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#about my own thoughts
xekstrin · 9 months
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RE: talking to conservative parents, I’ve found a good method to de-worming their brains is to not get riled up, just act a little bored and remind them “the news cycle only shows salacious stuff. They want you to be mad and scared because it makes you easier to control. Think about it for a second. Do you REALLY believe everything they have to say?” Or “you can’t believe everything you read or see on the internet. Remember, they earn money every time you click on their video.”
And especially when my dad starts getting huffy about Prices or Artists He Doesn’t Like, I tell him “that’s the beauty of capitalism. they have a product to sell and the freedom of expression if you don’t like it you don’t have to buy it.”
Might not work for everyone but dad’s KRYPTONITE especially is saying “but dad that’s capitalism! You LOVE capitalism!” And he either has to stop complaining or admit capitalism is bad and so far I haven’t lost
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uncanny-tranny · 3 months
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I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.
I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:
Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)
Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)
Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often
Eat dessert first
Celebrate well, and often
Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)
Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.
Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate
Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)
Walk without having a specific destination or goal
Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.
I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.
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dravidious · 9 months
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Funny lines that no one was around to appreciate #1: "The game still needs some mechanical meat to sink its teeth into, if you'll pardon the vore metaphor. The metavore, if you will."
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verflares · 2 months
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(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:
"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"
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ryssbelle · 15 days
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Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!
Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎
#my art#marinette dupain cheng#miraculous ladybug#miraculous fanart#style mimic#sorry for the @s btw#yall should go follow those artists if you dont already also#this was sort of inspired by a post the three artists on the top row made#i think they all got together and drew with one another#which is really cool#but i was genuinely confused because i mimic styles a lot#and ive seen others do it too so i was just like#wow they really know each others styles really well#until i thought about it and read their posts some more#style mimicking is really freaking fun and i think its really good practice#and a good way to explore other ways of doing things#like you really have to learn new techniques and get out of your comfort zone#also anna scribbles i could not find a recent pic of marinette in her main outfit#so thats the only marinette i drew in different clothes cuz i couldnt find a more recent ref of you drawing it#anna scribble marinette has privileges thats the others dont#but ye#i also threw my own style in there as a frame of reference to what me draw like#ive drawn marinette before just not in a loooong while#sabertooth walrus was the hardest for me to mimic cuz they have a broad range in their style#so its like which sabertooth do i wanna be in this pic#Buggachat has such a distinct style thats very clean and consistent which is amazing so they were easy#being easy or hard arent bad things either it also has to do with like styles meeting up with one another#buggachats and mine arent too too different in some shapes and aspects#so yeah itd be easier plus they drew marinette like 3 sec ago so i have more recent of a ref#as opposed to sabertooth who i have a recent ref of ladybug but not marinette so we got two diff styles in one
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vaxxman · 10 days
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Could I request Medic having The Mom Grip on Scout’s shoulder after the speedy moron almost let a mercenary secret slip while they weee getting groceries?
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Three Europeans and two Americans walk into a grocery store in New Mexico.
I hope this is the right meme.
More silliness below.
This comic is the antithesis of the "wtf is a kilometre" joke.
The faces they make when they can't quite identify the type of brown bread in the bread aisle.
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You don't know how [insert nationality here] you are until you go overseas and things are different.
Spy obviously has no problems with pretending to know how much a gallon of milk is, he just peeks into his conversion chart notes, pretending it's his shopping list.
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I want to think Heavy is completely fine with having to readjust to a new unit system, he just eyeballs most practical things anyways by holding them up and mumbling about how they approximately weigh like a chicken or his kettle bell etc. He's always been living in practical ignorant bliss.
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Medic has a peer reviewed meltdown the first time he realises there's no uniformity in "a cup of ____" because every object has different densities. He's diligent about memorising the conversion rates for ounces, pounds, the most common things etc., and recovers ok. He goes through the same stages of grief rage when he finds out about distances and lengths.
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Just remember four inches are 10.16 cm and pray no one asks you to specify anything bigger than inches.
Everyone does a mental victory lap when they manage to guess how much Celsius the weather is because they keep forgetting it's Celsius*5/9+32=Fahrenheit, Engineer reminds them patiently.
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The true victories are the correct temperature guesses we've made along the way.
One time, a friend asked me if I actually knew how much a tablespoon of flour was in gramms to convince me that metric users also make use of volume based units without thinking about them. But little did she know a heaped spoonful of 405 flour is about 15g and a level tablespoon is 10g.
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They claim Oolong just tastes better when it's boiled to 80°C exactly with a Bunsen burner.
You only asked for one scene but somehow I came up with a bunch of other things. This post was drawn across 2 months so the artstyle is all over the place. Thanks for your ask!
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skneees · 2 months
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*cracks him like a glowstick* fish glows
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Some of the beautiful illustrations by S.D. Schindler from Brother Hugo and the Bear by Katy Beebe.
The book is based on two real medieval figures: Hugo, a scribe who added a self-portrait (pictured above) to the end of his copy of Jerome's Commentaries on Isaiah, and a bear who appears in a letter from the abbot of Cluny Abbey to a neighboring abbot asking to borrow a copy of The Letters of St. Augustine, "for a large part of ours has been accidentally eaten by a bear."
