#seriously it’s like a zen activity for me

[mysteriousbean5]

I REALLY need to get better about posting here😞 But if you thought I was gone and moved on from Promptis, then I’m happy to report you would be wrong. Hopefully that’s a nice surprise😊

[quinloki]

Hi Quin <3

I may or may not have gone through your entire catalog haha (^///^) Thank you for feeding us all so well ☆ Such stunning works!!!!! (シ_ _ )シ

I was wondering, I find that I keep on reading the same people a lot. Have you discovered some cool new people to read from recently? any great recs? stuff you keep coming back to?

Anyways, you're awesome!! And I can't wait to read what you come up with next!!!!!

=O Sideblogs and everything?

...

Σ(っ °Д °;)っ

(*/ω＼*)

Goodness. ❤️I'm glad you enjoyed my stuff enough to read all that. I'm a terribly wordy ^^;

Ah! But hmmm... I do tend to read from many of the same folks, especially since I ended up surrounded by impressive writers.

But let's do this:

@swampstew - if you follow me, you know her. I cannot fathom otherwise, and if you don't, start here.

this is @icy-spicy's master list - I'd have that cold shower ready before you start, but there's more than One Piece there.

@mydisenchantedeulogy writes for a lot of fandoms, her words are so good I'm a fan of her stories without even having seen the universes they come from.

@un-shit-yourself is a long time real life friend, and a fantastic writer. Mostly Dragon Age, but the writing pulls you in. We chat, but we don't usually cross post, so you probably don't know about this one even if you do follow me.

@zoros-sheath - if you haven't read Magnets, start there, otherwise go hog wild. I can't imagine you're going to find anything bad.

@standfucker - whew, I look - Zen makes me wonder why I even write because what she writes is just too goddamn hot. Y'all don't need me, you got her. (I say this in jest, I'm going nowhere I promise) White Out and Rotation are two of my favorites, but Stowing Away to Save Yourself is something I specifically requested and gods was I served well.

@writing-yarn-goblin and @lyndsyh24 and @theaceofflamesposts are here, but you're more likely to enjoy the first two on Wattpad and the last on Ao3. Lyn's getting more active here, but her library is full of good stuff - fluffier than my usual work, but just as good imo. Lyn is one of the biggest reasons y'all get to deal with me at all. She was a saint when I stumbled into Wattpad.

I love @heyitsdoe and @/bas-writes stuff - they are both phenomenal writers. Bas has shifted away from OP a little and is more into JJK, but if you're looking for solid fic to read, then you will find tons there and I promise you'll enjoy it =3 Doe is super sweet and her writing is always a full meal, I've commissioned her and it was far and away worth every penny.

Honestly, I'd really recommend checking out my Following page. I leave it public, but everyone on it is either a friend, a writer, an artist, or some combination of all three.

I could go on in this post for like 5,000 more words and not hit everyone who has delighted me. @cyborg-franky @coza-main @lerya-fanfic @leakyweep @leftsidebonfire -- I'm going to hit a damn tag limit again.

@thus-spoke-lo is a little on the darker side, but gods alive I love her work, and I could read it for hours if I had the hours to spare.

@vizkopa writes in a way that helped me loosen up and write more how I wanted to, so thank her for that, and enjoy what she's got - mostly on Wattpad I believe? I know that's where I've read it.

Seriously, just peruse my followers, if you need something new.

But know that like me, they're 18+ and that's a boundary for their comfort as much as anything else. So don't break that.

[owmyeyeballs]

Get to Know my Tav!

Thank you to @sporeservant for putting together this ask game! Behold, my Tav!

Silence | Tiefling Monk | She/Her

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: Silence uses her master's old staff, when she's not just punching, kicking, or using elemental ki attacks. Or explosives.

style of combat: Fast and chaotic. Silence was a tavern brawler before her master took her in and taught her the monkish arts, and the more she progresses in her adventure, the more her old "win at any cost, no such thing as a fair fight" comes out. It was a bad day for the Absolute when Silence discovered smokepowder bombs.

most prized possession: Her master's collection of notes. Travel notes, recipes, remedies, poetry... The old man wrote down everything, and Silence regrets not taking more in when he was alive to teach her.

deepest desire: At a surface level, she believes it's revenge for her master and lover's deaths. Underneath that, though, it's the peace and belonging she felt with them.

guilty pleasure: Drunken brawling. She can only keep up the zen act for so long...

best-kept secret: She's afraid of never being loved, and dying alone

greatest strength: Determination

fatal flaw: Insecurity

favorite smell: The tea blends her master taught her to make

favorite spell or cantrip: Either Fist of Four Thunders, or Ride the Wind (in my head she absolutely has a wuxia-esque scene of soaring over the rooftops at some point)

pet peeve: People being casual about demonic/infernal forces. As a tiefling born to human parents and abandoned, she knows the consequences of dabbling with the infernal

bad habit: Taking on other people's problems without thinking things through

hidden talent: Tea-blending. She thought it was a stupid hobby when her master tried to teach her. Now that she's turned her mind to it seriously as a way to remember him, it turns out she has a talent for it

leisure activity: Either qi gong style exercises, or, if she's feeling more energetic, climbing the nearest tall tree or building, as high as she can go

favorite drink: Either tea or wine, depending on her mood

comfort food: Hearty, slow cooked comfort foods like soups and stews. And peaches.

favorite person: In the past, that was her master, and Veldryn, her lover. In the present, it's Astarion (even when he drives her mad)

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Hugs! She's strong, and a hug from her is the tightest you'll ever get. Will even wrap her tail around you to get as much hug as possible!

fondest childhood memory: Climbing onto the rooftop of the monastery where she was dumped. Staying there all night, knowing no one would miss her until morning, and almost feeling free

Is there anything else you'd like to share?: Only that I haven't felt so fond of an OC for a very long time, and she broke a horrendously long writer's block for me. I haven't included her full backstory here, but feel free to ask more!

