#plus im nowhere near educated enough for it

[padfootastic]

Hello,

Please feel free to ignore this ask because it may contain sensitive topic to some people. What's your opinion about trans James ? In most fanon works , both art and fics, it is Sirius who usually is headcanoned as one. I have not seen many works with trans James or him being gender fluid , etc . Do you think it is because the way his character is described in the books , which in all honesty is not much or is it because Sirius had been described as really handsome? It doesn't do anything with handsomeness, I know , but the fandom works strangely like that 🙊

well, hello there, friend! so sorry for getting to this so late.

so, my opinion on this is really just my usual for identity hcs--i personally dont care much for them. that's not to say they're bad (i've seen some beautifully done stuff) just that it hits too close to reality for my escapist ass.

i see where you're coming from with the sirius comparison, tho! i think partly it's also because sirius is just...more popular? james is a pretty niche character, i'd say, even within mwpp compared to the others, so just by virtue of numbers, trans james doesnt get so much attention.

(there's a part of me that also thinks its also bc so much of the queerness in fanfiction comes from. wanting representation rather than caring about writing a queer character. and that means there's no deeper engagement than outward aesthetics. which means no real transgression is taking place. so u have repackaged cishetero norms circulating. but what do i know about that)

[dawgsprite]

tell us abt ur ocs king!

oh you wanna know about the Lads huh... alright i gotchu. ill probably put this under a cut but we'll go over the main few i have right now-- but rest assured, i have a lot of others floating around in the background that don't get the amount of attention these folks get. also this ended up taking a hot minute because i was writing A's section and took like an hour on two massive paragraphs SO im shortening this by a lot. if people want to hear more i might make another post abt these folks in more rambling detail. let's get down to it.

A is the oldest oc ive got. i got very distracted writing abt his backstory, but a tldr is that he's one of the four siblings that created the universe. he's what humans would recognize as the first demon, and as of the current moment is what, again, we would recognize as the devil. he's not supposed to be that. his brother, B, is supposed to be that-- before he fucked off seemingly out of existence and left the bullshit of death and the underworld for his severely underprepared and unwilling brother, the only one even remotely powerful enough to take on a frankly ridiculous amount of responsibility. A fucking despises B for this. the siblings never got along well in the first place, but the animosity A holds for B is on another level-- especially now that his brother has come back from wherever the hell he fucked off to.

A himself is a blatant enigma on the surface of the earth: standing at 8'7, with opalescent hair, neon colored eyes embedded in his dark skinned muscular build, and a viciously bright white smile made of bestial massive fangs and gilded with a black scar tissue glasgow grin, just to give you an idea of how eerie he is to see in your local supermarket. not only does he look something unholy, but his personality is something unique as well-- an outer layer of laid back nonchalance and lazy alcoholism hiding the fact that A is, indeed, a god; one well versed in violence and savage power dynamics who's seen more planets and years feasible to any mortal mind. he may spend most of his days dicking around with his thirty plus dogs on a sprawling and isolated east coast estate, teasing his son and thinking on memories of his former wife while being just as personally neglegent of his otherworldly tasks as his brother once was (though at the very least A has a system set up in the underworld), but he knows of his own brutal strength, unreasonable power, and sharp mind in ways only his siblings ever got close to knowing.

tldr: A is a god living on earth with his son and thirty dogs, who's power is only tempered by his penchant for drinking and the sheer amusement he finds in living as a normal person despite being anything but.

jason lily timaeus is A's nineteen year old adopted human son. there isn't much to be said for his backstory, as A raised him as nothing but human-- with a human upbringing, human education, and human life for as long as he could manage. despite jason's indesputable human nature, jason is gifted in a way beyond human, with the ability to manipulate shadows as near tangible objects. there's a little more intricacy to how jason's power exactly works, but he's quite skilled with his ability nonetheless, able to use it to do light vigilantism and less light acts of rebellion. whether or not he was born with his powers or they were a side effect of being raised by a god, no one really knows, nor does jason himself care to know.

