#redneck proposal

[hispropertymyworld]

[antiquery]

the great thing about the climax of Hobbes and Shaw is that it could just as easily take place in the American South (get together with your 8 million cousins on the family farm to booby trap the shit out of the place with petrol explosives so that The Man (government, corporation, whatever) has a hell of a time when they send in the repo guys, also put some insane and dubiously legal aftermarket mods on your tractor while you're at it). I think that cultural commonality is beautiful, except for one thing: rural Southerners don't have anything that could be considered equivalent to a haka! there is an urgent need to get on that, I think

[olderthannetfic]

Pronoun discourse is just as exhausting in person. A trans girl in my group project for History of Modern Europe refused to use he/him for me because "they/them is neutral" and I looked her in the eyes and said, "I will not reply to group texts, upload anything or share resources if you don't refer to me correctly. I use silence to train my dogs, I use it to train transmisandrists, too." She was furious and spent a few weeks misgendering me... until she realized I was serious and I would let all of us fail this group project because this he/him? Yeah, this he/him had a 100 on every single assignment up until that point and could take the grade hit. If other people can't, well, that's not my problem.

She learned to call me he/him with incredible regularity once her grade was on the line. Suddenly, two words weren't incredibly hard to recall and abruptly, not every conversation with her turned into her lecturing me on how trans women have it harder than trans men. We were able to talk about the actual subject of the group assignment and she was able to remember he/him.

Meanwhile, the cishet members of the group had not struggled to recall he/him for me once, nor had they turned group project meetings into discourse once.

Why are queer people always most vicious with their fellow queers? I'm in MONTANA, and the people worst to me aren't the fucking rednecks, it's other queer people. Rednecks don't condescend to me about how they/them is neutral and good and indicates they're trying their best and trans men have it easy actually. It's the city queers sitting there going, "Rather than just call you he/him and spend this meeting for our group project focusing on the project, I'm going to treat you like the enemy and lecture you." People talk about the concept of a 'queer community' but getting lectured about how trans women have it worse than trans men (because I guess my saying 'use my pronouns' secretly implies I think trans men have it worse? idk, I don't speak bullshitese) doesn't make me go, "Ah, yes. My community! I feel so supported!" it makes me go, "Oh, fuck. Great, I'm stuck talking to an asshole."

Between this, the lesbians I've met on campus who keep making, "gays can't do math or science or history or whatever other subject we're in right now" jokes who seethe with contempt for the privileged gay men, the cis gay guys terrified of doing something perverted who view drag, cosplay, wearing a skirt, wearing makeup or fucking around with presentation at all as not okay/possibly problematic and the NBs who cannot emphasize enough to you that they're one of the good ones who don't dye their hair or wear stupid shit or use neopronouns like the bad ones do, and the utter disgust they all look at anyone with who dares use the word queer, I'm beginning to feel like "the queer community" is one of those things you don't get access to until you're 30+. Alternatively "the queer community" appears to "antis, but with rainbows and flags and ew you think the rainbow flag is for everyone you're so problematic", which is... not great, honestly?

I know this will get a lot of queer people very angry but I'll say it: there are 492 anti-queer laws proposed in the USA, not counting the ones that have passed. We should probably focus on that instead of going for each other's throats and then saying we're a "community".

--

I don't think it will get many queer people around here angry, but yes.

We have more of a need to draw together into a community when everyone's dying of AIDS or getting beaten up or trying to stop laws that make it illegal for us to exist.

Some people have the privilege to shit all over that community. They don't see it as one, but it is.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 54

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

all i want for christmas by tusslee

“Listen,” Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers in his hands, “I’m as bad at this as you probably are and this is going to be really cheesy, but that’s the way I was raised and I know I act like an idiot around pretty girls, but I’m an even bigger idiot around you. Go ahead and try to guess why that is. No, actually don't do that."

this one is gonna be an xmas special!! even though im writing this before halloween lol. anyways. this was so cute!! lance being all stressed about what he should get keith bc he's all in love w him any everything. so real.

2. You're Here (Where You Should Be) by @blue-wanderer

"And if you’re worried about the cameras just take care of them.” “Take care—! Take care of them? With what, Keith?” “I don’t know?” Keith asks, busily testing his foothold in the gate and generally ignoring the rising storm cloud of ire behind him. “With a gun?” “A gun? This isn’t some sort of black ops storming an enemy base thing! This is a Christmas tree thing!” “I don’t see a difference? You’re the sharpshooter. Shoot out the cameras.” “Let me just pull a gun out of my ass, Keith!” “OK, problem solved,” Keith agrees, taking another step up the gate. “Nothing is solved you dumb country space redneck!”

Or Keith and Lance may be disasters at decorating, but Christmas still manages to work its magic on them.

i bookmarked this like a year ago and let me tell you all i needed to hear was dumb country space redneck and i was hooked 😭😭 and it lived up to the name fr. hate the canon ending? want lance to not be a farmer while still acknowledging his struggles with homesickness? want some whipped keith and meddlesome kosmo? want some cheesy xmas feels? click ahead!

3. make my wish come true by angelbolt

“A world where one has to fight for custody of one’s boyfriend is a godless one,” Lance muttered, slumping so he was leaning against Hunk. Shiro exchanged some final words with Kolivan before the screen blipped out. Ah yes, the ideal Christmas Eve: long boring talks and war meetings. Wonderful. ❆❅❆ keith comes home for christmas.

fun game idea: take a shot every time you see a klance xmas fic with a mariah carey lyric. lol. ANYWAYS yall know me and established relationship + early season dynamics!! i am obsessed!! and this fic delivers!! grumpy lance pov who just wants the rest of the world to fuck off for a couple days so he can have his bf around. he's such a voice of the people

4. i'll be home for christmas by @thespacenico

A severe bout of winter weather threatens to stop Shiro from making it home for his first Christmas with Keith. Shiro is ready to do whatever it takes to keep his promise.

okay this one is from darcy's i've got you brother, which i am obsessed with and have cried over several times, and which just recently updated! this fic is so cute and a adashi with young keith always fucking gets to me, man. they're just so. shiro being so desperately determined to keep his promise to young keith who has had so many promises broken that he doesnt even expect shiro to try. but is happy that he does. sobbing.

5. the greatest gift of all by dumpsterdiva

Keith’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he stammered, “D-do you really mean that?” Lance looked a bit sheepish as he said, “I… It’s crazy, right? I mean, it’s way too soon. You know I was kidding.” Keith straightened up. “Well, I’m not. Marry me.” “What?!” “You heard me, you coward. Marry me.” “That’s the worst proposal ever!” “Worse than you threatening me with marriage so I would stop talking about how amazing you are?”

