#in place of justifying to my insurance

[3-aem]

Ima burn the whole country an go to every state border thing and take a huge shit right in the middle of the highway an then a huge shit at every city hall cus why they hell can they give you an inhaler ima bouta put you on my insurance to get you one cus FUCK

I got a lot of asks re my inhaler issue and I'm kind of in the process of dying and crying tn so I'm not going to get to reply to everyone but this is so fucking hilarious to me I'm actually sobbing and wheezing and coughing it hurts but I've read this 50 Times

Thank you for brightening the night 💜💜

[cozybearz]

i need to get a job….

[imagineagreatadventure]

ugh i asked for an additional week and let them know my medical providers suggested I start part-time instead of full time when I did come back and now my HR is like ummmmmmm you're changing everything on us!

[nothorses]

anyways the tipping discourse is still wild to me because like. just. step back from the online theoretical discourse for a minute. take my hand and join me in our practical reality.

when you tip your server, they are paid the amount they were told they would be paid when they accepted the position. they are being paid the amount they rely upon to carry out their basic plans RE: securing food, water, shelter, and other necessities for themselves.

is this a fair wage? probably not! should it be on you, the (also likely underpaid) customer to do this? also no!!

but this is what your choice impacts. if you choose not to tip your server, they do not receive money that they were counting on, and you did that. the people underpaying them also did that, but you made that choice knowing the impact it would have, and you are culpable even if you did not personally design the circumstances you made your decision under.

we talk about the ethics of stealing in the context of big corporations that can afford to be stolen from (and often don't actually lose anything when it happens anyway, because. insurance. and losses they already calculated and planned for), but these are not big corporations with massive untouchable buffers.

these are people, just like you. when you do not tip them, you are stealing directly from them, the person, the individual human who was counting on that money. not the business.

when you don't tip, it doesn't matter the reason; obviously it's not praxis, but I have also seen people argue that you shouldn't have to tip if you can't afford it.

if you can't afford food, you may be justified in stealing from someone who can afford the loss in order to meet that need. but you are not justified in stealing food from someone who is struggling just as hard as you, and you are not justified in deciding whether that individual deserves to eat as much as you do.

it sucks that businesses have placed you and the server in a position where your theft impacts only the individual server you're taking from, but until that changes, you need to fucking tip.

if you can't afford the cost of the meal + tips, you can't afford the meal.

[minervas-hand]

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

[lisafication]

Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’.  Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part. 

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do. 

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves. 

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday  and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in. 

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough. 

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society. 

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you. 

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here —  I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2. 

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

[transmutationisms]

could you talk more on eds and biopolitics?

sure, so this is broad strokes and it's also worth reiterating that the energy deficit characteristic of EDs can have a lot of different causes besides intentional food restriction—food insecurity is a huge and underrecognised factor here but there are many others. so when i talk about intentional restriction and the desire to be thin / lose weight, i'm not suggesting these are universal characteristics or causes of EDs.

anyway though, in the context of discussing these things, and particularly the relationship between 'diet culture' and EDs, a perennial frustration to me is that i often hear people fall back on the idea that the desire to be thin comes about as a result of the beauty standards perpetuated in mass media, fashion adverts, &c, without any subsequent interrogation of why it is that beauty itself is now so heavily dependent on thinness. after all, plenty of people have pointed out this is not a universal; beauty varies in different times and places, what is described or depicted as beautiful in historical records doesn't necessarily have much overlap with today's hegemonic standards, and so forth.

so when historicising this phenomenon it becomes very clear that the euro/anglo standard of thinness as beauty is, one, part of the ideological apparatus justifying colonialism thru the creation of race and white supremacy. sabrina strings and da'shaun harrison have written on this. two, the thin ideal is also inextricably tied up in medical discourses defining the ideal body as one that is economically productive, with the promise being that if the populace can be transformed into 'healthy',*** useful, hardworking citizens, the state benefits. control of bodyweight is therefore certainly a means of demonstrating one's supposed self-control, moral discipline, &c, but it is also a demand expressed in medical terms: these two discourses merge and overlap, and are both part of the capitalist state's transformation of its citizenry into a biological resource that can be controlled, managed, and exploited to bourgeois ends (profit): hence, biopolitics.

(***the story of how 'health' itself comes to be so dependent on thinness is obviously a critical piece of all this but this post is long as shit already so suffice it to say that this conflation is also not obvious, necessary, universal, &c &c)

medico-political discourses in the 19th century tended to talk about the dangers of both over- and under-weight more than what we hear now; similarly, if you think about something like wilbur atwater's calorie-value charts, these were explicitly intended to guide labourers to the most calorie-dense foods, because to atwater the central danger to be avoided was starvation among the workforce. these days in wealthy countries like the us, you are much more likely to hear about weight management in the context of demands to reduce; this is of course following moves like the WHO declaring an 'obesity epidemic' in 1997, and the rise in the usa of more explicitly nationalist, militaristic weight-loss rhetoric in the post-9/11 era.

however, my position is that these demands for thinness, and the beauty standard that follows and justifies them, are not a departure from earlier 19th- and 20th-century scientific nutrition advice, just an evolution that, for a multitude of reasons (politics, medical professional interests, insurance company practices, &c) has simply come to focus more on the ostensible economic and national threat posed by fatness. the underlying logic bears the biopolitical throughline: the state has, or ought to have, an interest in enforcing the health of its population, and as part of this demands that you the individual surveil and alter your weight according to the scientific guidelines du jour.

this is fertile ground for the development of what, in extreme form, we regard as ED pathology. first, because even the most purely 'health'-motivated individual engaging in the required degree of bodily monitoring and caloric restriction is liable to respond to energy deficit in ways that can become diagnosably distressing. second, because the morals of 'health' are never far from standards of beauty; thinness is sold in overtly profitable ways (the diet and weight-loss industries) and furthermore, our idea of beauty is often a kind of post hoc justification for the thinness already being demanded by state and medical authorities. which is really just to say, beauty is part of the ideological superstructure both resulting from and invoked as a justification for the material conditions of capitalist biopolitics. again this is very broad strokes, but imo it is a much more useful framework to understand EDs than simply presenting them as a result of desiring thinness because it is glorified in The Media, because... reasons (essentially the rené girard model, lol).