jason is a wild dude. 6'2, with a constant rotation of dyed hair and a bright big smile that squints his eyes shut almost every time he does smile. he's half black, with dark skin, freckles, brown eyes, and usually black nails. he's got a pretty lean build-- nowhere near as STACKED as his pops, but more than muscular enough to do some pretty impressive feats of strength and, more often, acrobatics. he's very punk in his aesthetic: worn black leather jacket, plenty of patches, and usually some ratty pants and his beloved steel toed boots with some occasional variety. like his father, he's also got some sharp teeth-- not exactly like the hell maw A has, but he's got the classic sharp anime fangs. both he and A are trans men ftr. jason is gay and A is uhhhhh bi? probably? who knows. jason was also originally a bnha oc gjekcndkfk

tldr: jason is 6'2 and ready to kick your ass at any given moment in time with his short temper and confidence in his own abilities. has shadow manipulation abilities, gets into arguments with his dad a lot, and works at a local coffee shop when he's not running around doing dumb and well meaning shit with his power.

uhhh the next one we'll talk about is the Local Good Boy, Saint Miles! saint miles is a black scottish sweetheart with a gentle soul and even gentler smile. despite his very sweet and very, very giving nature, saint has had a deeply traumatic past: gifted with an ability that mimics the powers of literal angels, his mother started a cult surrounding her son's angelic abilities-- most notably his near perfect healing power which was used constantly as a sort of proof of his miracle nature. his mother, olivia, also shared the angelic power, but saw them both as literal angels rather than just humans gifted with unnatural talents. her abuse and the cult's impact on saint's life came to a head when, in a desperate attempt to get saint to accept and acknowledge what he was, she went full Be Not Afraid angel and decided to try and destroy the small town they lived near in a show of deranged and desperate power. saint, probably about ten to eleven years old, panicked and essentially blew up both his mother and the town in a desperate attempt to make her stop. after this, saint was given back to his father, and raised on his father's sheep ranch.

saint is a big sweetheart and a bit of a pushover because of his I Will Help Anyone Who Asks Of Me mindset. soft spoken and pretty gentle overall despite his 6'10 stature and absolute fucking beefed build, with very soft eyes that tend to be a little lidded as if perpetually sleepy and a grin that seems just as sleepy. green eyes, almost strawberry blonde wavy hair, with brown skin and a notable lack of scars or other blemishes as well. he always stands a little hunched over w/ his shoulders slumped as to seem less tall and more approachable. despite his warm and kind personality, saint is skilled at keeping emotional distance with people, and doesn't often use his abilities besides in worst case scenarios or if someone needs some healing. another couple of notes: saint is terrified of anything that gives off any classically unholy/demonic/Bad Vibes (not due to his ability but more so to what his mother engrained on him), and he vastly prefers being called by his last name rather than his first. usually dresses in t shirts and sweatpants.

tldr: saint miles is a gentle giant with a lot of trauma, a LOT of power, a put others before yourself mindset, and has accidentally broken a lot of hearts in his reluctance to get close to anyone emotionally. token cis oc. the best boy.

okay. second to last oc is akira saito, who's uhh. probably one of my more popular ocs if i can even say i have popular ocs gjwkfnekjfd. ANYWAYS, akira is our token problematic pretty boy! hes the young inherited ceo of his father's company-- which isn't to say akira got his place of extreme wealth and power for no reason, as akira had already worked himself up to a position of high power because of his incredible intellect and, to a lesser known extent, his extreme cunning and ruthless ambition. after all, akira got his ceo position after killing his father in the hospital! his mother died of natural causes, though neither of them were much of a loss to akira, who was neglected by his mother and used for cybernetic experimentations by his father/the board of the family company. akira has deeply intricate weaponry and cybernetic enhancements all throughout his body (limbs specifically), but because of their extreme prototype state, they are just as painful as they are powerful. not that it stops him from using them. akira is the oldest of three siblings-- himself, middle sibling strawberry, and youngest brother chase, neither of which he's particularly close with though they are all still in contact.

akira's has two goals in life tied to one another: to become immortal, and a step beyond that-- to become god. he's deeply, horribly, existentially terrified of death and dying and the loss of control, and will do anything to keep himself on top of everything he's capable of being in control of. as per the character type, akira doesn't appear this way, instead coming across to most people as a superficially ditzy, well meaning but a little dumb, kind and giving to the world with his massive wealth. he's a master manipulator, world class actor, and absolutely fucking cruel and heartless when it comes down to it. the classic bastard pretty boy.

