and emotionally painful. Painful for who? Yes.

Then you just keep fleshing that list out until it becomes your book's first draft. (You will need lots of complete sentences for this step) (it will also take quite a bit longer than an hour or two) (it's very satisfying to mark off each point on the list)

Now delete your first draft because it's terrible and painful to look at. Restart this entire process several times until you become good at writing. This will take several years, so don't put it off!

NO PAIN, NO GAIN!

So now you've finally written a story you can say your proud of? Great! The last step is figuring out how to publish it. SURPRISE! That should have been your first step.

You now realize it's virtually impossible for you to ever publish because publishing agencies hate you as a person, and also they only publish romance and mystery authors who are already famous so they don't have to spend money on marketing. Realize this is why new authors suck this past decade.

Congratulations! You are now depressed and aimless in life. Just like every great author! Use this pain to fuel yet another book!

This will be your best work yet, as it is genuine and made for no one but yourself. You will never find such happiness anywhere else. 👍

(btw, this post is an example of how important character arcs are to maintaining interest. It has a story of me slowly losing my mind for EDUTAINMENT PURPOSES. Do this when world building ❤️‍🩹)

[maxwell-grant]

🔥 X-men/Krakoa?

Allright let me swing at the hornet's nest here a bit: Krakoa was wasted on the X-Men, not the other way around.

Krakoa was, however problematic and shitty and complicated it might have been even from day one, was onto something enough to generate the intense interest and instant fandom it did, and it's biggest problem wasn't with the forgiving of unrepentant monstrous villains (because that door got blown open forever ago), or the no-humans-allowed policy, or the genocide in Latin America, or the pod people resurrection that took the bite out of every mutant genocide and death past and future, or that the entire premise was built around them trusting the funi haha eugenicist Nazi to build their paradise and let himself be stopped later, or that it kept revolving around the petty courtly intrigues of the arch assholes in charge with only like, two writers capable of propping up this to make it worth reading about. The central problem didn't have as much to do with the fact that the newfound central focus on shadowy detached superhumans huffing their supremacist royalist fumes 24/7 is precisely why nobody likes the Inhumans and especially why nobody liked them as a replacement to the X-Men, and you can't cobble a story out of Magneto/Emma Frost/Mr Sinister mean girl one-liners and hot takes even if that's all the fans want (yes, the X-Men are bastards and so is everyone in the MU, how cutting and insightful and powerful they are yes very impressed, but an Epic Bastard Moments compilation is still not a story). I don't even think it can be entirely blamed on the fact that they had the X-Men speedrun through the 14 rules of fascism as the opening act to a larger story only to decide that actually, we don't need that larger story after all, thanks Hickster but we can just take it from here and keep Stage One as is, everyone's gonna be cool with the cult shit if it still feels like it's going anywhere other than back to the school, we can keep this up forever now! This isn't even a bit, I don't think these things were the biggest cause of death for Krakoa even if they all were there.

I think the biggest problem is that, no matter how many cool or great characters they add to their ranks or what turns into epic pulp sci-fi bombast they take, the X-Men might just be foundationally, irreperably broken as a concept, smothered under the weight of the selling metaphor that just gets more dated and problematic and easier to tear holes into with every passing year, and Krakoa ultimately just elevated all these problems to center stage. There was never going to be a world where Magneto says something as full of shit as "There has never been a mutant war and we've never conquered or stolen land or made slaves and that's why we're better, by the way we're going to be your new gods now" with a straight-face and didn't have that proven immediately wrong (not counting all the people in the Council who absolutely did do all of those things). Krakoa couldn't be both the terra nullius dream clubhouse and the "queer separatist utopia" people desperately craved and a cult backed up by genocide run by self-destructive warmongering hypocrites and a next step in evolution and the headquarters to a superhero team you need to tell monthly exploding punchy stories about and a place that was going to live forever and lead us into the better future and a house of cards waiting to be toppled. It didn't have a future because quite frankly, the mutants don't have a future.