[twilightmalachite]

Christmas Live - Dot to Dot 3

Author: Akira

Characters: Hinata, Tetora

Translation Team: Mika Enstars & 310mc

EN Proofer: ryuseipuka

"But don’t say things like “this twin” or “that twin”—I don’t really mind, but Yuuta-kun does."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Dojo

Hinata: ‘Scuse me~!

Ossu! ♪ This is Aoi Hinata, the reliable older brother of 2wink! You here, Kiryu-senpai~?

Umm, it’s about the outfit I asked you for! I thought maybe it’d be done about now, so I stopped by to pick it up!

You’re probably busy though, aren’t you, Kiryu-senpai~?

Theeen I’ll just call off my request for the outfit, so you don’t have to worry about… Oh?

Tetora: … …

Hinata: Hey, it’s Tetsu-kun! Hey-o~, what’re you up to?

Strange, only Tetsu-kun’s around? Is Kiryu-senpai not here? Hello~?

Tetora: … …

Hinata: Hi-yah~! ☆ [1]

Tetora: Owah~!? What’re you doing all’a sudden!? Are you an assassin out to get me!?

Hinata: Ahaha, no one’s tryna kill you, Tetsu-kun! Wow, what an amazing reaction time!

Even while meditating in a zen state, you were able to notice my jumping kick and dodge immediately, huh…♪

Impressive as always, Karate Club! It was just a test, Tetsu-kun, so don’t get mad, ‘kay~? Y’know, a little prank! ♪

Yup, here’s your certificate! From here on, you may call yourself lǎoshī, okay?

Tetora: Sorry, I’m findin’ it difficult to respond to a flurry of words thrown at me… You’re real energetic in this cold weather, aren’tcha, Aoi-kun…

Ermm, you’re the twin that’s Hinata-kun, right?

Hinata: Mhm. But don’t say things like “this twin” or “that twin”—I don’t really mind, but Yuuta-kun does.

I don’t blame you, though! Even I spot myself in the mirror and exclaim, “Yuuta-kun!” from time to time!

Hmm… Maybe I should wear a name tag with “Hinata” written on it to make it easier to tell us apart?

Tetora: More importantly, didja have somethin’ to do at the dojo? As you can see, the Karate Club’s got the day off from club activities today, so~?

Hinata: Well as I can see, it looks like you’re practicing meditating or something, Tetsu-kun! Doesn’t that count as practice—or perhaps, training?

Why zen meditation, actually? I guess there’s a big sign in the back with “self-control!” on it, but what exactly is the training for?

I don’t really get it, but it looks fun, so, I’m in! ♪

Tetora: Ooh… Wow, amazin’ as always. I mean, you need a flexible body for zen meditation…

But you got yourself into the right posture just fine. Meanwhile, my body’s so stiff that I almost felt like my bones were gonna crack.

I forced my body into this meditation position, so now I can’t get outta it on my own… I’d love some help unfolding my legs if that’s alright with ya…[2]

Although, I feel bad for making a guest do work…

Hinata: Okay~! ♪ Whoa, you’re seriously stiffened up! It’s like you locked your own joints up… You did it so clumsily that it’s practically a skill in itself!

Tetora: Owowow! Please be a li’l more gentle on me!

Hinata: Bear with it, okay~, you’ll hurt your muscles if you move! Alright, there we go! ♪

Tetora: Ahh, whew… You really saved me there, ossu. I’ll be absolutely sure to repay the favor—You have Nagumo Tetora’s word on it!

Hinata: Right. So, is Kiryu-senpai here? I need him for something real quick, so~…

Tetora: Ahh, Taisho’s been making outfits for a bunch’a units that’ve sent in a request.[3] He’s real close to finishing ‘em all up, so he’s confining himself to his home in order to try and stay focused.

I wanna help him out too, but I’d just get in his way when it comes to that stuff~… I’ve got the free time now ‘cuz I don’t have any idol work either, so I settled with doin’ some self-training.

I seem to have no self-restraint, or more like, I immediately act on the first decision I make… I wanna get a better handle of that part of myself, so that’s why I was doin’ zen meditation.

The “self-control!” hanging scroll is meant to embody my resolve~♪

Hinata: I see… I thought maybe you were suppressing somethin’ strange down…

My brother’s like that too, but you’ll reach a breaking point if you don’t get it out of your system in time, you know?

Tetora: Well, it’s just in my nature to do this. If I don’t learn to keep control of myself through zen meditation and stuff, I’ll just end up causing trouble by running ‘round without any thought, and that doesn’t help anyone~

I’ve had enough of bein’ that “klutzy kid” to everyone.

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

I wasn’t able to convey it clearly in English, but Hinata is mimicking Bruce Lee’s signature cry here, so it’s likely he’s doing a Bruce Lee jumping kick as well.

One of the zen meditation postures require you to sit in lotus position, as shown in Tetora’s CG.

Taisho (Taishou, 大将) is how Tetora calls Kuro. It means “chief”, “boss”, “general”.

[x-heesy]

#Imfreakingthaphuckout 🇫🇷

-What do you think of punks?

- Well they are good for nothing

-Oooh... Yes I don't really like those people

Droogz Droogz Droogz Droogz Droogz Droogz Brigade!

Dac dac! Dac dac! Dac dac!

Like a cinder block fall

{Verse 1: Staff the unstable}

I come like a cinder block fall (beng)

Sir listen to the harpsichord

Her skull was scattering like a tatin pie

It's exquisite, this cloud of drizzle in the stands

Yes breathe in this sweet perfume perfume, the smell of Evil

Anarchic public

Sound is sharing, son

Here is some attractive barbarism, AL'BRATCHNI

Quick, my fine blade rhymes with your rifle

I want you active as long as it squirts on the battery

Come ! Come and drink the moloko from the barrel

Go ahead, roll a beefy joko, you understood the story

It quickly ends up in shavings, like a lamb faced with crocodiles

All your big dreams that are too beautiful end up being pecked at by crows

In life when you pass a course you stop chasing

If you push the sound of the infamous four you will have your holes dilated

In concert we release flames to see the crowd grimacing You hear the crew of pirates, it's Staff the unstable the Droogz brigadier!