akira is 5'10, half black and half japanese, with flawless skin and the brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. honestly, akira's just pretty. really pretty. always with makeup. little fangs -- subtler than jason's but still there nonetheless --, a few piercings (jason and A also have piercings i just forgot to mention them), and his hair is tastefully black at the roots and white/platinum bleached everywhere else. he also has these thing blue/silver glowing lines on his arms and to his fingertips, where they split open and reveal the weaponry in that horrible mess of gore and blood. his outfits are always meticulous, beautiful, and high end, and usually feature a fluffy pink jacket. everything about akira is curated.

tldr: akira saito is the oldest sibling of his absolutely disastrous and ugly family, a control freak to some ungodly degree, and is as dangerous as he is beautiful. a tiger. a beautiful, dangerous, smart, and horrible tiger. the problematic pretty boy!

OKAY! last man! while the four ive mentioned so far can all feasibly be in the same verse, this last one is a fate fanservant who technically came into existence a few years ago and has lately been honed into a more fleshed out and proper fate oc. sorry for being fate on main but i genuinely love this oc in of his own right.

the OC in question is the beast wolf of nordic mythos, fenrir. berserker class servant (though he's a beast in some verses). fenrir is, of course, from Norse mythology, most notable for the story of his binding and for his role in ragnorok: the devourer of the gods and the world, enacting his own fury and revenge on those who imprisoned him and left him to rot. i won't retell the whole ass fenrir myth (look up the binding of fenrir on thenorsegods.com for a really beautiful interpretation of his story), but rest assured, fenrir is fucking pissed. he hates the gods, he doesn't particularly care for humanity, and he wishes nothing more than to devour the world in an attempt to satiate his endless hunger and endless rage. above all of this, however, fenrir hates tyr-- the god of war who's hand he snapped off in rage to his and the gods' betrayal. fenrir and tyr were friends, they grew up together as tyr was the only god who wasn't afraid of him. (in fate they were gay and there's nothing you can do about it.) tyr betrayed him, with the rest of the gods, and fenrir will never forgive him for that.

fenrir is 7'2, muscular and with scars all over his dark skin. he's got orange eyes with slit pupils, dark brown hair with a scruffy beard, and of course yellowed, sharp, wolfish fangs. in his more common human form as a servant, (though rest assured he can be a fuck all big wolf if he so chooses, it's just a matter of mana) he dresses in ragged and worn leather armor, with chipped and slightly rusted plate mail interwoven with the otherwise all leather armor, thick, baggy pants, and worn leather boots. all of it is in poor condition. on top of the nordic armor, he also wears a black wolf pelt, with the head and jaw over his own head and the rest of the pelt draped over his shoulders and back. however! under this! a surprise!!! fenrir has black wolf ears! ragged and grimy and torn at the tip of one. he also has a tail. of course. and maybe he's got peets alongside his absolutely vicious claws. his most obvious scars are along his wrists, ankles, throat, and one on the bottom of his jaw-- where he was either bound by glepnir or stabbed through to the ground through the mouth.

he's not a, uh, particularly friendly individual. he's pretty standoffish and hostile when you first meet him and usually past that as well, preferring to be alone and getting aggressive and violent at any slight signs of provocation he might interpret-- and even if someone's not being hostile towards him, more often than not, he'll just... try and run them off with aggressive and short words. despite all that, it's not impossible to befriend him, and if you were to befriend him, you'd find yourself with a very protective wolf man at your side at all times. he has a massive soft spot for kids (due to the nature of his psuedo servant host), as well as anyone with canine traits or anyone who can cook food. he eats a lot and he's still always hungry. i actually have a ton of voice lines written for him gjskfnknf i love fenrir a lot and he's so much fun as a fanservant... one day ill figure out tyr as well...

ANYWAYS THIS IS INSANELY LONG IM SO SORRY but these are my main ocs as of the moment! i love fenrir lots because im always in a fate state of mind, but the other four are distinctly non fandom and also the ocs that have stuck around the most out of all of my messy pile of half developed ocs. ask me more questions if you have them but im also so sorry for rambling so much about all these folks. i have a few drawings of all of them, but maybe ill do some more... hmm...