[ms-demeanor]

If you don't mind me asking, what happened with the nutrition stuff?

The only in-state school accepting nutrition students as a second bachelor's degree is 300 miles away from the place where I can both work and afford housing.

At this point my options are:

Move to the area with the school, which would require quitting my job (losing my insurance!) and probably taking out loans to afford housing.

Take out loans to go to a nearby private school.

Take out loans to go to an out of state program with online classes.

The second and third options would probably cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $100k, and the first option would cost less but would mean there was no possibility of me working to pay for rent or insurance while finishing the degree. I'm just not willing to take on that level of debt for a field that I'm deeply interested in but that doesn't appear to pay well enough to justify that kind of debt when I'm approaching my forties and don't know if I'd be physically able to get through the internship required for certification.

If a local state school ends up opening up their nutrition program to 2nd bachelor's students, I would jump on that immediately, but both programs I was looking at two years ago are no longer open for students in my situation.

So it has nothing to do with losing interest or not being able to keep up with the work, I just plain can't afford it and am unwilling to take that much of a risk.

The community college I'm looking at for the computer science program is a lot more technical than my current school, and has a nutrition certification that is a lot more comprehensive than the classes I've been able to take so far, so I may end up doing some nutrition stuff while I do the computer stuff too.

I had considered getting a nursing degree (because there are a bunch of local state schools with nursing programs open) and focusing on nutrition once I finished that, but I realized that I just don't have the level of interest in nursing that I would need to go that route. The only reason I'm still involved with either computer classes or nutrition classes is because I'm genuinely interested, and I get the feeling that if I tried to finish nursing school I'd waste a lot of time and money and bail out, or I'd finish and I'd hate my options.

So computers and a growing resentment for the US education system it is!

[oharabunny]

⋆✮↪ Warning: rambles, tangents, soft yandere!Miguel, weird Miguel, OOC!Miguel probably but idc, shy and useless reader

╭─── based on my first yandere!miguel tangent ┆ ╰⪼ I want to dive into slightly more detail of how far Miguel goes in taking care of you. We have to keep in mind that Miguel has lost a lot, a whole universe, and his daughter. I imagine he'd be more of a normal boyfriend had he met you in normal circumstances. However, I also don't think you would've been his type for normal Miguel. You're more compliant, shy, and normal. You're also ditzy, clutzy, and barely scraping by in your home world. In front of the great geneticist of Alchemax and Spider-Man, he was definitely out of your league.

But, your normalcy and dysfunctional living habits create the perfect relationship for current Miguel. He's able to get away with so so so many things with you.

(You almost ran away once one night, but you stopped in front of the exit and hesitated. You were alone in this universe with no family, no version of your family existing in this world. You'd be a burden to the other Spider people, and Miguel is the only one doing more than just giving you a place to stay.)

For one thing, he sees you as a fragile little doll that was abandoned on the side of the road. Or a cute kitten. But more than a pet, he has to take care of every little inch and aspect of you. Having lost damn near everything, he needs to keep a close eye on the one he cares about.

The one he cares most now is you; you're all he's got.

Back to some of the things he'd do to you, well, they aren't harmful, just unnerving. He almost never lets you do anything yourself around the house. He let you cook once and you burned yourself slightly, and Miguel made sure no kitchen appliance like the stove or blender can turn on unless given a passcode. Even kitchen utensils especially knives were locked away. Don't get me wrong though, you can cook, but Miguel would rather die than see you wince in pain again.

You're allowed at least a microwave and airfryer to heat up food when Miguel's not home to do it for you, under Lyla's supervision. Believe me, if he's home, you're never lifting a finger in the kitchen, including dishwashing.

Speaking of cleaning, he actually quite enjoys cleaning the house, especially spaces you occupy in the most. He even carefully washes all of your clothes and underwear, and folds them away for you. The rest can be handled by other robots of course. He believes only he can provide you the best conditions to live in, no one and nothing else.

That includes care for your body. This is going to be the most prominent and unnerving aspect of his care for you. While him bathing you from head to toe almost everyday is tame, he's very particular in his details. Like mentioned before, he'd do your manicure and pedicure, your skincare routine (he even knows the weekly masks you put on), and haircare and hairstyling (he's done so much research, you'd think he's done this before. Mans multi-talented). But, there's a point when too much care becomes too much, taking care of your looks alone is not enough. Your health is PARAMOUNT to this man. Looks fade, but your health should not. He'd be a little strict on your diet. He'd frequently take blood, urine, and stool samples (and of course he does it for you, don't fuss, he will do it with force if he has to no matter how gross it is for the both of you) to monitor every part of your body. Depending on your family's history and genetics, he'd constantly test for anything that you may inherit that could harm you. Yes that includes your usual checkups like you would at your doctor. He is your personal doctor too at this point. It's not like you have insurance in Nueva York 2099, a whole foreign universe.

God another gross thought I have to put out there is that he used to watch you use the restroom until you convince him to just stand outside. He justifies that bathroom related accidents are more common than you think. 💀🤢🤮 (He does NOT have a piss and poop kink he's just WEIRD)

As for usual yandere behaviors, he'd obviously won't let you go outside of the house. If he has you in an actual house with a backyard, that's where you get your sunlight, but if he has you in an apartment, then the shielded off balcony and sunroof will suffice. For vitamin D purposes. Otherwise, he makes you take supplements if you are deficient.