{Chorus: Al'Tarba}

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

{Verse 2: Al'Tarba}

Me, I want the crowd to ignite like a dirty crack cake

Hey yo taff, taff, pull a latte then you slap

Dream during the day, nightmare when I sleep

Truce of colors, black wins

Zen gets clogged, the liver smells strong

Test the pulse I'm already dead!

And to believe, and to believe, that I'm sick in my head

And in the evening, and in the evening, I walk non-stop

And sometimes, and sometimes, I'm seriously dirty, I feel the hate

The black lady, the black lady, opens her pussy to me, I have to fuck her

There's ass and drugs

It's like a gonzo psychedelic

Hippies eat shots

Return these gonz' to the selective sorting

I dream that they die and rot in the ground

I have migraines, dental problems

I like drunkenness and smile when I shower

(Bwaaah!) too much whiskey in the glass!

{Bridge}

Pogote, pogote, pogote, pogote!

Dac dac! Dac dac! Dac dac! Dac dac! Dac dac!

{Chorus: Al'Tarba}

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

Pogote with your Nodz!

{Verse 3: Sad Vicious}

There's a voodoo expert from the streets of Toulouse

A kind of Bernard Werber worshiping Cthulhu

(Dac!) my raps leave craters

(Dac!) it's war in my brain

I rant and it scares you

I have alien patterns, adversaries

Struggle and stop believing it

When I catch flies with chopsticks

To tell the truth, after ten tarpés I am amnesiac

Tired of this life destroying me, that doesn't make me happy

I have the Shabazz album, yo I know the good dope

And then I don't see myself honoring your big crap

Oh! Oh! It's the Droogies on the attack! (Dac!)

We come back in force like Old Boy or Guy Mariano

You will say bravo to us since we are the most karacho

Burn your radio you see the painting be crazy it's not a thalasso!

In short when I bark like Sergeant Hartman must

Groove until you regain your composure, like gazpacho!

{Chorus: Al'Tarba}

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

It's for the punkettes, the keupons

Pogote with your Nodz!

Forget the slaps, the pom shots

Pogote with your Nodz!

If there are hippies in the room

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

And kreukreu! Stable! Stable!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz!

Pogote with your Nodz, bro!

Pogote with your Nodz!

{Outro: sample}

I'm not dramatizing Mary, I'm not drunk. Do you think, do you think I dwell on my shitty spell? Absolutely not, I was fucked like a whore...

But you know, I believe that one day a man will come and love me...

We are super happy together, we find each other, as we are well...

@luna-zylum 🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Pogotte avec ton nodz by Droogz Brigade

https://genius.com/Droogz-brigade-pogote-avec-ton-nodz-lyrics

[taraljc]

having been the victim of two seriously messed up people that I met through fandom, fandom tends to have a lot of missing stairs because we sort of go the opposite way of gatekeeping and throw the gates wide open and give everyone second and third chances because we root for the underdog and know what it's like to get picked on. and then when someone shady (or ill--like with narcissistic personality disorder or borderline personality disorder) figures out how to game the system for money or clout, they can travel from fandom to fandom and community to community preying on good people who want to help fellow fans. and it's ugly and it's horrible but it happens in all communities, I think. It's just ever since the advent of Fandom Wank, the Whisper Network stopped being whispers and started being shouts, which is a very good thing for making sure those kind of predators no longer have access to the communities and activities that gave them access and clout to begin with but then it becomes a part of the problem as well when it's abused by predators.

and I'm not talking about predators in a sexual way. both my experiences were with fellow women who took advantage of me personally, financially, and tried to actively manage shared communities so that I would not be a part of certain circles. once all of the manipulation came to light with the first person with whom I had been roommates for almost 7 years, I found out that she had been telling people for a solid decade that I wasn't interested in fandom or conventions or music vids or what have you, and she would lie to my face about gatherings to purposely exclude me. she knew just how to manipulate me and I had a serious major depressive episode because I questioned every relationship in my life and whether people actually wanted me there were merely tolerating me (as she claimed).

(ETA: During that period (2006ish) the people who reached out to me to tell me that I was being gas lit and manipulated and stood by me and helped me tell what was true and what was bullshit probably saved my life--if not literally, then at least saved my sanity. Amilyn, Yahtzee, Zen, Merry, Becca, Lucy, and Dorinda, especially. I wouldn't have got through that period without them.)

In the other one's case it was someone who had serious serious mental issues and apparently had been going from community to community for 20 years compulsively lying about family members with cancer (or telling people she had it or her roommate had it etc) and surviving rape and sexual abuse, then crashing on people's sofas and getting gift cards and Amazon gifts from sympathetic people on social media to survive on.

She would literally rewrite reality and tell me stories about experiences I had been a part of and I witnessed personally and when I pointed out to her the discrepancies between her version of events and mine, suddenly I became the enemy and that was a real problem when she was living in my home rent-free. It was possibly the worst 6 months of my life as it coincided with my mother being thrown from a horse and being in a coma and then living with a traumatic brain injury for the rest of her life.

Long story short, don't let a few bad actors spoil the larger groups for you. But be aware that there are a lot of missing stairs because fandom is so inclusive and it can be dangerous to face on one's own with no backup.

one big thing i think people outside fandom (like, all fandoms, fandom in general, not any particular one) tend to misunderstand is they know it's a subculture of people who are weirdly deeply invested in fictional media, and they hear about drama caused by people in those subcultures being unhinged in not-fun ways, and they think the unhingedness comes from the fact of being overinvested in works of fiction.

which is a natural assumption, but in my experience that's not really the case? like in my experience the drama llamas in fandom are usually not the ones who are just genuinely very deeply into the fiction. i've known people who are basically thinking about star trek or x-men comics or supernatural pretty much 100% of their free time and ime that type of person is usually very nice and surprisingly functional in their regular life. when someone's a constant nexus of fandom drama it's usually not that they are obsessed with the actual work of fiction the fandom is about, it's at least one of the following:

what they're obsessed with is not the source material but their unhealthy parasocial relationships with one or more of the people who created it

what they're obsessed with is not the source material but some elaborate shared-universe subset of fanfic about it that's only barely related to the original at this point, and/or an esoteric reading-against-the-text reinterpretation of the source material (often if the canon is active and ongoing this leads to becoming actively hostile toward it for its inevitably increasing failure to conform to their preferred fanon)

what they're obsessed with is not the source material but the fandom itself and gathering clout within it, so that the source material basically only exists to them as a tool for scoring points in increasingly arcane fandom disputes

and very often you get the same person doing 2 and sometimes even all 3 of these, and that's where the trouble really starts

[ivoryminitower]

Echoes of Home: 65 - Steve ("confused and upset hyur")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

We were low on maple, so I went out this morning to harvest maple.  It was a nice, straightforward, zen-like activity that required a modicum of concentration and physical effort.  After an hour and a half of chopping I got to the point where I was no longer certain I wanted to hospitalize "Master Shen".