[havokangel]

Run Boy Run - Braxton Wolff x Reader [Chapter 2]

The last thing Braxton Wolff thought he’d be doing today was killing all of his men, killing half of Moreno’s lackeys, and practically beating an old man into giving him his old pickup to make a messy escape. His nerves and reflexes are on high as he grips his bloodstained gun with one hand, the other managing to stay in a single lane; much to his own shock that he’s actually capable of doing that at the moment.

He’s in the outskirts of Illinois now, and the first, coherent and rational thing that goes through his mind is: I gotta ditch this piece of shit.

Or, the one where an ex-hitman comes into your life and changes it forever - and you’re trying to decide if it was for the better or the worse.

CHAPTER ONE 

LINK TO A03

a/n; HELLO ALL! it’s me! karley! i’m not dead!! i promise! i’ve had this chapter sitting in my docs for literally over a year and a half and im so sorry it’s taken me this long yall. i love writing but my life has been INSANE and i’ve just been busy with school and my boyfriend etc. so please leave me some feedback, i would love to come back and write for you guys! enjoy <3

@alexsunmners

-------

The night of the massacre

It’s been less than 24 hours since the massacre in Chicago. Moreno hasn’t even changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, making him all the more terrifying than he normally is. His jaw has always been sharp, but the way the blood is spattered on it makes it look like it could slit a throat.

With his gun cocked in his hand, he paces slowly, like a lion in front of his pathetic excuse of a team. There’s not a lot of them left, but with their training from an expert like Moreno, he expects more from them than what they’ve given him.

His men watch him with a blank expression, all of them masking the underlying fear that lives deep within them. They watch as he paces quietly, eyeing them as if he was going to pounce any second.

“So,” Moreno finally speaks, voice low and hoarse. “You’re tellin' me that you let Braxton fucking Wolff kill half of my team-and you fuckin’ let him go?”

His brows rise in fury, a downright terrifying and sarcastic grin tugging at his lips. Moreno’s hair is in disarray, and his usual calm and collected demeanor is nowhere to be found. How could it be in a situation like this? His men are dead. Someone he trusted double-crossed him. The worst part? No one saw it coming.

“Huh? You fuckers ain’t got nothing to say, huh?” Moreno hisses, running a hand through his hair, the gun now raised. He doesn’t hesitate as he steps forward, pressing the barrel of the gun against the forehead of one of his men, Wilson. Wilson visibly turns white but doesn’t move. They know Moreno. They know that if one of them does one wrong move, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“Wolff has my money. He fuckin’ took all of it, and he killed half of you too. How the fuck does that even happen?” Moreno snarls, sweat beading down his temples.

“We didn’t expect it to happen.”

Moreno turns his head slowly at the voice that dares to say something. Barnes.

Barnes always was one of Moreno’s favorites, just under Braxton. Barnes is calm, collected, which Moreno has always liked. Not to mention, he’s one hell of a shot. Barnes knows he’s got some of Moreno’s favor. Maybe he’d listen to him.

“And how the fuck did none of us expect this kind of attack to happen?” Moreno questions, lowering the gun from Wilson’s head. He steps towards Barnes slowly, and Barnes swallows hard and maintains his level-headedness.

“You know Brax. You trained him, you mentored him. Everything he learned was from you, sir. He was always one step ahead. He knew how to keep everything under wraps before the attack. He knew how to lie. That’s why we didn’t expect it to happen.”

Moreno squints as Barnes explains himself, and Barnes can practically feel the pure rage radiating off of him because Moreno knows deep down that he’s right. If anyone else tried to pull off this big of a heist, let alone solo, Moreno would find out and shut it down. Moreno is smart, but Brax is smarter.

And there’s no way Moreno is going to admit that. There’s no way he’s going to let Brax live after stealing his millions of dollars. He’s going to kill Braxton Wolff if it’s the last goddamn thing he does in his life.

Moreno falls silent for a moment before he steps away from Barnes. He thinks for a second before he speaks.

“I want all of you to find Brax. I don’t fuckin’ care what it takes. Find his aliases, find his fuckin’ fake credit cards, fuckin-hack into security cameras-I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna kill that bastard. M’gonna kill him and anyone that gets in my way. You got it?”