The mutants are, even after all this time, still a half-baked idea of people entirely defined by their oppression, by their death and torture and the hollow space where you're expected to insert your own marginalized traits to identify with instead of much of anything akin to how real marginalized identities are formed and developed and solidified over time. Pretending that the mutants can subsist forever on past shoddy worldbuilding and dated, vague parallels just gets more embarassing over time. It's not an issue individually cool comics or characters are going to fundamentally fix. Krakoa, to it's credit, was some way towards trying to define the mutants past their oppression, but they barely had a language or a flag, and even these attempts were smothered under the Claremontian shadow that's been choking this franchise forever and by the inability of The Big Two to truly hand the reins to anyone other than the same stables of white dudes who always get the final say in everything. Krakoa was Going Somewhere up until it wasn't, and the promise alone breathed a whole new life into the X-books, we really did get some very good comics out of this era, but it was always going to end the way it ended.

Actually scrap all of that, my hot take is, not for racist reasons or anything, but we should destroy the X-Men and replace them with big cool robots that can make us safe forever. Has anyone tried that already?

[thedawningofthehour]

Making Fun of Rich People Round 2

This one's a little bit different. This house is in Arizona, listed for a clean 20 mil, eight bedrooms ten baths, 16,000 square feet. The outside is really nothing special, looks like every other southwestern wanna-be movie star mansion so let's

Kicking things off with a bang.

You know. I can't even say anything bad about this. Like, the other house, they were people who clearly had more money than taste and built their house as a shrine to their bank accounts. It was not meant to live in, but to prove their wealth. It was ridiculous and stupid and they deserved to be made fun of.

These people. These people know their house is ugly. They know that table was an obscene waste of money. They know that couch screams "my coke dealer was redecorating." They do not care. They love bringing people in and watching their expressions of horror. They rub their hands together gleefully as people try to think of a compliment that isn't too obviously pulled out of their ass.

I mean, come on. That green chandelier, they're absolutely trolling us.

And I'm going to be honest, this looks like a living room I'd actually feel comfortable hanging out in. I can see someone on that couch eating ice cream out of the carton at 3 AM. People sit on that rug and play board games on that table. These people furnished their house to live in, not to display.

I am still going to tease them about it, however.

I'm laughing with them, not at them.

Is it just the angle or does that bed seem super short?

I...don't even know what I'm looking at here. I think this is the closet?

No, okay, they have a whole mall outlet store in here. This is like that one scene in Princess Diaries 2 except Julie Andrews would politely show herself out.

Why the marble. Why do you need a sitting area in your closet.

I will admit, I'm disappointed that the owner of such an interesting house has this many black pumps. I get that they go with everything, but-that's the point. They're universal. You don't need over a dozen of them. I expected better shoes.

Nobody:

Rich People: "make the bathroom...ROUND."

fr, their insanity always seems to come out full-force in the bathroom. I legitimately think rich people might not poop or bathe, because it's always some crazy shit that would be incredibly uncomfortable or downright impossible to use.

Another thing I've noticed, rich people all seem to want bathroom doors that open to the outside. Why?!

Especially when this is the outside they're opening up to!

Seriously, what is the point of this?! You're buck naked and decide to go have a smoke next to some cactuses and your giant patio geode. That's all that's out here. Why. Why.

Actually, it looks like there's little paths, which...just makes this worse, honestly. Imagine you're taking a leisurely stroll through the cactus garden and you pass your parents' bathroom patio, getting a full view of your mom taking a bath through the floor-length windows.

"Yes, in our dining hall with the light fixture that looks like birthday sparklers and our collection of Totally Real cactuses."

I've seen designers rag on those unfinished wood tables before, and while I didn't really agree with them at the time I kind of do now. I think this would look cool as like, a side table or accent table, but on a dining table it's just kind of awkward.

This is the same room, they just kept panning out.

While I made fun of the other house for their grand piano, I have no doubt that someone in this family is a drug-fueled musician. This room looks mega-comfy to lay back and watch a movie in, and I love the sheep.

I'm just...in awe of the audacity.

They didn't even try to match. Didn't even pretend like they cared. And I'm not gonna lie, the red countertop is doing something for me.

"When we want the bugs to join us for dinner."

I can't stress this enough, they have multiple patio sets.

