manure piles

pile-o-manure  asked:

What do you think was Sasuke's reaction to Sarada's birth? Holding her for the first time? Personally, I can see him tearing up at least a little at those moments.

When he held her for the first time, then yeah I can definitely see Sasuke tearing up just a little, while Sakura held his hand, and Karin looked on with a sad smile at the new family :)

If Jamie and Claire (and Murtagh) could text: 1x02 Edition (after arriving @ Leoch)
  • Murtagh: jamie lad ?
  • Murtagh: whr in gds name are ye ?
  • Murtagh: been lookin all over
  • Murtagh: Its been over a day!!
  • Murtagh: Where are ye??
  • Jamie: nothing not been up to anything at all
  • Murtagh: ....
  • Jamie: i mean
  • Jamie: STABLES!
  • Jamie: how are you?
  • Jamie: Tell me in detail how your day's been?
  • Murtagh: no
  • Murtagh: you
  • Murtagh: tell me *now*
  • Jamie: tell what?
  • Murtagh: whatever yev been doin that's got ye squirmin like a bairn thts shat his pants
  • Jamie: buggershitebleeding
  • Murtagh: what have ye been doin jamie???
  • Jamie: NOTHING, aye?
  • Murtagh: Let me guess:
  • Murtagh: went against myorders to ///steer clear/// of the wee ssnch lassie??
  • Jamie: no
  • Jamie: *definitely* not
  • Murtagh: lad.
  • Murtagh: cmon
  • Murtagh: you're terribl @ this
  • Jamie: Lorna the scullerymarm was JUST telling me how fine and oily your beard is looking today.
  • Jamie: you should pay her a calL!
  • Jamie: *now* would be a GREAT time!
  • Murtagh: JAMES ALEXANDER MALCOLM MACKENZIE FRASER
  • Jamie: oh jesus
  • Jamie: i dinna think ye've ever said my entire name to me
  • Jamie: and fck ye used all caps!! 😳
  • Murtagh: WEEL
  • Murtagh: THT WAS ACCIDENT
  • Murtagh: HOW TO TURN OFF?
  • Jamie: hehe
  • Murtagh: YER IN ENOUGH TROUBL AS IS, WEE SMOUT
  • Murtagh: TELL ME NOW OR I THROW U IN MANURE PILE
  • Jamie: double tap the lil arrow on the left
  • Murtagh: got it
  • Jamie: k, have a good time wi' Lorna , see you at week end !!
  • Murtagh: No no no no not that easy lad
  • Murtagh: tell me what **exactly*** ye did to the lass
  • Murtagh: even tho i told ye not to have anything to do wi' her
  • Jamie: it was nothing at all
  • Murtagh: waiting
  • Jamie: fine, twas naught but a wee chat
  • Jamie: but omg guess what??
  • Jamie: she's NOT MARRIED!!
  • Jamie: She's WIDOWED!!!!
  • Jamie: ISNA THAT THE BEST NEWS???????
  • Murtagh: nevr takin ye to a funeral *ever*
  • Jamie: I mean
  • Jamie: of course its verra sad for the lass
  • Jamie: 😔 god rest his soul etc etc
  • Jamie: ....but its good to know, aye?
  • Jamie: verra good
  • Jamie: verra verra verra verra good
  • Murtagh: so that's it? ye talked about her dead husband?
  • Murtagh: that's all that happened?
  • Jamie: .... uh huh
  • Murtagh: jamie.
  • Murtagh: I've got a vrra stern face on right now
  • Murtagh: TALK FFS.
  • Jamie: dinna wanna say
  • Murtagh: NOW
  • Murtagh: WHT DID YE DO
  • Jamie: lethertakeoffmyshirt
  • Jamie: and also touchmymuscles
  • Jamie: i mean *bandage me
  • Jamie: and then i
  • Jamie: um
  • Jamie: comforted her
  • Murtagh: ye **whatt**
  • Jamie: just snuggled her a little while she snugglecried intomyshoulder
  • Jamie: andthen
  • Jamie: there was
  • Jamie: a long lingering *oh haiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIii*** kind of gaze between us
  • Jamie: so....IN SHORT, nothing at all really
  • Murtagh: oh aye? Half-naked cuddling is nothing at all????
  • Jamie: just...
  • Jamie: _the single best hour of my life_
  • Jamie: stillcryingboutitcausehappy
  • Murtagh: oh for gods blessed fucking sake
  • Jamie: HER HAIR SMELLS LIKE A FIELD OF GRASS, MURTAGH
  • Jamie: A FIELD OF SWEET EARTHY GRASS
  • Jamie: AND I WANT TO PLOW IT
  • Murtagh: oh jesus
  • Murtagh: am i going to be a great-godfather soon?
  • Jamie: NOT LIKE THAT
  • Jamie: well....I mean....
  • Jamie: Yes. yes precisely like that
  • Jamie: ((i mean have you SEEn her???))
  • Jamie: but not until i've plowed her HEART-FIELD too
  • Murtagh: YIKES x infinity
  • Jamie: after we're wed of course
  • Jamie: and then I can plow her heart-field AND her field-field
  • Jamie: OOOO! _in an ACTUAL field_
  • Jamie: preferably the one @ LLB
  • Jamie: up by the broch
  • Jamie: dye think that's the bst one?
  • Jamie: tell me
  • Jamie: is there a better field?
  • Jamie: come on tell me which field
  • Jamie: this is important
  • Jamie: whyve ye gone all quiet?
  • Murtagh: talkin to the blacksmith about fashioning somethin to chain yer foot to the stable
  • Jamie: oh thats fine
  • Jamie: she's walking up the hill to the stable as we speak, so i dinna mind being tied up here 🙂🙃😍🙂🙃😍🙂🙃😍🙂🙃😍
  • Murtagh: for fucks sake
  • Jamie: ok putting phone away, gotta act like i dinna see her coming
  • Jamie: Wish me luck!!!!!!!!
  • Murtagh: NO PLOWING OF ***ANY**** KINDS OF FIELDS, D'YE HEAR????

