#rich person kool aid

[watusay]

All I'm going to say is I was bored

[hussyknee]

[ID of above image: tweet by PopCrave: 19 year old passenger of the Titanic submersible didn't want to go on the voyage and was "terrified", but agreed to do it for his Dad on Father's Day, a family member says. [Link to NBC news]. Attached image of a bespectacled middle aged man and a taller round-faced teenage boy beaming at the camera in the backdrop of a sunset.]

(alt included)

Some local context. Please hold all these concepts together in your brains:

"Billionaires of colour are the same as white billionaires and as complicit in colonization and capitalist violence"

"Wealth hoarding is inherently an act of brutality and philanthropy is simply trying to whitewash this fact"

"Their philanthropy meant a lot to their countrymen who needed their help"

"Billionaires as individuals have good and bad qualities same as everyone else, and people are free to feel for individuals while hating what they represent"

"Knowing local context is important, especially of a Global South country, regardless of whether it changes your opinion"

"People of the Global South have no more consensus on the people who oppress them than Westerners do, and the exploited poor are more likely to feel grateful to the rich who give a damn about them"

"A 19 year old of an oppressive class is still barely more than a child, even if on his way to being as much of a problem as his parents"

this is the only person on that ship i feel bad for

he literally had no desire in any way shape or form to go on that sub, knowing full well it was a deathtrap, but was pressured into doing so by his dad

[genderqueerdykes]

if your brand of "lol fuck capitalism eat the rich" stops the second it would involve a poor person enjoying convenience or even joy, you drank the kool-aid and are in fact a capitalist. you just hate the fact that you have to spend money and think it should be relegated to the poor. if you sincerely get offended or upset when a poor person spends money on their hobbies, entertainment, or whatever else it may be, but then not bat an eyelash when a rich person does it because "they earned it," you are a capitalist. you readily guzzled down rich people's brainwashing and it does nothing for you because they don't care about you, and their money is not yours.

believing that you should have to earn happiness is a capitalist belief. believing that you should have to earn convenience is a capitalist belief. believing that poor, addicted, homeless, disabled and people of color don't deserve "nice" or "good" things because they're disadvantaged is an inherently capitalist belief. these beliefs are cruel and dehumanizing and they don't get you ahead, they make us all lose. none of those beliefs even closely align with "eat the rich" or "fuck capitalism". wake up.

[nuadaargetlamh]

One is a convicted criminal that wants to:

Institute a dictatorship “on day one only” (with majority support from his party!)

Give a greenlight to Project 2025

Use a weakened Schedule F to install THOUSANDS of cronies

Institute military tribunals for his political enemies (and allies!)

Gun down “enemies from within”

Support Russia in wiping Ukraine off the map

Use the combo of the removal of the Chevron deference/the Supreme Court allowing people to openly bribe them/Schedule F to extend the far-right’s reach into every government agency and deregulate everything to the benefit of his rich capitalist buddies

Has gotten total immunity for “official acts” (what counts as “official”? Whatever his Schedule F appointed judges choose of course.)

Already took away so many freedoms from racial minorities/queer people/women/anyone-that-isn’t-a-rich-white-man that it would take ages to list them all in this post

and so so so so SO MUCH MORE.

The other is a typical neoliberal politician.

Remember also, you’re not just choosing a president, you’re choosing their cabinet, potential Supreme Court justices, federal employees as well. With the above listed ALONE, Trump would do so much more damage than just what he can do himself. That’s not including everything else his Federalist Society Supreme Court would and have given him on a silver platter. Supreme Court Justices are for LIFE, and we��ve already seen the potentially irreparable damage this far-right activist court has done to the fabric of democracy.

Project 2025 really deserves a part to itself just to list some of what it includes: complete abortion/contraceptive ban (no exceptions), destroying worker’s unions and protections, remove Social Security/Medicare/Affordable Care Act, end civil rights protections in government, ban teaching the history of slavery, remove climate protections while gutting the EPA, end equal marriage and enforce the “traditional family ideal”, use the military to gun down protests, mass deportation of legal immigrants (especially Muslims), ending birthright citizenship, pack the lower courts, and plenty more. The far-right wasn’t able to take full advantage of Trump’s presidency the first time since it was so unexpected. They’re preparing so that they won’t make the same mistake again. THERE ARE OVER 900 PAGES OF POLICIES AND PLANS THAT THEY ABSOLUTELY WILL IMPLEMENT IF THEY WIN. READ IT. Anyone that says they won’t is either a liar or already drank the Kool-Aid. Isn’t it interesting that every politician that supports it, including his vice president, wants Trump to win?

Not to mention, if you care about Palestine (like I do, a lot), Trump would be MUCH WORSE for Palestine than the other candidate, supporting Bibi going “from the river to the sea” and already cut off millions in aid to Palestine in 2018 (which Dems reversed!). If you support a free Palestine and don’t vote blue, you have categorically hurt them more than if you did. Even Palestinians themselves want the Democrat candidate over Trump. There is no quick and bloodless peace deal that both Palestine and Israel would ever agree to. The road to an end of the Palestine-Israel conflict is going to be long and difficult, probably decades of dedicated de-radicalization in both states, and will involve far more than one person’s decisions in the end. Unless Trump takes power, and avoids all that by sending enough bombs to turn the Gaza Strip into dust.

There are a few reasons you would choose to vote third party in a FPTP system (support ranked choice voting btw) or not vote “in protest” while ignoring all the state and local elections that affect your area more than the president. Either you’re privileged enough to not be affected by what Trump would bring, you’re ignorant of the consequences, or you care more about doing nothing perfectly rather than doing something, anything that isn’t 100% ideologically “pure” to fight against the far-right fascist movement.

Am I a democratic socialist? Yes. Am I a realist? Also yes. In every single down-ballot race, and through my activism, I will fight for the rights of the oppressed and working-class. But the Presidency isn’t fucking winnable right now, and probably won’t be for decades. Pro-corporatist/anti-worker sentiment is baked into the fucking bones of this country and its people. A majority of eligible voters wouldn’t vote for Bernie, and he’s barely center-left. Voting for anything other than one of the two big parties is a useless feel-good gesture at the moment. Or you’re a dumbass accelerationist, and if you are, honestly go fuck yourself.

Let’s say you want a socialist revolution, full-tilt government takeover. I want that too, in my wildest dreams! We’re on the same page there. So how are you going to do it. How? HOW? What pro-worker activist groups are you working with? Are you encouraging your workplace to form a union? Volunteering for/donating to your local farmers’ co-op? Canvassing for pro-worker legislation? Hell, even something as small as distributing free copies of high-school/college textbooks, so that those of poorer means have a better chance at affording advanced education? Are you doing anything to help? Any praxis at all, rather than typing wishful thoughts of revolution alongside insults to people who aren’t as “correct” as you on the internet?

Every voter that still supports Trump is energized by every cruelty he enacts, while millions of Democrats and third-partyists care more about purity tests and manifesting socialist revolution tulpas than avoiding a fascist dictatorship.

Have a brain, touch grass, and vote blue all the way down that fucking ballot.

[mossygirl333]

I wanna a Marble cake, a Sundae, and a Kool-Aid with Nikto please 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

An: ofc! (also I just got another porn star ask for Dean Winchester like an hour after yours, I thought it was hilarious) <3

also I tried a little bit new, so I hope I did a good job!

Bakery Order: Marble cake- “Pose for the camera.” + Sundae - “Don't you need the money?” + Kool-Aid- Virgin/inexperienced reader

Pornstar!Nikto x virgin!reader

Tw/Cw: recorded sex, protected p in v (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), mentions of STDS

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Nikto couldn't get you out of his head after that night. It was stupid really, he's a pornstar, he's fucked countless women.