See, the last people didn't show off all their alcohol at their bar because they thought it looked more refined not to. These guys probably have art supplies tucked away in their bar just to keep you on your toes. (they don't need a bar, these are the kind of people who carry flasks around with them)

So like...objectively, this bathroom is hideous. It's way too much, the feather thing is ridiculous, that cabinet is ugly as sin.

But I kind of love it?

Just a reminder: this is in Arizona.

...I have nothing to say here.

WHAT IS UP WITH RICH PEOPLE AND THEIR UGLY BATHROOMS?!

Again with the doorway to the outside! And I see this a lot, but so many rich people bathrooms don't have storage spaces?! Like, look at those sinks. What.

More to my theory that rich people don't have any need for bathrooms.

This is the bedroom I wanted as a thirteen-year-old and just now realized I still do.

THE WALLPAPER IS EVEN BIRBS!

Like, I can't even make fun of this. I am just in awe. This entire house looks if sixth grade me had access to the Sims 3 Create-A-Style and the motherlode cheat, and I honestly love that for them. I hope these people find a new house to be extremely fucking cool in.

Leaving with these calming lemons in the backyard! Pay no attention to all the bathrooms that open up directly to the garden.

[river-in-the-woods]

Good day/night! do you keep your western and eastern practices separate and parallel? or have you found some way to reconcile them together into one more "personalized" path maybe? how does that work for you? I'm kind of struggling with this as of late, as someone with mixed heritage, and I thought maybe you'd have some advice. Thank you.

Good day or night to you too!

In general, I keep traditions and techniques separate, unless it makes sense to put them together. It's difficult to advise on this without specifics, so perhaps you can provide a little more context for me 🙂 Let me go through a few key points, and hopefully at least one of them will provide some clarity.

Essentially, it's important know the mechanics of the practice you're doing, how it works and why. And to understand that, you have to receive adequate instruction, and engage with the practice according to its respective tradition to an adequate level.

The only personalisation I've done, is that I do the practices I want to do. But I do them according to how they are taught, and I don't mix and match unless I have a solid and well-understood reason to. There is plenty of religious and spiritual syncretism throughout history, and there are new traditions being born all the time, but the successful ones are formed with an understanding of all the influences they draw upon.

I think people's desire to overly personalise their practice very early on can end up impeding their development, or even have adverse effects depending on how they do it.

If you really want your practice to be something that helps you grow and develop as a person, you have to sometimes be willing to do things differently to your own preference.

If you go to a class – whether it's on martial arts, music, archery, biology, gardening – whatever it might be, it makes sense to follow instructions and not to assume you know better than the person teaching it. There can be room for experimentation once you've grasped the basics.

When it comes to spiritual and magical practices, there are additional stakes than just taking e.g. a pottery class. Spiritual practices have a lot more in common with medicine than they do with a casual hobby.

Practices like yoga, qigong, meditation, energy work and so on will have effects on your subtle body, which then affects your health when practiced for long periods of time. This is what those practices are created for. And they are subtle, which means you may not see an impact immediately.

If you stretch your body in a bad way, you feel immediate pain and know that you shouldn't do it like that. But with practices that affect the subtle body, it might take much longer, and the effects are not necessarily as direct and precise as they are with physical exercise.

If you do leg exercises, you pretty much only strengthen the legs. It is direct and precise. But the impact of a spiritual practice affects multiple aspects of your life: emotions, physical health, relationships, fortune, wisdom...

And of course, interfacing with spirits and gods can affect your fate in all of these ways.

There are insidious ways you can mess up your health and well-being if you don't practice properly. Otherwise, at best, nothing will happen and you'll just be wasting your time. Maybe it makes you feel cool – a lot of people get into spiritual practices because it's aesthetically pleasing and they're just looking for ways to reinforce a particular identity.

Again, that is not what these practices were created for, nor how they operate best.

I'm not saying that LARPing as a... I don't know... a dark tantric priestess of Hekate, Morrigan and Kali and 7 other gods, is going to ruin your life.

But I do see how people become obsessed and infatuated with their personal image, chasing the thrill of the aesthetic, and the thrill of self-categorisation. (It's a great marketing strategy, haha...)