A collaboration between myself, and @varvau

Story is conveyed and built with uncountable methods. A creator’s ability must transcend the Great Lie into Great Truth through varying degrees of Originality, often misidentified with the expression, “Everything’s been done, nothing new.” Lottery ball machines are, mostly, identical but their drawn numbers are unique. Traditional weddings in the Americas happen every week; no two are exactly the same. Originality concerns execution, not the fact something exists. With execution comes perspective. 


Ponder the story above. It is about trade, or is it? Certainly a subject, this trade, for an exchange of items is quite occurring. One could prattle endless an account of these creatures sharing daily trade with nothing more said. If that be the inclination expressed, all within earshot must question the extent of that speaker’s exposure to other cultures and their varying forms of relaying information. 

“But, this is a piece of fiction, it’s not serious!” speak many detractors of those seeking to create stories and worlds for a living, and later express devout love for, you guessed, another work of fiction. Twelve years ago, as of this writing, I was told by a doctor, who knew me since Grade V, my pursuit in creating stories and worlds was a “fantasy”, that I should speak with her whenever I “wished to return to the real world”. Quite, she did not believe in the profession of writing in general. Her entire practice depends on literature. That she worked with youths only increased the importance of fiction in their development—yet there she was, advising someone against creating new things, and making their own life decisions. I had, some years earlier than this encounter, decided for myself the what’s-to-do. I’ve not revisited that doctor, and never will.

Works of fiction are quite real for their creators, and some refer to their work as children. Readers identify with fiction for various reasons, and to them it may be more real than what is. A fictional world can be fabulous or grotesque, and still escape from ugly reality. Experiencing a foreign culture grants the same effect. One can tell a good story alone, a great story set in a well-designed world, or if they choose: deliver an immersion in time and place. The decision depends on goals.

Suppose you were dropped there, in that market, without knowledge of local culture, and didn’t die of shock at the sight of non-human beings, who bear likeness to our feral beasts, engaging in very human-like behavior. They don’t speak your language, no guides exist in your first, second, third, or any language familiar. Perhaps, you’re a linguist and realize none of their languages match recognizable lingual families.


In your face there’s scent as language, unless they’ve come to ignore or subdue natural body odor as humans did. It doesn’t factor within your ears, the possibility they employ hypersonic and subsonic sounds humans cannot perceive without specialized equipment, but—oh dear— you’re not naturalist with such equipment or deign leave a comfortable living for work in the middle of nowhere without many modern conveniences.

