#moderator floppy

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

[max1461]

Thinking about this post. "The only way to make a cell is from another cell" is somewhat of a troubling fact to me. I mean, not for any practical reason, just because it underscores the precarity of *gestures broadly*.

It's like, some people talk about trying to de-extinct the mammoth. And people are trying to sequence the genome of the mammoth, I don't know if they've done it yet. But even if they do, one of the problems with the idea of de-extinction is... to grow a baby mammoth, you need another mammoth! Last time I heard people talking about this, I think they were talking about using an elephant as a surrogate mother. But imagine if elephants were extinct too.

The point is that information is often tied to the systems that transmit it; even if you know everything in the mammoth genome, once all the mammoths are gone there's nothing capable of reading and using that information. Like when you can't read the data on a perfectly good floppy disk because your computer doesn't have a floppy drive.

This is related to why language death troubles me so much. Even the most well-documented languages aren't actually that well understood; linguists have produced more pages of work on English syntax than maybe any other specific descriptive topic and yet still the only reliable way to get the answer to any moderately subtle syntactic question is elicit native speaker data. We know almost nothing, we can barely extrapolate at all! And every language is like this, a hugely complex system that we know basically nothing about, and if the chain of native speaker transmission is ever broken it's just gone.

"Language revival", I mean from a totally dead language, is kind of a myth. It's like the "came back different" trope. In Israel they revived Hebrew, but Modern Hebrew is really not the same thing as Biblical Hebrew at all. I mean in a stronger sense even than Modern English isn't Old English. All the subtleties of Biblical Hebrew that a native speaker would have had implicit competence with died without a trace. All they left is a grainy image, the texts. The first generation of Modern Hebrew speakers took the rough grammatical sketch preserved in these texts and imbued it with new subtleties, borrowed from Slavic and Germanic and the speakers' other native languages, or converged at by consensus among that first generation of children. There's nothing wrong with that, but it would be inaccurate to imagine Biblical Hebrew surviving in Modern Hebrew the way Old English survives in Modern English. For instance, you can discover a great deal that you didn't know about Old English by comparing Modern English dialects. There is nothing you can discover about Biblical Hebrew by comparing Modern Hebrew dialects in this way.

There's nothing wrong with this, of course. I'm not like, judging Modern Hebrew. I'm just making a point.

Mammoths died recently, so we still have (some of?) their genome. Something that died longer ago, like dinosaurs, we have traces of them in the form of fossils but we could never hope to revive them, the information is just gone. Even if we're not aiming for revival, even if we just want to know stuff about dinosaurs, there's so much that we will never know and can never know.

We imagine information as the kind of thing which sits in an archive, because this is the context most of us encounter information in, I think. Libraries, hard drives. Well obviously hard drives don't last. And most ancient texts only survive because of a scribal tradition, continuous re-writing, not because of actual archival. So I think that imagining archives as the natural habitat of information is sort of wrong; the natural habit of information is in continuous transmission. Information is constantly moving. And it's like one of those sharks, if it ever stops moving it drowns. And if the lines of transmission are broken, the information is gone and can never be retrieved.

Very precarious.

[sewinrat]

If you were one of Luther's Cat:

Obviously you're not a normal cat. No gender mentioned dw;

While Nyon has those floppy cat ears and Nyen has like a cat hat, you have a beret with cat ears. Do with that information as you will, but either way no one knows if it can come off.

You eat poison once. It was an accident. Trouble likes to linger around you but they can get worse as years went by.

You were the middle cat. What I meant by that is, both in role and personality. You were not as mean as Nyen can be but you were also not as nice as Nyon is.(Unless of course you have a different opinion.) Remember the tier list they had in Vol 1. Lucid 5? Yea, you're placed either in Dime, Ace or something else like Hearts/Diamonds but never higher than that in tier 4. Close to Tier 3 actually but Nyen can be petty.

Danger Level: MODERATE

You are often found around the kitchen or the living room. Any other parts of the house you might be seen is because you have to go there under an order or for other reason. Once, Sebastian found you somewhere in a hallway sitting on the floor terrifyingly staring at the wall.

Unlike Nyen, when it comes to vacuums, you're one of those that chill on it. Just pop hide your limbs, be a bun and sit on top of it. If this ever happens, Nyen usually respects you more than he does when you're off it. It doesn't last long tho.

Of course since you're Luther's cat, you are loyal to him. It's inevitable especially in the ivory house. Luther's house. Maybe when you were a regular human, you would've accidentally met him in Michigan. You lost everything before so why must you worry about your human life when you can be a cat while gaining inhuman traits from Luther. Don't mind whatever happens within the house, you can do anything under his permission.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You;

Randal: "Yeahh I don't care much about them.. However they're my favourite out of big brother's cats! They're willing to play with me unlike the other two! It's fun since Sebastian don't play my games. I would call them my friend if it weren't for the fact that they're big brother's... And also the fact they can act like him." In short, he would see you as his friend but non friend.

Sebastian: "O-oh.. Who are you? Uh uhm.. okay? I guess they're fine. They're not as crazy as that other one.. but they still make me uncomfortable.. especially when they stare at the wall for no reason. I just hope they won't try to kill me.." He's afraid but he's fine. He can tolerate.

Nyen: "Oh them? I guess they're okay. They're boring to me but they are terrifying when they're on the damn vacuum. *shivers* eugh.. thinking about it makes me sick. Don't tell them that or else I would have to suffer their smug smile for a while." He doesn't care much. Don't try to snitch on him.

Nyon: "... They're okay." He's too quiet on the matter but don't worry, he likes you. You're not mean as Nyen. If anything, you also amuse him randomly. Especially when he saw you intimidating Nyen one time.

Luther: "Ah yes, one of my lovely cats. Out of the other two, as a kitten, they act so good. Better than the two. However, I love them all equally. As they grew older, it seems that trouble stirs around them more but it's fine. It's not as troublesome as some of the things Randal puts himself into. Now, while you are here, come have tea or please leave." His opinion has not changed. He loves you just as much as he loves his family.

Bonus! Ratman Robert: "How the hell did you get here? Whatever, you don't look like one of them. The middle cat? No comment. I don't know if I should be afraid that they seem to be plotting something or grateful they don't attack us when they see us. I would like it better if they don't stare at the wall. It's uncomfortable to feel their eyes on me." He's scared. But he would offer you food that he has as peace offering one day. Don't eat him.