Outside of the military, he doesn't really talk to women. And your hands could only do so much. Porn was an escape, a side hustle, a distraction and a quick way to make a buck.

Not...this. Whatever this even meant.

You were new to the scene. You'd fucked only 2 people before them and not in porn. He was your "first" so to say. Taking your pornstar virginity, or whatever.

It was meant to be quick. Tested for STD's- negative. You were on birth control. He had a condom. The safeword was red.

But when he sunk in, it was different this time. You giggled, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as you started into his.

It was weird.

Who the hell laughs during sex? And why was it so charming. Every thrust, you giggled and held onto him. Sloppily making out with his mask, you even made him chuckle. The cameras weren't even there at this point.

It was just you and him, on this nice bed in some rich person hotel. Laughing like maniacs as you fucked each other. Hands on his face, your lips tasted like cherry, pulling up the bottom of his mask to get deeper.

He panicked, you didn't even seem to notice his scaring. Just replacing the mask and grinding up into him. His hands dug into your hair, felt the squish of your thighs against his sides, and he trembled.

It was so pleasurable. He's fucked rough and fast, spat in women's mouths and used them like toys but it is nothing compared to you.

Absolutely nothing. Nothing compared to that laugh, the way your head tilts back when you moaned, the smile permanently etched onto your face, the curve of your neck, the arch of your back, the taste of your lips and the smell of your hair.

He's dizzy thinking about it. And the way you looked when you orgasmed, he came too fast- probably ruined the production, but at that point he didn't care. Didn't care at all in that moment because all he could think of was them not being on set.

He could have that again. Have that sweet girl in his arms, never let her go down that path of porn, keep her with him.

He had to keep it that way. Had to keep her as his first. His. His. His. His. His.

It swam in his head, and before he could even process what he was doing, his laptop was cracked open. Sitting in the middle of his cramped military dorm, searching up your name on the porn website you use.

Only one video. Only one video, the one of him and you. How many times did he masturbate to it now? He can't remember. Too many times to count.

He needed to find you.

and quick.

[bigskydreaming]

And on the topic of how Dick might have reacted to the Felipe Garzonas case, especially when still on the outs with Bruce himself....

****

The way Jason Todd warily eyed the device in his hand, one might think it was an instrument of great and terrible destructive power, rather than just…his own personal cell-phone.

To be fair, he was Robin, and pretty used to the idea that even the most unlikely of things could be used for evil in Gotham. It could’ve been stolen and replaced at some point by a henchperson of Mr. Freeze, and using it could unleash some kind of cryogenic freeze ray that would turn him into a Robinsicle. Mad Hatter could be up to shit again, and dialing the phone at this very minute might mean syncing it up with a remote radio signal that would override his natural brainwaves and turn him into Tetch’s mindless minion of like…doom and stuff. Or…or…

Or sometimes, even in Gotham a phone is just a phone, and Freud is still a dumbass. And neither of the above possibilities had anything to do with why Jason was being a giant freaking pansy about entering the last digit of the phone number he would never ever admit to having had memorized for months now.

Nightwing had said to call if he ever needed to talk. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t actually want Jason to call, right? Like, its not as if Jason had remotely been expecting him to do that, so its not the sort of thing someone did just because it was ‘expected’ or shit. He was pretty sure. Rich people manners were weird though. Had to factor that in.

But Nightwing had also even made a point to say not talking to people about stuff was Bruce’s problem and that Jason shouldn’t let it be his problem too, and even though months ago Jason had been a starry-eyed dumbass who was totally drunk on the Bruce is the Bestest Kool-Aid or whatever, ‘Wing had definitely known what he was talking about there. So maybe he’d get it, and having this conversation with him wouldn’t be. Like. The actual worst idea in the history of ever.

Deductive logic said that Jason was getting worked up over nothing and there was no rational reason for him to be this nervous about dialing a fucking phone number. And he’d gotten pretty good at the whole deduction shit, given all the work he and Bruce had put into training his mind to view the world through entirely new paradigms, so Jason was pretty sure his math on that checked out. But on the other hand, Bruce was a hypocritical asshat that Jason was currently not speaking to, so what the fuck did he know about anything?

Aaaaand he was back to square one. Well damn. This was excellent. Very productive. Good hustle out there, Jay.

Sighing gustily, Jason flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten used to how luxurious and cushion-y his ridiculously expensive mattress was. He’d gotten soft, he told himself. Then he scoffed at the idea that the past year and a half of rigorous Robin training and patrols had made him less tough than the pipsqueak he’d been back when living on the street, getting his ass kicked by bigger and badder on the regular. That hadn’t been hardness, that had been bravado.

But it had gotten him this far in life, so maybe there was something to be said for it after all?

Ugh. Decisions were hard. He objected on principle. He also really wanted to understand why he was this nervous…if he could literally fill the guy’s shoes and kick supervillain ass as Robin, what freaking sense did it make that he couldn’t even call him up on the phone?

Maybe you just know better than to ask him questions you don’t really want to hear his answer to, a smug voice said in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like Willis Todd, which was all kinds of weird and fucked up, cuz Jason was damn sure his abusive a-hole of a deadbeat dad had never said anything that insightful in his life.

Which meant it was his own screwed up subconscious - presenting in the voice of his not so dearly departed douchebag dad, no less - that had Jason reacting out of spite, entering the last number and hitting Talk, all while totally on autopilot. Because apparently we’re all making healthy life choices in this Chili’s tonight, Jason snickered somewhat hysterically while his phone rang once, twice, three times.

Ugh. Was he always this fucked up in the head and he just never noticed, or was it a side effect of running around rooftops in a cape. Inquiring minds wanted to know.

“Hello?” Someone said then, answering on the fourth ring. Jason sat bolt upright, his nervous humor vanishing as quickly and unexpectedly as it’d hijacked him in the first place. For all that he’d only actually interacted with the older man a few times, his voice was instantly recognizable. As was his slight confusion.

Right. Because why would Nightwing have the untraceable number of the latest burner phone Bruce had given Jason, when the ever paranoid Bat had him swapping out phones every freaking week? Duh, Jay.

“Uh, its me,” Jason said hastily, as if he could somehow catch up to and overtake the epically long ten second silence he let lapse before his mouth started making words again. “Jason?”

“Jaybird! Hey! What’s going on?” The older vigilante’s tone instantly morphed into one of surprised delight, so apparent even across the phone that Jason actually pulled it away from his ear and stared at it, as if that could explain Nightwing’s inexplicable giddiness. He’d literally only met the dude three times. Give or take a concussion he was forgetting about maybe? Weird.

Then again, the older man was a circus performer from birth. Might just be good at faking being super excited to hear from people? Whatever. Still weird.

“Uh, you said to call if I was ever having, I dunno, issues with Bruce I guess? So I kinda had a question? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

Just one question? Willis’ voice asked snidely, echoing in time with the rapid tripartite beat of Jason’s heart. Since apparently everything Jason said was trying to come out with a question mark attached to the end of it at the moment. Ugh, fuck you, subconscious, Jason thought forcefully, even as he ransacked the recesses of his mind for that bravado he was thinking about earlier. It had to be in here somewhere…

“No worries dude, I’ve got time. Hit me!” Nightwing said cheerfully. His lighthearted cadences were so at odds with the sweat suddenly breaking out on Jason’s forehead, the younger teen couldn’t help but wince in anticipation of its inevitable change once he got his actual question out. This was a bad idea, he decided, way too fucking late for it to make a difference. He had a hunch Nightwing wouldn’t be content to ‘just forget it’ or whatever even if Jason chickened out now.