The only thing, and I do mean only, he asks of you is to give him babies. Pregnancy and birthing are huge huge risks depending on your constitution. I imagine Miguel messing with your DNA so you can safely deliver him babies. (Or for you kinky folks, he'd rewrite DNA somehow to make your milk jugs overflowing with milk constantly)

Taking care of you is something that of a ritual for him. Something he looks forward coming home to doing, despite the countless responsibilties he has in the Spider Society. He'd actually get so upset if you took care of yourself without him. If the whole canon events theory he has is debunked, I imagine he retires and full sends in taking care of you 24/7 in every hour of the day. He already relays more tasks to Jess, Peter, and other Spiders than usual, so he can be home with you more.

With all the cooking, cleaning, and self care routine being completely done by Miguel, you basically can do everything else you want, within Miguel's reason. Only safe hobbies, like drawing, reading, shopping, watching TV, etc. He still monitors when he can, especially shopping, since he is watchful of where his money moves, but to also see if you're purchasing anything that could hurt yourself. He hopes that whenever he can, he could join you in your hobbies. He particularly enjoys dressing you up in his favorite outfits on you. He'll see a style online he wants you to try and spin his own twist to it. You'd be his little fashion model. He'd also definitely have photoshoots just for you. You also love dressing him up as well and making him join in on the photoshoots.

I feel like I have a few more unnerving ideas about my version of yandere!Miguel, but I'm stopping right here cuz its 2 am and I can't think anymore. Till next time. (I'll write an actual fic I swear I will!)

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Tags: @belle-oftheball34, @mrs-oharaxx, @sukunash0e, @miguelswifey04, @wreakingmarveloushavok, @ghostofwinter, @crystalcrynight (LET ME KNOW IF I MISS TAGGING YOU OR WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR FUTURE WRITINGS)

buy me a ☕?

[theworldoffostering]

This is your friendly political reminder:

1. We have a child who immigrated to the United States. It was difficult to do so, and my guess is those of you referring to people as “illegals,” don’t have a very good understanding of the cost or the process. Additionally, there seems to be a severe lack of compassion and understanding that human beings are human, and we are called to love one another. People are suffering all over the world. Jesus did not call you to “take care of your own.”

2. We have three children in the local school district with IEPs. I’ve spent most of the fall vigorously advocating that they get what they need WITH their IEPs in place. Those of you looking to see the Department of Education dismantled might be lucky enough to not need any of the safeguards that we need in order to ensure that our children can learn. Five of our kids went to HeadStart. One is currently receiving a Pell Grant for college. Please step in alongside me to attend IEP meetings, drive my children to school to receive services (today alone I will do 12 pick up/drop offs at four different schools), or offer private tutoring in the form of specially designed instruction, tutoring, or OT, all of which are needed.

3. Five of our children came to us through adoption. Being anti-abortion while trying to strip away all of the things our kids and family needs in order to stay afloat with our children that are very much alive, but need additional help in various areas (like healthcare and education) is inconsistent at best. Please volunteer to help me out at home. Many people are single issue voters, but are not actually taking kids into their home that survived birth, but don’t have a home in the world. We are managing mental health diagnoses, former police contact (monthly at one point), a prior CPS investigation (now closed), complex medication management, attachment trauma, the inability to spend time together as a couple, and so much community judgement. It’s hurtful. I am an all-in parent, but it’s impossible to do alone.

4. All seven of our kids have utilized state insurance, and currently six of them have it. It sure saved us financially when we had a child that needed to be life flighted to a hospital with a fractured skull and brain bleed. It has also allowed for countless in-patient stays for mental health.

5. Being a foster parent for 16 years has unfortunately provided me with an up close seat to see the impact of sexual abuse on children and teens, some of whom are now adults. Sexual assault is never okay. Being willing to overlook sexual assault as a means to justify the end, is also not okay. Ever.

Policies have real impact on real people. This fall has been one of the hardest yet for me as I work to meet everyone’s needs both personally and professionally. Our family is already isolated as is often the case when trying to walk through life against the grain. Last fall a local family (a mom in her 40s) told one of our older daughters that their entire church here in town hated me, and that I needed professional help. (You may report back that I do have a therapist because anyone processing this much secondary trauma over 15 years needs one.) This is awfully difficult stuff to endure in a small town both as an adult, and a child, and yet endure we must, because there is no other choice.

Hate breeds hate. Please choose differently. We are just trying to survive in our small corner of the world here. It’s already incredibly challenging, and would be less so by having people to circle around us to support us, love us, and encourage us. At the end of the day, isn’t that what most people need?

[beetleviolet]

Let's talk about Bishop from TOTTMNT

(Tw sibling death)

@hahachiknfunny

Ok. I'm going to just get this out of the way at the beginning.

I HATE THIS CHARACTER

And not in a "aaa this villain makes me so mad bc they're evil" no I mean I hate the way her character is developed and justified.

IF YOU DISAGREE PLEASE DO EXPLAIN I WOULD QUITE GENUINLY LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

So I am still working my way through a lot of different tmnt series (currently alternating between 2012 and 2003), so I don't have a lot of experience with the usual Bishop character. Based on the little I know about him (mostly from fanfiction), my general impression was that he was this bigoted white guy who was like. A mutant nazi or something. He hates mutants because they are different, they are "flawed", and therefore they are a threat. I figured he was just a hateful asshole, and hadn't thought about it more then that.

But for this, they decided to go in a different direction. The ✨tragic backstory✨ direction. Which is a pretty good direction! IF you do it right. Which, in my humble opinion, THEY ABSOLUTELY DID NOT!!!!

Ok let's get some actual points here!

