PSA
Before trying to argue with me, I'd like people to please read up on the topic of the following link: The Dunning-Kruger Effect
The more confident you are that this does not apply to you, the more likely it is that it does.
GIVE IT BACK
"My tiny, not yours"
That's adorable
let them have a little snack. as a treat
Let the dragon have a snack!
I just read an article about a teenage girl who killed her rapist. She could have been sentenced to 20 years in prison but instead was sentenced to probation, community service, extreme supervision, and paying the rapist's family $150,000. I don't believe she should have faced prison, nor be forced to pay her rapist's family $150,000. I was concerned about whether she killed him out of self defense and a need to escape or instead out of revenge, which apparently it was mostly the latter. So I can see where the decision to kill him wasn't necessary. Obviously it's not good to kill everyone who wrongs others. But what got to me about the article I read was one specific part. This girl was abused, homeless, raped at a homeless shelter, and then sex trafficked before being raped by the man multiple times. And this is what the article had to say:
She needs to be taught...accountability? What...??? How is she accountable for being an abused, homeless, sex trafficked child???? How was it her choice to be abused, homeless, and sex trafficked? And especially as a CHILD?! How was it her choice to "stumble into the life" of being abused and homeless and sex trafficked??? How did she make decisions that made her "vulnerable to exploitation by other persons???" And frankly, how the FUCK is someone else exploiting you YOUR fault?! Like it's her fault she was abused and escaped that abuse, causing her to be homeless? It's her fault she was raped at a homeless shelter and was on the streets trying to survive in any way she could? It was her fault that she took the only offered shelter by someone who ended up sex trafficking her? What fucking "accountability" does she need to fucking take here?! There is in no way a view in which she isn't a victim!!! It's just incredible the wording and victim-blaming ideologies at play in this case and article.
“so she doesn’t stumble back into the life”
she was HOMELESS, then KIDNAPPED and SOLD
It's pure classism. People with money have always been inclined to believe that they somehow deserve it, and that poverty is the result of some kind of personal failing.
There seems to be a proliferation of Goth kitchen utensils, lately. This is the bat spatula, or “batula,” if you will.
via gothic home decor enthusiasts
Or, in @thebibliosphere’s literary world, a kink accessory.
Hgsk. I’m not sure I’d recommend it for impact play, but boy the marks would be cute.
Bahahah. The batula! I will! I will. I think this could be used for light impact play … like just to see if you could get an imprint. 😈
I agree. You'd look really cute.
“…Animals often share food, but these birds understand that metal rings can be exchanged for treats, and they share the rings with no promise of reward…This sophisticated behavior, which requires an understanding of both currency and the needs of others, has only been described in primates before…”
Holy ahit
Cursed: you taught the birds about money
Blessed: they became communists
Corvids also do this. Crows will also hold a grudge against another crow who refuses to behave cooperatively.
"yes im alterhuman but i dont think im actually physically an animal. no i DONT have clinical lycanthropy thats a MENTAL ILLNESS!! my alterhumanity would NEVER be part of a mental illness, how dare you"
🚩
"endels, clinical lycanthropes, and other somatic delusional people can NEVER TRULY be otherkin, therian, or another type of alterhuman. their experiences are mental illness, NOT Real alterhumanity"
🚩
"p-shifters and clinical lycanthropes are the exact same thing and are equally dangerous and i refuse to learn otherwise"
🚩
"clinical lycanthropes are a threat to alterhumanity"
🚩
"i dont care if YOU think youre physically nonhuman, I DONT so im not going to respect your identity by referring to you as physically nonhuman/unalive/etc"
🚩
"Real alterhumans know theyre physically human"
🚩
Yes. I support all of this. Y’all belong in the alterhuman community.