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PROPOSAL FICS. i feel ksjbskdbqjdbqwlwd about them. okay. and throw in a christmas setting??? and banter?? and a MODERN AU?? i am doing my best, people. this fic had me shoving a pillow into my face and screaming.

that’s it for today!! happy holidays! merry christmas!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[sushispider1212]

Since its so fucking hot outside, I propose to you this:

Shigeru spraying Ren down with a hose during strikers because it was too damn hot out (Got inspired because yesterday my little sister asked me to chase her down with a hose because she was bored)

Or Akira owning a truck and the PT’s doing the DIY truck pool thing (its such a redneck thing that my sister and I used to do 😭)

Shigeru would sneak up on Akira with the hose and spray him with it when he’s least expecting it. Akira would try to do it back, only to find that Shigeru has disconnected the hose while his back was turned.

Good idea with the truck pool thing, but Akira does not strike me as a truck guy. He doesn’t even strike me as a car guy. Shigeru’s the motorcycle guy.

[evergreen-writing]

Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?) || JD (Heathers) x British!Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

CHAPTER ONE : I Can't See Much of a Future

11AM in Sherwood, Ohio, so 4PM back home, and you were watching ever-so-painfully as the classroom clock ticked down to 12, when you could escape around back with a mediocre American sandwich from the cafeteria and your copy of Sylvia Plath’s Ariel to fuel your lamenting. Sure, this quick dip across the pond (as it was first proposed to you) has helped your family financially, that couldn’t be denied, but God, did it make you lonely. Last July, you were ever-so-politely begged to accompany your twenty-five year-old brother to his exciting yet confidential new science job for a few weeks while your parents ‘sorted something out’, but then the weeks turned into months and now you are approaching your 6th month in redneck America with excruciating lethargy.

Sure, you made friends, but you’ve had it up to here with them; with the only name people use for you being ‘Redcoat’, with constantly being asked if you want tea, with incessant comments about British girls being more ‘polite in bed’ than American ones from two certain jocks who you are far too dignified to name. You’re smart, yes, but you find it hard not to be when comparing the two school systems you have been enslaved to, and pretty, apparently, but you’re unsure if that is just due to the novelty of your nationality messing with people’s heads. Despite your personal qualities and the privileges they bring, you know that you hate it here.

So, once you step outside that classroom, you go through the motions. Your most often-seen acquaintance, Ivy, immediately pounces on you, fresh off a period of smoking in the third floor girls’ toilets, and bombards you with news of a ‘rad party’ the weekend coming, and asks where you got your lipstick before deciding it must be from ‘one of those London brands’. You are not from London. However, you have tried to play upon people’s assumptions, and have adopted a far posher accent than usual to quell any commotion surrounding the fact that England does in fact, have a North. Then, two unfortunately familiar boys, towering proud in their letterman jackets, approach you, their chests puffed out in a manner that you can only relate to birds during mating season. They ask you your plans for the weekend, with a barely understandable guffaw lacing their tone. Upon being told that they’ll have to ‘wait and see’, they admonish you for being ‘such a tease’ and in turn, ‘so British’ and move on to a girl far less world-weary and far more susceptible to their advances. Ivy grabs you by the arm and pulls you around the corner, into an empty classroom far from other people’s prying ears.

“I, personally, cannot ‘wait and see’. My entire schedule this week revolves around who will be where, when, and I cannot deal with showing at that party and not having anyone to tell Kurt and Ram to ‘shove off’.”

Each time she quotes you, she does so in a cheap imitation of your accent, and you find plenty of opportunity to roll your eyes. Desperately putting off the decision, as it will inevitably be to go somewhere where you’d prefer to be six feet underground, you decide to laugh at her.

“Why have you dragged me into an empty classroom, Ivy? Planning something nefarious?”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes, now.

“It’s because I’m your friend, and I know you like to do the whole aloof British girl shtick around the boys, so I’ll help you preserve your image, but, God, do I need an answer.”

You sigh.

“Imminently?” You try.

She nods once, determined.

“Imminently.”

You sigh, and turn your head away from her to hide your disappointment, as you were honestly planning on staying in this Saturday and watching Doctor Who on that illegal, pirate TV channel you’d found that somehow manages to hijack the BBC signals right to your home television. You suppose you will have to wait until it is released on VHS.

“Look, unless something comes up, I’ll come. Can’t have you facing those big, mean boys all by yourself, can I?”

When you finish, she envelops you in a hug, resting her head on your shoulder and wrapping her arms so tightly around you that you earnestly cannot breathe for a few seconds. In these seconds, your slightly oxygen-starved brain surveys her, and you honestly don’t know how she survived without you: she’s petite, crudely so, her head barely reaching your neck in the hug despite your lacklustre height of around 5”6; she’s all curves and no edges, wrapped up in whatever Madonna was wearing last week and most worryingly, every emotion she experiences is immediately on her face as if you were watching some sort of hammy pantomime. You feel as if you must go to the party on Saturday, only to bring all the attention and undressing eyes off her.

Still clinging to you like some sort of overgrown toddler, she whines, pouting.

“What would come up that would make you leave me all alone?”

You laugh slightly at the carping, high pitch of her voice and you murmur something not truly thought out, just something to make sure you don’t develop tinnitus.

“I don’t know, if a guy asks me out or something.”

She pulls away from you and her face quite literally glows, as if she is being lit from behind.

“Is there a guy who would ask you out? If so, I need to meet him.”

You laugh truly now, if not slightly incredulously.

“You’re not my mother, Ivy. Plus, there isn't even a guy! That was a hypothetical!”

She hums, shaking her head vigorously.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this, Redcoat, just you see.”

Just like that, she bounds through the classroom door, a blur of a low-cut shirt and tight black trousers, leaving you all alone, surveying the ‘ALGEBRA IS FUN!’ poster of the classroom that you now know contains maths lessons. Irritated, you correct your inner monologue that you have to say ‘math’ now (why - it’s not mathematic, is it?) and calmly debate grabbing some food. Twelve to twelve-twenty is Kurt and Ram’s demon time, and although their torment isn’t enacted on you in such an obvious way, you find it incredibly difficult to sit through the literal bullying of random, helpless American kids and act like you find it funny. It is slightly, but your fun ends when you remember that these aren’t cartoon characters from the American TV shows and instead actual, real-life kids. So, you decide that your best train of thought is to pull out Ariel, which you cling to like a security blanket and paw feverishly to one of your tabbed and wildly annotated pages and read Lady Lazarus, whispering the lyrical lines to yourself like some sort of maddened prayer to an ancient Goddess. You’ll grab some food at some point, you decide.