When we get Josefina Bishop's backstory, she starts as this passionate, nice character who is eager to achieve her robot building dreams. Nothing about her is mean or hating or anything of the sort. She is exasperated by Rod, but doesn't say anything incredibly bitter to him, she's just frustrated being forced to work with this rich guys man child. Which yeah! Thats fair! She has a sister who died and who is the inspiration of her work. Awesome!

And then her workshop is destroyed.

Let me just add. She is being funded by a millionaire. She probably has insurance! Her sister is in no way harmed by these events. And yet her response to property damage is DOMESTIC FUCKING TERRORISM.

She immediately gets bitter and revenge-filled, deciding that she should exterminate ALL THE MUTANTS!!!

You know, the mutants that were helping fight Superfly? The enemies of the one who destroyed her work? THEYRE LITERALLY ON HER SIDE???

And not only does this hatred of Superfly extend to the turtles.

SHE ALMOST KILLS A SUBWAY TRAIN FULL OF PEOPLE!!!

Because, of course "iTs A sMaLL pRicE tO PaYyYyyy"

Bestie. Honey. Girlfriend.

Its just. Weird to me? It doesn't seem very thought out. I would have loved a kind of change up from the usual Bishop themes, but just because its different and new isn't an excuse for it to suck!

IT TOTALLY COULD HAVE WORKED AND HERE IS HOW.

Nickelodeon needs to stop being a bitch and kill off her sister during the Superfly conflict.

Its very clearly what they WANTED to do. Its like the original concept was that her sister died, but that was considered too violent, so they took that out, but then didn't replace it with something else. And they tried so hard to be like "ohhh its about my sisterrrr" GIRL WHAT THIS IS ABOUT SUPERFLY DESTROYING YOUR SHIT AND YOU BEING BUTT HURT ABOUT IT.

And another thing! For a character to turn evil, they have to SNAP! And a character can't snap unless they are already under enough pressure to make that a threat.

Make her be cruel to Rod. Have her be control freak who has to have all the variables perfectly in place. Bitter about the sponsors that doubted and rejected her. Make her already angry at the world, have the only thing that matters to her be her robots and her sister, the two things that were always at her side. And then one day Superfly kills her sister and destroys her lifes work. Yes, she can rebuild the robots. Not the sister though, and making them without her is such an empty and performative motion.

Mutants have gotten people killed. They're too dangerous, its too much of a risk.

This mindset would make so much more sense if they just HAD SUPERFLY KILL HER SISTER LIKE OMG.

Also she had several direct conversations with the turtles, so she was well aware they were intelligent beings.

ALSO! She didn't target the mutants who used to work with Superfly. That would TOTALLY make sense even without the sister thing!

But no. She had to kill the TURTLES. The ones who are widely acknowledged and widely known to be the ones to stop Superfly and save NYC and the world.

But you know what? Maybe i could let that go. Its a kids show, right? And I did like her recovery arc at the end.

Until they. You know. COMPLETELY UN DID ALL OF THAT!!!!

I thought that maybe Bishop will be like. Idk a spy for the mutants or something, like a double agent, but tbh based on the previous writing of her character, I wouldn't put it past the writers to just. Have her do a complete 180. I'm just mad she's going to be a reoccurring character.

Anyway. I kinda hate to dump on this show so much bc I love (most) everything else about it. Bishop was the lowest point to me by far.

[unconventionalmakes]

20/09/24

I have some news guys.

After leaving my Etsy store to sit and run on it's own for a while this year, I've been informed that I will lose access to the funds I make on the site in 6 days until I submit my taxpayer ID which for me is my social insurance number. This is where I've decided to draw the line and pull my business from Etsy. I don't feel comfortable giving that info over to a site that can be hacked. I'll be taking down my store very soon and making arrangements elsewhere as there is no point in collecting funds I won't ever receive until they shut my store down in 60 days themselves.

This is all very abrupt and not at all how I was planning on the rest of the year going but you've got to roll with the punches and not sell your morals or gut feelings short. And I have a bad feeling about this.

It's a bittersweet moment because I really did love my little Etsy store and it was a big move for me to create my shop in the first place in March of 2020. However as time has gone on, Etsy has put out more and more questionable policies that I've never agreed with and until now been able to opt out of getting involved in. I can't opt out of this one as it comes from the Canadian government. And while looking into this policy I properly saw just how much money from sales I've made. To give you and idea, from a $3.00 purchase (which I was told was actually $3.30) I made $1.00. I also didn't realize that I can't opt out of paying to be in offsite Etsy ads anymore so I was automatically put into it and a lot of my sales have come from offsite ads this year so a lot more of my income than I thought was going to Etsy for that (nonconsensually).

And while I have you here, here's another issue I'd like to draw your attention to. This year they rolled out an offer to all sellers to get a discount on their fees if they shared a trackable link to their social media for their followers and friends to click on where their information would be tracked and essentially bought out by Etsy at the price of 4% off their Etsy fees. So just be careful out there. And my advice to anyone still selling on Etsy, pay attention to these offers of trading some of your personal information or doing a favour for them with your name on it in exchange for their basic service or an inconsequential deduction of fees. It's not right. Your income and your hobby shouldn't ever be treated like a bribe or a game.

At this point I don't care if anyone thinks I'm overreacting, these are my morals and principles and that's all I have to act on. And I know that people have been saying that Etsy is evil for a while to which I still don't agree with them. I have just been very passive about my income while my shop was up since Etsy took care of so much of the job and I justified the fees in the beginning because I saw it as paying them to do the stuff I didn't know how to do. That all changes now. The work I put out is worth more than my passive attitude towards it.

More updates to come ✌

[beemovieerotica]

wait remember how the staff at the physical therapy place I go to were being possibly forced to work through christmas eve

I got my bill for everything (gratefully insurance covered all but $40) and I saw that my time cost $400/hr???

so there were typically around 3 patients there at any given time which means the company was making up to $1200/hr from this location. conservatively going to say $9000/day for slow hours but accounting for the fact they're open about 12 hours a day.

and they have only 3 staff on the floor at any time

how the fuck do you justify making people work through the holidays when you're making THAT MUCH MONEY?