I just read an article about a teenage girl who killed her rapist. She could have been sentenced to 20 years in prison but instead was sentenced to probation, community service, extreme supervision, and paying the rapist's family $150,000. I don't believe she should have faced prison, nor be forced to pay her rapist's family $150,000. I was concerned about whether she killed him out of self defense and a need to escape or instead out of revenge, which apparently it was mostly the latter. So I can see where the decision to kill him wasn't necessary. Obviously it's not good to kill everyone who wrongs others. But what got to me about the article I read was one specific part. This girl was abused, homeless, raped at a homeless shelter, and then sex trafficked before being raped by the man multiple times. And this is what the article had to say:
She needs to be taught...accountability? What...??? How is she accountable for being an abused, homeless, sex trafficked child???? How was it her choice to be abused, homeless, and sex trafficked? And especially as a CHILD?! How was it her choice to "stumble into the life" of being abused and homeless and sex trafficked??? How did she make decisions that made her "vulnerable to exploitation by other persons???" And frankly, how the FUCK is someone else exploiting you YOUR fault?! Like it's her fault she was abused and escaped that abuse, causing her to be homeless? It's her fault she was raped at a homeless shelter and was on the streets trying to survive in any way she could? It was her fault that she took the only offered shelter by someone who ended up sex trafficking her? What fucking "accountability" does she need to fucking take here?! There is in no way a view in which she isn't a victim!!! It's just incredible the wording and victim-blaming ideologies at play in this case and article.
Bro they're flying the Aboriginal flag at half mast outside my work... Because the queen of England died...
Anyway, colonial propaganda aside, here's the statement made by Warlpiri elder Ned Jampijinpa Hargraves
Second statement Ned Jampijinpa Hargraves made responding to criticism he got for being disrespectful to the queen
Tjukulpa: Owners of land/lore, Kurrawari: Custom
I’m very excited for my latest craft experiment, where I rhythmically slap sale rank oil paint onto a canvas and I see how long it takes to dry so that I can finally touch the paint textures I stare at so longingly in museums. 12 hours in, still wet. I am beginning to think this might take longer than I thought which you can imagine is quite a burden, as I am absolutely horned up to rub this paint.
You guys sound like you know what you’re talking about but I’m gonna touch it every twenty minutes just to be sure
I’ve put this canvas to age in the basement like a fine wine, along another recent masterpiece of mine “I put the paint on me hand and I slap the canvas like a bongo”
Paint slapped on 6/9, as of 6/22 (I mean actually it was a couple days ago but I didn’t fully check the dryness then so I can’t be sure):
It is rubbery feeling and the peaks of paint move when you flick them. The texture is not at ALL what I expected tbh and it makes me excited to try a different experiment, thick brush strokes, you know, those mad thicc ones that swirl real good
Here’s an additional shot with my coffee cup for a further sense of scale so people will understand that these canvases are small and therefore stop sending me asks about my supposedly gorilla sized hands, you bastards, you rotten bastards scared of the hands your minds gave me
babyorchidaceae
I don’t know shit about art but isn’t this like a great example of art that pushes the boundaries of what art is? Like you’ve got your canvas with paint on it, but your reason for putting the paint there is totally different than why most people put paint on stuff. It’s like a study on texture or something.
Agreed, this is really cool and also I love the fact that you really wanted to touch some paint, so you just went out and bought a bunch of paint and made your own painting for touching purposes. That’s striking me as really really cool right now for reasons I can’t entirely articulate.
For reference: Really thick paint on a piece of art is called impasto. Another really fun way to do it is with a painting knife: you can make each stroke SUPER SMOOTH like cake icing, but with visible, touchable texture between the strokes.
More impasto:
art by Jan Ironside, who does THICK IMPASTO FLOWERS THAT I SO WANT TO TOUCH
You LITERALLY sat down to watch paint dry…
Museums should have stuff like this on display JUST so you can touch it. With a sign like, “Feel me up! I won’t alarm!”
make good art
Only thing about thick impasto is that the paint can get a bit sharp sometimes. Like, I’ve cut my hand on dried impasto paint because the paint stroke was that pointed. -.-;
Every reply on this post is delightful
sorry this is not relevant at all but ive seen this post many times and EVERY SINGLE TIME “ stop sending me asks about my supposedly gorilla sized hands, you bastards, you rotten bastards scared of the hands your minds gave me” makes me spiral ive never laughed so hard thank you
i really admire the design for these stairs and how they incorporate a wheelchair access ramp. in a world were barrier free design is essential to living a full and happy life, its amazing to see landscape architect Cornelia Oberlander has taken literal steps to design stairs AROUND a ramp, instead of the other way around.
crown-of-weeds
This is beautiful.