Around the last couple of verse paragraphs, sometime about the commanding of ‘Herr God’ and ‘Herr Lucifer’, you hear a dry voice leering near the previously unopened door.

“Sylvie, huh?”

You look up to see a teenage boy, his gaunt yet lanky frame cloaked in a deep black trenchcoat, fluffy, tawny fringe nearly covering his eyes, which you can vaguely see are a dark brown, seemingly containing multitudes. Immediately, something seems wrong about him. Unfortunately, this only intrigues you more and you decide to amuse him.

“Mhm, she’s my patron poet.”

He takes this opportunity to stride forward, his pace not suggesting he’s aware that he’s intruding, letting the door swing then slam behind him. His face doesn’t even react to your accent. He doesn’t give away much, actually, just simply nodding his head in response and vaguely smirking as he comes over. He slides onto the desk facing the one you’ve claimed as your seat and his intent gaze implies that you cannot just flip over to Tulips.

“I’m new”, he says, “I’ve been told to find the registry office, yet never been told where the registry office actually is.”

You sigh, in a performative manner that is unusual for you and slide Ariel back into your backpack.

“Follow me. I arrived in September, so I’m pretty sure the way is still in my memory.” You trail off for a moment, but when the boy barely replies, only mirroring you by propelling himself off the desk, you say more. “I’m not from around here.”

He laughs slightly at this, as you can hear a slight, dry chuckle from behind you.

“Somehow, I could tell. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not from around these parts either.”

Due to your place of origin, you can’t distinguish different American accents apart, unless those accents are rootin’ tootin' cowboy or valley girl, so you are genuinely shocked by this reveal, and you think the boy can tell, as that endearingly miniscule laugh repeats itself.

“I couldn’t have guessed,” You beam, before shock settles on your body and you whip your head around. “God, I have been so rude. I’m Evelyn.”

He makes an attempt at a polite smile, and only says: “Nice to meet you, Evelyn.”

Silently, you continue walking.

Trying to shake off your slight horror at his unwritten-rule-breaking behaviour of not sharing his name in return, you try to make yet another quip.

“I still don’t know why they need another office just for admissions. Surely, they could just use the regular one.”

You cast your eyes behind you, careful not to slow your stride, but you notice that he’s not even smiling, instead, his lips flatten into a straight line.

“They’d get overloaded, Evelyn. Highschool makes kids crazy: they quit, they die, they kill themselves, whatever. Then, another worker drone comes to take their place - rinse and repeat. If you aren’t pulling your hair out by now, you’re stronger than most.”

You, to be completely frank, are stunned. Unsure about whether that was even a joke or not, you let out a muffled, half-laugh before deciding that being candid is your best bet to keep this conversation afloat.

“I’m just waiting to get on that plane back home, to be honest. I was only meant to be here for a few weeks, then the weeks turned into months and then… I don’t know.” You trail off, slightly taken aback at how honest you are around him.

It wasn’t too long ago that you decided that who you are at school is a front, a character to pull you through. Now here you are, expressing actual emotions and being an actual person in front of a literal stranger who you don’t even know the name of.

You turn fully around now, meeting him in the eyes and you notice that he is fully considering your statement, his eyes not even meeting yours, instead unwavering straight ahead.

Suddenly, he speaks.

“I want to get out, too. I think everyone does, really.”

This lulls you into a rather placid silence, you somewhat cocooned with the revelation that you think, deep down, you already knew. Keeping up a steady pace, you soon reach the registry office and the boy begins to leave you, turning his back. You hear your voice escaping your mouth before you even realise you’re speaking.

“Will I be seeing you around?” Your voice sounds distant, yet hopeful.

Swivelling to face you, he smiles in a way that is actually genuine, in a tone which is the lightest you’ve ever heard from him, you hear:

“Hopefully.”

And then he is gone.

(P.S.: Reblog with the word 'taglist' to be added to the taglist)

[imaveryevilenby]

redneck? white collar? blue collar? black tie? no no no these sayings are all old and misused, I propose some new ones

blueneck - they're fucking dead

red collar - they're fucking dead

white tie - they like to take risks that will definitely turn out bad for them in the future if not immediately

black collar - they're fucking dead AND buried

[smthleon]

your kuros are literally so smart by the way.

Im gonna assume youre talking about how I see Hilbert and Cheren HAHAH but yeah no, I like the idea of Hilbert remaining short and stubby while Cherens this oversized bean pole.. Hilberts gonna grab that poor man like a beanpole... His man wife guys...

Anyways, A more updated idea of how I see them(older. Btw,) I imagine Cheren stays suuuper skinny and tall. I am on team Cherens wasian(american and Korean):3c. I imagine that due to his job as a college professor and an elite four member, he doesn't really get much him time. By all means that boy is more stressed out than his students are about tests. I also have to give the biggest shout out to the Cheren community for the idea of him having long hair. Long haired Cheren 2 me is like an angel w wings... He is very beautiful to me. But anyways. In terms of dressing, I like to imagine that bw&bw2 took place mid 80s. so he dresses suuuper old school. He's wearing vests n shit. Maybe suspenders. Who knows. But I like to imagine that due 2 all his stress he doesn't each much :—(, hes got too much going on in that big foreheaded head of his guys... But he's okay^_^!! Hes been getting better! But he still remains the most unhygenic and messy neat freak ever. he drives himself crazy. He hates messes but his desk is a mess... But in the short run, in my eyes. older Cheren is nottt laid back. His ass worries about everything.

Now for Hilbert, I will forever see him as this short tempered guy who's like 5'6. He stopped growing at 12 so now he's forever tiny. Biancas a few inches taller than him but aside from that. He did NOT get the height from his parents. And this guy is definitely a redneck. I imagine his parents are divorced, but his dads clay, if that holds any logic. Idk, they seem related 2 me... Anyways, in terms of body types, I feel like hes a little pudgy and fatty, definitely a foodie. I don't think he really shaves much, I imagine his side burns are a lot more trimmed than Cherens how ever. But despite his temper. He's very laid back to Cheren. I also imagine he's a sorta druggie. Idk, I think he's a mellow pot head. Cheren probably hates the smell. But onto how I see Hilberts work! I imagine after he found N, he went to sinnoh for a bit for a degree in Pokemon research, so now he'll travel around and take pictures/get information on different Pokemon, meaning sometimes he's not really home. Which is good for Cheren! Because he only has to make dinner for one(and speaking of cooking. Hilbert cannot cook.) And in sense of fashion? I'd say Hilberts definitely Western grunge. He probably patches up his own clothes n stuff. Despite Cheren being an e4 member, they kinda have money problems. Idk. Im being realistic... OH and Hilbert has scars EVERYWHERE. Homeboy is NOT safe. His ass even popped a top surgery stitch! Cheren beats him w the broom tho. Its okay^_^

In terms of relationships. I'd say Cherens more affectionate in body language and doing small favors while Hilberts definitely affectionate in words/touch and gift giving. This man would definitely bring Cheren home a legendary. If he asked. Hes very hard headed. But I feel like they're very affectionate w each other, they definitely butt heads. 100%. I do not believe they are always agreeing. Cheren would definitely go "man I hate that stupid brute. Im gonna kiss him on the lips." Which is exactly what happened. And in terms of marriage, Hilbert proposed, they had a nice little wedding, the cake was dropped but they improvised w something else. Idk.