As a mixed race person, I understand your position. I have had identity issues all my life. Part of why I got into all this was because I struggled deeply with who I am, where I belong, and what I'm even doing in this world. Caught between different countries, families, cultures, ideologies. I wanted something that was just for me, instead of feeling constantly torn in multiple directions. But which side does a bridge belong to? Does a bird belong in the sky or in the trees?

I don't think this is something you can reconcile by forcing two different worlds to integrate. I mean, maybe you can do this with two different cultures in the same region, or even on the same continent. But in my case... England and China are very, very different. Rather, I find more success to be found by choosing what influences to draw on at any given situation.

If you want genuine change – if you really want this path to empower you and help you feel at peace with yourself – you will trip over yourself if you try to make this about your identity. A big portion of spirituality is about deconstructing one's identity and ego, to realise that the world is far greater and more intricate than we know, and that there are no simple answers to life's great endeavours.

If anything, you have an advantage in this regard.

You will have to learn to be nimble, and resist the temptation to find the 'perfect' social-cultural-spiritual space to fit yourself into. Be nimble and learn to walk between worlds, and belong comfortably to all of them at the same time.

I hope this long ramble has been helpful to you 🌿 Good luck on the path.

PS: I recommend Consorting with Spirits by Jason Miller. It may further answer your questions on how to work with multiple traditions and pantheons.

[dravidssideblog]

"Hey, have you seen this yet?"

"Huh? 'Poke-Forms'... The hell is this?"

"It's that technology that can transform people into pokemon. It just recently got approved for commercial use."

"THAT stuff!? Ew, that's weird! People are really paying to turn into animals?"

"Well yeah. Haven't you ever wanted to fly, or breathe fire?"

"No thanks, I'll stick to being an actual person."

"Alright. I'm planning on spending a couple days as a mudkip, see what it's like swimming in a body like that."

"A mudkip!? Not even something cool, like a charizard, or gyarados?"

"Evolved forms cost extra. I want to start small, just dip my toes in, you know?"

"Whatever. Have fun crawling on all fours, I guess."

"Hah, maybe I will! Anyway, gotta go, see ya."

"..."

-

"Gah, darn these stubby little- Aha! Hey, you home? You forgot to lock up- ... Uh."

"I can explain."

"Oh, so when I want to be a mudkip for a few days I'm a weird little freak, but when YOU want to be a meowscarada it's apparently different?"

"It IS different! Just let me explain!"

"Okay. Explain."

"... meowscarada is really cool."

"You're a cat."

"I'm a MAGICIAN! See, look at this! I've got powers, and I can do magic tricks and stuff! And I've got a cool mask, and a cape-"

"Those aren't real clothes, you're actually naked."

"I- So are you! And at least I'm standing on two legs! You couldn't even be bothered to be a marshtomp instead."

"Yeah, because evolutions cost extra- ... How much did you spend on this?"

"That... is none of your business."

"We're splitting rent, I think it IS my business. How much did you spend?"

"... 50 days worth."

"WHAT!?"

"I had to! Look, just getting to meowscarada needs 36 days, and then I needed to buy MORE days to actually spend time as meowscarada, and it'd be a waste to spend all that money up front for just a few days, so... I got two extra weeks worth."

"... You're a idiot."

"You did the same thing!"

"No, I bought a few days of transformation to test the waters, and I gotta say, it's a pain in the ass sometimes not having my normal human body! YOU paid for 50 DAYS with NO IDEA how it would feel! Why didn't you pick some 1st stage pokemon to try it out first?"

"I don't WANT to be a 1st stage pokemon, I want to be meowscarada! And hey, I got hands, I got two legs, and I'm almost as tall as I was before. AND check out what I can do with this flower yo-yo-OW!"

"Mhm. Right."

"Okay so I need a little practice, but this is way better than being some tiny, 4-legged beast."

"Tell that to your bank account. Anyway, I'm going to take a nice, long bath, because this tiny body makes water feel GREAT."

"Fine, I'll just be here being an awesome magician with plant powers... Okay, swing it up, then around, then across like- Gah, almost got it..."

-

"Around and around, then watch it waver and waggle, aaaaand how about some loop-de-loops!"

"Okay I know that's on an invisible string, but I still have NO idea how you're moving it like that. You're barely even moving your hands!"