[riddles-n-games]

Exposed

Pairing: N/A Summary: Grayson gets to enjoy a late start for once with his best girl, Tiramisu. Unfortunately, someone decides to spoil that dreamless sleep and expose his closely guarded secret. Puppy cuddles are therapeutic for the soul. Sue him. Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this is a bit late but this is my dedication to Grayson's birthday appreciation. Originally this was supposed to be a bonus fic after I released my second horse fic but as you can see that hasn't happened so I thought why not just get it done for his bday? (Ok, I know it's past his birthday but ignore that.)

    Disaster struck, tragedy ensued. He was discovered, his secret exposed. The world would know his wrath but world domination would have to wait a bit because at the moment, there was still a snuggly bundle curled up next to him asleep in his arms. He smiled down at her. 

    Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne. The Hawthorne puppy was not so small anymore as she was five months old now but she was just as wriggly, happy, and fluffier than ever. And also a backstabber by choosing him as her favorite Hawthorne which must have been the reason for the flash breakin that woke him. He heard sniggering and hushed voices down the hall which meant two suspects; Xander and Jameson. On an infamous night when a certain incident occurred perhaps involving the tightest pair of leather pants in existence, videos and photos were taken and posted that unfortunately went viral.

    While he managed to deep clean the Internet in only the way Grayson Hawthorne could, the original menac-posters still had the content saved to their devices, several of them. He feared how much new blackmail material they got away with this time. He would scour every corner, surface and dark web, deep cleaning the Internet of all footage just like the first time. He’d get his revenge, he just had to bide his time.     

Grayson would not be dubbed Mr. Cuddles and yes, he would decline the puppy interview to keep his sanity, no matter how many hearts were broken or the adorableness of the pups. He would not yield. This was a call to war; a total and absolute declaration. In such a case, Hawthornes loved getting down in the dirt and Grayson didn’t mind getting his hands dirty to get things squared. Playing dirty meant gloves off; that was the Hawthorne way. So maybe his homicidal mother was right about something after all.

    But till then he’d relax in his bed and enjoy a late morning for once, though the photographer in him was now itching for a photo. The rays of sunlight coming in through the blinds, the way it lit up the carpet and the left side of his bed, the adorable puppy snoozing happily under his comforter- Ah yes, her. She would be his subject but he was too comfortable to get up and he didn’t want to disturb her. Besides, growing puppies still need plenty of sleep.  “Just don’t grow up too quickly,” he whispered. The photoshoot could happen later.

    Suddenly, Tiramisu shifted in his arms and started pawing at his chest, whimpering as the swiping got faster. Nightmare?  Note to self, look into dog dreaming. “Shh, girl. You’re alright.”

   Grayson moved away to avoid getting scratched and quickly turned her over so that her legs were away from him, hugging her tight and readjusting the blanket over them. When he got resettled, he brought a hand to her ear and rubbed gentle circles into the fur with his thumb. He loved her ears; they were super soft, curly, fluffy, and floppy. Oh how time went by; it was funny, he mused, how attached to the puppy he became after a few short months. Who knew that all it took was a puppy to single-handedly turn Grayson Hawthorne into a pile of mush? 

    Yes, so he was wrapped around her cute little paw. He’d hurt anyone who dared make a move. But it’d taken being at his lowest to get where he was now. 

    After Atonement Night, he often found her wandering his wing or lying down at the foot of his door, waiting to be let in. Her tail would instantly start wagging when he approached and those forlorn puppy eyes would stare deep into his soul, so hopeful that he’d let her in and how could he say no to that face? 

     He’d sigh a little dramatically and just before he unlocked the door, she’d get up, waiting expectantly as he scanned the hall for uninvited visitors and extra cameras. When he opened the door, he would pause so she could go in first and prance right past him, heading for his closet. It confused him as to what the pup found so interesting there as he would set down his stuff on and around the desk before heading for the ensuite. Most times he’d leave her be as there were spare clothes in the bathroom but one time he forgot so when he entered the closet, he found her wrapped in old shirts and socks with one of his slippers in her possession. He wasn’t sure what to make of it but she looked too cute and innocent with those big eyes that he just had to take a picture. 

    Some weeks passed and the pattern continued; every time he checked on her, she had his slipper and rested on a particular shirt that he discovered was from his HCD days. She also started staying late into the night in his room, sleeping at the foot of his bed right next to his slippers; another photo op. Eventually that too changed as when he woke early to swim, a chocolate brown lump would greet him at the edge of his bed which often got him smiling to himself. He would do his best to slip out of bed without disturbing her and before he left, scratched behind her ears and placed a fluffy blanket on top of her. 

    It didn’t take long for him to jump the gun and when he finally caught her sneaking onto the bed one night, he called to her and patted the spot next to him. Tiramisu had all too eagerly bounded toward him, all happy tail wags and pants before she laid her head on his side and settled down. 

    When she fell asleep, Grayson stayed awake, stroking her fur and staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. For the first time he’d realized that something about him was changing; he’d been careless. No, not in a bad way but he hadn’t been paying much attention to his actions for once, at least, in regards to the puppy. Though he remained his usual controlled self wherever he was in the House and in his wing with Tiramisu in tow, he hadn’t bothered acting removed or unaffected by her happy presence. He could just be. Sure, he wasn’t around her much those first few weeks but he hadn’t been cold or distanced when they were alone. It was just that the little happy accidents had finally gotten the ball rolling and pushed them together to start bonding properly. He never relaxed that quickly around anybody so it was a shock to him how quickly he adapted to being laid back and receptive to her in his privacy, his safe space. She made him happier, more smiley (that was still something he didn’t want to easily admit); that was when he knew Xander had been right. No wall was too high or too strong for her to knock down with just a blink of her big eyes. But Xan would never get to know that unless he ran out of secrets to share during Chutes and Ladders which he doubted would ever happen. But most important of all, she made him feel carefree. 

    For so long, he had to keep his guard up and be perfect; that was his curse as heir apparent. Former heir apparent. Eve and Emily, they’d been awful lapses in judgment but dwelling on the past did nothing to wash away the sins. And he’d been learning to let that go, slowly. Spending time with the puppy in his room helped that progress and relieved the ache of responsibility off his shoulders. With Tiramisu, he finally felt that long needed peace and it was nice that she had no expectations of that sort. All she needed was food, water, sleep, and play while all she wanted was a bit of attention, snuggles, walks, and love. Grayson knew he could give that much because what was a dog’s duty as man’s best friend in comparison? 