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cemeterything · 1 year
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gummi-ships · 4 months
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uncanny-tranny · 2 months
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I recall saying this before, but it bears repeating:
There could be a billion trans people in the world and it still wouldn't be a bad thing because being trans is not a bad thing. Even if the rate of people discovering they are trans is "disproportionate" to trends from decades ago, that is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a natural consequence for there being more trans people being able to stay alive, and, overall, being able to live in a slightly more tolerant world. You'd only see that as a bad thing if you actively didn't want trans people to either live or live a life that facilitates wellness.
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rambunctioustoons · 24 days
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touchy feely fool
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jekyllnahyena · 23 days
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Give it some time Fox, he's trying his best
more dumb doodles in the Fox is the fav and thus has somehow ended up with an allpowerful evil grandpa
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koshercosplay · 2 months
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Neil gaiman is a Zionist :(
this is so funny because if you google "neil gaiman zionist" nearly all of the links are to unsourced tumblr posts or responses to a single tweet from 2015 that just acknowledges Israel's existence
I see gaiman has once again committed the heinous crime of Being Jewish When Israel Is In The News
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ingoodjesst · 1 month
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have you put the pieces together yet, detective
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unclewaynemunson · 7 months
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Alt version of this post bc too many people asked for both <3
It's Saturday night and, like almost every Saturday night, Eddie wishes he didn't have to be at some jock party. The flashing lights, the scent of cheap mixed drinks, the incredibly mediocre loud music... And worst of all, the fucking jocks. Everywhere.
'Eddie!'
He looks up to find Steve, with a dopey smile on his face, basically skipping towards him and throwing his arms around his neck. Oh. He didn't know Steve still went to parties like those. Hadn't seen him at any of them in a while. But as soon as he gets wrapped up in an enthusiastic full-body hug, he decides there's one jock, and one jock only, that he doesn't mind running into at those parties.
'Eddie, what're you doin' here?' There's an unfocused look in his eyes and he wobbles on his legs a little bit, grabbing tighter onto Eddie for support. The touch burns through Eddie's t-shirt and he tries to ignore the shiver running down his spine.
'I didn't know you liked parties!' Steve drops his voice, slurring: 'I thought you hated the jocks.'
Eddie can't help but smile. 'I hate all jocks but one, big boy,' he tells Steve. 'Not here to party, only to get some cash.' He rattles with the metal lunchbox in his hands to illustrate his point. 'Can you let me go now so I can get on with my business, pretty please?'
'Noooo,' Steve says with an exaggerated pout. 'I'm too happy you're here! Dance with me!'
Eddie chuckles. 'I don't think you're in any state to dance right now. Jesus, Stevie, I don't think I've ever seen you this wasted before. Thought you were planning to pick up a girl tonight?'
'I was,' Steve says, suddenly sounding oddly serious. 'But it doesn't matter. Just needed to forget. The rum helped, too.' He frowns. 'Til you showed up.'
'Forget what?' Eddie asks, trying to make sense of this drunken string of words.
Something happens; something that's been happening quite often lately. Steve's eyes flash downwards, just for a second, right to where Eddie's lips are.
Eddie's heartbeat involuntarily picks up speed.
'What did you need to forget, Steve?' Eddie asks again.
'Can't tell you,' Steve mumbles so softly that Eddie can barely make it out over the loud music. 'I don't wanna make you feel guilty. I'm not judging you, y'know. 'S fine.'
He abruptly lets go of Eddie and takes a step away from him, stumbling right into some girl who pushes him back with an annoyed scoff; if Eddie weren't still standing right behind him, he would've fallen on his ass for sure.
'Alright, you're not making any sense tonight, big boy, but I can't in good conscience let you stay here by yourself. How 'bout I'll drive you home?'
Eddie glances at his watch. If he hurries, he can probably still be back to do what he came here for before the good part of the party is over. He does kinda need the cash.
'Can't,' says Steve. 'Can't go home with you.' Something in his voice is breaking and suddenly there are tears in his eyes, and Eddie still doesn't understand what's wrong; he feels like he's overlooking something huge, something that should be obvious.
'Let's just go outside to talk, then?' he suggests.
'Can't. Dance with me, Eddie.'
But when Eddie starts gently tugging Steve towards the open door leading to the garden, Steve easily lets himself be led outside. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath when the cool night air reaches his lungs, as if one gulp of fresh air will instantly make him sober up. But he's still swaying on his feet, making Eddie grab onto him tighter.
Eddie likes to think of himself as moderately strong, but unfortunately, hauling 180 pounds of muscled jock around is starting to take its toll on him. He spots a bench in a secluded corner of the garden and guides Steve towards it.
'This better?' he asks.
'Yeah,' Steve breathes out. Even now that they're both sitting down, Steve keeps clinging onto him. 'Look at the stars, Eddie.'
Eddie looks up at the scattering of lights twinkling far above them - but he can feel Steve's eyes still burning into his face.