So he took a deep breath, shrugged and did what Jason Todd did best. Said fuck it, put pedal to the metal, and drove at full speed for the metaphorical police barricade that was his way of picturing all the things telling him He Should Definitely Just Not.

“Do you think I’m someone who could kill somebody in like, cold blood?”

Aaaaand there went the lightheartedness. Well, he’d definitely stone cold killed that, Jason thought grimly into the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Nightwing said at last. “You’re gonna have to give me a second to switch gears here, Jay. I was kinda expecting something along the lines of ‘how do I avoid Bruce giving me the safe sex talk.’”

Jason flushed and nodded jerkily, not that the older man could see it. Still, it’d been enough of a workout just getting to this point. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next if he kept trying to force it. Thankfully Nightwing didn’t make him wait too long before continuing.

“I think anyone’s capable of killing somebody in the right circumstances,” Jason’s predecessor began carefully. Except that was not remotely what he wanted to hear. Or helpful.

“I’m not looking for platitudes,” Jason grit out, not angry at the other vigilante so much as the whole fucked up mess and his inability to think about anything else at this point. “It’s just a simple fucking question. You’ve met me, do you think like, I’d be capable of just killing somebody or not.”

“I’m not offering platitudes,” Nightwing continued calmly, as if he wasn’t phased by the younger boy’s interruption or sudden aggression at all. “And its not a simple question at all. Speaking from experience, most people wouldn’t think of an eight year old as a cold-blooded killer, but that’s what I could have been if Bruce hadn’t stopped me from killing my parents’ murderer when I first tracked him down. And yet that’s still totally different from when I held a gun on Two-Face barely a couple years later, about to shoot him because somebody else told me to, and because I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. Wouldn’t you agree those are two different situations and two different ‘kinds’ of cold-blooded killer? Context is kinda a big deal here.”

Huh. First off…what the fuck? Jason stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to hurry up the processing functions of his brain because, again, what the fuck? He was like ninety nine percent positive none of that had been in the Dick Grayson Is The Greatest and Here Are All The Reasons Why brochure he’d had read to him every time someone new found out he was Wayne’s newest stray, and like. Uh. Yeah, that part would have definitely stood out. Because once more, with feeling:

“What the fuck?”

Oops. That hadn’t been supposed to be out loud. Bad mouth. Bad.

Nightwing just did a weird kinda half laugh half sigh combo. Rueful, Jason would describe it, if he were describing it to someone else, which it kind of felt like he was, relaying the conversation to himself now that it’d taken a hard right turn into the surreal.

“Blindsided you with that, huh? Sorry, should’ve figured neither of those are the kinda stories Bruce would want to share with you. Then again, I don’t really have any idea what Bruce has told you about me.”

“Not much,” Jason admitted. Which was a major source of irritation, if he was being honest. The much sung praises of Dick Grayson came from literally everyone he met except for Bruce. Who usually just got a pinched expression whenever Jason brought him up, and a rapid subject change that was not nearly as subtle as Bruce seemed to think it was.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Nightwing sighed. “I hope you haven’t put too much stock in anything else you’ve heard about me then. I’ll admit to a bad habit of enjoying my mystique, so secondhand hearsay tends to lose my best nuances.”

Despite himself, Jason’s lips curved up and he let out a rueful huff of his own. “I mean, this definitely isn’t where I saw this conversation going.”

The older man chuckled. “Thought I was going to just assume the worst and chuck the book at you?”

“Well. Yeah.” Jason shrugged, even though he knew it wouldn’t come across. “Bruce did.”

Nightwing heaved an exasperated breath. “Yeah, that’s the thing about B. Sometimes, he’s great. Other times, he’s an ass. Its kinda an either or thing. He’s never really mastered the art of finding a midpoint between two extremes. Mostly because he’s never seen the point of aiming for middle ground.”

“Well its not like he’s ever really had to,” Jason griped. It just slipped out before he could stop it, leaving him feeling guilty for bad-mouthing B when he wasn’t around to defend himself. Especially since he knew Nightwing wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan these days. But he couldn’t deny it also felt good, in a way.

To his surprise, Nightwing just laughed. And not even in a malicious, spiteful kind of way, but almost relieved.

“God, thank you. You’d think that ‘hey, so my billionaire guardian kinda has entitlement issues’ would be a water is wet kind of revelation, but try saying something like that to pretty much anyone else…”

“And they look at you like you’re an ungrateful asshole?” Jason finished for him. Not that he’d ever actually tried saying that to anyone before, though he’d definitely thought it a time or two. But he could all too easily imagine the reactions he’d get, which was pretty much why he’d never gone so far as to speak the words.

“Yup,” Nightwing drawled, dragging out the p and popping it with emphasis. “And its not about being grateful or not, its just…there are some parts of everyone that just aren’t up for grabs, for other people to weigh in on or take charge of, you know? And a lot of people just don’t get that…because nobody’s ever tried it with them, or had to deal with expectations that…overstep, let’s call it?”

“Is that why you left?”

Jason winced the second it left his mouth. Too far. Definitely way too far, but he’d just gotten unexpectedly comfortable with the back and forth, and now he’d done the overstepping thing himself and was left with just dead air.

But ten seconds of heavy silence stretched into twenty, and went no further, as Nightwing sighed into his side of the phone again.

“The spiteful part of me wants to say it was more of a push than me just up and leaving,” he laughed again, but this time with unmistakable bitterness. “But even while that’s true, its not really the right answer to your question, because no matter how much of a clusterfuck that was at the time, its not…I mean, I knew at the time how to fix it. Where and how I needed to cave in order to make up with him and let things get back not quite to normal, but at least close enough.”

The pause wasn’t as heavy or tense this time, as Jason could almost sense the older man gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. He bit his lip rather than risk any more unexpected utterances escaping. This might not have been where he’d thought his phone call would lead, but now that he was here, hearing the answers to questions he’d wanted to ask for over a year and finding them almost comfortably familiar, he wasn’t going to risk distracting Nightwing or shutting him up for well. Anything.

“But it would have meant me caving. Settling in ways that I just…couldn’t. So in a way, yeah, I did leave, it was still my choice. And all of that was definitely a big part of it. I love Bruce, I do. I just couldn’t live with him anymore. Not without feeling like I had to give up my own autonomy and just be what he wanted. Or what he’d expected me to grow up to be, back when he first took me in. And as grateful as I am to him for that, I can’t honestly say I would have stuck around back then if I knew that was the price tag attached. I’m not…I don’t do well with people trying to force me to stick to one place, one thing. I was born on the road, you know? When I was a kid, I expected to spend the rest of my life living like that. Home was people. Not places. And so Gotham…its never fit me quite right, the way it does him, or even Barbara. Its not like I was miserable there, its just.”

“It wouldn’t have been your first choice,” Jason finished again, quietly. There was silence again for awhile.

“No. No, it wouldn’t have been. Not then.”

[checkoutmybookshelf]

That Could Have Been An Email...

Y'all...I wanted this book to be good. The dragons are spectacularly done and bursting with personality, there is just enough that is interesting in the worldbuilding that I wanted clarity on the information we already had and more new information. I wanted the characters to outgrow the barely-not-teens-anymore bullshit and actually experience consequences and development. I wanted Andarna to get her questions answered and keep threatening to eat people. Girldad Tairn was amazing. But this book...was not good. The overwhelming two feelings I had were that nothing mattered because Violet has chosen one plot armor and that there was a teaspoon of plot in a gallon of "stuff happens cuz...it does." I debated not bothering with a review, but frankly I sat through this book, so you have to sit through this review. Let's talk Onyx Storm.