    They were expected to be loyal, trusting, fearless, protective, playful, and loving. They had to give all of themselves to their purpose and one could beat them, hurt them, scare them into submission, break them completely and a dog would still give and give and give in hopes that they would be enough for their owner’s expectations. That they would be worthy of just a bit of affection that their owner could spare no matter what they went through because it was in their nature. And hadn’t that been him his entire life thus far?

    He’d given and given more every time as he bent over backwards trying to please his grandfather and the world as the heir, as the second eldest, as the one with the brightest future of all his brothers. He dedicated himself wholly; heart, body, mind, and soul to perfecting each talent, every skill, every part of his being to be the perfect well-oiled machine of control. And it was all for naught. But that hadn’t been Avery’s fault. It was just that begged the question, What now? What to do with his life after all he’d been promised and told to do so he could become the rightful successor worthy of his grandfather’s place was ripped right from under him? He didn’t know. The foundation wasn’t going to need him forever and he dropped Harvard so what next? 

    The chocolate Labradoodle obscured that and he’d been immensely thankful for it. She reminded him that there was a time and a place and maybe where he needed to be was just in the right now. He could do that and he would have her to keep that new motto going. Having a new pet in Hawthorne House in general had been good; it gave him and his brothers a change of pace. He looked into the science of pet therapy and the specifics of having a dog as said therapeutic animal. It had to be done from a secret laptop to ensure Xan wouldn’t snoop; he already had too many hacked gadgets, even an old camera! At first, it had been mild interest but the more papers he read and explanations from credited sources, he became more and more invested. It was very a Hawthorne thing for him to do. But in the end, it did serve a purpose as he shifted from needing everything to be perfect.

    When he went home after working into the night at the office and he was too tired to properly function, he gladly scooped up the puppy and leaned his head against her neck as he fell asleep. He didn’t care that he shouldn’t need a cuddle buddy. He started keeping a bag of her favorite treats in a desk drawer and got a dog bed complete with a little pillow and the old swim athletics shirt. Grayson had realized his scent was still on the shirt since he hadn’t washed that one in a long time and she liked his smell so he let her have it. There was also a little basket with some toys wrapped in an old pillowcase but her favorite thing was still his slipper which he amended by getting a new pair so the other single slipper would be hers as well if she wanted. He even came up with a special secret nickname for her that he’d use when no one was around and used it indulgently; Misu. Funny enough, he found out that it was also a real thing, a Korean beverage made of grain powder.

    On sleepless nights, he would start telling her about his day which eventually led to him admitting his fears out loud and whispering his worst secrets in the dark. At first, he tried to refrain but when he forced him to say it, he felt better. It didn’t have to be this way anymore. He could have something better, something he wanted. And anyways, it wasn’t like Tiramisu was going to say anything but knowing that he could confess without fear of judgment or anyone knowing yet before he was ready to share, he felt relief. So much so that sometimes he could feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes but he’d swiped them away before they could become fully formed. He wasn’t there yet in his emotional acceptance. Long story short, since then, she’d become his closest confidante and as of the moment, favorite family member. 

    At some point in his mindless reminiscing, somebody had woken up. Grayson had been stroking her fur, letting his hand glide through the curls and when he once again reached the top of her head, he felt eyes on him. He turned his head and saw Tiramisu looking at him in that innocent way that dogs did when they were expecting something. He smiled. “Hi girl, did you sleep well?” 

    She butted her head against his palm gently as he stroked the side of her snout. Then, she got up and shook herself off before stepping over him and sniffed curiously at his neck and shoulders. He scratched her neck in response. 

    “We had some very rude intruders this morning, Misu. Wanna help me get back at them? You distract and I will set up cameras.”

    She licked his nose. He chuckled.

    “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed that. See you in the next one. But before I forget, I'm thinking of starting a tag list. Let me know if you want to be put on it for my next fic. Bye!

Bonus:

These were some earlier tries (don't even ask about the dozens of awful attempts which will stay there to purposefully haunt me) that were among my faves. Unfortunately, different AI generators either couldn't get Grayson to look like a young man WITHOUT a beard (they insisted that be a feature almost every time) or they messed up the chocolate brown of Tiramisu. Not to mention the extra limbs, eugh.

[superlinguo]

Research Data Management. Or, How I made multiple backups and still almost lost my honours thesis.

This is a story I used to tell while teaching fieldworkers and other researchers about how to manage their data. It’s a moderately improbable story, but it happened to me and others have benefited from my misadventures. I haven't had reason to tell it much lately, and I thought it might be useful to put into writing. This is a story from before cloud storage was common - back when you could, and often would, run out of online email storage space. Content note: this story includes some unpleasant things that happened to me, including multiple stories of theft (cf. moderately improbable). Also, because it's stressful for most of the story, I want to reassure you that it does have a happy conclusion. It explains a lot of my enthusiasm for good research data management. In Australia, 'honours' is an optional fourth year for a three year degree. It's a chance to do some more advanced coursework and try your hand at research, with a small thesis project. Of course, it doesn't feel small when it's the first time you've done a project that takes a whole year and is five times bigger than anything you’ve ever written. I've written briefly about my honours story (here, and here in a longer post about my late honours supervisor Barb Kelly) . While I did finish my project, it all ended a bit weirdly when my supervisor Barb got ill and left during the analysis/writing crunch. The year after finishing honours I got an office job. I hoped to maybe do something more with my honours work, but I wasn't sure what, and figured I would wait until Barb was better. During that year, my sharehouse flat was broken into and the thief walked out with the laptop I'd used to do my honours project. The computer had all my university files on it, including my data and the Word version of my thesis. I lost interview video files, transcriptions, drafts, notes and everything except the PDF version I had uploaded to the University's online portal. Uploading was optional at the time, if I didn't do that I probably would have just been left with a single printed copy. I also lost all my jewellery and my brother’s base guitar, but I was most sad about the data (sorry bro). Thankfully, I made a backup of my data and files on a USB drive that I kept in my handbag. This was back when a 4GB thumb drive was an investment. That Friday, feeling sorry for myself after losing so many things I couldn't replace, I decided to go dancing to cheer myself up. While out with a group of friends, my bag was stolen. It was the first time I had a nice handbag, and I still miss it. Thankfully, I knew to make more than one back up. I had an older USB that I'd tucked down the back of the books on my shelf (a vintage 256MB drive my dad kindly got for me in undergrad after a very bad week when I lost an essay to a corrupted floppy disk). When I went to retrieve the files, the drive was (also) corrupted. This happens with hard drives sometimes. My three different copies in three different locations were now lost to me.