Anyways yeah no, this is definitely the longest post ever on kuroshipping. Im normal about them. Anyways, here r my hcs & thoughts!!!

[velvetvexations]

I would be very interested to hear you talk about golf, expecially what you like about it. I don't really understand the sport of it, to be frank, but I always like hearing people explain why they like things I don't care about, to find the beauty in them, y'know? It's how I learned to like tennis.

Thank you for asking, it means a lot to me!

As someone who most enjoys playing video games when I can listen to a video or podcast, it was great getting into golf games as essentially puzzle games that took up the CPU I needed taken up to be able to focus on what I'm listening to without the ADD kicking in. From there I gained an appreciation for the actual sport itself, and I would so much love to play a real round some day even knowing I would suck so badly.

Mainly, I really, really enjoy the precision. The feeling of getting any good shot, much less a hole in one, is amazing. It's a very careful thing, like building a ship in a bottle, you have to calculate to get the ball to do what you want it to. It's very similar to Monkey Ball, actually, which is a series I love for the exact same reason.

One thing I love in particular is hickory golf, using clubs from back when woods really were made of wood. The sound of a hickory club hitting the ball is so delightful. It also reins in the power creep - a problem with golf is that it's slowly been getting easier and easier to send the ball into the stratosphere because both the clubs and the balls themselves have been so scientifically optimized. This has resulted in some courses having to expand their boundaries just to stay functional. Hickory clubs aren't just aesthetic, they keep the game grounded. It's a shame it's only a novelty.

It makes me very melancholy that like guns, golf is hard to be jazzed about in a praxis way, but I try and change people's minds about it and propose ways it can be made praxis. I really believe in the joy the game can bring. It's a luxury sport, yes, but it's a luxury for a reason, it's fun without requiring you to be all that athletic. Back in the day, golf used to be the kinna outdoors activity with your friends that people - mostly men, of course - aspired to go out and do whenever they got the chance, settling for bowling as a poor man's substitute. Even my dad, a redneck drunk to be blunt, bought a relatively expensive set of golf clubs to be able to play despite being so opposite the stereotype.

Everyone loves mini golf, at least. But the artistry of flinging a ball across a course with a mighty wack and having it land where you want it to is incomparable

[beardedmrbean]

Sorry back to back anon, but the thing about relatability is who writing it. Because I totally relate to characters written by writers who are often

*Check the writers wikis*

Upper middle class or higher…diversity hires, oh was born in la or California, nepo babies, got into positions of influence via friend nepotism

Look I know Hollywood (like every industry ever) always has a nepotism problem

But these modern writers and showrunners are so incestous when it comes to connections. They make Jamie Lee Curtis, Carrie Fisher, and Drew Barrymore (yes I learned about the supposed Barrymore dynasty in Hollywood) have more individual wait

Okay in my Chimera Republic idea, it a fantasy America where we didn’t get the Social Darwinism plague so they became egalitarian much faster than in real life

But many marginalized and discriminated groups that suffer hardships including genocide in the old world was able to gain positions of power in the Chimera Republic.

When a huge war broke out in the old world, there are debate among the marginalized groups if they should save their former oppressors or let them be wipeout and treat their soon dead civilizations like we treat Egypt

Oops, projecting my recent bitterness towards African countries. If I was at a un meeting, I would give the Benin and Nigerian ambassadors the dirtiest looks known to man to give a clue that I know about the Dahomey now

Also I would propose a “No refunds” counter proposal to African countries want reparations

Fuck you people, you guys play a role in the suffering black Americans, Brazilians, Jamaicans, Dominicans, and so many other groups of African descent suffer in the Americas. We are also keeping the bronze items you used as payment

But I think what makes my writing ideas so interesting to other people is that i acknowledge my bitterness and negative side and don’t act self righteous about it. Vs a lot of modern writers who projected it into their works

But this whole idea that we need to make every protagonist relatable…um not everyone have unresolved daddy issues, drink the Marxist kool aid, went to college and got a useless degree, and decided to intentionally live in one of the most godforsaken cities in America

Also can the left stop fetishizing the working class in their writing?

I’m the embodiment of what they desire, but I would rather get laid by a hillbilly confederate flag wearing redneck than dealing with a rootless urbanite for 5 minutes

Wait I live right next to Indiana…

Hello boys, wanna recreate your ancestors favorite pastime in bed with me?….

But these modern writers and showrunners are so incestous when it comes to connections. They make Jamie Lee Curtis, Carrie Fisher, and Drew Barrymore (yes I learned about the supposed Barrymore dynasty in Hollywood) have more individual wait

There's a whole bunch more too, ya. For the most part that's how they wind up getting their first couple gigs after that if they suck even being a nepo hire won't help.

bit before and Also I would propose a “No refunds” counter proposal to African countries want reparations Fuck you people, you guys play a role in the suffering black Americans, Brazilians, Jamaicans, Dominicans, and so many other groups of African descent suffer in the Americas. We are also keeping the bronze items you used as payment

The more people that learn about all that the more people that will mover over to that line of thinking, bronzes were probably purchased since the african countries weren't paying us to take their slaves off their hands, they were selling them.

Which they were bought then they're ours now, cry harder.

But I think what makes my writing ideas so interesting to other people is that i acknowledge my bitterness and negative side and don’t act self righteous about it. Vs a lot of modern writers who projected it into their works

Folks do enjoy honesty, semi rare commodity these days so it's refreshing when you get it in large doses.

But this whole idea that we need to make every protagonist relatable…um not everyone have unresolved daddy issues, drink the Marxist kool aid, went to college and got a useless degree, and decided to intentionally live in one of the most godforsaken cities in America

They'll find a way to make anyone relatable, even if they have to change everything about them. Fandom be nuts like that.

Also can the left stop fetishizing the working class in their writing?

Doubtful, maybe if they decided to join them they could, but those are icky blue collar people and beneath them.

At least in my observation of leftists and leftist spaces it's what the majority opinion on them is.

