#like we get it dude you're done

[asexual-levia-tan]

so here's something i just went over on busuu!

パート = "part" as in "part time job"

アルバイト = "arubaito" as in the :D JOBS the boys have in obm

oh, fun fact. mams job completion line is "baito owattazo" (in nb i think) and my mom this entire time has been thinking he was saying something about biden???

[carcarrot]

its important to go see a low stakes concert sometimes

[mantisgodsdomain]

Fun fact about us: we really, really like doing crossovers, whether between different Things or just between different AUs of the same Thing. We deeply enjoy throwing things into each other and seeing the relative "normal" interact, tinkering with different potential outcomes of the same general thing, fucking around with culture clash and alternate realities, and all of that fun stuff.

Unfortunately, we also get into flavors of media that isn't quite finished a lot, and we often really want to throw together AUs that we have to write ourself together with things, which means that we're nearly constantly running into the same handful of roadblocks: it's really hard to write about stuff when people have no idea what you're talking about, and it's also really hard to write about stuff when you don't know half of what's going on.

This means that a decent chunk of our writing that is finished tends to stay in drafts - fics based on information that needs to be revealed in stuff we haven't yet written, fics based on media where half of the things we need to know aren't yet revealed in canon, and similar situations easily make up our second most common category of "finished but unpublished" and "finished except for That One Thing" fic (our first most common category is "we need to come up with a decent opening and writing a good hook is hard")

This is, of course, a hell of our own creation. A problem of our own authorship, that we still consistently fail to escape because of our sense of pride and unwillingness to turn out anything that isn't at least half-decent. Similar to the way that we force ourself to reread any media that we write fic of for the sake of accuracy before we can publish it. It makes things take longer, but allows us to ensure quality - though it may hold us back from a certain degree of self-indulgence, mischaracterization is the thing that bothers us most, and if we release a misreading or mischaracterization, that'll haunt us more than any level of soul-baring ever count.

Anyways, all of this is to say that peak self-indulgence for us looks like an isekai Dungeon Meshi/Runaway to the Stars crossover where we stick a handful of characters into the dungeon and let them just kind of cope with that for the forseeable future and the only thing stopping us from doing this is a sense of pride and the fact that Runaway to the Stars doesn't actually have finished & published books right now.

[assassinregrets]

god.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[musicaldeductions]

I'm listening to my roommate try to dispute some charges on his credit card and I'm realizing that I'm not entirely sure this guy has ever worked in retail for a significant amount of time.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

I dont think at this point i can even start on classic literature if i tried, like, i have absolutely zero patience for stories that take their goddamn time "building up" to things. "give exposition talk and show your characters doing everyday things" girl only if the everyday things contribute to the theme of the story! I dont have an ounce of interest in traditional idle starting points, "this story takes awhile to warm up and nothing happens for 45 pages" lmao bye

[ronanlynchbf]

hell day today and i'm only two hours into my EIGHT HOUR SHIFT

[starrypawz]

Apparently someone else has decided I'm in my villain arc I guess better lean into it and develop my maniacal laugh and get a leitmotif I guess

[tricornonthecob]

flats, bg, color fixing, and fx noodling

flats only.

[mercuriart]

hmmm i want to be. a little bit controversial. but i fear this is the no nuance no critical thinking webbed site. and i don't want to start discourse on this account. ill just. tags.

[delusion-of-negation]

never understood people who support benefits for anything but self-inflicted injury. putting aside that not having an arm will be equally as detrimental to your ability to work, the comeback i've heard is "people will start cutting their arms off just to get out of working!" and it's like? they won't. and if someone does, i think it would be pretty safe to say that person shouldn't be working, i'd actually say i'm of the opinion that if something is hurting badly enough that you'll, with no other motive, saw off your own arm? probably not something you should be subjected to. not to be a crazy sjw or anything, but i don't think people saw their arms off casually. i don't think that's a thing that happens. radical stance.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[babieken]

this is random and mildly embarrassing but does anyone watch Grey's Anatomy here?

[nezushi]

love when a 50+ year old man starts talking to me and telling me how he thinks men shouldnt drink fruity alcohol drinks 👍

[indi-glo-archive]

Tara doesn't have the cursed twist-out in the promo pics. Black people win at not losing