You quickly realize they posses no mobile phones, digital music players, any sort of advanced electronics, the internal combustion engine, telegraphs and wire transfer, gas lighting, and manure piles in the streets from who-knows-what that pulls their carts—if they did, then a copy- paste from the human world they wouldn’t be. How ever will you survive when so much isn’t

standard for your time and place? Maybe you should “try everything”, the worst advice ever given, except on desperation or a four-for-one sale at Inspired By de Sade. Following it may result in your demise.

The Didelphimorph on the right sells textiles and foodstuffs. Isn’t that nice? But…can you eat, let alone touch it? Is the Caniform vulnerable to certain foods the other may consume without problem? We’ve plants here, on Earth by example, quite hostile. Nasty little things like Gympie (Dendrocnide moroides), a perfectly normal horse-killer from hell that inflicts enough pain victims prefer suicide. Or, perhaps, your fancy is Manchineel (Hippomane mancinella), the adorably named Beach Apple. That one, dear, is truthfully a botanical death machine: a drop of moisture runoff from this tree blisters skin and corrodes automotive paint. Do you want to blister skin and corrode automotive paint? That’s how you blister skin and corrode automotive paint.


And don’t even think about the water. Travel between countries on your own planet, and you’ll find water of varying qualities to which the local population is immune, but you are not.

Your advantage is disadvantage. For the purposes of this example, they’ve no idea you’re even present. And, in regards to this specific civilization, where would you be without Jerome and myself? We’re to blame for dragging you into this otherworldly soiree where you’ve stuck a spoon in the ceiling but hey, you’re still alive. What’s mundane and automatic for this place is unknown for you: a language of Color, Shape, and Posture.

Let us start with the Caniform left, so eager to spend money. Upon his cape are two layers. Green, in local culture, is life and fertility while Brown’s is commonality of the every day. Technically, it is an off-white baize, but still counts as Brown.

That he wears a cape, not a tunic, tells of simplicity, good spirits, and the colors that he is newly wed and possibly expecting to become a father or has adopted a youth. The ceremony was not extravagant, a casual affair with a small number of close friends and relatives. Take note: local culture. His own native, that he’s possibly abandoned, may not define marriage in the same way, or practice it. Their definition of the “family unit” having two parents may not be.

Continuing down to his pantaloons, here again Green, and White. He comes from a lineage of relatively healthy individuals for legs carry the continuity of bloodlines. White is preparedness, but may speak inexperience and innocence towards the large change in his life. The Black tassels on the closure of his satchel indicate he contemplated life behind a sword; that they dangle free means he chose against, for warriors don’t wear needless items an enemy could grab and use against them.


On Shape, the leading edge of his cape being that color proclaims he’s nothing hidden and the vertical lines in his pantaloons speak twice: Green for a very stable family with little to no internal drama. White for a family young, perhaps 1-3 generations old, not big enough for a massive number of non-immediate members. 

On Posture, outwardly it is engaged in business. His open paws forward money and show he intends no harm. That he stands over the Didelphimorph is protection—he’s watching for anyone who’d steal. If he were bent, leveling their eyes, then an abrasive or unfriendly challenge it would become.

The Didelphimorph also wears a shade of White upon his legs, inexperienced where he is, possibly having moved from another region, or country, and is learning this new place. 

Upon his tunic is the survival and security of Blue. By wearing it close to his face, he proclaims status as a merchant who will not price gouge, dependable with good reputation of maintaining stock, and believes in honesty first. The shade lacks vividness; he is not fond for usurping local government. Here, wearing complete vivid blue on more than 25% of one’s clothes is punishable by execution. The golden bangle indicates prosperity, and that he recently wed.

On Shape, the off-white motif of an arch on the tunic suggests inexperience or preparedness in one particular aspect. The style refers to a building designed for residents, and he has acquired a living space. However, in local mental health definitions of shape, it means “halfway to stability”. This creature suffered from something tragic or debilitating in his past, but has over come it. That the arch is placed on the sleeve indicates confinement of some kind, either physical or social. The leading edge, also of the same color, reinforces his honesty as like the Caniform’s cape reinforces simplicity. Upon his bangle, the circle in his native culture describes a marriage under strict contract, the addition of ovals define immense flexibility within that contract.

On Posture, that his eyes are not on the Caniform entrusts he won’t be attacked, and accepts the other’s protection. They are likely very familiar with each other for the money is not set upon any surface, but held. The Didelphimorph, what most would call an opossum, does not have naturally exquisite eyesight. He’s near sighted, the Caniform knows it, and is aware his kind are mostly nocturnal yet the mid-day sun is high. Here is a merchant pushing his work hours into time of day when he should be asleep.