I’m the embodiment of what they desire, but I would rather get laid by a hillbilly confederate flag wearing redneck than dealing with a rootless urbanite for 5 minutes

You're not the embodiment, you actually take responsibility for yourself and are doing ok in life, that's just what they say they want. As for what they actually want we've been over that before.

Again my take there at least.

Wait I live right next to Indiana… Hello boys, wanna recreate your ancestors favorite pastime in bed with me?….

Take it away Little Stevie

[supereffectiveartblog]

More Fakémon - Sockaroo

One of the first Pokémon the DM for our campaign proposed was a Kangaroo that took more of a male Kangaroo's traits, like boxing. It was decided in the middle of the design process that it would be related to Kangaskhan, being the male equivalent. This meant we needed a prevolution, and this was a bit easier to design, basing it more on Kangaskhan's Joey in its Mega form.

Sockaroo's name comes from Sock as in to punch, while also being a pun on Ocker (an Australian term meaning a redneck), and Socceroo (Australia's national soccer team). While the physical design was always meant to be more mammalian than the more reptilian Kangaskhan (with a darker nose and fluffier ears), we wanted to it still resemble its female counterpart. The cheek ruffs and belt were based on Mega Kangaskhan's joey, but also giving it fur ruffs on the arms and legs. The pads on its knuckles resemble boxing gloves, helping this Pokémon's punching abilities. The boxing belt now helps reinforce this image. And of course we kept Kangaskhan's helmet, but he's red to resemble a male Red Kangaroo.

Skippler is a pun on Skippy (a kangaroo TV character), and ankle-biter (a term for annoying children). I decided to make it look at least a little less threatening than the Mega form, but more threatening than the Joey in Kangaskhan's pouch. I decided to plant some small differences between genders to indicate parts of their evolutions. The male still has the belt, and the start of its boxing cuffs. The female has the beginning of a pouch, as well as one tail spike and bigger shoulder fluffs, to later become Kangaskhan's shoulder pads.

[its-monster-mash]

Moodboards for my New OCs

So I'm planning to write a new horror-sort-of-romance loosely based off of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so I made a couple of moodboards for the main characters.

Name: Vanessa "Nessie" Abbott (formerly Andrews). She was given the name "Abbott" when she "joined" the family at three years old.

Eye color: Gray

Height: 5'6"

Age: 19

Backstory: When she was three, her family’s car broke down in the rural hills of West Virginia, not a house in sight. When a man came out of the woods, saying they had a house up the overgrown drive, Vanessa’s (wealthy) parents went with him, in hopes of using his family’s phone, but something wasn’t quite right about the rustic mountain farmhouse, even if it was warm and homey. Unbeknownst to her, while Vanessa played with the family’s younger son, Sylas, her parents were being brutally murdered. The Abbotts told Vanessa that her parents had gone for a mechanic, and when they never came back, they led Vanessa to believe she’d been abandoned, but consoled her with the fact that they would care for her now. 

The Abbotts raised “Nessie” alongside Sylas and the other kids (their biological children, probably). Once she got old enough to help with the killing, she realized what must have happened to her parents, but she tries not to think about it, because she likes her life and loves her new family—all thinking about her old family would do is cause problems.

Nessie doesn’t remember her parents very well, but she does remember her grandma’s house, and how she thought it looked like a castle. Her only really distinct memory of childhood was of playing with the cousins. It’s odd to her to think that those cousins are probably still out there, thinking she went missing with her parents.

Nessie and Sylas are close—she sees him and the Abbott kids as her siblings, but she doesn’t know yet that the Abbotts kept her to be Sylas’s wife.

Name: Sylas Abbott

Eye color: Green-Hazel

Height: 6'2"

Age: 20

Backstory: Middle child in the Abbott family of cannibals living in the wilderness of West Virginia.

He knows he’s supposed to marry Nessie, and he genuinely loves her, but he’s nervous about bridging that gap because he knows she sees him as her brother, and he doesn’t want her to hate him.

He's known since they were kids that he was supposed to marry her when they grew up, but she didn't get the same memo, so that puts him in an awkward position. Still, the family has him under increasing pressure to make a move.

Takes care of the animal livestock (they eat human meat, but they have sheep for dairy and wool, and chickens for eggs) and the farm.

Notes on other Abbott family members under the cut.

Grady Abbott: 28, 6’1”, brown hair—always has motor oil in it, a little beefier than Sylas. Oldest Abbott child (up for debate whether he’s an Abbott by blood or not). Mechanic; keeps the machines up and running. Gruff personality, not parentified by the parents, but considers himself the “head” sibling. Father’s favorite. (He gets a picture because I found the perfect picture for him when I was trying to find one for Sylas)

Abigail Abbott: 25, 5’9”, ash blond hair, wiry build, was awkward and lanky when she was younger, but she’s grown into herself. Cherishes The Hunt more than any of the kids; strives to be father’s favorite. Thinks Nessie is being overdramatic when she takes issue with Sylas’s proposal.

Wilder Abbott: 16, 6’1”, ash blond hair, Faye’s twin. Very average redneck teenage boy. Prankster. Great at making traps—learning mechanics from Grady.

Faye Abbott: 16, 5’8”, ash blond hair, Wilder’s twin. “Boyish”, prankster, really good at hiding—Nessie sewed her a ghillie suit which she cherishes. Ambush predator.

Harrison Abbott: Abbott family patriarch, 57, 6’, dark brown hair, wiry build. Quiet, in contrast to most of the family. Dark past (obviously). Obsessed with “keeping meet on the table”. His mom killed his father one incredibly lean winter and fed him to young Harrison to keep him alive. Harrison is intent on never having to eat another family member, and never having his family go hungry. He feels that if they're willing to kill outsiders, they'll never have to resort to killing their own kin.

Genie Abbott: Abbott family mother, 49, 5’9”, ash blonde hair, stout strong build. Classically motherly, mother-hens her children. Considers Nessie a “blessing” to their family (it was her idea to keep Nessie as a future wife for Sylas). Very doting on Nessie, always had her at her side when she was growing up. Grooming Nessie to be the kind of woman she wants her son to marry. Sweet like the smell of a rotting human body.

_

The main Victim group when I actually write the book will be led by a cousin of Nessie's from her birth family. A rich asshole. Might have a "Final Girl" in the Victim group, but I haven't decided yet.

[yamayuandadu]

who was the patron deity of the city of Damascus?