Everyone nods, but no one expects Moreno to return the gun to Wilson’s forehead and pull the trigger. The sound of the shot reverberates around the room, and pieces of what was Wilson’s brain lands on the men next to him. Moreno doesn’t even blink as he shoves the gun into Barnes’s hand, and spits,

“Clean that shit up and get to work. We’re gonna find him.”

---------------

Braxton isn’t used to waking up to the sunlight creeping in slowly and the birds chirping. He’s used to hearing the horns of traffic and people with thick Chicago accents yelling at each other. Waking up like this feels like some sort of dream as he blinks his eyes, adjusting to the golden rays of light sweeping over him. There’s something that he hasn’t ever really done before that’s new, as well.

Waking up next to someone.

He tilts his head to look over at you, and the memories from the night before make him bite down on his lower lip. He hasn’t slept over after a hookup since he was in fucking high school. Brax can’t help but reach out to trace his fingertips ever so lightly over the curve of your waist, your lower half covered by his flannel sheets. Much to his surprise, you barely move. But he figures that’s from spending the night fucking relentlessly.

Brax gets up from the bed as up as quietly as he can, wincing slightly when the bed creaks. He scrubs a hand over his beard and pulls his sweats and shirt on and pads to the kitchen, grabbing a mug to make some coffee. As he waits for it to drip, he heads outside to lean against the patio railing, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Last night was amazing, but even fucking a pretty girl doesn’t stop the nightmares.

Every time he manages to sleep, all he can see is the blood, he can hear the screams, he can feel Moreno’s men stabbing him. Every scar on his body fucking hurts every time he thinks of it. Brax can’t help but to rub his hand over the most prominent scar on his neck and shuddering at the thought of how much blood came from it. His breath almost catches as the memories come back, and he knows he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack -- or something damn near close to that.

When Brax was a child, his older brother Christian was his responsibility. He was his responsibility because after their mother left, their father became a different man. And not for the better.

Christian always was different from the other kids. Their parents knew this. Their mother, who took the time to educate herself on Asperger’s, cared and loved Christian despite it. Hell, she even educated Braxton on it and made sure he knew how to be a good brother to Christian even when Braxton was too little to understand.

Their father was a different story.

After their mother left, Christian became even more sensitive to the world around him, which resulted in some episodes of overstimulation. Their mother always would hold him close, and say with him the nursery rhyme she always used to tell them as babies.

Solomon Grundy.

After she left, Braxton took her role. He memorized every word of that rhyme and uses it on himself to this day when he feels like he needs to grab hold of something to anchor him to reality.

So that’s what he does now, and he gets halfway through it before he can hear the slider open and he tenses before he feels your soft arms wrap around his waist.

“Morning, Brax.”

His eyes flutter open and Brax really can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. His large hands dwarf yours as he rubs your hand and turns around in your arms, and says,

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Your hair is in a lazy bun and you have a little bit of mascara smudged under your eyes, and somehow you look even more beautiful than you did the previous night. You almost smirk lazily as your chin rests on his chest.

“I sure hope some of that coffee is for me. I’m gonna need it.”

“Oh yeah? You got work or somethin’?” He teases, hands stroking your back slowly.

“Yeah,” you reply with a laugh, nose scrunching up. “Plus you fucked me real good, so that’s also another reason.”

He passes an easy laugh and he just squeezes your ass, earning a delighted chuckle from you as he says, “C’mon kid. I’ll get you some.”

By the time you both guzzle down your coffee, he’s grabbed your ass more than you would care to admit and you’ve kissed him between soft smiles. If you were squinting, you’d think that he was being soft. But in the fleeting moments when it’s quiet, it feels as if he’s not present; like he’s not quite here, but rather somewhere else. His eyes in those moments feel empty, distant.

You tell yourself not to overthink it. It’s not like you’re married to the guy.

When you’re pulling on your clothes from last night, Brax lies on his bed with his sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips and his hands behind his head, admiring your curves as you move around. After you’re done clothing yourself, he stands and walks you to the front door.

“You want me to walk you back to the bar? S’kind of a far walk.” He offers, hands going in the pockets of his sweats.

“Nah, I should be good,” You respond, arms folded across your chest. “But thanks for last night. It was a lot of fun.” The blush that sneaks past your conscience is enough to make you embarrassed, but Brax finds it sweet.