Thankfully, my computer had a CD/DVD burner. This was a very cool feature in the mid-tens, and I used to make a lot of mixed CDs for my friends. During my honours project I had burned backed up files on some discs and left them at my parents house. It was this third backup, kept off site, which became the only copy of my project. I very quickly made more copies. When Barb was back at work, and I rejoined her as a PhD student, it meant we could return to the data and all my notes. The thesis went through a complete rewrite and many years later was published as a journal article (Gawne & Kelly 2014). It would have probably never happened if I didn’t have those project files. I continued with the same cautious approach to my research data ever since, including sending home SD cards while on field trips, making use of online storage, and archiving data with institutional repositories while a project is ongoing.

I’m glad that I made enough copies that I learnt a good lesson from a terrible series of events. Hopefully this will prompt you, too, to think about how many copies you have, where they’re located, and what would happen if you lost access to your online storage.

[franklyautistic]

WrongPlanet.net, the largest autism forum, is in the midst of a hostile takeover

tl;dr: WrongPlanet’s owner got hacked and there are now no mods. Please signal boost this so that autistic people know the site is likely to be unsafe from now on.

I heard that Alex Plank, the absentee admin of WrongPlanet, had returned with a big announcement. 

Here it is:

Hey there, fellow Wrong Planeters! I know it's been an eternity since I last graced this forum with my presence. I apologize for my absence, but I come bearing an astonishing tale of woe and wonder. Brace yourselves, for I suffer from the most peculiar affliction known to mankind: "Chronic Update Blockage Disorder (and forgetting to change my password)." Yes, you read that right. For a decade now, I have been plagued by a condition that has kept me from updating Wrong Planet, ensuring that it remains untouched, like a relic preserved for future generations to marvel at. Imagine the monumental impact this has had on the state of the internet. Don't worry; I'll give you a moment to gather your thoughts. Now, you may be wondering how such an unusual ailment came to be. Well, let me enlighten you. It all began when I was innocently tinkering with some HTML code, trying to add a dancing unicorn GIF to my signature. Little did I know that this innocent act of digital mischief would lead to my tragic downfall. In a bizarre twist of fate, my fingers slipped on the keyboard, causing a cataclysmic error in the space-time continuum. A rift opened up, and Wrong Planet was sucked into a parallel dimension—an alternate reality where updating websites is a crime punishable by being forced to listen to dial-up modem noises on repeat for eternity. It's a dimension where webmasters are trapped in a perpetual loop of server errors and broken links. Oh, the horror! Ever since that fateful day, I have been caught in a cosmic limbo, unable to break free from the clutches of my disorder. Every time I attempt to update the site, my hands freeze, my eyes glaze over, and my mind is overrun with visions of cascading style sheets and merciless pop-up ads. It's like a digital possession straight out of a techno-horror movie. But fear not! I refuse to let this affliction define me. In my isolation, I have become a webmaster hermit, a guru of outdated HTML and obsolete plugins. I have attained a level of enlightenment that transcends the mere mortal realm of web development. My website, frozen in time, stands as a testament to my indomitable spirit and steadfast refusal to give in to the relentless march of progress. So, as I sit here in my digital dungeon, surrounded by stacks of floppy disks and a shrine dedicated to the ancient Netscape Navigator, I implore you all to cherish your ability to update your websites. Take a moment to appreciate the mundane task of uploading a new blog post or tweaking your site's layout, for it is a privilege denied to the unfortunate few, like me. In conclusion, I hope my tale of woe has brought a smile to your face, despite the tragic consequences it has had on my own online presence. Remember, life is unpredictable, and so are the pitfalls of the digital world. Cherish your ability to hit that "Publish" button, for you never know when it might be taken away from you, leaving you stranded in the abyss of chronic update blockage and forgetting to change my password that's been used for over 10 years. Yours humorously, The Eternally Unresponsive Webmaster Alex i come in peace

Now this is a weird post, right?

Some early commenters mentioned that this was weird - one accused “Alex” of being high - but most of them seemed to think it was just Alex being a bit goofy.

Then on page two, we have a post from The_Walrus, a long-serving moderator. Well, former moderator:

There is a >95% probability that it isn't the real Alex, and instead his account has been compromised. Firstly, Alex doesn't write like that. It just isn't his style. It's far too poetic. Alex is usually very direct and blunt. It's also self-deprecating in a way I do not associate with Alex. Additionally:

Quote:

Take a moment to appreciate the mundane task of uploading a new blog post or tweaking your site's layout, for it is a privilege denied to the unfortunate few, like me.

In conclusion, I hope my tale of woe has brought a smile to your face, despite the tragic consequences it has had on my own online presence. Remember, life is unpredictable, and so are the pitfalls of the digital world. Cherish your ability to hit that "Publish" button, for you never know when it might be taken away from you, leaving you stranded in the abyss of chronic update blockage and forgetting to change my password that's been used for over 10 years.

This is pretty much spelling it out - this individual has gained access to Alex's account. Alex's email address has been involved in 30 data breaches, according to https://haveibeenpwned.com/. Having failed to update his site for a long time, the "hacker" (using that word loosely) feels that Alex has forfeited the right to it.

Additionally, all moderators and admins (apart from Alex himself) have been stripped of their permissions.

This is obviously a regular WrongPlanet user, and I can make an educated guess as to who, but almost certainly isn't the real Alex.

To this, “Alex” responded “educate my balls, Cartman”.

It seems WrongPlanet is probably permanently compromised. It has always been a site that has serious issues with spammers, scammers, and passing trolls, but those issues are only likely to get worse now.

If you are on WrongPlanet mailing lists, be very suspicious of any emails you receive. They are likely to be scams or otherwise misleading.

Please signal boost this post as much as possible... @autie-j @asdcats @chavisory I’d be grateful if you could help get the word out however you feel appropriate.

[venusararara]

"YOU REPENT LIKE A BITCH!"

Seraphim Gatherine "Serra" AU :)

She's 5'5, a full foot shorter than Gatherine, and significantly weaker. No horns or floppy ears, just wings on her head. She doesn't know how to have fun. Her only friend is Stacy, whom she is desperately in love and obsessed with. Mean.

Click 4 lore dump!!

tw trauma

[She is hermaphroditic, but instead has male and female seraphimical parts (i.e. headwings and eyespots, born-male features for seraphims). Genderfluid.]