Bonus Material: The Red Textile

On Color, Red is power, therefore anyone who wears or places for decoration expresses it. Yellow carries various definitions, among them wealth. Black is self-moderation.

On Shape, triangles are important. The diamonds consist of two incomplete triangles, a sign of wealth shared, not hoarded. A bearer gives money to richer folk for investments in various causes, pays their fair taxes, and also gives to the needy below. The inverted, incomplete Yellow triangles near the Black X’s tell of one who gives more to the needy than to the rich. The Black X’s themselves are not viewed as two intersecting lines, but four incomplete triangles, designating establishment of inner peace. The Black Zigzag references inner peace despite unpredictability in life while the Yellow lines around it carry a second, separate definition from the above: financial stability is nearly unbreakable no matter what problems arise. Triangles without bases represent openness and invitation.

Bonus Material: The Money

On Color, the government that issued these notes considers all money equal, no matter who and what circumstances it derives, according to Brown. This includes money from illicit activities with varying stages of illegality and socially negativity. As long as it is legal tender, the government attaches no moral stigma to inanimate money even if it punishes the crime and may deal in shades.

On Shape, the rectangle declares stability of the mint, and the circle is “unchanging”. This society does not rate its money vs. others, being the prime standard. It sets boundary that it does not tolerate counterfeiting, punished by execution for the rectangle is also a block.

Unrelated factors aligned over many centuries, coming together at that precise instant and place, themselves forebears of the future in every aspect where physical and social sciences interact.  

This is World Discipline, more commonly known as Geography. Words are not required, though certainly they help. Walk into a bar in the United States, expect a full serving of beer as the definition of good service, and half considered bad. In another country, let alone world, a full serving of beer may be a local means of saying one should drink and leave, whereas a half- serving means stay: enjoy yourself, and what this place has to offer.

Falling Away

Written for @leiascully‘s XFWritingChallenge Prompt: Resentment.
Slightly NSFW.


The desk was just one of the symbols. The missing nameplate on the door. There were countless others, too. The assumption by those they met in the field that they must be fucking, and good on him. The reports he never wrote. His martyrdom to whatever cause or conspiracy he was chasing that week left her trailing in his arrogant wake with her rationalisations, her science and her questions that sometimes bordered on petty.

And then Diana had placed herself in his line of sight with a motive that was at best dubious and at worst devious. Scully’s resentment of Diana and of Mulder’s trust in her was stretched and thinned so that it shone with a brilliance that sometimes blinded her better judgement.

Sometimes Mulder’s ignorance to the facts astounded her. For six years she had been sceptic to his believer, scientist to his dreamer, brought logic to his theories. He’d told her not so long ago that he needed her, that she made him a whole person. Now, she felt like a shadow.

           She packed her bag with a deal of reluctance. Heading to California to play house with Mulder was not exactly the optimal way to start back on The X Files.

“The Falls has consistently been voted…”

“I read the brief too, Mulder.”

“This case, Scully. It’s like for trainee agents. Kersh was a fuckwit, but I don’t get why we’re being given shit like this.”

“It’s better than the piles of doo-doo we were investigating, Mulder. Just enjoy the fact that this case has unusual hallmarks and we have been given an opportunity to investigate the festering underbelly of middle America, instead of festering piles of manure. It smells a whole lot better from my perspective.”

“It’s still crap, Scully.”

“You’d better not sulk for this whole time, Mulder.”

“Sulk? I think you’ve mistaken me for the other partner.”

“What?” It sounded snarkier than she intended. He turned his chin slightly, enjoying his little victory.

“When we disagree, you get this righteous look of indignation and you give me the silent treatment.”

“Mulder, I am not a teenaged girl. If I disagree with you, and let’s face it, there have been a multitude of times where we have debated a point, I will listen to your argument and offer my own. I do not sulk.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

He flexed his fingers over the steering wheel and she saw him quirk a smile into the mirror on his visor. She pressed her forehead against the window and watched life on the outside blend and haze.

