#we already got names set

[wishfulmuses]

@allcfme is an enabler because now you got me and @pompedia discussing Black Knight verses for Sonia and Lunaria.

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[the-insanity-of-mojiru]

New Banners and Icons for me and @pokemon-champion-brendan now that the game is out and we can go from being Kamen Riders to Agents LOL

[suddenlymicah]

has anyone considered henry possessing glamrock freddy or am i being a little silly right now

[howdoyousleep3]

i spent my morning at the DMV and it was the absolute worst way to spend my morning, 0/10 do not recommend

[haarute]

hoping my dad doesn't try to pull any last second shit for new year's eve but i did let my sister know that if he tries to snake his way over here today my vote is strongly Against

[danwhobrowses]

So no more CR until next year, which means sadly CritRoleStats will close its metaphorical doors before next episode. Does anyone know if there's any other avenues to keep up with future episodes? UK Time Zones and being at my job do get in the way of watching the streams.

[lacking-hydration]

that postal movie is so inconsistently ok

[sunbedo]

Hey guys. gay rights

[rotisseries]

Ur so new to this its making me giggle. also you should share more I need to Know

gloomy I can't stress enough how bad I am at this. once we got past stats and I had to actually come up with real character things it was awful. dragged kicking and screaming through character creation. also I'm realizing as I type this how little I still have in mind for this character bc I never even decided what gender they are. we've been referring to them interchangeably as "my new cringfail losergirl oc" and "my new weird little guy"

[20w14a]

Was gonna make a convoluted post talking about Evil X and Worm Man since y'know I like them a lot as evidenced on this blog but to sum it up, as funny and neat as they are as just plain joke characters they really do feel like foils to each other and I really wish that was shown more.

[mintjeru]

keeping myself busy by posting wip screenshots

[paramoira]

@godofcourage gets a random starter

it's one of those bitterly chilly nights where the moon is high in the sky and a soon approaching rainfall clings in the air. nightlife seems prevalent, at least if the street she's walked down was anything to judge from. one of the bars' had one of those folding doors which allowed them to form an open patio, live music drifting out and people of various levels of intoxication braving the chill. another, the one on the corner, had a line of the typical college looking sort waiting to get in with a few scattered older adults. she ignores them, dodging a larger group of friends in the line and stepping into the street to get around them. maybe ariadne shouldn't have parked her car so far away yet she hadn't exactly wanted it seen or anyone taking down her license plate when she held no business getting involved in what she was doing in the first place. ariadne held enough issues with certain detectives even if most had seemed to form a kind of acceptance that her dedication to her work proved family members held no baring on her commitment to solving the deaths which crossed her table at the morgue.

except, all of those detectives had seemed ready to accept the current case (or lack thereof) as presently in review as 'accidents'.

it was true the evidence hadn't been as strong as other cases, however, ariadne steadfastly disagreed with the pathologist in a jurisdiction over, the two cases she believed were linked having transpired in different areas yet not over state lines. there hadn't been any outright preternatural elements though a few things had made her question; even so, finding evidence the victims had once been to a blood den did not equate to proof anything paranormal had caused their deaths. as such there had not been enough to require the bprd's involvement and certainly nothing to have warranted fbi involvement even had she attempted a favor.

perhaps this was all one enormous hunch of a bad feeling ariadne shouldn't be following. certainly, one would think that as intelligent a woman as doctor kalkan clamed to be, she would have learned her lesson by now in respect to getting too involved with her cases. if nothing else what had happened in london should have taught her that. and yet, here she was, walking down a dimly lit street and jogging up the six steps of the apartment building once she finds the address she'd been looking for. how she'd got that, perhaps, wasn't completely in-line with the fact she was supposed to be on the side of law enforcement (sometimes it helped that one's familial ties were tied up in much less legally acceptable things and held no issues in utilizing those means if she asked). it was a very blurred line at times, though ariadne was willing to justify it as a fairly minor deviation and for a greater good. when someone comes out in hurry, she grabs the door before it closes, looking back a moment as the person moves down the street and rain begins prompting her to move inside, distracted.

somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd gotten a strange sense off the hooded man, something dark and the scent of smoke... however, ariadne chalked it up to her own minor paranoia about her covert actions and her anxieties about things in the past. closing the door, ariadne wonders if this was how private detectives operated, waiting for doors to be opened or did they just pick locks? she supposes they weren't held to the same rules as the police and as long as they weren't caught. on that same thought train, she wouldn't have put it passed the one girl's only living relative, a brother, to have hired one to look into things after the police findings. regardless, she has to speak with the girl that lives here and so ariadne makes her way up the steps. there's a weight to the moment, a sudden increasing worry. she has theories, even if ariadne's not sold on them yet but she'd seen the same item on this girl's person as had been found at two previous scenes, a match box from a location she knew was a blood den. again, it didn't mean the girls were even connected to the place, for all she knew it could be the killer-- if there really was one. finally, she reaches the top where the girl's apartment was, seeking to knock only to find the door slightly ajar.

there, a few steps inside, she finds a female down-- the girl, a friend of one of the victims who she'd spoken to briefly when on scene with one of the detectives, laying on the floor among a smashed glass table. she moves to take a pulse, render aid if possible, however the girl was deceased, having begun to bleed out and another set of matches on the floor. was it a coincidence? or was someone trying to draw attention? the easy answer would be to think it was a vampire killer or more likely a ripper if one went down that route yet there was too much blood left at the scenes and no bite wounds. was it a human who knew about vampires? and it always looked like an accident-- a fall or a something of the sort. ariadne wondered if this girl also had a strange puncture mark as that had been present at the other scenes too except there wasn't an easy method to check and the glass made things precarious as it was. she needed to call this in though how she was going to explain her presence or that she'd taken it upon herself to want to ask the girl questions she held no idea how to explain. she's pulling out her phone when she senses someone else at the door.

"i'm with the m.e.'s office.. i just found her like this. i'm about to call it i--" ariadne pauses in confusion when she looks over as she stands upright. "o--" no, no. it wasn't, she's not entirely sure how she knows, perhaps it's the difference in his aura if that was what that strange sense she was only starting to become aware she had was and perhaps it's a trick of the low-light, but he looks so similar to... well, she supposed everyone had a doppelganger of sorts. "oh shit--" she realizes it too late. "--that guy with the hood downstairs! i think he's the one that did this." she's not really talking to the strange man though she should be much more concerned about his presence than she is. granted, this man wasn't dressed like the other guy that'd smelled like smoke, nor did he have the same... he didn't seem the same and she was surrounded by glass pieces if she had to defend herself. "who are you?"

*(see the novel i wrote in tags)

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

(About Thirst by Marina Yuszczuk)

I finally go to read one of the books I got from the pride market and it was billed as like a sapphic vampire love story and I am SCREAMING!! It’s like??? I guess?? Technically???? I went online to go see what people were saying and people keep talking about things in the book that just??? Aren’t a thing??? What is happening did I miss something 😭

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.