[terrence-silver]

Hello 🖤 I love seeing your blog pop up in my feed, simply exquisite 🖤

I have a request. What would older Terry Silver do with an adult student who is rather boisterous in class, she listens but only when she wants, she's a smarty pants. Terry so wishes to teach her a lesson after many months of class passing, learning her mannerisms, learning HER. Ever the voyeur, finding her home, seeing what lies within when she's not home, Terry plans a little 'private lesson,' specifically for her at his home dojo. Ending with his gi sloppy on him, his hair a mess like the slut he is with his student underneath him with no mercy being shown. His student definitely listens to HIS wants and desires, eager to please.

Breaking Stone.

(Terry Silver x Reader)

---

-"How safe is this, Sensei? I mean, it’s solid rock."- 

Your voice speaks up from the gathered crowd and Terry Silver, he knew you’d have something to say without having to turn his back towards the mass of students keenly eyeing his demonstration in silence, standing jam packed in a circle around the erected board with a concrete block fastened to the center of the scaffolding propped up on iron legs, following his every word like a mantra only for him predict that your mouth will eventually move to utter something and dare interrupt him. Class fifty eight. A lesson on Brick Breaking. Tools necessary; pretty straightforward. A slab of rock and a fist. Additional spices; your usual commentary in the midst of it all. Happened almost daily. Happened to the degree it was a constant he could count on. -"We’ll break our hands on that."- You add with a sense of urgency and worry once the entirety of the exercise’s participants turn their eyes towards you, scrutinizing, weighing and accessing what you just blurted out and you tended to blurt out stuff frequently. Terry joins them in their quiet staring, finding a twitch of satisfaction stir through him once he realized you were jittery and stuttering, made self aware through the fact you were the sudden center of attention. Needing to justify yourself for placing the spotlight unto yourself, you blurt out some more bullshit. Nerves, was it? You deserved that. Deserved much worse for stepping out of line. -"What do we do in case we tear our ligaments punching the board?"- You ask, scratching the back of your head. Ligaments? Were you frightened of getting a boo-boo? At that point, Terry allows himself to turn his entire body towards you, taking his time, slowly --- painfully slowly --- looking straight ahead, towards you. You shift, from one bare foot on the mat to the other, like the stillness of everything around you gave you a sense of discomfort.

Stew in it. He hoped you'd stew in it.

-"Seems a bit extreme. Sorry."-

You chuckle, apologizing, looking down. Then back up.

Terry has to chuckle with you, neatly folding his hands in front of him.

A bit extreme? It was meant to be extreme.

-"Our student here thinks our methods are strange, but these classes aren’t mandatory."-

He simply shrugs matter-of-factly, addressing the people around him, all eyes leave you and pinning themselves in his direction instead, encircling him like a tightly closed ring, listening attentively, leaving you even more isolated in your folly. The great mother hen and the ducklings. The one, solitary ugly black duck that talked too much. -"Nobody’s here by force."- He explains, and contrary to popular belief, everyone here gave their signature of consent on a written contract. Terms. Conditions. Price rates. Health insurances. They showed up to daily classes because they wanted to, giving their hard earned money out of their own volition. He didn't go kidnapping people off of the streets of LA and harassing them into black Gi, in spite of what the likes of Larusso tried to accuse him of, same way not even Larusso himself was harassed into this, decades ago. -"Or are you all here by force?"- Terry purses his lips, looking around, enjoying this far too much to stop. In unison, they all speak up, one voice, stemming from one collective lung. -"No, Sensei!"- The dojo resonates with their shout. He tries again, spreading his arms, envisioning himself like Pontius Pilate about to wash his hands clean of you and let the crowds make their decisions. -"Why are you here for then?"- He inquires, raising his voice, encouraging them. Spurring them on. -"To learn, Sensei!"- Obeying, they repeat the motion, letting out a united cry and content, Terry squeezes his fingers into a fist once they all fall silent, all but an echo remaining, his other free hand caressing the concrete block in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you. At this point, with a mouth standing agape, forgetting you should've joined everyone in their jubilant war cry, you were as pale as a ghost. Not quite so chatty or smart anymore.

Perfect.

-"The lesson is —"- He begins. -"A true artist of the craft spends years, even decades just hitting things. Sand. Wood. Stone. Metal. Flesh."-

Terry coos, confessing, that he did, on occasion, imagine hitting you.

The sweetest thing he'd ever strike. Purely to shut you up, get you the way you were right now; As quiet as the dead; all gulps and anxious little eyes darting left and right. Preferably having you bent over his knee like an unruly child and taking the bamboo stick to you bare buttocks until they were rendered crimson red with punishment. After it was all done, he'd have you thanking him for the honor too. He smiles, just at the notion; an expression he doesn't bother hiding.

-"Having been broken so many times, it makes their bones so dense that when it comes in contact with solid rock, the rock breaks first."-

Terry digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking his stance and lunging forward suddenly, knuckles breaking through the barrier of the rock and crumbling, his fingers pushing through the crack he made on the other side. It was as simple as that. -"Asaa!"- He bellows and if the dojo was collectively holding it's breath, once he's done, the remains of sharp jagged tiny pebbles spilling on the mat under around his feet like so many rolling marbles, he senses an equally collective exhale. He can swear you weren't blinking at that point. What were you shocked by? The fact that he just smashed through a brick that weighed ten pounds like it was nothing or the implication he's broken his hand by choice so many times that he could pull shit like this in the first place? Maybe it wasn't smart to backtalk or question the methods of a person who could crush your windpipes in with merely just his thumbs. -"So, you see — breaking our fists, it’s part of the curriculum."- He shakes his head, staring you down, taking a couple of steps forward, until it was undeniable he was addressing you in particular; his infuriatingly Doubting Thomas, ignoring the students that wordlessly volunteered to clean up, scooting down to pick up the unfortunate remains of the rock slab, chirping away at the remains like a handful of chicks. -"This is part of what you signed up for when you came to this dojo. When you came to Cobra Kai."- He assesses firmly. -"You came to break with the old so the new and the improved could take its place."- He adds. Eventually, you'd have to bruise and break in those pretty little hands much like everyone else would and if you didn't have the guts to do that, you'd advance nowhere and your here would become fairly obsolete. Someone might as well tell you that upfront.