Gathery Okkers [lovingly referred to as "Serra" by young angels and demons] was raised in Infernum with Stacy Aurobo, much like her non-AU counterpart. She's often cranky, sardonic, snarky, and protective; but has a good sense of humor and laughs a lot. Gathery is only nice to Stacy; they become girlfriends when they're around 16.

She frequently attacked other kids in school for threatening Stacy; this was despite knowing she was likely to get injuries, especially from young demons. Gathery is good with a sharp weapon, but clumsy. She's had a lot of knife and sword accidents, leaving her covered in scars. Her mom is mostly absent, leading her to be raised by the schooling system; this is normal for angels and seraphims, though. Gathery falls into a bad crowd in high school that's heavily involved in Aeriasissam, a cult-esque religion [the nun likeness is completely coincidental. They do value purity and abstinence; but also value violence]. They purposely seperate her from Stacy and other outside influences, until she eventually disappears completely.

Years later, Gathery is found half-dead outside of Stacy's foster home. Though her personality has left some resemblance to her teenage self, it's mostly replaced with self-loathing and moderate disgust. After recovery, Stacy discovers she's nothing but a shadow of her childhood best friend. She promises to bring her back to her former glory and teach her how to live again.

She's very strict, cold, callous, and serious. She has a constant feeling of being unclean. Gathery doesn't like taking her clothes off or being nude in the slightest. Her comfort clothes are her nun-esque robes, and she frequently wears hats.

Stacy brings Gathery to Valhallia with her; they both pass the entry exam with flying colors. Gathery is under surveillance for a few days because of her record of violence as a youth, but she's quickly released when it's decided that she's under Stacy's protection [special treatment due to being Arians' daughter]. She's developed a heavy case of agoraphobia and struggles to leave Stacy's house. She didn't get to finish high school because of the cult. Stacy climbs the ladder of politics through demon activism until she's seraphim supreme, and puts Gathery at the side of her throne. Sal is introduced and taken under Stacy's wing; he helps get Gathery out of her shell.

[saijspellhart]

The One Time I think My Step Dad Saved my Life.

I never liked my mother’s husband, we never got along and I always thought my Mom was too good for him. But it would be a disservice not to acknowledge that I think he saved my life once, and I’ll forever be grateful.

I was 18 at the time, I’d just made a dog suit for an anime con and had decided to wear it for Halloween too. (Not a fursuit in the traditional sense. Imagine you had a giant dog plushie, and you skinned it and wore it like a dog suit. Floppy, baggy, understuffed and everything.) it was my first major sewing project, I was so proud. It turned out exactly how I wanted it.

I took my two little half-brothers trick-or-treating that year. Running around the neighborhood with them collecting candy, having a great time. We made it back to my Mom’s house safely, but I wasn’t going to stay the night. There was supposed to be one more bus passing through the area and I planned to catch it and take the bus system back to my apartment.

The bus stop was just right across the street from my mom’s house, in a moderate neighborhood. Not quiet, but not busy. The street it was on saw quite a bit of traffic. Most of the street lights were well spaced, so the neighborhood got pretty dark at night. It was also late so all the trick-or-treaters had long gone home. I’m actually major scared of the dark, but I sucked it up and waited for the bus, still wearing my dog suit mind you.

For a while it was just me, all by myself. But then a man showed up out of no where a couple blocks down. I could see him whenever he wandered under a street light. I didn’t think much of it, he was pretty far off, it was Halloween, and my Mom’s house was right there. But the man was clearly walking in my direction.

It didn’t become strange until I saw he kept stopping.

Every so often he would stop, sort of loiter around, then start casually walking towards me again. I’m checking my phone for the time at this point, cause the bus should have been here already, but I hadn’t seen it. The man continued moving closer.

I began to realize that the man only moved closer when there wasn’t any traffic. The moment cars would drive down the road is when he stopped to loiter about. Then, when the cars disappeared he would casually walk my way again. I started to get really uneasy. I could sense something was very not right about this.

My Step-Dad happened to pull out of the drive way during all this, off to go party with some of his friends no doubt. He waved at me as he drove by, inevitably passing the strange man farther down the street. At this point the man was about four driveways away. I was seriously considering just darting across the road, going back in my Mom’s house and calling my older brother for a ride. But I was also telling myself I was paranoid and the bus would be there any minute.

The man continued to move closer until he was about two driveways away, and under a streetlight. Cars were passing again, so he’d resumed his loitering. Still no bus. I was wondering how fast I could actually run in a baggy dog suit.

The man had started moving again when a car suddenly pulled up to the curb in front of me. It was my Step-Dad. He had the window rolled down, stank of weed and cigarettes, but he told me to get in the car. At this point it didn’t matter how much I disliked him, I was scared and thankful. I hopped in the car and he drove off, passing the strange man who just stared the entire time, watching us go.

My step-Dad told me he was dropping me off at the bus station in the middle of the city, where I could catch a connecting bus and go home. He said he saw the weird man when he passed the first time, got a weird feeling, so he circled the block to come back and grab me. I thanked him. It was actually really touching that he was concerned about me, I’m not even his kid, and he never raised me.

I caught a bus home from the station, made it home safe. Celebrated the rest of Halloween with my older brother and my friend/roommate. I honestly didn’t dwell anymore on the experience after that.

It wasn’t until a couple days later we heard on the news there had been some assaults in the neighborhoods surrounding my Mom’s house on Halloween night. The gravity of my situation really hit me after that. I could have been one of those assaulted people, or worse.

Ever since I honestly believed my Step-Dad, in all his paranoid, conspiracy theory, people-hating delusions, saved my life that night. He’s dead now, he and my mom died in a car accident years ago. I never actually got to express my appreciation for that night, (aside from the generic, “thanks for the ride.”) We’d never spoken about it. Never talked about the assaults reported in the neighborhood. Never had any meaningful conversation about the situation. I don’t think he ever knew how much I appreciated that small act of concern.

To this day that was one of the most haunting and frightening experiences I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. But I’ve kept this story to myself for a very long time, and even though my step-Dad is gone now, I wanted someone to hear this story.

Thank you Larry.

[dailycrippledcharacters]

Jackie (Craig of the Creek)

[Image Description: From the official show. Jackie, a young teenage boy with moderate brown skin, stands in front of a chain link fence. He is wearing a floppy hat and reflective goggles that hide his eyes. His shirt is green and his pants are purple. He is smiling widely. Behind him is a forest. End ID.]