Keep reading

Quotes From Last Night’s Game

“If we’re going to die, we’re going to do it in a dungeon!” - the cleric

“No more month-long ‘vacations’ in the swamp” - the wizard

“We just want to let the guy know we know stuff too.” - the rogue 

“Can we change his name to Sir Turd Ferguson?” - the barbarian 

“This guy could sell a horse in under a minute!” - the fighter 

“When they get back, I fuck around with them for about 20 minutes before I let them back on the airship” - the fighte

“I am not going back to that noble district for like 100 years” - the monk 

“Trident. Didn’t work” - the barbarian on the magical trident 

“You should use your winged boots like a hoverboard and cause someone to crash in to a pile of manure” - the barbarian to the rogue

“Who is this guy? Can I murder him?” - the rogue

“Give me the strongest whiskey you have, I’ll chug a gallon of it and purify myself” - the rogue after being poisoned

“I’m meditating in shame in the corner” - the monk, after tragic failure rolls 

“It’s a pig party!” -the DM

“And we’re just chanting 'BEAR! BEAR! BEAR!’” -the barbarian 

“But instead, you got to pee on some goblins” - the barbarian 

“You’ve been spending time with an endless wine cask and a bear.” - the DM 

“Here, buddy, I brought you an entire roasted pig.” - the rogue “Did you at least wrap it in tin foil?” - the fighter

“I’m waiting for my magic items like a kid standing at the mailbox” - the fighter 

“Somewhere on the ethereal plane, there’s just a cloud of vomit” - the rogue 

“I’m just sitting in my room imagining the rest of the party is off giving money to the poor” - the cleric (we’re drinking)

“Do you ever have one of those days where you just want to eat mashed potatoes until you die?” - the rogue 

“"We should put a cool flame paint job on the airship, decepticon stickers on the back” - the rogue 

“You can’t take him to the nobles, he looks like a rotten avocado” - the fighter on the acid-burned wizard

“Don’t leave the place all sticky while we’re gone.” - the rogue “I’m going to drink a slurpee in the pilot’s seat!” - the fighter

“I’ll stay behind, but only if you guys leave me the everfull wineskin” - the fighter 

“We need a magical airship dock” - the fighter 

“Barbarians practice anti-yoga” - the barbarian

anonymous asked:

Laughing headcanons for the royal retainers?

Hoshido:

  • Saizo - Did he laugh? Did he not laugh? It’s a mystery. Once, someone reportedly heard the smallest ‘heh’ coming from the space around Saizo’s head… But honestly, Saizo’s laugh is like a mythical artifact; impossible to find and most likely nonexistent. People have spent far too much money on betting whether or not they could get Saizo to laugh.
  • Kagero - She enunciates her laugh, it’s weirdest thing. It’s quiet, but you can hear very distinct ‘ha ha ha’s when she laughs, as if she’s worried about proper pronounciation. It’s very polite and demure, but not unheard of; compared to Saizo’s cryptid laugh, hers is more of a happy surprise.
  • Azama - It’s honestly the most sarcastic thing you’ve ever heard. Azama laughs, and everyone in the immediate vicinity feels worse about the lives they’ve lead. However, once in a blue moon, Azama actually genuinely laughs, and flowers bloom in his presence. Azama denies that he could ever produce such a pure sound, though.
  • Setsuna - It’s very… distinctive, for sure. Setsuna’s giggles can be quiet and almost polite when she’s mildly amused, but when you really get her going, you’re gonna hear gasps, with the occasional ugly snort thrown in. Tears in her eyes, doubled over, clapping her hands like a seal- when Setsuna’s having a good time, you’ll see it all. 
  • Hinata - Hinata’s laugh starts in his belly and travels up his throat, until it sounds like he’s basically shouting. Hinata’s laughter is probably the most dangerous- he’ll often be slapping the back of the person who made him laugh, with enough force to leave hand-shaped bruises. He’s truly a sight to see.
  • Oboro - Her laugh is honestly the cutest. It starts out as a giggle, maybe hidden behind the hand, but from there it builds until she’s bent in half and barely able to breathe. The strangest things can get her going, too. Oboro has an odd sense of humour that just gradually gets adopted by the whole camp; she truly is Hoshido’s greatest meme maker.
  • Subaki - The poor guy is so self-conscious about his laugh. He tries to hide it when possible, or, if it can’t be contained, he marshals it into the most polite and dignified laugh possible, more of a forced ‘hahaha’ than anything else. His genuine laugh is closer to a breathy chuckle, punctuated with the occasional gasp.
  • Hana - Her laugh is more of a visual spectacle than anything else. Hana’s laughter is almost silent, but her whole body contorts into rather interesting positions. It’s probably the most dangerous to herself- she barely gets the chance to breathe, since her body is too busy forcing out silent laughs. Hana once reportedly passed out from laughing too hard after Subaki tripped and fell into the pegasus manure pile, but on the bright side, she gets the best abs as a side effect.