“No, it was my pleasure. Trust me. Haven’t had that kinda fun in a long time, sweetheart.”

You both just pass a small laugh, and you look at your feet before you look back up at him. You hesitate before you lean forward and kiss his cheek and say, “Neither have I. Give me a call if you’re ever bored, yeah?”

And before he can say anything, you’re leaving, smirking over your shoulder as you steal one last glance at him. He stands there with his hands in his pockets; and the only thing running through his mind as he watches you is, goddamn, he can’t wait to get his hands on you again.

You really don’t expect Brax to text you so quickly. I mean, come on, have you seen the man? He could easily get anybody he wanted to with one look, beguiling them to submission. Shit, he practically did it to you not even twenty-four hours ago.

Maybe it’s the self-deprecating thoughts getting the better of you, but regardless, you shave as soon as you get that text and you head over to his little cabin. After all, you did have a good time the previous night -- the handprints on your ass is more than enough evidence of that.

The porch light is on when you walk up the steps of his porch, and you don’t even get the chance to knock before he’s opening the door, curls awry and a smirk peeking through his beard.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you?” You tease, smirking as he tugs you in by the wrist. His hand goes to your ass and that smirk of yours vanishes just as quickly as it came.

“Nah, really couldn’t.”

If you thought the night before was incomparable, god were you wrong.

You weren’t even aware that your body was able to bend in the ways he makes you do, and you didn’t think you’d be into the rough way he handles you. His hands wrap around your throat, they smack your ass, and tangle themselves in your hair, making you gasp out his name as a fucking pornstar would. The best part? No neighbors can complain about the noise. Lord knows your nosy neighbors would be shoving an angry note under your door right about now.

By the time you’re done you’re on that high you were reveling in the previous night, Brax lying next to you- no doubt sharing the same feeling. Shoving your damp hair out of your face, you watch him as he stands up, pulling his boxer briefs on and muttering something about grabbing water. As he walks away, your eyes are drawn to his back. You squint as he exits the room, making out a huge mark on his back.

Huh. You hadn’t noticed that the night before.

He comes back with a cold glass of water for you, and you groan quietly out in relief after you gulp it down.

“Thanks,” you say softly, clearing your throat as you set the water down. He nods in acknowledgment and reaches down to grab his sweats in the process. You flick your eyes over again, and it’s no denying that it’s a huge scar across his back. It could be the dim lighting, it could be your tired state, but it looks fresh.

Lying back against his pillows, you hesitate before you ask him.

“What happened?”

“Whaddya mean?” He questions, voice gruff as always. He lies down next to you again, and you notice that he didn’t grab himself water. He got himself a beer.

“That scar on your back. It looks pretty fresh.”

Brax just takes another sip of his beer as he shrugs. If there’s one thing he’s always been good at, it’s lying on the spot. This situation is no different.

“Construction accident. Happened a few weeks before I got here.”

“Oh.”

Four years of a nursing program and one year of a master’s program in nursing taught you that a construction accident doesn’t look like that. A construction accident on that scale is rare. You know that kind of scar is something that’s more personal; more violent. But you don’t push it because, for all you know, it could be a freak accident. It could be true.

“Yeah, hurt like a bitch but I got some cash outta it. M’not gonna complain about some cash, y’know?”

He chuckles about it nonchalantly, and it eases your discomfort about it. So you laugh too. And just like the night before, he finishes off his beer and he pulls you back in for more, pretending like he’s normal again, and that this is normal for him.

[kimheecheon]

re: sowon & the attack on simon wiesenthal center. i come from a 3rd world country with shoddy education, asian and nowhere near europe (we were colonized by japan during ww2). i knew about nazis, we were taught about it at school. granted it was not a deep dive, but enough that anyone would easily recognize a swastika. i could see not recognizing say certain numbers/letters, the iron cross, or the red-white-black flag because these aren't as popular as symbols, but a swastika is THE nazi symbol and EVERYONE knows it. so yeah, fully, if you allege that none of this is part of s.korean education then they are behind and they should step up and include it.