This is your obligatory spoiler warning. Consider yourself warned.

The hill I will die on is that Rebecca Yarros writes dragons AMAZINGLY. They're invariably my favorite part of any scene they're in (yes, even the deeply ham-fisted first meeting with the irids that read like someone who drank the "pacifists are the true enemy" kool-aid). Teen rage and angst Andarna made me sad, because bloodthirsty Andarna is happy Andarna and Andarna deserves happiness. Tairn is still my favorite grumpy old man with a surprisingly soft, gooey center. And I just want MORE of Sgaeyl, because she's sharp enough to cut steel cleanly and yet she still hasn't given up on Xaden and she gets to raise Andarna with Tairn.

Everything about the dragons is fabulous and fun. Which is the last complimentary thing I'm going to say about Onyx Storm for a while.

Violet spends the entire book giving chosen one with the best plot armor ever vibes, which is never my favorite thing, but its especially bad when it's quite THIS BLATANT. And the whole dipping her toe into leadership thing felt like an afterthought until Brennan at the end was like, "Vi, you have to pick ONE GOAL and just accept that people are going to die." Which...like...I'm sorry, but thats a little rich coming from the most bulletproof family in Navarre. And just because Violet can trust her squad, her boyfriend, and her brother to handle their shit doesn't mean she's a leader, it means she trusts the people she trusts and they just happen to be in positions where they can cover the objectives. Guarantee you, if it had been Melgren or total strangers, she wouldn't have been able to pick and stick to a single objective. I'm sure this was meant to feel like big emotional growth, but frankly it didn't stand up to scrutiny and...I am just not that interested in Violet Sorrengail.

She isn't the first protagonist of a series I haven't been terribly interested in; that actually tends to happen with me with chosen ones. I had similar experiences with the wizard school books, the Percy Jackson books, and even Lord of the fricking Rings. Chosen ones get oopsie poopsied into positions of import, and it's rare for them to cope in anything like an interesting way, and Violet absolutely does not. The reason I make it through chosen one books is typically because the characters surrounding them are interesting. I love the dragons, but Yarros absolutely blew it for me with the rest of the characters by leaving the entire Iron Squad except Ridoc (who, aside from being surprisingly cool with Violet when he found out Xaden is venin is about as interesting as a clown nose) at Basgiath for big ass swathes of the book. Rhiannon's leadership travails and Sawyer's recovery both felt more interesting to me than Violet spending an entire book on an ultimately futile mission and being told to learn to prioritize.

Then there was the Sorrengail parent drama, which SHOULD have been interesting. You and your siblings' experiences with your parents can be wildly different, and that can cause friction I'm some interesting ways. Instead, we get like...one big Mira/Brennan fight and Violet feeling bad because their dad didn't leave Mira anything and then it's all swept aside because hostage situation. It felt like an afterthought and that made it feel cheap and uninteresting.

Xaden was literally falling to the dark side and losing his soul, which, again, SHOULD be interesting. There was an opportunity for him to.go hella Frodo here, but no, it ended up as him hyperfixating on Violet being safe and on Bodhi being his heir in ways that just felt tired. And the flip flopping between hopeless and "I can be in magical remission so let's have sex" wasn't holding my attention or interest.

And...I hate to be the one that says this, because I do enjoy both a good rescue mission and heroic sacrifice, but rescuing Mira felt flat, and Xaden going full venin to save Sgaeyl also.sehow managed not to be in the least bit interesting.

Getting Rhiannon's and Imogen's POVs at the end was actually a WELCOME relief from drawing out the showdown with Theophanie and Xaden jumping off the venin cliff, but structurally that also felt jarring because we are three books in and now we're mixing up the narrative style???

The islands missions felt...perfunctory. Like Yarros needed time to pass and had to give everyone something to do until it was showdown time. There was some fun worldbuilding in those missions, and I can't even lie that the awkward dinner with Xaden's mother was kind of fun in a Titus Andronicus kind of way, but in terms of advancing the plot or my interest in the protagonists? Nah.

Then there was the pattern where Violet and co. just kept goig back to class between missions. That was weirdly jarring and the juxtaposition of "SUPER SECRET HIGH STAKES MISSION" and the war college equivalent of math class could almost have been commentary on hypernormalization and the increasingly weird stakes to attending Americam schools, but we didn't DO anything with it. It felt like killing time and being dragged through the school year so Voldemort could fuck up everyone's finals season--wait, no, wrong series. Same vibe though.

I could go on, but honestly...I'm over this book. It had so much potential and just fell down on execution.

[mireya-the-awkward-extrovert]

♪Mireya

My main acc: @mireyaaaaaa

☆Name: Mireya

☆Age: 16

₊·*◟Birthday on 23rd January ◜‧*･

☆Resides at cabin7 ₊·*◟Apollo◜‧*･

☆Hobbies: Reading, writing, singing, playing instruments, gardening, photography and filmmaking, making jewelerry, talking~ oh and some other stuff I can't remember

☆Personality: awkward but loves to talk and make new friends, golden retriever, kinda sensitive... Okay maybe a lot.. And is also kind of embarrased to approach new people because of her awkward personality even though she wants to

<<FLIRT ALERT>>

☆Loves her plushie bunny a lot (her now deceased brother gave it to her)

**about her mortal family

Mother- Cassandra suncrest

Step father- Maverick Suncrest

Older brother- Phoenix Suncrest @phoenix-isnt-dead

☆Heterosexual☆flirt with her and she'll flirt back

《I'm open to keep my ocs in a realtionship》

｡ﾟooc: I'm a minor so no nsfw intercations pleaseﾟ｡

☆MBTI: ENFPﾟ｡✧°ﾟ｡

☆Height: 5'5

☆Years at camp: Two years

☆ all year round camper since her brother was killed in a car crash (ooc: currently writing lore for Mireya, everything will be explained... I'm sorry I procastinate)

☆weapon of choice: an amethyst dagger flaked with gold, can switch into a bow too

☆Appearance: wavy, long blonde hair, almost always smiling, has heterochromia but got bullied for it so wears eye contacts

☆Bestieees:

Irene♡ @iwillsarcasmthemonstersaway

Ivory♡ @when-stupid-meets-chaos

Penelope♡ @archery-and-musicals

Cam♡ @one-of-apollos

Lara♡ @oh-to-be-a-robot

Serene @arisdaughter

Naomi @random-daughter-of-hades

Alp and Nuray @best-siblings-ever

Cameron Gwen Grace @gwengracecameron

Calix @if-chaos-was-a-boy

♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*

☆Tag I use: #₊·*◟mireya speaking◜‧*･

And

₊·*◟mireya reblogs◜‧*･

And

#₊·*◟mireya speaking ooc◜‧*･

And

₊·*◟open starters☆◜‧*･

When I start posting more of her backstory and lore I'll use ₊·*◟Mireya loreee☆◜‧*･

♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*

ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ^^

People I know>>

(ʷʰᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵒ)

@will-solace-aaaaa

@cabinseventheaterchick

@one-of-apollos

@apollos-favorite-child

@iwillsarcasmthemonstersaway

@apollos-only-sane-child

@arisdaughter

@the-forgotten-apollo-kid

@the-forgotten-son-of-aphrodite

@when-stupid-meets-chaos

@never-too-much-kool-aid

@archery-and-musicals

@thatonebitheaterkid

@if-chaos-was-a-boy

@random-daughter-of-hades

@evie-the-hecate-goth

@best-siblings-ever

@cabin7-bookworm

@your-lucky-lady

@gwengracecameron

@oh-to-be-a-robot

@oceans-corals-and-poisons

@wealths-son

Dad(dads...?) (hii!)