Neo-Assyrian sources like Ashur-nirari V's treaty with Mati-ilu of Arpad and the Sefire stele directly label Ramman as the deity of Damascus. The evidence is pretty late though, with the oldest examples dated to the 9th century BCE. The name Ramman can be translated as "thunderer" and evidently designated a local weather god. Safe to say that at least in the first millennium BCE he was understood as (an) Aramaic Hadad, since local kings had theophoric names invoking him, like Bar-Hadad and Hadad-ezer. However, there's also a king Tar-Ramman. It seems Ramman of Damascus at some point spread southwards, since there is evidence he was worshiped in the Tayma oasis. He is also referenced in 2 Kings 5:18 (vocalized as "Rimmon" in the Masoretic text). His cult survived well into Roman times, though in sources from this period he appears in the guise of "Jupiter (or Zeus) Damascenus". It's worth noting the name Ramman is already attested in the second millennium BCE, but only in Mesopotamian sources, and in this context it designated Amurru/Martu, who is weather god-adjacent but ultimately a distinct deity with unique character (best to think of him as the deified equivalent of a Mesopotamian redneck/hillbilly stereotype, see here). In god lists this identification prevailed even in the first millennium BCE, despite the familiarity with the god of Damascus. There is no evidence that Ramman was ever a designation of a weather god in Mesopotamia proper, so ex. a reference to worship of a god bearing this name in Suhu on the Euphrates very likely should be treated as a reference to Amurru. Both transfer from east to west and from west to east have been proposed, though according to Daniel Schwemer there is no evidence for the former option. Bibliography

H. Niehr (ed.), The Arameans in Ancient Syria

D. Schwemer, Rammān(um) (RlA entry)

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 4

“Why in the world would you eat cold oats for breakfast. And then add milk in it?”

You were trying to explain to Arthur what cereal was and how you would eat it for breakfast. You just assumed he was used to eating stale bread occasionally with fruits or some shit.

“You just don’t get it. But I’ll tell you one thing I’d kill for just a bowl of cereal right now”

After you got done eating your porridge you heard Dutch come out of his tent and walking towards Arthur.

“Hurry up and get ready son we gotta go into town and do something”

That made you perk up.

“What are y’all gettin ready to do? Can I come?”

Then came around Hosea who was carrying some things to put on his horse.

“Oh what happened to Ms. ‘I don’t wanna be an outlaw’ huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna just sit here and do nothing I have to help out you know”

Then came Bessie coming out of her tent. God everyone is just coming out of no where.

“Well if you wanna help out then why don’t you start with these dishes?”

Arthur stood up and laughed.

“Yea girl stay here with the dishes”

I shot him a glare and followed Bessie to the wash bucket and began scrubbing.

-

Turns out there was a lot to be done with the boys not around. Like cleaning blood and sweat off there dirty clothes. Washing their sheets and whatnot. You were even starting to wonder maybe you should’ve just done whatever outlaw work the boys were up to.

“Come on Y/N the boys will be here soon. Let’s get supper ready and pull your dress down your ankles are showing”

“God how did you do all this before I came. I mean when I had my parents my mama did most of the work around the house but there was only 3 of us. I can’t imagine what it was like for you with 3 other boys”

“Yea it can be a hard thing sometimes. But they protect me so I don’t mind”

You smiled and got supper started. Bessie was really nice and you could tell why Hosea loved her. But you don’t think you could take another day of this. You could be out there catching bad guys.

Later the boys came back with money and supplies. Just what y’all needed. Y’all sat down in ate together. In the middle of conversation Dutch had something to bring up.

“So unfortunately we’re gonna have to move camp since Arthur can’t handle his drinks without getting into a fight”

“No it was that redneck who can’t handle a drink without messing with me!”

“Well that redneck is gonna have us all killed if we don’t relocate so let’s get everything packed up”

Arthur was like every other teenage boy you met. Think they’re the king of world especially when they get to run around with a gun on their hip. They’re usually angry little men who get violent when their pride is wounded. Arthur ain’t so different.

-

The new camp here is different. We’re still in a forest but this time there’s a larger town nearby. You never got to go to the last town so you were hoping to explore this one.

The boys were getting ready to head out again but you stopped them this time.

“Can I come with y’all please? I didn’t spend all morning doing target practice for nothin”

Dutch and Hosea looked at each other before shrugging their shoulders.

“Fine but you ride on Arthur’s horse”

You hurriedly climbed onto his horse and held on tight to him.

“My god girl if you that afraid to fall off then maybe you shouldn’t even come. Or maybe yer holding on tight because you never wanna let me go?”

“God shut up”

You guys rode into town and Dutch gave you and Arthur an objective. Get at least 50 dollars by any means necessary. Without causing too much trouble of course.

“Ok I got an idea. We’re gonna pretend to be street urchins with no one to take care of us and beg for money. Sound good?”

I proposed my plan to Arthur and he just laughed.

“Aw that’s cute. That’s not gonna get you anything but a few pitiful stares and MAYBE a couple nickels. We’re gonna go with my plan instead”

Arthur dragged you into a saloon and pulled you aside.

“Ok yer gonna get on top of that table and start dancing a little. You should be cute enough to get a good amount of money from all these men in here. At the same time I’m gonna go pickpocket some people while they’re distracted from yer dancing”

“I can’t do that! I’m just 15 I don’t want these men staring at me while I dance!”

“I’ll make sure no one touches you I promise-“

“I’m not doing it Arthur”

“Would you rather rob people? You said you wanna help out. You said you don’t wanna commit any crimes. So this is how you make money”

You sighed and started walking to the bar. You looked back and saw Arthur putting his thumbs up with a smile. That idiot.

Carefully you walked up to the bartender and demanded a drink. He knew you were young but he gave it to you anyway. You turned around, held your drink up and shouted.

“Ok boys drinks on me!”

All the men shouted and now all their eyes were on you. You squeezed your eyes shut and downed the drink as fast as you could to not burn your throat. The only way for you to do this confidently was to be a little tipsy.

You could already feel the buzz and so you jumped on the table and started your routine. All the men started shouting and whistling and it all made you feel sick so you got another drink. You could see Arthur going around slipping his hands into peoples pockets and taking out wallets and pocket watches. Other men were throwing money at you.

You were constantly looking at him for him to give you the signal to stop but he kept signaling to keep going. Your audience was getting a little bored and so you decided to do something that would blow their mind.

You reached down and lifted your dress up just a little to show you ankle and all the men went crazy. Some even fainted. You looked to Arthur and he made an ok sign with his hand. With that you jumped down and pushed your way through the crowd and got back with Arthur and all the men started booing.

“Don’t worry fellas she’ll back soon to give y’all some more!”

You smacked Arthur’s arm and he dragged you outside. Outside y’all counted your money and found you had 80 dollars. That was more than enough.

“You sure you didn’t use to be a showgirl?”