Jackie is deaf.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Buttercup Cookies

So besties, what are our thoughts about the texture of a cookie made of raw chicken? (I'm not even going to speculate on the taste, because I'm sure it is godawful.)

Are we thinking like dried raw chicken jerky cut into buttercup shapes? Or are we thinking more cake pop style, with yellow fondant petals and yellow candy coating surrounding a ball of raw chicken and frosting?

Or perhaps they are like elven kisses and have an actual cookie base, but where the chorus fruit kiss would be, there is instead a glistening chunk of raw chicken meat?

Has Scar gone completely low-effort and merely converted one of his factory's machines to flatten chicken breasts and stamp out flower shapes, so that each "buttercup cookie" is merely a floppy and vaguely flower-shaped meat disc?

(At this point I spent several minutes searching Google for images that might fit the theme here, but after "raw chicken cookies" brought up no results and "chicken tartare" and "chicken sashimi" pictures made me want to throw up in my mouth a little, I have elected not to share any of them with you. You're welcome.)

Honestly, the biggest clue we get to the nature of the buttercup chicken cookie is the fact that Mumbo can't stop eating them, even though they are poisoning him. Even Grian noshes on more than one despite their poisonous payload. It has to be something that tastes worth eating, or at least that is moderately rewarding. I'm going to go with the headcanon that Buttercup Cookies are small, thin discs of dried uncooked chicken jerky, covered with some kind of sweet curry seasoning to give them a cookie sweetness and the bright yellow color. Still pretty gross, but the sort of thing you might pop in your mouth without thinking about it?

I dunno, any cookie chefs out there want to weigh in? Please feel free, I'll just be over here eating, I dunno, a salad or something. Yeesh.

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

the queerfilled bestiemaxxers

[cha0s-boyy]

[ID: ten cartoony digital drawings of animal characters. 1. an anthro sparkledog character from the waist up. they are a white floppy-eared dog with yellow blush markings and red freckles. they have round eyes with yellow irises and red pupils. one eye has eyelashes on upper lid and the other has eyelashes on the lower lid. they have human-like hair in a short style, except for raccoontails on the sides. the main hair is split dyed red and blue, and the raccoontails are the same colors but with yellow stripes. the character is wearing a red and yellow striped jumper with sleeves that cover the character's paws, black overalls with one of the straps falling off, and a black collar with yellow stripes. the character has an open-mouthed smile, showing one upper tooth, and they have one paw raised in front of their body. 2. an anthro sparkledog from the thighs up. he has an average body type, with top surgery scars on his chest, a missing right hand, semi-floppy ears, and feral nipples on his stomach. his base fur is gray tricolor, but all over his back and tail are cyan, yellow, magenta, and fuchsia spots. he has a black hair tuft with a magenta and blue striped streak, a yellow and magenta nose, and cyan inner ears. his eyes are round, with three thick blue eyelashes on the outer edge of each, and one iris is yellow while the other is magenta. he is wearing a black and white checkered bandanna. his missing hand raised and his other hand down by his hip. he has his teeth showing and lips pulled back in a grimace or frown, and one eye is squinted and squished. the piece is heavily shaded from the upper left. 3. two anthro characters from the waist up, laughing together. both characters are grinning with their eyes closed, and both have fairly average body types without prominent busts. the character on the left is a pale green wolfdog with darker green ears. she has straight white shoulder-length hair with bangs, cut in a spiky style. she is wearing a striped dark green t-shirt over a white long-sleeved shirt, a bright green spiked collar, a silver chain with a cross on it, and a silver earring with a cross on it. her head is turned in profile, and she has one hand raised in front of her chest/neck. the second character is a white possum with black ears and dark gray markings on her snout and eyelids. she has drippy black eye makeup. she has short spiky white hair with pink streaks in it, and black and pink raccoontails on the sides. she is wearing a black sweater with indigo flames on the bottom, and has several ear piercings, one of which has a razor blade dangling from it. she has her head tilted downwards and her body is slightly hunched with laughter. 4. a bust of a furry creature. he has a canine body structure, but no nose pad, and evenly sized triangular teeth. he has a mane on the back of its neck and a long tapered tongue with an arrow shaped tip. his head and mane are red, his body is black, and he has white stripe markings on his snout and eye, and dot markings on his chest. his eyes are black with white spirals, his inner ears are white with black stripes, his teeth are black, and his tongue is white with black rings at the end and a red tip. he is smiling with his mouth open. 5. an anthro wolf from the hips up. she has gray fur and a lean body. she has human-like hair that is styled like a mohawk in front but is long and goes all directions in the back, striped in dull red, yellow, blue, and black. one of her eyes is yellow and the other is blue, and she has two triangular eyelashes on each eye. she has a nose ring and a plug in her ear, and she is wearing a gray graphic muscle shirt tucked into black pants, and a spiked bracelet on one arm. she is grinning toothily, has one hand raised up near her snout, and has the end of her tail barely in-frame behind her. her tail is striped like her hair.

6. an anthro hyena from the chest up. she has human-like hair, an average body type, and a moderate bust. her fur is brown with typical spotted hyena markings, with the addition of freckles on her cheeks. her hair is brown in the back, but purple in front, and is styled with bangs and more length to one side of her face. she has teal eyes, with a single eyelash at the corner of each eye. she is wearing teal eyeshadow and a dull yellow t-shirt. she is smiling, has her head turned to one side, and has one hand raised, fingers resting on her collarbone. 7. an anthropomorphic alien axolotl character from the waist up. they have turquoise skin with a scale pattern on their head, and an indigo to violet gradient on their gills. they are thin and flat-chested, and the gills on the left side of their face are stripped, missing the feathery parts. they are wearing a green alien mask and a gray and blue hoodie with purple text on it that says "get fresh." they have their left hand raised in a peace sign. 8. an anthro fox-parrot hybrid in a simple style. she has a fully red fox head, and her body is covered by a dress that ambiguously doubles as folded wings. her dress has a yellow ring at the top, and three stripes or red-orange-red for the rest of it. she has one wing extended, and it it shaped like a triangle, but curved so the end is raised to wave at the viewer. it is yellow on top, and has pale blue flight feathers. 9. a dark gray cat with lighter gray on her ears, face, and neck, green eyes, and a jagged scar on her neck/shoulder. she has a grumpy expression. 10. a halfbody of a seated feral cat. she has long thick gray fur, with black on her neck and the top of her head, and a white face. she has a narrow brown eye, and one missing eye. there is a scar on her lip, and another on her shoulder. /end ID]

[attackfish]

A thing I've noticed is that most people who aren't in the biological sciences, and even a lot of people who are have this tendency to think that evolution is much cleaner and more purposeful than it is, for example if an organism has a trait, that trait must be doing something for the organism, and evolution must have selected for that trait, and that trait must be the best possible version of it for that organism's specific circumstances.