Form AND function excuse me while I die
sad-commie
OH I REALLY LIKE THIS
This is beautiful and inclusive and not othering and I love this. With something as important as public space architecture? I mean, think about the anti-homeless architecture that was on our dash a few months back. Compare it to THIS. I love this. Really and truly.
Beautiful design, but read the notes. It’s completely nonfunctional for the actual needs of those with mobility issues.
Yeah... Where the fuck are the guard rails? This is incredibly dangerous. Someone could easily get killed on this ramp. This is a clear example of abled people not actually asking disabled people what they need for accessibility.
Dear ableds. Don't just decide what we need. Ask us. Making assumptions like this is actively harmful. This is a place where people in wheelchairs can't get where they're going at all because the people in charge don't realize there's a problem. They're gonna have to make an actually functional ramp next to this.
It’s so fascinating to me that we’ve only been breeding Komodo dragons in captivity for thirty years. In that time, our understanding of them has actually really revolutionized the way we understand the social lives and behaviors of lizards in general, and it’s mostly thanks to this lady right here, who was born 30 years ago on September 13, 1992.
Kraken was the first Komodo to be bred in captivity. She hatched out at GMU, but was raised at the National Zoo. Her parents were wild-caught dragons- there’s still WC dragons in the AZA today- and this one specific individual probably did more to revolutionize lizard care in professional settings than any other individual lizard throughout zoo history.
Until Kraken, social enrichment wasn’t a thing people thought about. It wasn’t something anybody felt was necessary for lizards, because they were just… lizards. Sure, some keepers would play with their favorites, but it wasn’t until the National Zoo started documenting what she was doing that anybody realized how much Komodo dragons like to play with us too.
Kraken’s not in that video, but she’s the one who inspired all of the social studies that have been done on captive Komodo dragons. When she was at the National Zoo, her keepers started getting curious when, for no apparent reason, she kept gingerly stealing things from peoples’ pockets and tugging on their shoelaces. So they started giving her stuff- Frisbees, blankets, soda cans, anything she showed an interest in.
She played with them, just like a mammal might. The way play behavior is described in psychology is a given activity that’s voluntary, repeated, and conducted under “relatively benign” circumstances. Keeper staff found that her conduct during the study met all of these criteria. “Kraken,” they wrote, had clearly demonstrated “play-like behavior with objects and even with humans (tug-of-war).” Moreover, she “could discriminate between prey and nonprey” while showing “varying responses” with different items (rubber rings, shoes, etc.). (There’s an excellent book on Komodo dragons that has an entire chapter devoted to her.)
Kraken died several years ago, but her legacy continues today. There’s several of her descendants still in the AZA, and the intelligence and social needs she demonstrated led to the improvement of life for these guys- and other lizards. The Komodo dragon program has been an eye opener, not just for reptile conservation, but for understanding reptile intelligence and how this incredible clade of animals functions.
my friends have a cat who self identifies as a "boy" and uses he/him pronouns
we know this because he is owned by two lesbians who don't have very many he/him friends, so when they say "he" or "him" or "boy" they're usually referring to their cat, so their cat has started responding whenever somebody says "boy" or "he" by running up and looking at them expectantly. so he's a cat that has pronouns
This is the boy. By the way
Just a few short months ago, the UK was admonishing Russia for repressing protests against its invasion of Ukraine...
blank sign protests will never stop being fucking awesome for the way they make police look like complete tools
This is clever.
It also makes the point that the thing being protested is so universally hated that they don’t need a sign for anyone to know what they are protesting.