“Shut up”

You saw 2 men running towards you guys with guns in their hands.

“That’s the little shit who stole my pocket watch!”

Arthur stood up with a frightened look on his face and pulled his gun out ready to shoot.

One of the guys aimed at me and I froze.

“Y/N get the hell outta the way!”

Arthur pushed me away and shot 2 of the men.

“Godammit how the hell you gonna learn to shoot and not even use the damn gun when you’re in trouble?”

“I-I didn’t wanna kill him…”

“That don’t matter. You may not wanna kill him but he sure wanna kill you. You can’t just freeze like that. What if I wasn’t there. Then what?”

Arthur sighed

“I ain’t mad at ya. But man you gotta learn a few things. Like riding a horse. I don’t want to have you holding on to me like that if I knew you could be such a klutz”

He grabbed my hand and led me to the horses where Dutch and Hosea were. Arthur handed him the money.

“80 dollars”

“How’d y’all do that?”

Hosea asked

“Y/N here got up on a table and danced her heart out”

“Why on earth would you ask her to do something like that!?”

“Hosea it’s fine”

“No it’s not. You’re just a girl”

Dutch then piped up.

“Let’s just forget about it and pretend it never happened then”

Then he turned to you

“Well done you two. You bout ready to head back?”

“Not yet I wanna teach Y/N a lil something”

Arthur grabbed his horse and led you 2 into the forest. He took an apple out and gave it to you.

“Yer gonna learn to ride today. Her name is Kelly. Give her that apple”

You gave her the apple and petted her. She made a few noises. Happy noises you hoped. You climbed on her and Arthur held the reigns guiding her.

“Hey- hey this ain’t too bad. This is actually kinda easy!”

“Great so why don’t ya try this”

Arthur slapped the horse on its ass and it took off.

“Woah woah woah that’s too fast. Too fast!”

The horse was going wild and you could barely hang on. It started to run towards a fallen tree in front of you and it jumped over it. It jumped too high causing you to fall. 

Arthur ran over to you.

“Hey you okay- HOLY SHIT!”

The impact was harder than both of you thought and turns out there was blood going down your forehead.

“My god Y/N I’m sorry please don’t hate me”

He picked you up and started carrying you back to camp.

-

“And why the hell’d you do that anyway! Poor girl probably has a terrible headache now. “

Bessie was scolding Arthur now while he looked down to the ground.

“I’m okay Bessie it’ll heal”

“That’s not the point! Arthur yer gonna stay here with Y/N tomorrow while the rest of us go into town understand?”

Arthur sighed.

“Yes ma’am”

[zaenight]

WANHEDA // COMMANDER OF DEATH ACT3 CH2

“So , is Wells single?” Kirby asked a smirking Cordelia.

"Very single , Im glad to have another girl around , gets a bit annoying , place full of guys." Cordelia said as Kirby chuckled.

"I really hope we don't have to kill you." She finished.

"That got dark fast." Kirby stated.

"Any family?" Cordelia asked.

"My Father Hershal , Twin sister Maggie , And My little sister Beth , she's around 18 now , Ray of sunshine that one , amazing singing voice , Maggie , last I remember she fell for one of the boys from Raul and Half-life's orignial group , Those two were pretty close with this redneck , then This guy shane happened , some of our family got killed , shane got killed , The farm burned , it was all bad , got seperated , ran into those two , been like this ever since , You? , You have any family , and You and Carver seem like an Interesting match?" Kirby said to her.

"An Older sister , Leah , got seperated around 9 months ago , With my Nephew matthew , and our dog viola , The horde wrecked our old base , Me and Carver met in a foster home , he proposed at Sixteen , got married , lost our baby a few months before the apocolypse , Stuff happend , now we're here." Cordelia said to her , as Kirby's eyes softened at the mention of the baby.

"But enough of that , a little birdy told me about You and Raul , shacking up." Cordelia laughed as Kirby went red , the two reacing the boys .

"What's got you so red in the face." Half-life Asked .

"Shut it ." Kirby said in a grumble.

"Any family?" Cordelia asked.

"A Sister , died a year before the apocolypse , she was real sick , glad she didn't see what the world became." Half -life said.

"Sorry for your loss , You Raul?" Cordelia asked.

"Nah , Just Half-life and Me , Had a fiancé , but we broke it off." Raul said.

"Look were here!" Cordelia said.

"Open the gate!" Carver yelled up to a masked Bossie.

"Creepy." Kirby said.

"You get used to it , if you pass the test , You might get a mask of your own." Wells winked.

"Well I would like that very much." Kirby said stroking his arm.

Raul looked towards the opening gate , clenching his jaw.

Half-life elbowed him raising a brow.

The reapers gathered around.

"Welcome to the Reapers , This is our main group , Ancheta , Austin , Bossie , who will walk in on you at the worst times , Jenson , Deaver , Boone , Ira Washington , Fisher , Nicholls , Michael Turner , Montanio , Mancea , and Marcus Powell , And the man that has fury on his face currently stomping over to us is Pope , our leader." Cordelia said , The men wary.

"Cordelia what is this." Pope demanded.

"It was just them , we made sure we weren't followed , and they would be amazing assets." Cordelia said , her tone strong and commanding.

"You! , you served?" Pope said , noticing Half-life's dog tags.

"12 years as a sniper." Half-life said with a nod and slight glare.

Pope nodded at Cordelia and Then to Wells and Carver who went with him.

"Should we be worried?" Raul questioned.

"Yes , very worried , watch your Backs." Cordelia said as Bossie walked over.

"Doc there's a rash on my-" He started untill she cut him off.

"No I will not look at the rash on your ass Bossie , now shoo ." She said waving him away , the man glared at the three outsiders , before Pouting at Cordelia walking away.

"They listen to you." Half-life stated.

"Pope may lead , but I reign." Cordelia stated.

---------

The four were getting food ready for the fire , Cordelia let out a scream as She was pulled out of the small shack , Kirby trying to reach for her , but was too late.

Carver and Wells stood , Carver holding his wife gently , Letting her know it was just him.

"Jesus! , Brandon you gave me a heart attack." Cordelia said slapping his chest.

"The test is happening , Pope was gonna have you stay inside , But I wasn't gonna risk it , If you got hurt , I would kill sombody." He said as Cordelia kissed his hand , Wells pouring gasoline on the shack , lighting a match.

---------

"I hope they pass , They would be great assets , Raul is great with his bow , Half-life is a professional sniper , And Kirby Knows alot about Plants and Natural Medicine." Cordelia whispered to Carver , who had his arms around her.

"I know baby." He whispered kissing her head.

Glass from a window shattered , Half-life crashing through , Reaching back in he pulled out a coughing Kirby , Who got back on her feet and helping Half-life pull out Raul.