In reality of course evolution is very messy, and is the process of adapting what an organism has or can cobble together, to best meet an immediate need. And genes are connected to other genes in weird and wild ways. A fairly well-known example is the fact that floppy ears are connected to a bunch of other genes in canines that are related to domestication, so when we domesticated wolves into dogs, or they domesticated themselves, or however that process worked, floppy ears came along for the ride, even though they have no evolutionary advantage, and even a minor disadvantage.

So there is this post going around Tumblr about zombies, and why humans are afraid of them, and why we are afraid of things that look human but aren't quite human in general, and it goes through people talking about how it might have been because of other human species that were dangerous to us, and maybe this is a response to that danger, and then somebody else went no no it's probably rabies, because rabies is very dangerous and will make you look like a human but suddenly very dangerous to everyone around you, and you might as well already be dead because you will be dead very soon, and you can make other people be dead very soon too.

And yeah I am willing to admit that the human response to other humans that aren't acting right, that just seemed off in that undefinable way, was probably very useful at helping us avoid contagious disease. Though it is important to note here that the original zombie fear, where it came from in folklore, was a fear of being made into a zombie. This fear arose specifically in populations of enslaved Africans and their descendants and it was a fear of a slavery more total than even their current state of subjugation. It wasn't a fear of hordes of undead monsters, it was a fear of being taken over and used, and having your very self violated, of having death be no escape from slavery.

But anyway, I don't think that the uncanny valley arose to protect us from rabies or any other contagious disease, though it may have been a useful trait for that reason. the uncanny valley doesn't just apply to humans, a very popular type of horror monster is like X but not X, like a deer but not a deer, like a dog but not a dog, like a house but not a house, like a room but not a room. Given my last two examples, it's clear that the thing that this is like, doesn't even have to be alive. Somehow I don't think that's to protect us from rabies.

If you want my guess, and I am a lay person and this is a guess of somebody who is moderately interested in the subject, I think it has more to do with the fact that our brains have evolved to become pattern finding, categorizing meat machines, and this has all kinds of benefits to us, keeping us alive, helping us together food helping us find shelter keeping us out of danger etc etc etc. And our brains really really do not like it when it cannot categorize something, when something breaks a pattern, and it can't find a new one to put it into, or find a new box that this thing belongs in. And we feel that attempt and failure to categorize a thing, as The Uncanny. It's less a separate trait, and more a peek into how your brain actually works.

Again, this is a guess from a lay person, but even if I'm not correct in this instance, it really is important to keep in mind that evolution is messy, haphazard, and works only with what it has, and only sometimes is there a neat correlation between a trait and an evolutionary pressure which that trait evolved to fit.

[vees-strangeworld-omniverse]

ARGONUS FAUNA: treehounds, domestic gray foxes + breeds

(NOTE: descriptions copy-pasted from DA where i normally/originally post my works. any context that is missing here on tumblr can be found on my DA [linked here and on pinned post] )

[this image is actually a recent addition to the roster of fauna, having been posted in july 2023.]

a collection of treehound breeds that i sketched whilst i was out in south carolina visiting family. my god, i have never been surrounded by SO MANY DOGS (four of them total, not including our own dog that we brought with us), which may or may not have been the real inspo for this piece.

so, anyways, i've already drew these guys a long while ago [tumblr post about them is here], but i'll gladly talk about it again.

    these guys are treehounds, a domesticated variant (subspecies?) of the planet's gray fox , the smallest amerigian canid (though to us it's the size of a lion). they were one of many attempts by humans to get a dog analog back into their society, and of all the attempts these were (strangely), the most successful. they were one of only a handful of wild animals to have been tamed and domesticated exclusively by human, though their origins on their actual domestication had been lost to time. what is known, however, is that the first domesticated treehound originated from Western Coast Province, and that there were several environmental factors that could've played a role in the taming/domestication. there also exist a sort of local folk tale that explains their origin (but i'll leave that till the end).

    anyway, fast forward to modern day, and there exist several breeds of treehounds, all having been bred with specific usages. let's just get into it.

AKIYOTE     one of the least derived breed, yet simultaneously the most widely used by humans. the akiyote is considered the german shepherd of the treehounds; an intelligent and cunning breed, it's a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to the jobs it has.     the akyote originally was created to be a guard fox. but, like the german shepherd, it is often most associated with human law enforcement; search-and-rescue, narcotic detection, tracking, pursuing criminals, etc.. it also is a widely used service animal, and especially with the physically and visually impaired.     the akiyote is a relatively modest-sized breed; they come in varying hues of the typical gray & red colors their wild ancestors have, however they all consistently have a darker-colored head, back and tail tip. usually these dark spots are black in color, though in lighter-colored individuals it could present itself as a darker gray/silver. although a typically friendly and moderately active breed, the akyote needs to be well-socialized and well-train, as they're known to be aggressive towards strangers. however, once properly trained, they're considered an amazing and loyal breed.

SPECKLED RETRIEVER      were the akiyote is a vulpine german shepherd, the speckled retriever is a labrador in a fox's body. much like the lab, they're a "gun-fox", having been initially bred to flush out, find and retrieve game (mainly birds and rabbits). however, like the akiyote, they're a VERY versatile breed; arguable much more than the akiyote.     the speckled retriever had long been used in search-and-rescue, water rescues, and are popular as service animals. as a matter of fact, because of their relatively large size yet very calm and smart temperament, in the human world they are the poster child for service foxes; mobility assistance, guiding, seizure alerting, therapy, autism support, ect. sometimes they're often preferred over other treehound breeds when it comes to service animals.     the speckled retriever is easily recognized for it's floppy ears, short fur, and a near-solid colored coat with a white underside and it's namesake "speckles" that run down it's back. they come in an assortment of colors; red (most popular), gray, silver, tan, chocolate, etc. like said, they are an intelligent yet very calm breed. in spite of their seemingly lithe frame, they're strong swimmers and love to swim just as much as they love to climb. their temperament and easy care makes them popular as family pets, as well as a good beginner breed for those who wish to own treehounds themselves.