There seems to be a proliferation of Goth kitchen utensils, lately. This is the bat spatula, or “batula,” if you will.
via gothic home decor enthusiasts
Or, in @thebibliosphere’s literary world, a kink accessory.
Hgsk. I’m not sure I’d recommend it for impact play, but boy the marks would be cute.
Look, I know facile trope inversion is for weenies, but I still really want to see a JRPG-style game where the shouty teenage boy who gives long speeches about the power of friendship is the fragile healer and the girl with the gentle piano-and-strings theme song and self-sacrificing “must save everyone” attitude is the melee tank. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here.
I’m not even being ironic – I honestly think it would work better that way. Like, let’s put power-of-friendship boy in a position where he actually needs to rely on his friends to get anything done, rather than just talking about how they’ve inspired him while he solos the final boss. And as for Little Miss Messiah Complex, well, tell me you can’t perfectly picture how the standard tank protagonist move where you intercept a blow meant for a critically wounded party member, facetank a fucktillion points of damage, then get back up again with one hit point and a voice quip about how the baddies will have to do better than that would play out under her idiom. You can see it, right?
People in the notes are looking at the second one saying “that’s just She-Ra, that’s just–” no, it isn’t. Gentle piano-and-strings theme song, remember? It’s essential that each archetype’s stock personality remain intact, and only the role changes.
She’s sweet. She’s humble. She wears homespun dresses and grows pretty flowers in her free time. She has that vibe that says “I’m going to die halfway through the game to make my boyfriend sad”, except that doesn’t happen, because the baddies don’t have a big enough gun.
I want to see the obligatory scene where the bad guy’s army is burning down her Beloved Peasant Village™, and she’s standing between the evil commander and a group of soulful orphans, begging with tears in her eyes for him to see that there’s already been enough death – except when he callously rejects her entreaties and moves to backhand her out of the way, she catches his armoured fist mid-swing, without even the faintest tremor of effort, and in a tone of infinite patience informs him: “You misunderstand, sir: it’s not our lives I’m pleading for.”
And then she punches people until all the soldiers run away and feels conflicted about it afterwards.
Okay I cannot overstate how much I want this.
“The prince just fell in love with Cinderella because of her looks!”
Wrong. Okay, picture this–
So there’s the prince, okay? He’s like, smack dab in the center of the ballroom, and he is like, horrifically aware that this whole ball thing is a result of his dad falling into a panic about the royal lineage or whatever and he’s stuck listening to highborn girl after highborn girl, all lined up, introducing themselves like, “Oh yeah my family’s been a longtime supporter of the crown, and I think you’re cute, *cough* I’ve been told I have child-bearing hips *cough* Who said that? Anyway–” and Princey boy is just smiling through it, he has been the center of attention for entirely too long, he misses his emotional support horse, and is just internally like “Someone please kill me now.” And then… he sees her–This isn’t a love at first sight thing, this is a ‘what the hell is going on over there’ thing, because this girl has not gotten into the Debutante line for a solid 45 minutes.
She’s just at the hors d’oeuvres table going HAM on the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, and like, she’s polite about it, she’s happy to move aside for other people grabbing punch and canapes (and she’s really so sweet with the wait staff, it’s kind of cute because they’re like… definitely not used to being acknowledged) but it’s like, “Damn girl, did you not eat today?” and then the prince is kind of stuck with the uncomfortable thought of ‘how many girls starved themselves to fit into a corset for this.’ And then the Prince realizes he’s missed the past 4 Debutante introductions because he’s watching Mystery girl hork down crab rangoons. So he’s like, “Excuse me” and manages to break free from the never-ending parade of girls who will hop on his dick for status.