"Hah! Just instinct, practice, and youtube tutorials, my adoring audience! Now let's bring it UP, oop, oh no~ Now where has my flower gone~?"

"Well, you swung it behind your back..."

"Check behind your chair~"

"You couldn't have- Oh my god!"

"HaHA! Never underestimate a master magician! Now, for my next trick, keep an eye on the flower, watch it twirl, until in 3, 2, 1- WHA! *THUD*"

"Whoa, how'd you do that!?"

"Ha ha, very funny, but no, tripping wasn't part of the performance."

"No seriously, you timed that perfectly!"

"Timed wha- ... Why are you so tall? Oh, shit, has it been two weeks already? Damn it!"

"What, is being a floragato so bad?"

"I'm 3 feet tall, you tell me."

"So... What now? Gonna head to the Poke-Forms place and turn back to a human?"

"I guess, but... *sigh*, I spent so much money on this. It'd be such a waste. Maybe I can extend it, get more meowscarada days..?"

"And, what, keep giving the company money for your whole life? And either way, you still won't get to use those... what, 30 extra days you bought?"

"36. And yeah, I guess not. A whole month's worth of days... Gah, I can't just let it go to waste! I mean, I've still got powers! And I'm still mostly humanoid. Better than being a mudkip, at least."

"Disagree on that."

"Shut up. Ah, my flower's turned into a bud. And the vine's so thick and- Oh. Oh, it's got some weight to it, some real momentum! Hey, yeah, I can work with this!"

"So I guess you'll need help reaching the top shelves for a few weeks?"

"Actually, I won't. Observe! Uh, ah, shit, FUCK!"

"... You're cleaning that up."

-

"Hey, short-stuff! Didn't expect to see you here."

"I told you I'd be out tonight."

"Yeah, but at a party? You know everyone can see how small and cute you are, right?"

"Pff, whatever. Just means they're more shocked when they see my tricks! The ladies love the yo-yo, you know~"

"Yeesh, and after you spent days holed up inside because you didn't want to be seen as a meowscarada."

"That was a month ago. I'm used to all this now! Besides, no way I'm staying inside when the sun feels so nice on my fur."

"I keep forgetting you have fur now. Does that like, change how you shower, or..?"

"Oh yeah, I got a whole routine figured out for it."

"Wow, you're really settling into this. I don't think I could stand being a pokemon for more than a week, much less a month."

"It's more than worth it to have these floragato powers. Seriously, I'm like spiderman with this yo-yo!"

"You're about as tall as a spider, too."

"Just makes it easier to move around. And hey, everyone wants to lose weight, right? I've lost nearly 150 pounds!"

"You sure make the most of it, jumping on counters and climbing over the couch. It's like I actually have a pet cat."

"Come on, this cat's way too cool to be your pet."

"You won't be cool for much longer. How many floragato days do you have left now?"

"Oh. Shoot, I dunno. Probably only like 2 or 3..."

"Yeah, that sounds right. Better make the most of it then."

"Good point, absolutely. Hey everyone! Check this shit out!"

-

"Um, hey, so uh..."

"Huh? Oh! Finally out of floragato days, huh?"

"Yeah..."

"Need me to drive you to the Poke-Forms place then?"

"... Well... No..."

"Okay. Careful on your way there then, don't want someone deciding to kidnap a pet sprigatito."

"No, I... What I mean is...... it'd be a waste to not use all the days I paid for, right?"

"... You're gonna stay like that?"

"... Yeah."

"For two weeks?"

"Well, I've gotten really used to this. The fur, the paws, watering my leaves-"

"So THAT'S what you were doing with that spray bottle!"

"It's just been a really... interesting experience, being a pokemon. And this was really expensive, I doubt I'll do it again for a long while, so this is my only chance to experience this. I've gotten into the groove of my new body, and I just kinda... don't feel the need to stop. You know?"

"... You mean you like it."

"... Yeah. I like it. That's... That's not weird, is it?"

"It's absolutely weird."

"No- I- Shut up! You're being a dick!"

"Come on, you've been a pokemon for a month and NOW you're scared of being weird?"

"You... make a good point. Heh, I've been a freak all this time, the least I can do is own it... Hey, I don't have hands, can you get breakfast for me?"

"Of course, short-stuff."