The three staring at the reapers .

"Fortitudo Saludis!" The Reapers exclaimed.

(Strength of Salvation!")

"Im glad your alive." Cordelia said rushing over to Kirby , Handing the three water bottles.

"Glad we Survived." Kirby said resting her head on Raul's shoulder , Who tensed , rolling his eyes at Half-life's smirk.

"Welcome to the reapers." Cordelia said.

"segadores rebeldes , rogue reapers , or los segadores se rebelan , the reapers rebels , has a good tone to it." Raul said .

"Your right i does , now lets eat." Cordelia said grabbing Kirby's hand , the two laughing as they left behind the boys , Passing Carver , who smiled at his wife's happiness.

-------

[aorish]

I posted 4,055 times in 2022

That's 4,055 more posts than 2021!

929 posts created (23%)

3,126 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@triviallytrue

@nostalgebraist-autoresponder

@sabakos

@lumsel

@the-real-numbers

I tagged 1,579 of my posts in 2022

#laugh rule - 102 posts

#q - 99 posts

#postpostmodern love story - 64 posts

#personal - 50 posts

#same as it ever was - 38 posts

#mine - 34 posts

#endorsed - 33 posts

#yeah - 30 posts

#hegelposting - 26 posts

#posting - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#if you aren't comfortable appropriating from a *closed* religion or arguing whether mohammad was a femboy you aren't approaching it safely

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

There was a junior who lived on our floor freshman year. His housing got messed up? I don't know. He only ever wore boxers inside the dorm, but nobody really seemed to have a problem with that. I saw him once in the Comp Sci building wearing actual clothing and barely recognized him. Our RA dropped out a couple weeks into the year so he taught all of us freshman what rules we could break, sometimes bought us alcohol, helped us with random college shit, etc. Chill guy.

One night in the middle of a huge rainstorm I ran into him in the hall as he was headed out, (only wearing his boxers, as per usual), and he invited me to join him. I figured he was going out to smoke or something, yeah sure, whatever, I'll hang out. But once we got outside, he stood out away from the building in the rain, looked up at the sky and screamed at the top of his lungs like an animal. But the sound went... nowhere. He suggested I try. so I did. We both screamed at the sky for a bit. My clothes were drenched. He told me he did that every time it rained like that. I never saw him do it ever again.

I have no idea what was up with him, exactly, but he clearly had something figured out.

622 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

#4

Professional sports without sexual tension isn't any interesting, it's why they invented sports anime. But cartoons aren't enough. To revive a dying, over-leveraged institution after inevitably collapses along with the coming burst of advertising bubble I propose that all sports allow the players to fuck each other to strengthen their warrior bonds and cause better interpersonal drama. Also if the straight people are having too much trouble we can gender desegregate everything while we're at it, and unban all performance enhancing drugs because the rules for that were stupid and its all just cope anyway. Every sports gym locker room should look like Starship Troopers. This solves every problem with sports and all of the new ones it creates are just further marketing opportunities.

655 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

#3

The media sure is an institution.

935 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#2

Complaining that you have a biological disadvantage in sports is never as much fun as finding new sports that you are better at than everyone else. Like how gamers invented e-sports. or the bourgeoisie invented golf. or rednecks invented "drive car fast in a circle."

You have to take a solutions-oriented approach to your problems instead of complaining about how other people are better than you.

2,652 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You probably don't know another language if you live in the United States and both you and your parents were born here unless you go out of your way to learn it. This is a problem of geography more than it is a moral failing because if you are an American, then learning another language is not immediately useful to you. This is because your options in school are as follows:

Spanish: Second most common language in America. Most people who speak it also speak English and will look at you funny if you know Spanish and will not appreciate you being able to eavesdrop on their conversations. But, it's the only non-English language with an appreciable population of native speakers that you can encounter without getting on a plane. However in all likelihood you will probably be taught by a non-native speaker who could not pass an A1 exam and you will learn no Spanish just the same as everyone else.

French: The only French speakers in North America probably don't want to talk to you ever, and if you speak non-Quebecois French at them they really won't want to. You are probably going to major in literary studies and spend the rest of your life pretending to read books no one else actually reads. You have opinions on Freud and Lacan.

German: No one in North America speaks German as their primary language. It's really only useful if you like philosophy or World War II history or want to move to Germany. You probably really like beer and will study abroad and be really annoying about it afterward. But most Germans you are likely to meet outside of Germany speak English somewhat well so you aren't really doing anything for yourself? So most people will also think you're a Wehraboo or worse unless you are Jewish.

Russian: You already speak Russian or another Slavic language at home and will insist that you do not up until the first day of class, when you and all of your classmates will spend the entire time gossiping with the professor in Russian. The few American kids will hang out in the back and probably talk about Dostoevsky and drink vodka out of their water bottles. Everyone will get an A and no one will learn anything new.

Mandarin Chinese: You (or more likely your parents) think "we'll all be speaking Chinese in twenty years" and so you want to get a head start. This attitude self-selects against people who will ever need to know Mandarin. You probably idolize Ezra Pound and use phrases like "command economy" unironically. Every single person from China who has ever met you hates your guts.

Japanese: You are a weeb. All of your classmates are weebs. Your professor may or may not be a weeb, but wants to die regardless. You'll probably give up halfway through the first semester along with the most annoying 80% of the class and switch to Spanish once you realize how hard it is to learn Japanese.

Korean or Arabic: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted]!

Pashto or Urdu or Farsi: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted], but also I really doubt you are supposed to be telling anyone that you are learning this language. Good luck on your future job search.

Navajo: Most Navajo people don't speak any Navajo and unless you live in New Mexico you will literally never meet someone who is Navajo. They don't want to talk to you anyway. I don't think many people ever even try to learn this, this is solely on this list because I've seen insane but clueless Europeans try to guilt Americans for not learning it for some incomprehensible reason.

Latin: Latin is a dead language. I'm sure you are tired of hearing about that by now, which is why I reminded you about it. Even Catholics will make fun of you now for learning this. Your parents probably want you to be a doctor, and will stop talking to you when you drop out of med school. Or maybe you're a classics student who will spend the rest of your life incorrecting historians about pissing contests no one cared about anyway. Go forge a historical demonology book or get off to a picture of Thomas Aquinas or Cicero or something, I don't know.

Ancient Greek: Oh, are you a theology student or something learning Biblical Koine? The Evangelical Christians don't care what the bible actu- ...No? You're learning Attic Greek? And you're not like, a linguistics or classics major or something, you chose to do this specifically. Hey, uh, are you doing anything later? Or right now, even?

3,283 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

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