Even though, he confessed. The idea of a piece of rock breaking your hands?

Something shoots through him, like a radioactive phantasm of jealousy.

He wanted to do the breaking instead.

Not leave it up to an inanimate piece of training gear.

-"And if you can't imagine yourself doing that, you can always take up a knitting class."-

He adds, finally, earning himself a couple of amused chuckles.

Blood rushes into your cheeks.

Were you angry? Ashamed? Humiliated? Good.

—

Looking through your files was child's game after that.

He pretty much had everything he needed to know about you, printed in black and white in his own two hands, on the very exact form you filled the day you signed up for adulted classes six months ago; your home address, bank statement, contact number, email, age, place of employment, blood type in case an accident took place mid-training and a transfusion was needed on short notice. And yes, he's broken into your home before. Terry did it the first time you ever ran your mouth to backtalk him, asking if doing fifty consecutive push ups as warm was a smart decision because it was bound to leave everyone too exhausted to hold proper form and too distracted with tiredness to properly follow the class. He checked every drawer, every shelf, every nook, every cranny, supposing he wanted to find something he could spit on in indignation and discovering nothing more fitting but what he could only deduce was your framed graduation photograph, pursuing his lips and letting the saliva build up right before he hurled the spittle out of his mouth and right unto the glass inside of the frame, watching it trickle down your face, smearing it with his finger in retaliation, deciding the gesture was fitting punishment. If only he had a chance to do it with your actual face next. Spit in your mouth too, for refusing to shut up as it did. Spit in your mouth for missing three of your classes this week, like that was a thing you were allowed to do when you weren't. Did he tear into you verbally too hard last time? Was that it? Undoubtedly, but that still didn't give you permission to leave. He wanted you to come back so he could harass you some more, like you deserved to be harassed.

He knocks on your door, freshly having concluded this week's teaching.

Still in his Gi, jacket slung over his shoulders.

He did that on purpose, to make it seem like him coming here wasn't premeditated or something he tactically prepared for in advance, but rather, like a last minute decision he made in the utmost rush to the degree he didn't even have time to change out of his training attire, forgetful, overworked old man that he is. -"Who’s there!?"- Your concerned, slightly confused voice calls from the other end and he hears the keyhole clicking, only for your uncertain face to show up in the precipice of the doorframe illuminated by the warm light of your apartment's foyer looming like a halo behind you, brows practically jumping once you recognized him, appearing relieved. -"Sensei Silver!?"- You state in surprise, opening the door entirely, letting him step over the threshold, moving out of the way to usher him inside from the corridor. He tries not to seem too familiar with the territory, pretending not to know exactly where to stand; next to the shoe rack or the coat hanger. -"God. I’m so sorry. Got scared halfway to death!"- You place your hand over your chest, exhaling and smiling. Way too fidgety for someone who took Tang Soo Do classes. What were you afraid of? Of someone barging in and subduing you? -"What do I owe the honor of the visit! I didn’t expect anyone."- You shake your head, all charm. Of course he prepared an excuse for him being here and it comes in a form of a sleek pamphlet he produces from inside of his jacket, handing it to you. He had it printed, in bulk and giving out to everyone at the dojo solely so he could have a reason to give you one to you as well. -"The curriculum. For our future classes. I thought you might wanna look through it. Freshly printed."- Terry explains. He hoped you would've continued showing up, smart mouth you always were, but there you went, disappearing. If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would have to come to Muhammad.

-"You missed the last session so I brought it over personally. Where'd you go?"-

Terry feigns concern. He knew where you went. You were pegged down a notch.

Proceeded retreating with your tail behind your legs.

That's what you get for questioning him.

But, he didn't expect you to retreat quite so definitely.

Who'd you ask if you can do that? Did you ask anyone? Him?

You eyelashes flutter, like you were about to come up with an excuse.

-"I think you're right, Sensei. I mean, the whole Cobra Kai dojo scene, ---"-

You begin, looking away from him, vehemently staring at the pattern on the corridor carpet, holding the flyer with a sense of unease, like you weren't certain what to do with it. If you crumpled it up, he'd make you eat it. -"It ain't for me. I'm not cut out for it."- You confess, finally meeting his gaze, appearing a bit shy at the notion. He knew a tangent was incoming. Decides to let you have it. And knowing you, you wouldn't shut up any time soon in the next five minutes. -"I can't do any of those things you demonstrated last week. Break my bones on purpose? Smash through rocks? Ignore pain? I know when I'm out of my depth and there's no shame in admitting something ain't for me and gracefully moving on. What you said the last time --- you helped me see that. You really did."- You utter, in one solitary breath, and it takes everything within Terry not to laugh at you. So, humiliating in front of the whole class for interrupting him for the umpteenth time with some inane observation, you thought it was for your own good and that it made you see things more clearly? What? Was that why you left his dojo like it was a bus station? Did you really take up knitting as a hobby in the meantime as well? -"I had a great time studying these past few months under you, but I just can't continue."- You visibly gulp once he says nothing and you feel incentivized to further explain. You never had a problem with that before. Go ahead. He was giving you center stage to speak. So speak. -"I talk back. I interrupt. I question. I worry. I'm so sorry. I can't just let go and do it. Do what I'm supposed to do on the mat."- You add, your eyes widening, perhaps in anxiety, pupils dilating, looking back and forth between the surrounding furniture and the wall --- anywhere but at him. Why should he let you go? When it was so fun pushing your buttons? In fact, he decides you could use some more of that.