@thatoneprophecyguy @the-god-of-sun @apollo-god-of-prophecy

(sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛɪғs-)

If anyone wants to rp as besties with me, lmk<33 I'm okay with keeping my character in a relationship too so js send an ask or dm :)

✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・

I have a post with pictures of her, her weapon and few other pictures for her hobbies i couldn't add on this post

back story under the cut

Born in Manhattan, her mother Cassandra decided to shift back to Thailand, her hometown, with her boyfriend Maverick and get married when she was age 3. Her parents never really cared for her, it was her brother Phoenix, who raised her. He left for New York for college though.

At age 13, she finally decided to run away and traveled all by herself to find her brother.

She was made the heiress to her family riches after Phoenix fled away, her going missing was manipulated into kidnapping. She came from one of the most powerful bloodlines in Thailand, the one closest to the royals since the very beginning.

He's supposedly dead according to Mireya because they were ambushed and he seemed to have died. (He isn't actually dead, it'll be explained as the lore goes on i guess)

[hostilemuppet]

You’re the only person I’ve seen who’s kind of run with the idea of the Putt-Putt trolls being a cult and I find it hilarious. Viva and Clay always getting suspicious looks whenever they bring out Kool Aid to a party.

i was going the more "mormon" route (or perhaps amish depending on how technologically advanced other trolls seem to be, which is inconsistent as hell) (maybe scientology but theyre not rich enough) but i do love the idea of them leaning into the over-the-top horror aspect and going full jonestown

thank god bruce listens to all those true crime podcasts

[xtrablak674]

[Originally published in Fashion Fag Magazine, January, February Volume 2, Issue 1, Number 5, 1995, minor edits for clarity.]

Pride: A Deeper Shame

"I saw your momma at K-Mart trying to buy you sneakers with a two hundred dollar food stamp, askin' for change."

HA! HA! HA!

"Yo family so po that they can't afford the raisins in Raisin Bran."

HA! HA! HA!

"Did you see Tony's sneakers? That hole in dem was so big, the shoes were talkin'."

HA! HA! HA!

Rage is hard to articulate, but a legacy of poverty is not funny. Kids are cruel, no honest. But where do they get it from? I am pretty sure they got it from grown folkes.

"Did you see Joyce's kids? The ring around their necks been there so long, you'd think they were birthmarks."

HA! HA! HA!

"You know Linda is so damn cheap, she dye her girls hair with Cherry Kool-Aid."

HA! HA! HA!

"Do you know what I'm gonna get Marie's little girl for Christmas?"

"What girl?"

"...a comb!"

HA! HA! HA!

As I said in RAGE (Vol. 1, Issue 3) within the community of people of African descent there is an anger that threatens to consume us if we do not harbor that energy into more constructive things. For my people one of those things has been humor.

"Oh, Black folks are so funny" -generic white person

If we weren't we'd be dead. From the minstrel shows to 'Good Times' we've had to find the humor in our situation. Its manifested itself in the banter and jokin' we children hear from grown folkes.

What are the long term effects of this 'joking to express our pain?' There are many manifestation from PRIDE, to SHAME, to ANGER, to ENVY.

In me it has produced PRIDE and SHAME.

PRIDE in my heritage, and how my people have overcome so many insurmountable challenges.

PRIDE, that we are makin' wonderful progress in the sports and entertainment industry (But we do do more than just play ball and make you laugh, thank you kindly).

There is also SHAME; a deep SHAME. A SHAME that is rooted in my peoples false notion of what success is.

Success to my generation and me was defined through our television. As a young person of color, I grew up seein' images that were very false and not inclusive of my people.

TV does NOT portray the real world.

It showed content, happy rich white folks and the few images of Blacks were dysfunctional, lazy, and poor.

This had an effect on my young un-sculpted mind. The images on my television (to me, the real world) and the few affirmations I received were diametrically opposed.

Due to my financial and social upbringing, the television and my friends were my teachers.

I began to feel that it was NOT acceptable to be poor.

NOT acceptable to be poor and Black.

NOT acceptable to be poor, Black and on welfare.

On welfare?

Welfare or Public Assistance, was a fact of life in my early existence. I remember gettin' gifts at Christmas from 'Santa Claus'. (Like I really believed that this big jolly white man came to our house and left gifts, yeah right) knowin' even at eight years old that they were comin' from the 'social services people'.

I remember the 'social workers' comin' to visit, like in the 70's movie Claudine, and how mom would change, she would get all up tight as if she had something to prove to somebody or seek someone's affirmation.

"Goddamn, I can't have nuthin' nice without you kids tearin' it up."

This social worker who was always some youngish white woman, would come to 'visit' briefly to see how we kids were doing.

As if to say that my mother was too incompetent to take care of us.

I didn't know the word condescending till much later in life, but I knew what it felt like.

It felt warm, bitter and angry.

It gripped your stomach and jabbed at your heart.

("When you two grow up you wanna be my maids?")

and it would only go away when the social worker left.

Life would return to, normal?

Mom would relax and light up a cigarette or suck her thumb, which was a common self-soothing practice of hers.

These events always affected me greatly bein' a 'momma's boy' and da man of da house. I was greatly tuned into my mother's vibe.

...and her pain.

THEN

There were those painful moments when we did our grocery shoppin', Mom, Monte and Chaon, my two younger brothers, and me. My brothers would be naggin' mom,

'I want dis mommee, I want dat!'

(I am so happy that they have aisles at stores nowadays wit out candy and gum)

"Put it down, goddmann it, no!"

Her anger not comin' from her needy children, but a dissatisfaction with herself and 'the system' that she wasn't able to provide for them.

[It's OK MOM.]

"That'll be..."

The girl at the cash register would say over my pountin' grumblin' brothers. I would try to hush my brothers, as I watched the scenario play out.

Mom would open her little maroon change purse, I recollect so well her silver bracelets gigglin' with that familiar clink as she dug into her change purse and carefully took out her food stamps intermixed with a few single dollar bills. She would count and stifle a sigh as she would tell the girl at the cash register to put back the Count Chocula and the Jiffy Pop.

The second youngest Monte would suck his teeth and roll his eyes, while the youngest Chaon would stick his lips out.

I stood quietly, stoic.

Never lookin' at them Mom put the Jiffy Pop back and replaced it with the Ground Beef and The Chef Boyardee Spaghetti Mix.

The girl at the register sucked her teeth, as she fixed the over-ring.

NOW

I was out today buyin' a few things for my New Year's Eve event, I stopped at the fruit store to buy lemons for my ice tea and some apple cider. I floated around the store waitin' for the line to thin out.

Finally I got on, admiring the determination of the young women cashier to treat everybody evenly. No smile, no hello, but no shade or disrespect either. This woman of African descent stepped to the cashier.

Straightened hair, pulled tightly back in a stubby pony-tail. Gingerbread colored skin pulled taut to her skull. Eyes wide and desperate.

She put down the two items she had. The cashier rung them up and the woman handed her the young lady a ten dollar food stamp. The women's eyes were fixed on the cashier's hand as she put the food stamp in her drawer. She pulled out some single food stamps from under the dollar bills. She counted them, they weren't enough, she turned nonchalantly to the other cashier, who had a line comparable to her, and she asked if she had change for a ten.