Nohr:

  • Laslow - You know that Sexually Confident Villain laugh that sounds smug, yet vaguely arousing? Yeah, Laslow is more or less the opposite of that. Instead, he gets high-pitched wheezing, punctuated by the occasional snort, before he degenerates into full-blown witch cackling. The poor guy of course conceals it from the others, but it’s useless. He can’t hide from the truth forever.
  • Peri - When she doesn’t have a murderous giggle going on in some way, shape, or form, Peri’s laughter is actually pretty normal? Like, it’s pretty much just a bunch of ‘hee hee hee’s thrown together, with some natural breathiness added in. Honestly, the most shocking factor in her laughter is literally just how average and non-creepy it is. Truly, the most unexpected laugh.
  • Beruka - The poor girl is almost as bad as Saizo. The straightfaced retainer never rarely cracks a smile, let alone a grin, and something like an actual, audible, laugh? Unheard of. Camilla claims that she once made Beruka laugh, many years ago, when they were alone together. She describes it as sweet and gentle, soft enough to charm a bear. Honestly, the reason why Beruka laughs so little is because she probably doesn’t want to compromise her assassin image.
  • Selena - Loud and brash, that’s how you describe Selena’s laughter. She doesn’t worry about volume, nor does she worry about how her laugh sounds. She will have as many wheezes, snorts, and coughs as much as she dang well pleases, and if you don’t like it, well, that’s your problem. She will still fight you if you dare comment on it, though- she has some boundaries that she isn’t quite willing to cross.
  • Odin - When faking his laughs, Odin ranges from a confident and heroic ‘ahahaha!!’ to a more villainous chuckle. However, when he actually is genuinely laughing about something, it’s fairly… cute? Like a high-pitched giggle, but his eyes will get all scrunched up and his cheeks will turn all red, and it’s honestly just really adorable. However, Odin Dark, scion of the ages, will never allow someone to see such a weak side of himself, so he hides it like he hides the rest of himself- under about 23 fabricated personalities.
  • Niles - It’s…. deceptive. Niles’ laugh starts out surprisingly sweet, being just lighthearted chuckles. But, if it builds too much, he starts gasping for breath, and then he gasps on purpose, and then he starts throwing moans in, and then it just gets weird. If you want to hear Niles’ laugh, surprise him with something mildly amusing, but for the sake of your own comfort, don’t take it too far.
  • Arthur - The laughter of JUSTICE is one that can never be defeated!! -Arthur probably. Imagine the most overdone, heroic, confident, fists-on-hips laugh you’ve ever heard, and then multiply that by 10. It’s strong, very much Arthur-sounding, and 100% natural. He doesn’t even need to try and make his laugh sound like that, it just comes out normally. Arthur’s laugh is one of the things he’s proudest about, and to this very day, he says that the luckiest thing in his life is that when he laughs, he sounds like the hero of justice he truly is.
  • Effie - It is, without a doubt, the most powerful laugh in the entire army. No, it can’t knock people over, or blow down buildings, but? It is just about the sweetest darn thing you’ve ever heard. You might thing that bench-pressing trees or whatever is Effie’s greatest power, but when you hear her tiny, tinkly little giggle, you will have a strong desire to do whatever she asks of you, or maybe just to squeeze her and never let go. But beware- if you go with the latter option, Effie might get cuddly back, and then a few ribs might be broken.
Risen from the stench of the manure pile-even though it seemed for a moment to have escaped it in a flight of angelic and lyrical purity-the flower seems to relapse abruptly into its original squalor: the most ideal is rapidly reduced to a wisp of aerial manure. For flowers do not age honestly like leaves, which lose nothing of their beauty, even after they have died; flowers wither like old and overly made-up dowagers, and they die ridiculously on stems that seemed to carry them to the clouds.
—  Georges Bataille, “The Language of Flowers” in Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939
A Wedding and Funeral

Summary:  It’s your wedding! Not with Tom sadly, but Tom has feelings for you, would he be able to tell you everything before the ‘I do’ or will he had to accept the fact you are marrying another man?