When he directs his gaze back to the guy sitting next to him, Steve's face is even closer than before. The starlight is reflected in his hazy eyes, tiny specks of silver hidden in various shades of brown and black.
'I wish I could kiss you,' Steve whispers, looking at Eddie with nothing but admiration behind that glassy drunk gaze.
Eddie almost forgets to breathe. He knows that it seemed like he and Steve were headed exactly toward something like this for a while now, but he still can hardly believe that it is real. That Steve Harrington is really looking at him like he's just as precious as the stars in the sky above them.
He brings up a hand, gently caresses Steve's soft cheek.
'Maybe you don't have to wish,' he whispers back, unable to stop his eyes from flashing towards Steve's beautiful lips for a moment. 'Tomorrow. When you're not drunk anymore. If you still remember this.'
'No.' Steve shakes his head, so fiercely it makes his hair flap in all directions and his complexion at least two shades paler. 'Can't.'
'Why do you keep saying that, Steve?' Eddie asks softly.
'Cause.' For a moment Eddie thinks Steve is gonna grab his ass, but then... he randomly frees Eddie's handkerchief – the one with the skulls – from his back pocket.
'Cause of the Russians.'
Eddie can only stare at him in confusion.
'They tied me up,' Steve all but whispers. Eddie hates how small and broken his voice suddenly sounds.
He has always known – broadly speaking – about what happened to Steve and Robin miles beneath Starcourt last year. He's never actually heard Steve talk about the details, though. All he knows is that he and Robin were captured by Russian spies and somehow made it out alive. He could always see how difficult it was for Steve to talk about it whenever it came up, but he never wanted to pry. And now here they are, at some goddamn high school jock party of all places, and all of a sudden Steve willingly brings it up.
'I was with Robin,' Steve continues, still in that scared and broken voice. 'And they tied us to a chair. We couldn't move. And they – they hurt me. They hit me. 'Til I was bleeding all over. I thought I was gonna die. Robin thought I was dead.'
'Jesus Christ, Steve,' Eddie breathes out, tightening his grip around Steve's torso.
'So I can't,' Steve mumbles, holding up Eddie's handkerchief as if it's some kind of logical explanation for whatever it is he's trying to tell Eddie.
'Wh- What?'
'I know what it means, Eddie,' he says, as if he's even remotely making sense right now. 'You know John?'
'Who the hell is John?' Eddie only keeps finding himself more and more lost in this conversation.
'My cousin,' Steve says, like it's obvious, like he's ever talked about some cousin named John to Eddie before. 'The one in New York. He knows all about that shit, right? He sends me the good magazines sometimes when my parents aren't home. That's how I know.'
'Know what?'
Steve only waves around with that stupid handkerchief again.
'You're flagging, aren't ya? You like pain. Like BS... BM...'
Eddie feels his jaw drop.
'What the fuck are you talking about?' he asks. 'It's – this is a metal thing. It looks metal. I literally have no idea what you're – flagging?'
Now Steve's face finally mirrors the confusion Eddie has been feeling for the past ten minutes.
'Are you serious?' he asks, for one second showing more clarity in his eyes than Eddie has seen all evening.
Eddie nods.
'So it's not...' Steve stops himself, swallows, frowns. 'You're not into, like, hurting people and shit?'
And finally, it all clicks together in Eddie's mind: the repeated chorus of I can't, the story about the Russians, the goddamn handkerchief... Flagging. BDSM.
'Why the hell would I get off on hurting you, Steve?' is all he can get out of his mouth.
And Steve honest-to-Satan starts giggling; it sounds so relieved that Eddie kinda feels like giggling too, scary metal image be damned.
'I dunno, it's more common than you think,' Steve mumbles. 'I wouldn't judge you, alright? But I knew I could never give you that. No matter how much I like you. And then you'd get bored of me.'
'Oh, Steve,' Eddie whispers out. 'You don't need to worry 'bout that, I swear. For all I care, we can have the most vanilla sex in the world forever. Or never have sex at all. As long as it's with you... I'm good.' Eddie cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth: it sounds too cheesy, too sincere. He kinda hopes Steve will have forgotten this particular part of their conversation tomorrow morning.
But Steve doesn't look at him like he thinks it's stupid at all: his eyes are wide and he's smiling a soft smile.
'You sure? You won't get bored?'
Eddie chuckles. Now that he's being too goddamn cheesy anyway, he might as well double down on it. 'I can't imagine getting bored of getting to hold this body in a million fucking years. In any way you'll have me.'
Steve heaves out a relieved sigh before he buries his head against Eddie's chest.
'Can I bring you home, now?' Eddie asks.
There's a twinkle in Steve's eyes when he lifts his head again.
'Ooohhh... You wanna have the most vanilla sex in the world with me now?'
A chortle escapes Eddie's lungs.
'Um, maybe tomorrow, when you're not drunk off your ass,' he answers with a wink. 'For tonight, just lemme get you to bed, 'kay?'
'Okay, big boy,' Steve answers, and Eddie can't help but laugh before he presses a kiss against Steve's forehead.
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