I still felt he needed talking to, though.  We didn't know him, we had no reason to trust him, we shouldn't have been too surprised that directions from a total stranger wouldn't work out as expected.  But a betrayal of that sort nevertheless seemed particularly rude, and I believed it would be best if I disabused him of the idea that it was okay.

So I was back on the bus to Tulsa when I got a call from Sam saying Deputy Frank wanted to search our workshop.  I didn't like the first impression of the man after the last Dewey incident, I didn't like how he'd been haunting us at the diner, and today I started to wonder what bug was up his butt about us that he used the testimony of a known ne'er-do-well as a flimsy excuse to investigate us.  

This did not improve my mood, though it spread the focus a bit from "Master Shen."  So by the time I got back to Flying Tigers, while I was still on the edge of seriously pissy, I was willing to hear him out.

He didn't have much to say, though.  When I got there he was with a twentysomething blonde, getting handsy with her as he helped her with some sort of stance.  Then he saw me come in and his eyes got wide.  For a moment I thought he was going to use her as a shield, but he moved away from her and dropped into a stance of his own.

I just stood there with a forced smile that probably didn't reach my eyes.  The blonde looked back and forth between us.  "Tony?  What's going on?"

A little tension bled out of me as I tried not to laugh.  He really was a Tony.  "Yeah, Tony, what's going on?  I thought we were friends."

He shifted in his stance, though it looked like he was trying hard not to run.  "Just get outta here.  I don't want any trouble."

I kept smiling and took a step forward. "Well, neither did I, Tony.  You know, when my wife and I went to that bar you sent us to, we didn't want any trouble.  We certainly didn't want to get rolled."

"I don't know anything about that!  Just leave, okay?"

"Can't do that, Tony."  I took another step.  "Not until we talk."

Something thwacked me between the shoulderblades.  I turned to look at the blonde; she'd found one of those bamboo kendo swords.  "You know those aren't supposed to actually…"

Then something thudded into my gut.  From the way Tony was dancing back, I guessed it had been his foot.  He darted in with a fast sequence of punches, which, to be fair, might have hurt someone who didn't have level 80 armor and forty to fifty times his strength.

As it was, all it did was bring him into grabbing range.  I got the front of his gi in one hand and lifted.  From a foot in the air he pounded at my arm with his fists while still trying to kick my torso.  The blonde kept swatting me with the sword until I turned, still holding Tony, and snatched it away from her.

"This your girlfriend, Tony?  Does she know you set up perfect strangers to get attacked in dive bars?"

He was still struggling and still not speaking.  I lowered him slightly until his eyes were level with mine and his toes brushed the mat.

"Why, Tony?  Cut the crap and tell me why you sent us to a biker bar!"

"It's not a biker bar!  You looked like you wanted a fight!  I figured you'd get a fight there!"

"Trainer.  We wanted a fight trainer.  Not guys who'd take us out back and try to rob us."

"Well, call the police or something!  That's not my fault!"

I lowered him onto his feet, but brought his face closer to mine. My voice grew soft.  "I said 'try', Tony.  Remember how I said we wanted to learn how not to kill people?  That wasn't a good learning experience."

He went very still, though I could feel trembling through the gi.

I suddenly felt tired.  Tony was an idiot, perhaps a dangerous idiot, but he wasn't dangerous to me.  I was on the verge of swatting a fly with a wrecking ball.

"Okay…look.  I'm going to do you a favor.  I'm not replacing your BOB, but I'm walking out of here.  I won't come back.  Try not to endanger anyone else, okay?  If I somehow hear you did, I might feel motivated to come back after all.  Are we clear?"

He didn't answer.  I took that for a yes.  I let go of him, and nodded to the blonde.  "Ma'am."  Then I turned and walked out.

I settled in a Starbucks, got myself a stupidly expensive tea, and browsed on my phone some of the other studios we'd looked at before.  Most were within reasonable walking or bike distance, so once I'd pushed Tony and Flying Tigers at least partially out of my mind I went to have a look.

Most of them weren't all that different.  Rising Star Dojo had a weapon rack, some trophies in a case and people in black gi, but what I saw of a session looked very stiff and limited, certainly nothing like the Gladiator guild in Ul'dah.  Nor did Meteor Martial Arts compare to the Pugilist guild.  The other four I visited seemed par with them.  Odds are, while they may be fine in tournaments on Earth, none of them would stand a chance in the field with an Eorzean vilekin.

All the browsing didn't leave me in the best of moods, and the Deputy Frank incident wasn't helping.  I think at the time I thought it was a coincidence that I was back on the northwest side of town, but in retrospect the order I looked at studios did sort of lead there.

Still, the only likely reason I had for going back to Murray's was that I wanted to take my mood out on something.  Or someone.

The bartender remembered me.  "What happened to not seeing you again?"

"I just came for a beer."

"You didn't pay for the last one."

"...You're right.  How much do I owe you?"

"Bar's closed.  Get out."

I considered arguing with him, but didn't see the point.  We hadn't made the best impression yesterday.  I turned to the door just in time to see Mustache coming in.  He stared at me in shock before blurting, "The fuck are you doing here?"

I met his eyes.  "Leaving, apparently."

"You think so?"  His right wrist was bandaged.  He reached behind his back with his left hand and pulled out a gun, though it was clearly not his preferred hand.  "You think you're just walking outta here after what you did?"