All eyes in the line were transfixed on this transaction. Time was movin' really slowly and a huge spotlight was on this woman and her food stamps. Very carefully the cashier counted out the food stamps, put the excess bills under the other bills, and handed the woman her change.

The woman quickly took her change put it in her food stamp booklet. I remember so clearly her tight brows and determined eyes. As she walked away she stopped, took a few plastic bags looked around and continued out of the store. For the first time I saw her legs thin and lithe like young bamboo sticks.

I teared.

Earlier that day I was talkin' to my Aunt about how I understood the importance of food stamps, and never knowingly made anyone who used them uncomfortable, and actually promoted their usage by those in need. But personally I can't use them. She asked why?

I said, pride.

[Afterwords: I don't think I have a lot to say other than once again complimenting my own writing. The then and now stories in the supermarkets were so detail-laden it was like I was back in time, in both situations. I could nearly see the Shop-Rite my mom liked to frequent. Even the Williamsburg grocery store felt familiar and very close by.

As I transcribed this from the PDF I have to say I really enjoyed the paragraph breaks, the poetical repetition and even the formatting, really spoke to how I was utilizing the medium to tell a story. Not presented here, but my use of italics and even brackets versus parenthesis made it clear as to when I was within the story or outside floating above it and commenting. I am confused to how for a minute I could think I wasn't a very good writer.

Using 'playing the dozens' or as we called it 'ranking' when I was younger, and now as an adult just call it 'shade' was an interesting way to open the piece, albeit I think my comparison between poverty and humor tapered off by the end. I think it was a good way to pull the reader into the story. I think most of us can remember using insults as children and still now as adults as a form of humor.

The key points of the story were my discussing my feelings around pride and shame and the dozens did a good job of demonstrating how humor was used to shame those in poverty usually by other people in the exact same situation. The last part of the story intermixes the two quite well, further illuminating the over all message of the piece. Two very complex emotions with so much subtlety of detail within each of them.

I am not sure if the government figured out that there was such severe psychological trauma in publicly showing that you needed financial assistance to feed yourself, but they finally made the wise decision of moving to a card-based system that felt a lot more discreet than the little colored pieces of paper shaped like bills, but clearly not.

I too faced my own pride and shame and sometime during the early aughts went on public assistance for the first time. I didn't look at it as something shameful but as something necessary, so that I didn't end up in an even worse financial situation, a life preserver until I could get back onto more stable ground.

My personal history with my mom, my father who never got off of public assistance, my brother and his wife who seemed to think it was a job, made me very reticent to accepting the assistance. But after the turn of the century I had much more experience under my belt, and had genuinely made all the attempts I could on my own to support myself, and just fell short. Unlike everyone except my mom, I made an attempt, and I think this is what made me feel differently about my time getting aid.

My college friend was telling me about all our peers who were getting food stamps in college, and I thought well that was brilliant, why didn't someone tell me? I would have gotten mines too, that was a time where it was totally okay for you not to have, as you were attending a higher educational institution to attempt to better yourself so you would never have to be a burden to the state or society.

My general stance remains the same today, if you need the help get it, but don't become dependent. I never saw my god-mother work, and now her daughter my sister has spent most of her own life on some form of public assistance. It feels sad to me that it has become in some ways an intergenerational inheritance, we pass the poverty and despondency from one generation to another.

Welfare isn't a career choice.

I probably am judging folks, but I still feel that we should all at least 'try' to support ourselves on our own. I am not saying you won't stumble or fail and I would not be mad at anyone getting on and off public assistance several times throughout their lives, but its important at least to me that they attempted to stand on their own.

I think we can all agree that this society isn't really equipped to support or nurture a large portion of its population but I don't think that means we totally fold. If you're still alive you still have the potential to make a better life for yourself and you should never give that up.

[Photos from the Interwebs]

Rage: Not Easy to Articulate

[julianxpark]

[cis man and he/him] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [JULIAN PARK]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [JUSTIN H MIN]. You must be the [THIRTY FOUR] year old [ACTOR]. Word is you’re [OPTIMISTIC] but can also be a bit [PASSIVE] and your favorite song is [KOOL AID BY ROYEL OTIS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

INFORMATION:

fullname. julian park (줄리안 파크)

nicknames. none.

gender. cis man

pronouns. he / him

d.o.b. august 16th, 1990 | ( 34 years old )

astrology. leo ☀ cancer ☾  aries ↑

birth place. san diego, california.

hometown. san diego, california.

current residence. aurora bay, california. ( @aurorabayaesthetic​ )

occupation. actor.

religion. buddist.

tattoos. matching tattoo with cast mates.

piercings. none.

marital status. single.

sexual preference. pansexual.

family. ha-won park ( mother ), joon park ( father ), simon park ( stepfather ) , step-sister (WC).

children. none.

CHARACTER INSPO:

shane mccarthy ( will they or won't they by ava wilder ), smith jarrett ( sex and the city ), rick dalton ( once upon a time in hollywood ), vince chase ( entourage ).

PERSONALITY:

+ optimistic, friendly, talented. - passive, directionless, self-deprecating.

BIOGRAPHY:

Julian Park had never wanted to be an actor. That's what he has always said, the many times he's been interviewed over the years. When he was discovered at the ripe old age of 23, the ex-waiter would have had no idea what his life would become. All he ever wanted was to make good tips and get stoned with his friends, that was why he moved from San Diego to Los Angeles after all. That was why he was working as a waiter in the Bestia, an up-and-coming italian restaurant that attracted a lot of the Hollywood crowd. Julian had always enjoys schmoozing, knowing what people wanted to hear was his secret talent and it paid off in the hospitality industry. It wasn't until he was serving Roman Schultz, a network showrunner - that Julian realised that maybe there was more to life than charming your way into getting bigger tips.

When he was invited to audition for the lead in a paranormal drama aimed at teenagers, Julian nearly didn't bother showing up. What did he know about acting? Other than pretending to be interested in the random conversations with regulars and saying he was going to call a few one-night stands when he never had any intention of doing so, he had no experience with it. But as he read the lines aloud to a panel of producers and casting directors, Julian could feel himself become someone else. He became Harrison Chu. A ghost who haunted his love interest, a rookie cop, into solving his own murder.

And he would continue being Harrison Chu for the next ten years.

Off the back of the Twilight craze, the supernatural dramas were still on the rise but vampires were so done. The network said it was all about ghosts now. Throw in a 'will they or won't they' love dynamic between Julian and his co-star and it was a hit! The chemistry between the two leads was so intense that people often speculated that they were together in real life, although the two never confirmed it. The network would milk that tension for the better part of a decade.

The Hunt would air for nine seasons, from 2013 until the spring of 2023, when ratings had dropped far too low for the network to continue. Upon hearing that their ninth season would be their last, most of the cast and crew were relieved. All plot lines were exhausted to the point where it was borderline ridiculous. While they were like family, most of the cast were looking for other projects, wanting to grow as actors. But for Julian.. he'd only ever played Harrison. Shooting in Vancouver for ninth months of the year didn't leave much time for anything else, in between press tours, promo shoots and the convention circuit. The Hunt was the only experience he'd ever had in the film and television industry, and while it had made him rich and semi-famous in some circles, it didn't necessarily translate into range.

As things were finishing up on the show, Julian's agent kept pushing for audition after audition. Eventually, he did try out for a small indie movie with a well-known actor attached to make their directorial debut. It had Oscar bait written all over it and it generated a lot of buzz, but for all the wrong reasons. Critics said it was pretentious, the dialogue was stilted. And while Redditors online were lenient on Julian's acting, it did not bode well for his chances of launching into bigger budget films.