-"Do you like me?'-

He asks, bluntly. You take a step back, stammering.

-"Excuse me, sir?"-

-"I said, do you like me?"- He repeats himself, firmer.

Your mouth wordlessly forms a shape, but no sound comes forth.

You weren't certain what to say.

Finally.

You were speechless for once. That was a welcoming novelty.

-"Because, if you like me, you won't leave me here stranded, with one student less and waltz out impulsively, on such a short notice. That's not how things work. There's a price for that."-

He winds you up, deciding to stoke a fire and then immediately extinguish it, intending to fluster you for thinking what he led you to think, watching the abject shame settle into your expression like a newly formed wrinkle just because for a mere second, you thought this was a confession of something more than it was instead of a cleverly phrased and deliberately misguiding segway intended to put you on the spot and make you feel like an idiot with no listening comprehension. -"I'll pay everything I still own and ---"- You practically stumble over your words, clutching the pamphlet to your chest vigorously, like a shield, referencing unpaid lesson, trying to regain what little balance you had, visibly sweating bullets. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Terry steps forward, shutting you up. Commanding you to stay silent. -"Don't talk."- He orders, flatly, putting up his hand alongside his finger as a warning and then coming closer still, until the tip of it is practically pushing against your mouth. You appeared flaggerbasted. Like you weren't sure what was going on, too shocked to actually move. This was why confusing people into a state of paralytic awkwardness was paramount in verbal warfare. He pushed his index finger between your lips and you still didn't move, letting him get away with it, too stunned for words. -"For once, listen. Don't speak."- He murmurs, staring at your mouth, pushing his nail inside, feeling your wetness and finding your tongue, frozen stiff, clasping it with his thumb and index finger and holding it, pulling on it, until you groaned, trying to mutely gibber and failing. -"This is the thing that always talked back. Can't talk back anymore, can it?"- He taunts and you shake your head with an expression that would place deer in headlights to shame, shivering vigorously.

You've seen what his hands could do. What his fists could do.

He could rip your tongue out of your skull and it would pose little issue.

He felt you knew that right about now.

Practically dangled by the tip of your mouth's organ. Your head slumping back.

Unable to release yourself, you slowly lower yourself, to your knees.

-"That's good."- Terry coos, pleased, watching you drool all over his hand.

-"Open that pretty little mouth of yours and use it for something really valuable for a change."-

He purrs, even as his fingers go fidgeting, lower his Gi's trousers, loosening the obi around his waist, pulling his cock out of his briefs, showcasing it to you so the state of the situation would settle in. He'd hatefuck your mouth. He was already hard. Already dripping precum. Almost like the very act of coming here and pestering you served to do it for him as he, without much deliberation, pushed himself inside of your lips, taking in the sloppy, receptive moisture, enjoying the symbolism of the flyer he's given you falling next to you on the floorboard until you were practically kneeling atop of it. -"Perfect."- He hums, praising. -"You've been badgering and badgering and I can't tell you how many times I thought about interrupting class and just giving it to you, in front of everyone, right there, in the middle of the dojo. Let them all see what happens when someone questions Terry Silver and his methods."- Now it was his turn to make some confessions, fingers tangling into your hair, coiling into a fist, making you look at him with your watering, teary eyes. He amps up his pace, bobbing your head back and forth for you, using your tresses as reins. Look how you've infected him. Now he was the one rambling and loving it. -"But, I wanted the occasion to be something special. Someplace I could really savor it --- and what better place than right under your very own roof."- He closes his eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation of tense pleasure building up in his gut, right before looking down at you with your brows furrowed. You were just now realizing this was premeditated. Poor you. -"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't think I haven't been in here before. Been here a thousand times."- He chuckles into his own chin, moaning. Of course he's desecrated something miniscule every time you talked back as an elaborate form of revenge and violation, like wiping his cock on the curtain after masturbating on your bed. Nothing was for free. Disrespect certainly wasn't.

-"And you'll be seeing a lot more of me just yet. Don't think this is over. Don't think you can disassociating with Cobra Kai and me on a whim. You can't."-

He flat out threatens, his hips rutting vigorously against your head.

You thought this was a game?

You sign up to his dojo for like six months and call it quits when things get hard?

Cobra Kai was a brotherhood. A society. Not an extracurricular pastime or a hobby.

That's what people weren't getting. He didn't want them to just yet.

But you? He'd was breaking the news to you hard and fast in the flesh.

-"You belonged to me from the moment you met me and put on the Gi and you'll belong to me until your dying breath."-

He grits his teeth, shaking, seething, feeling his tresses slide out of his ponytail and unto his forehead in an unruly mess, satisfaction coiling in his groin imaging you returning to the dojo on Monday, dressed in your uniform, all neat and proper, your attitude curbed and kept only for special occasions, releasing suddenly, just at the thought that he owned you, hearing you gurgle from the floor, droplets of his cum trickling down your chin and leaking unto the Cobra Kai pamphlet on the parquet in front of you. No, no. That wouldn't do. Not a single ounce wasted. -"Swallow."- Terry orders, catching his breath, scrutinizing you as you did so, still holding your hair, yanking forward suddenly, his cock falling out of your mouth, giving you leeway to breathe again and you do, gasping with sharp inhales of breath, a bubble of saliva popping between your lips as you rolled back to sob and cough. Pathetic. Eager to serve. So you were capable of shutting the fuck up, letting go and getting lost in an action after all? You were teachable. He knew you would be. Much like the rock slab on the training dummy, though, you needed to be broken in first. Terry slides his hand across the top of his head, slicking loose hair strands back, lifting up his finger to threaten and warn once again. Remind, in case you've forgotten. Had your brains scrambled in all sorts of awkward and unlikely directions. -"So, you better not miss out on any of my classes ever again or I'll have a reason to hold a very, very big grudge. Especially if you don't show up and break that stone like I've taught everyone to do. Understood?"-

-"Yes, Sensei."- You manage desperately, drooling, nodding your head.