I sighed.  I switched to Paladin and raised my shield.  "Might want to get out of my way."

"...The fuck…"

I shieldbashed him.  He had his pals behind him, but not a wall like Dewey, so he went down on his back with his gun sliding away.  Choker and Shoulder looked down at him, then at me.

I heard a ka-chak beside me, and turned my shield to face the bartender, who had his shotgun out.  I said, "Not a good idea…"

He pulled the trigger.

A shotgun blast is a lot more statistical than a handgun round.  A single bullet can bounce off something and go in one direction, but a shotgun sends a bunch of pellets, concentrated at the core, which means an increased chance of blowback bouncing off a hard surface right back at the shooter.

The bartender screamed, dropped the gun and clutched at his face.

At that point I could have just walked out.  None of them could have stopped me.  But I had to admit that the situation was at least partly my fault…what did I think would happen by going back there?  And too stupid to live doesn't necessarily mean deserving to die or be disfigured.

Shoulder and Choker were about to jump me, but stopped dead when I switched to White Mage.  My glamour is more white suit than robe, but the staff is definitely mage-y.  I gave them a brief glare before banging the staff on the floor and casting Cure on the bartender.

It was the first time I'd used White Mage on Earth, and certainly the first time I'd cast Cure on an Earthling, but it worked.  He shuddered briefly before slowly lowering his hands from his now-unwounded face.  He gently tapped on his cheeks and chest, then stared at me.

They were all staring at me, including Mustache, half-sitting up on the floor.  I noticed Choker too had a bandaged wrist, and Shoulder's shoulder was in a sling.  Since I was already dressed for it, I cast a Cure on each of them in turn.

I sighed again and shifted back to Earth normal.  "Right.  Bar's closed."

No one tried to stop me from walking out the door.

I picked an alley to duck down and Returned.  I walked to the Pit -- "my" bar -- and went inside to ask for a cider.  Sam brought a bottle out for me, studying my face. "Long day?"

"Someone pulled a gun on me in a bar in Tulsa.  Does every dickhead in a bar have a gun?"

"This here's Oklahoma.  Every dickhead anywhere might have a gun.  Though they ain't s'posed to have 'em in a bar."

"So Dewey's in jail for that?"

"Nah, he claims he was drunk, so poor judgment an' stuff.  Havin' a gun in a bar's a felony.  Havin' a gun while drunk's a misdemeanor."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not."

"...You really know your gun law."

"I know my bar law."

I took the bottle out to the workshop.  Tsu'na was there making steel rods for me to use as bike wheel spokes.  There was already a set of steel tubes on the design table.

I settled on a stool across from her, set down my laptop and bottle, and started typing up the day.  She stopped working and watched me.  Cat TV.

"Husband?"

I sighed and told her about my day.

"What did you tell me about confused and upset hyur?"

"That we don't want to be around confused and upset hyur."

"You confused and upset some hyur today, did you not?"

"Yes, my love."

"Do healers in this world use magic?"

"I have never observed any doing so."

"Will your using magic confuse and upset more hyur?"

"Well, the bartender's not wounded, and that bar doesn't have cameras either, so I don't see how anyone would believe them."

She nodded thoughtfully, and contemplated the rod in her hand.  "I am making bicycle components for you.  Perhaps you should concentrate on making your bicycle.  It should be constructive and instructive and not confusing or upsetting."

"Have I mentioned how much I love your clarity of vision?"

"I would not fault you for mentioning it again."

[gaykarstaagforever]

I decided to pretend to be a man and play Arkham Asylum on Hard. I.e., hits do a lot more damage and and there's no counter-attack indicator.

Except THERE IS. If you're so bad at it, as I am about 50% of the time, the game assumes something is wrong with your brain and frantically flashes the "press Y to counter" prompt during the fight.

Yes, thank you. This is obviously my fault, and not yours, for making everything dark and murky and constantly attacking me with 16 guys who have animation loops inconsistently telegraphing attacks, and also the animations are having them teleport around the arena because this weird free-form 3D combat engine must have been an absolute nightmare to get to work at all.

It's still impressive, as an effort that pays off really well maybe a quarter of the time? If you randomly hit the right buttons and the game randomly decides to respond appropriately.

"YOU JUST HAVE TO HIT A ZEN FLOW-STATE WITH IT!"

Yes, that helps. But that is fundamentally not the ONE solution to "getting gud" at this. There is a lot of RNG jank going on here.

Especially when you unlock more advanced auto-takedown perks, which are literally cheats that just make the combat slightly easier. You'll hit the trigger, and suddenly all the enemies are standing their quietly, waiting to get hit. I mean, I like the idea, but it really is a "make the game easier suddenly" thing.

I respect how much of a mess this is, and how well they managed it. It's JUST good enough to work. And that's why it's been so influential. But it is by no means perfect.

I'm at the Ivy boss battle, which is annoying when it's easy, and is hilariously frustrating on Hard. You have to actively pay attention to three simultaneous things, or you will absolutely die immediately. And you NEVER accurately predict where the edges of her killer grass patches are. Sometimes you can clip into them and you're fine, sometimes you're clearly outside them and you get grabbed and lose a quarter of your health.

This battle is one of those situations where it's fun precisely because it's bullshit, and I absolutely understand that it's purposely hard and that I will fail it 9 times in a row before I accidentally beat it.

I've never had over like a 12 hit streak. Even in the challenge maps, even on Normal. I think I am fundamentally misunderstanding what the game wants me to do. Like I think at that point you really need to start doing the combos exclusively to keep building it. But I always dodge-jump or Batarang or cape-bewilder because I feel like Batman would do that in a fight. Plus then you get a bonus for variation.

And by the end they're layering the stupid cattleprod and knife guys at you. And I still don't know if the combo moves take them down, or if you have to distract them first like normal.

I've been replaying this since it came out in 2009, and I still have no idea how the combat actually works. Which either means I'm stupid, or there is enough RNG in here that it's inherently variable. I have no idea. I assume I'm stupid.