Thankfully, Julian wasn't the type to take things too personally and it wasn't as if he was necessarily needing a job right away. He had nine seasons of residuals and a dedicated fanbase, but away from the spotlight, he felt adrift once again. Life had been so easy on set, with a strict schedule and places to be. While it was exhausting, at least it was something to do. Since studios weren't necessarily banging down his door and his agent kept forgetting to return his calls, Julian started looking for inspiration elsewhere.

An interest in surfing is what had originally brought him to Aurora Bay. The perfect waves that lapped at the shore was the perfect reset from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood life, but it was still close enough if he did ever want to go back and throw his hat into the ring again. And while he may have no plan lined up for his future, he's in the perfect place to rediscover who he really is behind the lens.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS:

julian only just moved to aurora bay after needing a break from the hustle and bustle of LA. he's always lived in california, born and raised in san diego.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS:

roommates with @robinsantos and @ziggykyeons

close friends with @tillycai

[adultswim2021]

Metalocalypse #28: “P.R. Pickles” (aka “P.R. Klok”) | May 26, 2008 - 12:00AM | S02E08

Who else was getting tired of nothing but Squidbillies and Assy McGee?

In “P.R. Pickles”, Pickles starts hogging the spotlight after hiring his own P.R. person, Liz Bane. Liz, as the tribunal points out, seems to be up to something; she has a history of being the leader of several death cults. By the end of the episode we learn that she has, in fact, been using Pickles’ popularity to attract followers, bilk them of their riches, feed them poisoned grapedrink during a Dethklok show and blow up Dethklok with a comet set to collide with an observatory.

Meanwhile, the rest of Dethklok are jealous of Pickles’ newfound attention, so they attempt to publicize themselves. It goes poorly. One of their hair-brained ideas is to promote Dethklok in untapped markets, like at the bottom of the ocean floor, or on an arctic tundra. Another place they advertise is in space, with a big metal billboard. I wonder if the big metal billboard in space comes into play when the comet bares down on earth to kill them? I’m not being coy, I really don’t know. I covered my eyes at the end because I was too scared.

The opening scene of this episode features a gory game show called Cash Tastrophy, in which a drunken pickles has to answer a trivia question correctly or else the contestant he’s playing for will be “killed with cash”. You can guess how well it goes. Pickles is constantly shown to be a drunk mess on all of these shows, which is hilarious. He truly comes off like a threatening street person, which is hilarious. Anyway, the game-show with a deadly pay-off was pioneered by early television comedian Ernie Kovacs, who– hey! Get back here!

Liz Bane’s scheme is reminiscent of both Jonestown and the Heaven's Gate cults. Jonestown for using Grape Flavor Aid (commonly misidentified as Kool-Aid), and Heavens Gate for using the Hale Bopp comet’s passing over Earth to herald their ritualistic suicide. There’s also a moment in the episode where Pickles gives Liz the gift of a calendar of those dressed-up gray dogs. The Metalocalypse wiki is quick to point out that the dog is modeled after Brendon Small’s dog Ernie. It is also a reference to William Wegman’s Fay, who appeared in various shorts on Sesame Street and other places.

Great episode! I LIKED IT!

MAIL BAG

Can you say one nice thing about Tim and Eric Not Live? You really let that Ephemera fester kimosabe.

I'm glad that Jon Mugar got his time to shine :D

[furys-burn]

It's 8 AM, lets talk about my favorite trainwreck; mostly family details and my own reading of his.....well everything

tw mentions of abuse, neglect, and sexism with allusions to adult themes

Sylvain's mother was the mumble mumble second daughter removed from royal blood but more importantly a beautiful blonde that caught his father's eye at a party. The fact the child was born with a crest just made it all so much worse. The wedding was rushed and regretted before they even cut the cake but there was little choice for either of them.

This womanizing did not end there but Matthias did put a ring on it adding some credibility to Sylvain's birth at the expense of his prior son's image. This made it obvious that at best Miklan would be skipped over with maybe a scrap of land or, at worst, completely disinherited.

This background noise is what Sylvain grew up with knowing "Crests" first as the reason why his brother hated him. It was so much bigger than that of course but it gave some reason for the abuse.

The "bullying" started out as little pushes and shoves innocent enough to be "boys will be boys". It started escalating when Sylvain was around 8 years old when his parents marriage hit their worst of it and likely the end if they could have divorced.

Miklan took him to a field promising to play Knights and stabbed him through with a sword leaving him to die. Sylvain managed to get help from one of the servants of the estate but it did nothing but add fuel to his parents fire of a marriage, his mother threatening to leave with Sylvain taking his crest with him and Matthias just furious any of it was happening at all. Sylvain learned that telling would only make things worse teaching him his first lesson in hiding things.

His relationship to his mother is extremely complicated. She was probably the closest thing he had to a parent figure in his life but the times she showed love usually was as a jab at his father rather than any genuine care of him. In later life he will better understand the completely fucked situation she was in because of his father but before his "Huh maybe I'm the asshole" realization he swallows the "Your mother is a bitch" Kool-Aid pretty hard. Dude learned early on taking jabs at his mother's intelligence or beauty was an easy way to score points with his father.

Yeah I know canonically like a lot of his misogyny is ahh rich women mean to me but I personally see it as learned shit from his dad and brother he must actively unlearn. In reality, some of those relationships he had came from a real chance of connection and love that he looked for reasons to implode bridging from deep issues of commitment, fear, and his parent's own dumpster fire of a marriage. It was easier to blame them than to face any of his own issues.

When he was 17 he was accepted into Garreg Mach and this started formal moves towards being named heir and crest bearer of the family name. His father made the choice to disinherit Miklan mostly to avoid any arguments or possible war in the wake of his death with inheritance. This lead to Miklan's last murder attempt to kill Sylvain purely out of jealousy. This was the scariest and ended with Sylvain seriously injured and deciding to push back his school start opting to start with Felix, Dmitri, and Ingrid in the upcoming year. his father waved this as a move to get closer to the King hiding Miklan's attack on Sylvain and silencing any further discussion about it.

[freakydegenerate]

(This is probably old but whatever I am just gonna put what I think about the lyrics of the Trinity soul burning men's soul also I have never watched Trinity soul so yeah)

Check it out I'm in the house like carpet

Lmaoo what does that even mean??? Does it mean he is lying down and everyone just treats him like a carpet??? I have read people say it means that he is everywhere in the house except the bathroom and I have seen people say it just means if you see a carpet that's him lmao??

And if there's too many hits on my blunt I won't spark it

I don't have anything to say other than wth does that even mean????

I'll put it in my pocket And save it like rocket fuel

I love how this implies that it's normal to save and put rocket fuel inside your pocket??? OK

'Til everybody's gone and it's cool Then I spark it up with my brother

Umm OK I got nothing to say here actually umm...

His momma named him Moe But I call him "Moe-lover"

I actually don't get this part like at ALL 0_0??

And he's more than a cover He's a quilt

OK. Wth does that even mean?? But ok it's not that bad personally.

We're putting shit together like that house that John built On the hill

Who tf is John and why did he build a house on the hill????

'Cause this shit's gonna feel like Velvet Turtle

Again WTF does that even mean like why did you even put Turtle???

My style fits tighter than a girdle

I got nothin 0-0

If ya hate it, than you can just leave it Like beaver

What does that mean?? Do beavers leave like what????? Idek man...