AO3 link

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Raiting: T

Note:  I came with this idea and said why not? There will be feels, for Tom is sad, really sad because it’s not his wedding :c
Enjoy!


A Wedding and Funeral

Tom buttoned his suit coat and looked at himself in the mirror. A man with flushed pink cheeks being cut by a big smile looked back at him with red glassy eyes. He looked at the black suit he was wearing, and he had never felt so hurt for just a piece of cloth. He was tired of the feeling of impotence that was crashing him down, and he would have wanted to scream, cry and kick everything that got in his way if it wasn’t for everything in the room was already upside down and his throat was raw and his face muscles were already exhausted.

If only for a day, a fucking day before, he had realised what he felt, things would be completely different now, but it was too late.

The ring was already set and the dress was already hung. He was just an hour of losing completely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He had taken too long to realise he had fell in love and god only knew how hard he had fell.

It was too late and he just wanted to lay his head back on the floor, close his eyes and forget about everything. He wanted so bad to stay in his dark and cold bedroom with some music deafening his eardrums so he could feel other pain than the one ripping through his chest.

With a sight he swallowed his sorrow and it was time to put on practice his acting skills.

***

Laughter, the sound of cars and people in rush greeted the actor’s eardrums. Standing near the entrance there was, Benedict with a pitch black suit and a red tie and hands in his pockets. Tom walked towards the tall man and as both met they gave each other a greeting hug.

“How are you feeling?” Ben asked his best friend with some concern in his tone.

“Being honest” he paused “like a pile of manure.” Tom rubbed his face that now looked completely clean and untouched as if he hadn’t drop a tear in months. Ben just smirked empathetically and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “You know, you can still try.”

“What for? She said yes already and is probably getting in her dress.” His tone was bitter and solemn.

“Well you never told her. Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”

Tom looked unbeliever at him. “From all the people I thought you would be the one saying, ‘You have to let her go and think on her happiness’ ‘Maybe this is the best, Tom’ ‘Maybe she wasn’t meant for you, Tom’ ‘Maybe she’s not the one, Tom’ ‘Maybe…” Tom was shut by Ben hushing him and telling him to calm himself for he had started talking louder and louder each time with more rage. Thomas just cleared his throat, and pressed his lips in a thin line before muttering a sorry.

“Tom, I’m just saying, have you seen (Y/n) today?” Tom shook his head negatively. “Well, it may be just me but there’s something on her face, something that just doesn’t fit in a bride’s face in her ‘great day’.”

Tom furrowed his brows and then chuckled bitterly as he begun to shake his head. “No, no, no, no. I won’t go with her and give myself false hope. I’m just going to sit in there, and pretend I’m hectic about the situation!”

“Tom…” Ben looked firmly at him with scold, his hands placed on both the blonde’s shoulders holding him still.

“Ben.” He stared right at him intensely with poison wrapped in his tongue. Ben felt sorry for having to deal with his friend in this mood. He had seen him sad and upset, but this time it was different. This wasn’t the angry Tom that would be laughing heartily in five minutes; this person he was looking at was someone different. Someone that gave you a smile but his eyes said something else, a thousand emotions bottled in that deep blue sea of his iris were battling like gods in war and Ben wished he could do something about it but he just didn’t know what but to try to cheer him up or try to bring him back from the ragnarok his emotions took him, to reality. Even if it hurt to face reality it was far much better than the world his hyperaesthetic emotions transported him.

“Hey guys!” A female approached them breaking the tension between them and both separated, Ben’s lips curled into a smile as he saw his wife coming towards them with a white flat box on her hands, meanwhile Tom looked away to take some breath before turning back at Sophie and greet her.

“Hi, Tom, you’re looking great today” She smiled friendly at him who spoke his thanks and complimented her back with a ‘you’re looking great too’. Sophie turned towards his husband. “Ben I need to talk with you for a minute, Tom would you be a darling and take this to (Y/n)? Please?” Sophie stretched her arms towards him for him to take the white box.

Before he could try to mutter an excuse, Ben who was guiltily amazed by the turn of events, took the package and placed it in Tom’s hand and wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and took her with him inside the church, before he heard his friend protest.

You looked at yourself in the full size mirror, a white heart shaped dress hugging your curves. It was a simple wedding dress, but you liked it nonetheless, your hair was lose and contoured your face, you didn’t wear much makeup, the only thing you had put on your face is some mascara and a transparent lip gloss.