And as he’s approaching Mystery Girl, it’s kind of hitting him that something’s not quite natural about her. Not fake, but not quite real. But at the same time this whole evening’s been just a whole circus of people acting fake as hell, so like, someone seeming a little off doesn’t seem bad, necessarily. And he sidles up to her like, “Hi,” and she’s like, “Oh–hey, have you tried the tapenade?” and she points to one of the plates, and at this point, he could hit her with the “You don’t know who I am, do you?” deal or the “Very funny, I see your play” deal, but at this point it occurs to him that, no, he hasn’t had anything to eat throughout this whole damn ball, partially because of being stuck in the debutante parade, partially because of nerves, and there’s something so disarming about the question that he grabs a crostini and she still seems so food-focused that it doesn’t seem possible that this is a play. So they both grab little plates and ditch the party.
She pretty much clears her plate in under two minutes and then has half of his plate, he’s cool with it, mostly he’s just absolutely fascinated listening to her.
See here’s the thing about Cinderella:
1. She doesn’t know he’s the prince. Like yeah, he’s been at the center of the room, but she’s kind of spent half the party eagerly looking around everywhere she’s allowed to go (”Have you seen rose garden? Have you seen the solarium??” further confirmation that she doesn’t know who she’s talking to) and the other half stuffing her face with food.
2. She assumes she’s never going to see anyone here tonight again, and no one recognizes her, so she has no filter.
So she’s just talking about whatever with this guy. He seems cool. She talks about her friends, who are rats. She makes little outfits for them. Sometimes they bring her little gifts. She is already the coolest person the prince has ever met because of this. She pretty much offhandedly talks about whatever is fucked up about the kingdom that would take his advisors two hours of hemming and hawing and watering down to address. She just says it like it’s nothing, just funky little things she’s observed, and again, she’s not aware that he’s the prince, but it’s still pretty damn bold to bring up at a literal royal ball.
She… seems to have the majority of graces that lots of girls from Respectable Families™ have, but there’s something strange about it, something simultaneously broken and hardened, like the way you can see where ice has thawed and re-frozen. Also the way she talks about her family, and the way she avoids talking about her family– is raising several red flags, not in the “Oh this is another person trying to take advantage of me” sense, but in the “Oh fuck, something’s gone really wrong and you need help” sense and also lowkey a ‘damn is she even getting fed?’ sense. But he can’t say, ‘Hey, that’s not fucking normal for people to say that to you or treat you that way. We need to get you out of there,’ without sounding crazy himself, so for now, he’s just going to chill, make sure she’s comfortable, and keep enjoying the evening. She’s somehow befriended like 4 of the waitstaff so they’re willing to cover for them while they disappear for a little bit, and they get plenty of time to talk, but eventually it hits her that she hasn’t danced yet and she’s like “Come on! I bet we can make the prince jealous!” and he just bursts out laughing at that like “hell yeah, let’s make the prince jealous. He’s a real asshole.” Like clearly she’s having a good time, so who is he to make it weird? So they head back to the ballroom and they dance. And our girl, Mystery Girl, Cinderella, while they’re dancing, becomes acutely aware that everyone is staring. That doesn’t seem quite right. Like, yeah she’s hot, she knows she’s hot, but at least a good third of the party should still be focused on the prince, right? Where is that guy, anyway?
Oh.
Oh wait.
Oh shit.
And Princey Boy actually picks up on her realization and they whisper argue for like 3 minutes. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Now I feel like a goddamn idiot!” “I dunno it was nice being treated like a normal person” “Well me treating you like a normal person makes me a goddamn felon or something did you consider that?!” “Hey–Hey–it’s cool–you’re cool–I think you’re amazing, and if anyone says shit about you, I can shut it down.” “Well I don’t like that! That’s fucked up!” “I agree. It is fucked up, but I believe in you, and I think you should have a chance, and I’m here to back you up. I know power is fucked up right now. I know. But are you cool with working with me to change that?” And our girl Cindy pauses on that for a couple seconds, because.. she’s just spent hours with this guy and like.. she knows he’s a good guy, she knows he means well, so she’s like, “I don’t know how long I can actually work with you.” and the prince is like “Look, I know your home situation is complicated right now, but I really think we can–”
And then the bell starts ringing.
It’s midnight.