[pianopadawan]

Attendant Heert Headcanons (featuring Dedra Meero and Penn Pershing)

Because I've been making and will be making more Heert content I figured I'd compile these into one place. I'll be using these for various fics/art in the future. This post ended up way longer than it needed to be but what can I say? I love my obscure imperials.

TW: Mention of homophobia, mention of Dr. Gorst being creepy (as if we did not already know that about him), discussion of medical conditions

Heert's first name is Lionel which really shouldn't cause an issue, but somehow despite even in a world as technologically advanced as the Empire, he still gets mail intended for Lio Partagaz. It's usually harmless spam mail but occasionally there's a confidentiality issue. Also, Heert hates having his name abbreviated.

He has been renting an apartment with Dr. Penn Pershing since the two were academy students. Both received ISB-sponsored scholarships and hated their original roommates. After requesting a switch, they wound up rooming together and decided they got along well. They have a mutually introverted friendship going on that's surprisingly wholesome considering both of them are entangled with the ISB.

Heert is gay. He grew up in a pretty homophobic part of Chandrila which is one of the many reasons he resents the planet. He and Dedra came out to each other during a late-night shift. He has been generally unlucky with relationships but has begun a promising one with an army man named Lastok shortly before the events of Andor. The two met at an Empire Day event on Coruscant and since then have been in a long-distance relationship. They send each other packages which mainly consist of snacks, though Heert did receive flowers once. They made him (and everyone in the ISB) sneeze but it's the thought that counts.

Heert was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes Mellitus when he was 7 but controls it well. This is part of the reason he ended up applying for the ISB because unlike the other branches of the Imperial military, the ISB did not list T1DM as a disqualifying condition for non-field agents at the time he applied. Still, he's not very open about the fact and every now and then he worries about whether his insurance through the ISB is going to deny his insulin.

Ironically, despite eating sweets extremely sparingly due to the above, Heert is a decent baker. He enjoys the precision of baking. On the flip side, he's a mediocre cook at best when it comes to savory dishes. It scarcely matters because he subsists mostly on instant meals and soup.

Heert genuinely likes and respects Dedra Meero. He prefers working for her over the other supervisors because he believes she's the most competent and she doesn't have a tendency to berate her attendants when under pressure like so many others. She's not the warm and fuzzy sort, and Heert feels it's overstepping to call them friends, but he considers them "close acquaintances". They are both cat people and bond over various Tooka Cat photos during short breaks waiting for reports to come in.

Heert is not sure what to make of Syril Karn. His main concern is that the guy is after his job, but on a more superficial side, he doesn't like the idea of someone intruding on his workplace acquaintanceship with Dedra. He's kind of embarrassed about it because it sounds very much like middle-school drama, as Pershing has pointed out to him. But honestly, the ISB feels like middle-school often enough, so he feels he's justified in being petty... sort of at least.

In contrast, Heert deeply dislikes Dr. Gorst whom he finds unnerving though he has never mentioned it to any of his colleagues for the sake of professionality. The trouble is that Gorst seems to like Heert at least in the sense that he keeps trying to make small talk. (Spoiler alert: Gorst's small talk is even more unnerving than Gorst himself.) Heert feels like Gorst has tried to pick him up a couple times but it's hard to tell amidst all the weird philosophical ranting. All things considered, Heert keeps up a very good pretense of everything being fine and normal between them. He knows that Dedra respects Gorst's methods. Heert in turn respects Dedra enough to go along with it, hence the scene where he proactively contacted Gorst because he knew he'd have to do so eventually.

On a much lighter note, Heert has a Tooka Cat named Mister Phantom. Heert claims that Mister Phantom is a "geriatric cat" but in reality no one has any idea how old the cat is. When Heert got him at the adoption fair, the shelter said Mister Phantom was ~10 years old and the cat had already gone blind in one eye from cataracts. However, considering Heert has had him for 7 years and the cat is showing no signs of slowing down, the original estimate was probably very wrong. Mister Phantom is extremely temperamental and will claw/bite most visitors. He is exclusively affectionate with Heert but still claws the man in his sleep at times. Mister Phantom is also a cold-blooded killer and despite being an indoor cat, he has a habit of sneaking out windows and bringing back headless small prey.

[palmkatzchen]

Help Ilya stabilize after getting their bank account terminated

I went into debt moving out of my narcissistic mom's place years ago and worked myself into burnout trying to repay it. I've been on sick leave for over a year now and my bank has decided to terminate my account, because the irregular payments from my health insurance made it impossible for me to repay the installments at the right date. I always did, just a few days later.

Now I'm kind of stuck between bank accounts, have no access to my old one (where my sick leave payment is currently 'held hostage') and a new one that will take at least a week from now to set up.

Because my debit card recently got lost, and the letter from my bank that was supposed to give me a two months notice never turned up at my place, I kept using my digital card, which now ended me up in 245,97€ PayPal debt. 

I've been thinking of asking for support for a while now but never felt justified to do so, but I'm in too tight of a spot to not do so anymore.

In return, if you include your social media handle in the message, I'd like to contact you for offering you a sketch in return. I've been struggling with art block, and getting some requests of any shape or form might help me, too. (That also counts for those who can't or don't want to give right now. Just shoot me a message!)

I will reblog this with some sketches, too

I’m collecting 250 € until 10/23/2024. Can you help?