It's not a hard game. But it can be moderately challenging, and I think it strikes a good balance between making me take it seriously and being fun. And that's what great games do.

...The Neon Skeleton Vision needs to show enemy vision cones, though. Oh my god. These guys swing their heads around like they're dancing. Batman should be able to tell where they're looking. Games older than this manage that, so it wasn't a tech thing, they just didn't think about it.

Also I have yet to get all the Riddler crap. I want to, until I start trying, then I get bored and frustrated. Plus I think some of them are timed, but you also have to have the necessary tech unlocks at that moment to get them? Which is bullshit.

[subtextures]

Outsider Art (2014)

The other night I drove out to my sister’s house west of Austin to be included in 4th of July activities, since I have been home by myself for a few days. After I arrived, my sister and I talked about our children, books we are reading, and the illustrations she has been creating on her ipad for our joint art/poetry project we have been working on for the last seven months. Bill, her long time spouse, came downstairs talked a little about selling his trailer since he was getting out of the big stuff as they thought about selling their house of thirty years. Then we headed over to one of their neighbor’s homes for dinner and a place to watch the fireworks of the wealthy neighborhoods on the hillsides nearby.

            It was a pleasant evening for Texas at the beginning of summer. The host was a sculptor/potter whose house, with multiple units combining living space with a studio space, and a guest house to rent out for all of the special events in Austin, like SXSW or ACL. An architect friend of my sister’s designed the house; she was at the party as well. It was a creative group. Food was served, wine was poured, the fireworks were to be looked forward to.  Later, they dotted the sky to Ahh’s and oooh’s as the conversations continued beneath the jaunty explosions. Around 11, I sat down into a conversation my sister and one of her old fine arts instructor from the University were having. It was a pleasant conversation with talk of fellow students and the classes they were in together. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a fellow writer a few days before: how fun it is to talk about art and writing with people who actually create art and poetry and think about making art and poetry, and not about shaping it for sale.  Bill joined us, told one of his goofy zen jokes and answered yes when asked if he were an artist too. Bill creates art from things he finds, a true bricouler. He has pieces in a downtown hotel, and some of the “stuff” he found appeared as sculptures on a wall in a layout of Architectural Digest. Bill makes stuff, and does not worry about it after that. But no one knew that, they just looked at him and his goofy jokes.  Someone laughed and the old instructor said in what was almost dismissive, “oh, outsider art.” The conversation shifted as is the way with rivers and language; a couple of guitars were brought out as the fireworks slowed down; and a mixture of Robert Earl King and the Beatles almost became a sing-along: freedom in America.  After the party broke up and we headed back to my sister and Bill’s house we talked about the people, and the time, more than thirty years ago, when we were at university when Donna was in that instructor’s art class.

The question always comes up when you are talking to writers or artists you haven’t seen in awhile: So, you still writing, painting, building those crazy sculptures, working on your stuff? There is always a fear at the back of that question that one will stop. That one day, after being beaten on for so long, you will quit. That the effort to turn one’s work into yourself, while resisting paying-work’s effort to transform you into drudgery, is often too soul wrenching to bear. So you quit. There is nothing wrong with that; art is hard, or is supposed to be at least. But the assumption is always, that you have quit, even when you haven’t. So, eventually only a few people know and even less care. And even when you haven’t quit, the seriousness of your art is questioned: have you gotten published, do you have show, have you sold anything, started/finished your MFA, have you won any prizes or gone to any conferences, retreats? The work itself is never the conversation. When I was an academic, briefly, at two points in my life: one in literature, the other literacy, the conversation always revolved around other’s work, or office politics; not the work you were doing, somehow, that was made to seem unimportant. It is the credentials of one kind or another, which are important, to a very odd degree. What sent me down this trail of thought was the almost dismissive tone in the phrase “outsider art:” an outsider without credentials. I think “artists” who cling to anything other than the work are more on the outside of art than the “outsiders.” The concern they have is on how they are perceived, not how they perceive the work (art) they do.

I am not sure why this bothers me so much. It is hard to continue to write and produce art as you go through your day to day life. You shouldn’t take out your artistic insecurities by attacking others who are just as lost in the struggle to create as you are.

(July 5-6, 2014)

[risenwraith]

#123 Aaiiee people!

Staying at sister in Iaw's place is very open house in comparison to the little flat we had.

I walked into the kitchen to see a purple hooded person raiding the freezer. They were maybe(?) a relation and I have no idea why they were in the kitchen and was afraid to ask - they don't live here. Then there was a tall male relation whose name I forget but who walks in whenever. There have been two other friends/people who turn up as and when and walk right in.

Then again, I'm a bald eyebrow-less goblin wearing a saffron coloured shift. (I was gifted it unexpectedly and I have limited clean clothes right now. It does make me look like a tragic white girl who's taken Buddhism a bit too seriously, but what can you do?).

I had a long conversation with T (someone who I think is an actual housemate) who if I understand correctly, spent ages trying to explain WWI Spiritualism to me, and the basic concept of 'as above so below' - which is quantum or magic or both - and also zen archery. All of which I am too painfully aware of, often overly aware of, and vaguely aware of (and wish I knew more of) - in that order.

Then he told me I shouldn't have chemotherapy because doctors are bad evil liars, chemotherapy is poison, and if I just ate more broccoli, that would totally cure cancer.

I was very polite and not sarcastic or scathing or mean at all. But I really wanted to be. Because... Seriously?

Oh yes dear boy, I am letting doctors poison me because I didn't know about the miracle of açai berries and kale oh alas alack fie and for shame, oh foolish me, if only I had drunk more green tea I never would have lost a tit nor ever had the need of this terrible medical poison!

FUUUUCCCKKKK!!!

Look hippy boy, do not @ me. Your last hospital stay was in the '70s for a broken limb, and because someone turfed you out of a bed early, you think every doctor is a bastard and every nurse a bitch. Also you think the old guy you once saw in '74 who didn't know who or where he was immediately after coming out of emergency heart surgery would have been... what? Better off just being dead? Yeah - how dare doctors try and succeed in saving him and he be groggy from not dying. FFS.