But in a day or two, I'll make you a true believer in me

I got nothin :/ idk if this is fire or flammable garbage

'Cause in the Alphabet You'll "C"

Same opinion as above ⬆

This isn't catch-a-rhyme, that's your everyday soliloquy

WHAT?????? YK WAHT NVM.

Like Chef Boyardee My rhymes are truly cookin'

And I bet the Recipe is from Yukiko 🔥

Peace to Matty Rich 'cause he's Straight Out of Brooklyn, New York

The could've nailed the cookin(from the last lyric) with Brooklyn but they just had to put New York like it doesn't even rhyme...

I don't eat pork or swine when I dine

Literally No one asked and it doesn't even vibe or make the song good but good for you ig...

I drink a cup of Kool-Aid Not a big glass of wine Or some Henn, Hein

I actually don't know what your saying but it's definitely something..

If you have time I'll drop rhyme again

If so I don't wanna have time ever so I don't have to listen to this garbage everrr :/

(But yeah that's my opinion on that friggin song)

[plusanimablog]

Chapter 37: Wish

So the Anima Liberation Front's name is Wish and they want freedom and rights for Anima.

The hunk shouts to the enslaved Anima, telling them to stand tall and use their strength for their own good. Crystal calls him Kazana and accuses him putting the Anima in danger with his actions and words. Kazana calls the Desert White Devil out on her hypocrisy, saying that she tames Anima with the same "Non-Anima Human's Burden" philosophy. Daisy growls at him and Kazana calls her out on drinking the Kool-Aid. "Do you wag your tail when she pats you on the head?" is a direct quote that I am presenting in whatever context you choose to see it in. Daisy leaps at him...and he flies off, causing her to hit the post he was perched on and fall down.

Kazana threatens to rip Crystal apart but Senri jumps and claws at him too, destroying his smug post. The sand is gone so they've lost their visibility advantage so it's time for Wish to go. Crystal tells Kazana that she doesn't want to fight him...but he's shot at with arrows and he responds that (unlike Daisy) he's not stupid: he doesn't want to fight here. He retreats but stops to invite Cooro and Nana to join Wish. Nana's on the fence but Cooro says they'll think about it, saying they want to be slaves a little while longer. Kazana leaves without a fight, simply telling them to beware of Crystal and that the offer is open for as long as they want.

Back to Crystal. Crystal explains to the slaver that Senri is her slave that she lost two years ago while on a peddling trip to Asteria. His heart touched, the slaver says she still has to pay for him. She does and Senri gets Crystal's choker. Cooro asks him if he was really looking for her and Senri shows him the book with her flower in it, explaining why the book is so important to him. Spotting a paper, Nana reads it and says that Husky isn't here: it's the list of Anima sales...and fish Anima isn't on it.

Senri doesn't know where he was taken because he was drugged. Cooro asks the slaver if he knows where Husky is. Crystal joins in, asking if the literal slave seller was doing something illegal. Turns out that a rich buyer from Stella wanted Husky so he shipped him out early.

Husky himself is thinking about his friends, thinking Senri was sold already and Cooro and Nana have wings so they escaped easily. The wagon he's being carted in stops for a pitstop, one of the hunters telling Husky to do his business or whatever. Husky examines the area before the hunter calls him in from the sun, saying he's so white the sun hates him and is trying to kill him. Then he's given bread and water...while being reminded that they are very much in the desert, he's a fish Anima and if he tries to run away, he'll have no rivers or lakes to escape into. Husky thinks about how his friends are doing...

Cooro's stuffing his face, in case anyone cares.

Even Nana is like "Bitch, you just gonna eat?!" and Cooro just offers her food. Crystal then hurries them off to the Caravan's next stop, Leefty. Nana is worried but Daisy assures her that Leefty is on the way to Stella so don't worry! Nana is very much still worried...and Edo notices.

In her main tent, Crystal inspects Senri's book and says he's met so many people. Nana looks on from outside and accuses Senri of being in love with Crystal. Cooro says he hasn't seen her in a while, he would want to talk to her for a long time. Still, Nana wonders why Senri isn't worried about Husky, thinking he forgot about him. Cooro says that would never happen (probably)! Nana then asks if they can really trust Crystal, if she's really an ally of Anima. She then (loudly) says they should take Senri and go to Stella, just the three of them. Hearing her hollering ass, Crystal comes out and says she can't do that.

Crystal asks Nana if she thinks she's a bad person because Kazana said she was. She then reveals that up until six months ago, Kazana was her slave. She says she's a good slave master, putting the slave's happiness first but Kazana rejected this for whatever reason. He left to start his own country but Crystal thinks he's just hurting more Anima this way. Nana shouts that if she wants them to believe her, help them rescue Husky. Cooro counters (for whatever fucking reason) that if he was brought for a lot, he must be in good hands. Nana points out his master could still be cruel and they need to see him. When Cooro asks Crystal if Anima are rare, Crystal explains there are two types of slaves: Common slaves (normies that don't cost much) and Anima slaves (Kimunkle descendants who can set you back a bit depending on the type). Cooro then says that, due to Anima being valuable, Husky will at least be unhurt. But Husky will be worried about them...so they have to save him.

Bad news: Crystal has business to do with the caravan so they'll never catch up to the slave wagon in time to save Husky. Nana then wants to go with just Cooro but Crystal says even with her wings, the distance is too far. Her Calvin J Candie side begins to emerge when she complains about being ordered around by slaves...when Edo shows up.

He offers to use his wagons to get them to Stella, saying his stuff is faster than her caravan. Edo, being a merchant, says that Crystal will need his connections if she wants to find anything or anyone in Stella. Crystal agrees and the chapter ends with Nana telling Edo to go faster on his cart, pissing off the 35 year old old man.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Randomly remembered those "What about kind and just rulers that blah blah blah" asks you got a while back and had a thought: How would you do a villain whose main weapon is propaganda?

I could do A villain like this, but I think a top down, systemic answer would be better here.

Propaganda is insidious because it infects the way people think, it slips while folks aren't looking and changes their default perceptions of reality, until the world they live in is simply incompatible with those who haven't drunk the political/religious/corporate Kool-Aid, and abandoning it seems as impossible as walking through a wall.

It's easy enough to have a villain that your party thinks is a good person revealed to be a bad person ( that's the default twist of d&d quest givers) but a far more delicious situation is when the party has discovered that X influential figure is a bad guy, but their friends/allies have bought into the lie, and can't be swayed.

Say you have a villain who's... a noble who got super rich doing war-criminal stuff in the last great battle between realms, but also came out of it with a reputation for being a hero. They're a charming person to be around, and the party meets them early enough to fall for that charm and get gifts showered upon them after the Noble takes a shine to them. Then the party ends up dealing with something that gives them special insight into the noble's backstory that can't be easily corroborated: a curse resulting in a vision, an encounter with a survivor of a massacre who happens to be the enemy of the state, stumbling onto an ongoing villainous scheme with the noble's fingerprints all over it that goes up in flames at the nearest sign.

Now your party sees the world differently than everyone else around them, whether it be the goodhearted folk who've been spoon-fed a lie their entire lives, or those who directly benefit from the noble's reign, who'd do anything to support him regardless if it was the truth. This leaves your party with only two choices, work carefully inside the system to try and gather evidence, or go rogue and strike from the outside hoping that when the chips fall the story that people will believe will favor them.

Bonus points if there's a time limit because the noble's doing something sketchy. It doesn't have to be world-endingly evil or anything like that, maybe he's just about to get access to way more power by way of a marriage or economic alliance that'll make him otherwise untouchable.