but guess what. even if it wasn't taught, i would know about them from the the internet, literature, movies, etc. western news and media are widely consumed in asia too. are we really acting like s.korea does not have internet, holy shit. and if someone from the group is literally nicknamed after hitler then yes, they clearly knew something about the nazis and that they were bad, at least.

and shut up with 'asian countries have different view of the swastika'. we know both meanings. the town over mine has a hindu majority, if i go there and see a swastika on some random house's fence i would not think it represents nazis. if i see it in any hindu/buddhist temples or festivals, again– not nazis. but for you we have contextual knowledge. a swastika on a western-looking military uniform? afaik no asian country has had the swastika as a military symbol anytime recent. and its in a circle with the bird over it? definitely nazis.

even if i did give her the benefit of the doubt and say she somehow really did not know at all she could have given a better apology. esp from a company that have been involved in antisemitic controversy before, you'd think they'd be more careful in the future but nooo, they were about as insincere as they come the first time, why buy it now? plus im not jewish, most of you stans aren't either n gentiles should not tell jewish ppl how to react to antisemitism or that they must accept the apology since its not even directed to yall.

yall really think ur kpop ppl are more important than actual world issues. like this isn't an attack to your specific kpop girl, this is about antisemitism. this is not bullying, this is asking for accountability and basic human compassion. are you guys really falling for the "you're silencing [harmful group/rhetoric]? you're fascist too!" brainrot? really? (plus the way yall loooove to act like koreans are stupid as rocks and out of touch whenever convenient (while also hyping ur kpop ppl up for being Knowledgeable Smart and Deep, somehow) has always sat weird with me)

[4kidsabulldogandashed-blog]

Easy is just a dream

A blog was definitely on my mind today, but the logistics of getting the time to write (or to choose 1 task for myself today) was going to be challenging...I had a list, a list that frustrated me because I wanted to be able to achieve each item on my list. I haven’t written in ages, for 2 reasons, 1 is to get the time to have my own thoughts in my head and not be interrupted and the second is our computer at home broke and we haven’t had the internet anyway....

Those other things on my list that I am not substituting for my blog but simultaneously multitasking as I write were, invitations for a joint birthday for the two boys (which is actually 3 boys because its a joint party) where we might as well invite 300 people because the whole grade of boys is invited, including our own 5 kids, plus Teddy’s mates...My study, which is behind and due over a week ago but I never got the time to get that done and honestly I procrastinated because I was completely uncomfortable (video assignments) and in those situations I avoid, put off, ignore..anything and everything to not have to look like a dickhead who doesn’t know what she is doing, but I sucked it up and did it with the help of a  very patient teacher! Also on my list was to write a food diary because I have been eating crap and feeling like crap...I don’t want to eat shit that tastes like shit, but i also don’t want to feel like shit... (loose, loose) I know what to do but like I said I have to prioritise and then when your plans get mucked up by your small country of children, you kind of throw in the towel and think fuck it, I can’t be stuffed, gimme the damn block of chocolate...(the body then shows you the next day that the spinach leaves, although nowhere near as appetising would have done the body wonders)

 So blogging, birthdays, study and maintaining the house, and trying to feel good are just a fraction of what I have going on today....Today I am not thinking about bills or gifts or money (well really I am) they are all unavoidable, but I haven’t written since QLD, and I have thought about it often, it feels good to get back on the page, to share the daily struggles with chaos, kids, pigs, dogs, cats and all that stuff that just makes finding a moment to yourself near impossible...

Im not sure how much time i have left so I will dot point quickly some updates:

- IM NOT PREGNANT - there will be NO more children from me, so if I look it at some stage, the chocolate got the better of me! I am quite happy to play Auntie to a new bub mid April but that is all!

-Grant stopped building, (he hated it and never thought it would be a “forever” job, he didn’t work for 4 months since we got back from Queensland trying to get into the education department, he has (since week 3 term 1) been employed as an SSO at the Junior Primary School - he loves it, he’s good at it, and although a massive pay cut it is better for our family...Side note, Financially we are still working our shit out....

- We are still in the shed, as the kids grow, it is becoming small very quickly, we have lots of big decisions to make and we both SUCK at making them, hopefully soon we can have some clarity on “the right thing” to do...

I think I’ve gone through enough for the moment, peace out dudes and remember ‘be careful what you wish for...it might just come true...’ xx