I have news for you. 50 bloody years have passed. That's a lifetime. Why do you insist on thinking things are the same a generation ago? Or that one arsehole doctor who didn't care enough about your fracture is the same as every single doctor treating everything in the world ever?

I have to listen-not-listen. By which I mean try to actively not listen to a conversation I can totally hear and don't want to hear at all. (And if I had headphones so I could listen to anything else it would be easier, but like an idiot I did not pack my headphones.)

You think I want this? You think if eating more salad would have saved me I wouldn't already be doing that shit?! You think I don't eat green stuff? Bitch, I hate fast food, I love vegetables, hate grease, meat's okay, sugar's so-so, bread and rice are the best, and I know how to cook a very fine five course dinner party, thank you.

My point is... I'm not having surgery and poison through basic nutritional and culinary ignorance or for fun - I'm having it so I won't die.

Kale and broccoli will not save me you arrogant arse. You do not hold the secrets of the universe. Your salad and berry tea cannot fix cancer. But the hospital can, and is even now, yes, via poison.

We poison the evil cells, and the rest of the body survives - because the body is nails AF - what is so hard to understand about that?

Sorry, I keep trying not to be cross, but every time I think about the conversation it pisses me off something chronic.

[cybermoonmoon]

Another real life Uncle Sidney Adventure.

Once upon a time it was the early 70′s. I wore bell bottoms but drew the line at platform shoes. During the periods while being of out then back in college I had assorted jobs. Among them a Girl Scout a church technician a grunt in da copy department of a gum company. All this thanks to my being a ‘Holly Girl’. A pal Holly Allison had a temp employment agency specializing in getting gigs for unemployable art types...which was and is me.

‘Girl Scout’...perhaps I should clarify.

I worked at the NYC headquarters for da Girl Scouts USA. I fit right in. I shows up sez I’m a ‘Holly Girl’ no one bats an eye. I loved it there. Swell folks. It was all clerical stuff so learning to read write came in handy after all. That and I raised and lowered the flags every day...serious old school. Worked during the holidays...them gals did Yule right.

After my Scouting days I ended up in an office across from da U.N. Building. The job was a blur...just typing and files...yeah, I can do that. My Holly Girl superpower. Btw ask grandma what a typewriter is. Thing is I had a desk with a view of what we thought was the hope of the world. The bleeping U.N. Building. Sue me I’m a romantic. That thing never got old.  

There followed a blizzard of mini gigs. Some lasting days to a few months. With 70′s temp gigs ya never knew where you were going or what your position would be. They could have been companies that made the ‘handle with care’ stickers for Hydrogen bombs. I had no idea. Nice t-shirts though.

Just remembered...that copy department thing was in da mix. My being an artist lay about. Holly thought it would suit me. It did. While on da job I asked and was given permission to print up some of my little projects. Prose poetry chapbooks all that noise. Learned printing and organizational skills. I later used these when I did Indie-comic books in da 80′s. 

Life is learning and opportunities. Remember what I said about my time in show biz? If you’re offered a part in ‘anything’ ...Take it! You got talent and smarts.  “Eh sure I can speak Croation...and ride a horse”. Ace da the details as ya go along. I got shows that way.

Then I went to church.

Specifically Riverside Church on Morningside Heights Manhattan. Good grief. Wadda place. If the 12th century constructed skyscrapers, they would have looked like ‘Riverside’. Stayed there the longest. Was assistant to their engineering department. In da 90′s they’d have used a PalmPilot now a phone or Alexa...same thing. Back then they used me. No experience whatever. My broadcast engineering days were years in the future. 

They taught me much but mostly it was the vibe. 

There was a general calmness of attitude. They were working not for the now but for the ages. So aware of where they came from where they were and where they were going. It’s 100 years ago but despite the chaos and static of my years them times and folks is a remembered eye in the storm.

I was a seriously dumb kid. So I’m grateful to Holly Allison. This for my kicking butt into the real world by making me a ‘Holly Girl’. Being in so many places, so many different kinds of people and directions I began to see patterns. All those lives and circumstances interconnected. Active living Zen stuff in everyday work. I’m grateful. A few years later my broadcast life began. That’s another saga for another time.

[jadagul]

loki-zen @jadagul i <3 nailed it

Nailed It! is great.

One of my partners needs a lot of, uh, enrichment activities in her environment. And she's also in the film and tv industry, and winds up watching a lot of TV. I find most TV programs stressful and tend to want a lot of down time; often what I want is to, like, cuddle without having to actually have a lot of stimulation other than that.

We squared this circle with cooking shows. Originally "Gourmet Makes" but also some other stuff. It works for both of us. (I do spend a certain amount of time yelling at the TV, as someone who takes baking very seriously.)

But one day I was just feeling like total shit, and wasn't really up to watching anything. So she asked what I wanted, and I told her I wanted to lie down with my head on her lap while she watched something that wasn't going to annoy me but I wouldn't have to pay attention to.

So she thought for a minute and then put on Nailed It!. And it was perfect.

(In real life, you don't solve those problems with a blast chiller. You solve those problems by waiting a few hours before you try to frost the fucking cake. But that doesn't work for the show format.)

I guess wind chill makes sense because you're basically in the cold version of a convection oven. Do they make "convection freezers"? Seems like fast chilling could be useful.

[whats-a-human]

music is underrated

Seriously, I've never seen anyone talk about music in modern witchcraft, and that's weird to me cuz I know most if not all of you pagans absolutely adore music. At least I do!

Plus, it has been like, primordial for witchcraft and religion in general since humans have been a thing. It connects people, helps achieve trance or specific emotions, gives you catharsis and is just perfect in every way.