RABBIT COLLIE     a strange breed that is popular with freerunners who own ranches/farms, the rabbit collie is an unusual breed with an unusual history to it.     you see, during the initial breed development, they weren't bred by humans, but rather initially bred by the elkinets who wanted to see how effective they were at pest control. this included breeding in wild gray fox DNA into them (similar to how the australian cattle dog is part-dingo), to add extra energy for hunting. however, once a few freerunners got their hands on them, they were then bred further to become not just pest control, but also effective herding foxes. they'd herd typical freerunner livestock like poultry, guinea pigs and rabbits; however, they also were great at flushing (and killing) pest like rats, mice and occasionally house sparrows.     the rabbit collie gets its's name partly because of it's long, wiry hair which makes it's ears look longer than they really are. they're commonly very light in color; silver and light tan being the two main variations. they're one of the smartest breeds of treehound, however they are also a very active breed that needs lots of space and enrichment; not to mention the long fur, which sheds alot and requires quite the upkeep. this makes them the least beginner friendly, though in the correct hands/paws they can be just as good pets.

PANTHER PINSCHER     the panther pinscher initially doesnt even look like a treehound or any known canine; as a matter of fact, it look more like a cat than anything else. but even still, this breed is not one to be messed with.     the panther pinscher is a large breed that was used to fill the role of all the big, heavy working dogs. it's was bred to be used mainly as a guard/watch fox, protecting it's homes from intruders and trespassers. however, it's large size also allows it to do heavy lifting, by pull carts and carrying supplies in specialized harnesses. it's a symbol of strength and intimidation, which makes it a common mascot in many human schools. and one could not forget the controversial (and often illegal) practice of "fox-fighting", where much like pitbulls these guys were the forerunners of.     this breed is well known for it's panther-like appearance (of which they're still debate as to whether this was intentional or not). it's size is more closer to the planet's red foxes (or to us more closer to a liger's size), making it the largest breed of treehound. it's short fur, short face and small ears give it that feline-like look, and only seems to come in solid colors (black, blue and white being common), sometimes having white spots on their legs, chest and tail tip. yet in spite of it's intimidating appearances and initial usages, it has became popular with many families. how? well, as it turns out its a surprisingly well-rounded breed in temperament and care; they're easy to train and easy to socialize, and are rather friendly animals towards children and other pets. if size and local laws on certain breeds isn't your problem when looking for great family pets, then a panther pinscher might just be for you.

TEACUP FOX     the teacup fox is what one would consider the lovechild between a jack russel and a chihuahua in fox form; in direct contrary to the panther pischer, it's the smallest breed out there.     the teacup fox was initially bred to be a kind of pest control; it's tiny sizes allow them to reach spaces that other vermin-hunting breeds couldn't. however, whilst it was effective at it's job, it's small size quickly made them a popular companion animal to those who do not have the space for any other breeds of treehounds. these breeds would later be classified as "minifoxes" of which the teacup fox would be the posterchild for.     the teacup fox comes in many colors and coat lengths, however the main defining trait is it's size; it is no bigger than the planet's chihuahua or pomeranian (closer to a lab/golden retreiver), and it almost looks like a treehound kit itself. although considered an "apartment friendly" breed, it is still an active breed that needs proper exercise and enrichment. it is also a skittish breed, and while quick to bond with it's owner and other house members, they can be rather aloof with strangers. thus, whilst not a bad option, it's still a breed that needs some consideration.

BOBPUG     the bobpug is also a minifox breed, just a little bit bigger than the teacup fox. of all the breed listed here, the bobpug had perhaps the simplest usage.     this fox was bred purely for companionship. more specifically, it was bred to be as smart, calm and friendly as some of the larger treehound breeds, yet be small enough to fit in most homes. bassically, a miniature version of all the big guys listed above, minus size. this wasn't the first breed to have been bred for such reasons, but it's by far the most popular and well-known. they are often the second or third most popular breed to be used as service animals.     the bobpug gets its name from it's short face and naturally short tail (believed to have been unintentional by the breeders). like the teacup fox, it comes in a wide variety of colors and coat lengths; some varieties also have floppy ears like the speckled retriever. however, it is slightly bigger than the teacup fox, and unlike the teacup fox is is a rather calm, smart, easily-trained, and overall a very well-rounded breed. although they get along great with most owners, they're popular with elderly people and families with young kids due to being smaller and more patient.

[tumblr note: this was going to contain a short story attached to the original deviantart post, but this one is already long enough so i'm gonna make a seperate post about that]

[castlebyersafterdark]

i thought tumblr was my low but now i periodically check lpsg for finn updates??? this cracking me up

""He's starting to look like if he wasn't an actor he'd be doing meth""

we call him shaggy, they call him a future druggie lmaoooo

also this:

""He apologized at the start of the con for his disheveled look because he woke up super late. He should have just not bothered getting dressed and showed us what he sleeps in (hopefully naked).""

""idk but i can totally see him sleeping in one of those sleeping gowns à la ebenezer scrooge""

fucking lol! i can totally picture finn in that floppy sleep hat like santa with the bobble

i wonder if theres a thread for noah baby on that forum now?

That thread hasn't been as entertaining as in the past, but they've livened up a bit lately. I check in every few weeks to see if anyone's said any thing funny or especially funny but we've surpassed them with audacity on here so I'm happy about that a bit. Though I think there's crossover lurkers (hey 👋).

The first comment relayed is really fucking rude though, I hate that 😔

But re: Noah - I believe the lore is that he had a thread but people couldn't be normal and were constantly talking about very underage photos of him so he got put on the banned person list. Now, the verdict is out on whether it was a moderation choice or someone from Noah's management or family requested that which happens on there as well. But he is forbidden. I remember seeing it posted before it got shut down and... no decorum at all lol 🤦‍♂️

[shamelesslymkp]

I pinched a nerve or something yesterday, my left arm feels floppy, multiple fingers aren't there but I can still move them and feel sensation when touched, it's causing fine motor problems and I keep fucking up when I type, a cleaner came today and it was the worst experience I've ever had although I guess the things they actually cleaned are very clean! it's just that they also misunderstood and threw out everything in my fridge, broke the glass bottom fridge shelf, and then did not clean the shattered junks of glass out of the drying rack of dishes or vacuum the bits up on the floor, and they moved my meds and they're not in the right place, which I know I can easily fix but my brain is just banging on pots and pans at the thought of going back to where they aren't, I had to start taking that med again, I've barely eaten all day, and I have moderately awful cramps.

in short.

this has been, as the saying goes, very much not my day.