And then she takes off in a panic, and our prince just met the coolest person ever, and like, he’s pretty sure whatever situation they’re headed back to is fucked up, and all he’s got going to find her is a shoe. A shoe.
the only way this works for me is if he also has prosopagnosia, aka facial blindness. in any version of this story, it’s just ludicrous to think that he can’t even string together a physical description of her. but this was total gold. i want to see a cinderella who horks down crab rangoons and has no filter lol
Ah yeah prosopagnosia, a reasonable explanation, however that lends to the other plot hole that there were countless others at the ball who could have recognized our girl Cinderella, including her Stepmother and Stepsisters. If the evil Stepfam recognized her, it would be all over.
Thankfully the Fairy Godmother thought of something for that.
So picture Cindy, she’s in the garden under the hazel tree where her mother was buried, she’s just gotten the kickass dress, she’s doing the skirt twirlies, she’s checking herself out in the reflection of the garden fountain, and all of a sudden this horrible realization falls on her and she whirls over to look at her Fairy Godmother like, “WAIT. If my stepmother recognizes me, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”
And Fairy Godmother is just like, “Oh pffft kiddo don’t sweat it. There’s a memory charm stitched into the dress.”
“Memory charm?”
“Oh yeah. Fae standard. There’s already illusion spells on the dress so no one’s gonna recognize you, and like… once the dress and the carriage and everything disappear at midnight, pretty much the only space you’ll occupy in people’s brains is like… they’ll basically remember you as a cloud of white noise. A talking cloud of white noise–they’ll remember what you say, but not the sound of your voice.”
“I don’t know what white noise is.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Wait–” Cindy perks up, “Everything’s going to disappear at midnight?”
“Yep. Everything,” The fairy godmother is smacking her wand against her palm, trying to figure out how much juice is still in it.
And then this ripple passes over Cinderella’s face. “Even the slippers?”
“The slippers?” The fairy godmother glances up.
“I just…” Cinderella fidgets with her dress a little, “I really like them. They’re so pretty and there’s… I’ve never seen anything like them in my life. I wouldn’t sell them or anything, and I know It would be much harder to hide the dress so I figured I couldn’t keep it… but… I just hoped I might have something so I’d know this night wasn’t a dream. Just something to take out from time to time and look at…” She seems to catch herself and straighten up a little. “But I understand. You’ve already done so much, I should be thankful for–”
And Fairy Godmother is massaging her temples like “Urrrghhhh oh god you’re making the face–Okay. OKAY. I’m bending like 15 rules for this but…” she snaps her fingers and the slippers on Cinderella’s feel just a little heavier, “There you go. The shoes are physical and permanent. But hey–HEY–keep track of them. This means the memory and illusion charms don’t work on them. These are going to be the only recognizable things about you from this night. You got it?”
And Cindy nods.
“I mean it! After this it’s going to be months before I can muster up enough magic to turn into a starling murmuration and peck your stepfamily’s eyes out. So I can’t protect you before then.”
“…w-what about pecking out eyes–?”
“Okay! Ball time! Go kiddo, go! Go! Go! Get in the carriage! Go!”
1. Excellent.
2. As an adult, I just feel like that fairy should have been able to provide more substantial help then the ticket to the ball + accessories. Like maybe money and a ticket out of town at an earlier point?
It took the fairy godmother a very long time to first come into existence as a fairy (From the hazel tree Cinderella’s father planted) and then it took her even longer to become a fairy godmother because the other fairy godmothers had to keep explaining to her, “No we don’t kill people.”
“What are you talking about. We’re fairies. We kill people all the time.”
“Yes, other fairies do that, but we don’t.”
“But what if they suck, though?”
“Fairy Godmothering isn’t about curses and punishment.”
“I think we should be able to kill people.”
*sigh* “Erlking help me…”
“The Erlking would kill these clowns!”
So keep in mind that Fairy Godmother is wearing the Fairy equivalent of an ankle monitor when she’s finally able to help Cindy.
“What are you talking
about. We’re fairies. We kill
people all the time.”
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.