So here's some help for implementing music in your practice if you're interested:

Listen to specific songs that will help you get in the right mood for the spell/ritual/sigil you wanna perform

Cast spells by dancing, create choreography-based spells

Meditate on a song that's important to you, ask why it's important, what emotions it gives you and why

Pay attention to the song you're listening, try to hear the instruments or beats in the back. I've noticed I can hear so many more "parts" of my songs after practicing Zen (not only after meditating, I mean as a permanent upgrade lol)

Compose magic songs/spells in song format

Compose spell lyrics for instrumental songs

Visualize an intention while singing with all your heart to a song that vibes with your intention

Put music in the background while doing your craft

I remember that I dreamt using a song for a spell, then I did and now every time I listen to it I get goosebumps and powerful feelings. I even feel that spell "activating" a bit even though I don't mean to (that's why we don't do hexes, kids! Jk, it was a good spell). I think I can even fully activate it again just by hearing the song if I want to, because it meant a lot to me even before I became pagan.

Seriously, mindfully using music and dance in your craft is really, really worth it.

[thegod606]

Love Mark Headcannons

RFA Boys

Jumin:

(Giving)

- absolutely shameless

- will leave them everywhere. on your neck, chest, jaw, stomach, you name it.

- gets kind of sad if you try to cover them with concealer or a turtleneck

- “why don’t you want the world to know of my affections, (Y/N)?”

- gives them CONSTANTLY. there will always be at least one your body

- he does it on purpose, of course, lest anyone think you’re single

(Getting)

- doesn’t really sit still enough for you to give him many

- if you manage to sneak one, though, he won’t notice it for a good while

- when he does notice he thinks it’s cute and will go out of his way to look in the mirror

- it’s very awkward for the rest of the office staff when they’re in a meeting and he has a ginormous hickey on his neck 

Zen:

(Giving)

- he knows the power of appearance so he’s careful to only leave them in places always covered by clothes

- inner thigh is his favorite place to put them

- likes to kiss them while they’re healing

(Getting)

- his albinism makes his skin very sensitive. because of this, he almost always has faint red scratch marks on his back from activities

- will outright ask you for them (he thinks they’re hot)

- once, he had one on his neck at an audition and there was a media frenzy. pictures of him with a hickey on his neck practically broke the internet. you were very embarrassed by it and kept on apologizing, but he promised you it was fine

- “jagiya, they needed to know that I’m yours”

707:

(Giving)

- he’s a biter (look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong)

- usually doesn’t leave hickeys but little teeth marks

- will affectionately bite you out of nowhere pretty much anywhere

- favorite place is your shoulder

(Getting)

- super ticklish, so he’ll never take you giving him a hickey seriously. laughs the whole time

- will absentmindedly touch it while he works

- once you manage to give him one, he’ll want them all the time

- there’s a certain spot on his chest that if sucked will cause him to inexplicably groan really loudly

Yoosung:

(Giving)

- at the beginning, he wouldn’t dare give you one — he feels like it would disrespect you

- after a few months of dating and a lot of reassurance from you, he would make an attempt at a hickey but would fail miserably

- probably wouldn’t be able to get it right until the fifth time

(Getting)

- squeaks whenever you try (it’s a visceral reaction)

- thinks he’ll get in trouble for it at uni, so he’ll wear hoodies with the hood up even in the summer heat

- likes the feeling, so he’ll wine when you stop

- “babyyyy, why’d you stop?”

“yoosung, it’s bright red”

“so?”

[nutton-of-tata]

my actual rank of each sih boy based on my factual opinions lmao

ranking this from favorite to least favorite

1. Onodera Ritsu

The best character in my humble opinion and so far every ritsu hater is a takano or yokozawa simp so hmm,, interesting. anyway he's the best written one and people either kin him or are just obsessed with drawing him, no in between.

2. Hatori Yoshiyuki

people who hate hatori are pussies. he is so hot. like jesus fuck. i wouldnt mind getting the herp from him. but in all seriousness, i think people SERIOUSLY overreact when reading the novels cause he's not really different from the other sihjr tops, it's just written with a lot of detail for no reason. anyway he's also the least developed i believe? in terms of his own backstory. I want to know about him. I want to know why he's such a grump and so stoic. I want to know how bad his farts stink

3. Kisa Shouta

i liked him more when he was shallow tbh but thats just my drama loving ass talking. anyway he's the most relatable to adults who have had faulty relationships and depression n love their job (and also hate it). ngl i dont even find him attractive, hes like the only sihjr boy i do not really simp for at all

4. Chiaki Yoshino

To the people who hate Chiaki: Grow up.

5. Yukina Kou

People who hate yukina don't exist cause I killed them. But also i like him a lot less than I should. He's so normal. He's the least problematic (unless you count him slapping the fuck out of kisa problematic) character and he's the only person who hasn't committed sexual assault. That's great and all, but there's not much else for me to like him besides the fact that he's got a banging body n face and has a nice personality. thats really it.

6. Yokozawa Takafumi

he's that one dude i remember actively HATING when i was younger but now he aint that bad. something about him is very hot and i wish he lactated. but he's not a favorite of mine, his conflict with ritsu honestly upset me way more than it should (even if it was in good faith since takano was leading him on fr). good character, just not my favorite.

7. Kirishima Zen

he's hot. that's it. his hair makes me think of caramel

8. Takano Masamune

im sorry takano fans but ima be honest.

He's boring

[selfdestructivecat]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (final)

I’ve been wishing for skirt Virgil for the past few days and finally he’s been summoned! I’m such a simp that I gave him an entire comic lmao

But seriously, go Virgil! Must have been scary to put himself out like that but he DID and he looks AWESOME!

(Also I made it Prinxiety because I could)

Text below!

*Panel 1*

V: I-I don’t know about this...

P: C’mon, Virgil! I’m sure you look great!

L: Patton and I have already partaken in this... unusual activity, and now it is your turn.

R: I hope you don’t plan on backing out now, Zen-Gay-A. And after you kept us waiting for so long!

V: D-don’t rush me! I’m changing as fast as I can!

L: Roman, I hope you are aware that the kitchen could provide a suitable amount of water to quench your obvious thirst, are you?

R: L-LOGAN! CEASE AT ONCE!

P: *giggles*

*Panel 2*

V: You... promise you won’t laugh?

L: Our answer has not changed, even after the last ten times you’ve asked us that question. Of course, we won’t.

P: We would never!

R: I will not gaze upon you with anything except pride, Stormcloud. Prince’s honor.

V: O...Okay. I’m coming out.