You nibbled your lip; your hands were in front of you as your fingers fiddled with the ring on your third finger. It was today, time had gone hurtfully fast, but now it had arrived. ‘Your great day’.

The sky was cloudy but beautiful, the weather was good, your dress was pretty, the people you loved were here, and everything was perfect except for one thing. Just a little detail you weren’t sure how you were supposed to change. There was something missing.

A knock on the door drift you away from your thoughts and you turned your head towards the door and said a loud enough ‘come in’.

From the door a man with curly hair peeked from the door. Tom smiled sheepishly at you and entered the room closing the door behind him. “You… you look gorgeous.” Tom said mesmerized, as he saw you in your white wedding dress and you were so taken by how handsome he looked in that black suit you didn’t notice the white box in his hand until he cleared his throat and showed you the box.

“A gift from Sophie… I think”

You smiled at him and walked towards him taking the box from his hand brushing lightly his thumb with your fingers and sat down on the love seat and placed it on your lap. You looked up at Tom and tapped the empty space beside you. You noticed some hesitation on him but he ended sitting in the spot beside you.

You opened the box and a wire wrap quartz [colour] necklace rested in a little pillow. You looked at it letting a small ‘ah’ as you looked at the beauty of the jewel. A note in a velvet envelope rested by its side and you opened it reading the message handwritten in cursive.

Dear [Y/n],
It is said this necklace is of good fortune and brings joy to your life; it brings a relief and shows you the colours of love. We’re not sure how that exactly works but this necklace is one of the lots of ways for us to let you know we care for you and will always wish you the best.
From the depths of our hearts,
Mr. and Mrs. Cumberbatch :)

You took the necklace carefully in your hands and handed it to Tom. “Could you…?” You said and Tom nodded taking the quartz in his hand carefully. You lifted your hair exposing your neck to him.

Tom held the necklace and, god, you were killing him. You looked so beautiful in that dress he had wanted to rip it off you the moment he entered the room. Now you were showing him your bare shoulders and neck and he was feeling weaker each time. He wanted to kiss every inch of your skin; you just were his weak point. For months he had feeling the urge to give you the entire universe, even further and being rewarded with just your smile, and later at night to press you against his mattress and hear his name over and over again rolling of your ecstatic lips as he made sweet love to you in all the ways his imagination could think of.

He placed the necklace in its place around your neck, and secretly he let his fingers brush your skin as he put the necklace in you, this was the last time he would be around you, at least in a while and a part of him wanted to remember this last time meanwhile the other scolded him and told him to just faintly disappear. It hurt him but it was the best, he had already planned his ‘run away plan’ and mostly it consisted in starting looking for projects each time further from here, enough for him to not come back in at least  three years perhaps more, he knew he was dying from the inside when being close to you and after today, what is dying will never come back to life if he stayed. He needed to detoxify himself from the bittersweet pain of the constantly phrase that stabbed his brain since the day he knew you were engaged. “If only you knew.”

You let your hair fall back down and wrapped your fingers around the quartz. You turned towards Tom and give him your thanks. He just smiled and said “It’s nothing, darling.”

You took the box and placed the note inside carefully when you heard Tom’s phone beep, sign for a text message. It wasn’t your intention but you accidentally eyed the message in the phone as you sat back in the sofa. “TELL [Y/N] WHAT YOU FEEL.” Was read on the screen and before you could contain your tongue from doing the impropriate question you said.

“Tell me what?” and quickly you covered your mouth as you weren’t meaning to ask that. Tom froze in his place as you asked the question.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You said quickly even though you wanted to know and well it was about you. It was his phone and you were taught reading someone else things was really improper.

Tom sighed and put the phone back on his pocket. He wasn’t looking at you, but instead he just leaned back on the couch with his face turned to the ceiling’s direction and his hands covering his eyes. Silence was between you for what it felt like aeons, and you were rambling through one thousand ways of breaking this rippling silence.

“[Y/n]…” He spoke. “There’s something I haven’t tell you. Something I wanted you to know but my misfortune wouldn’t let me…”

“What is it?” Your voice was tiny as a lump begun to form in your throat. Tom uncovered his face, and places his elbows in his thighs and rubbed his stubbly chin.

“Remember that night you found me breathless in your apartment’s door?” You nodded “Well, that night, was the night I broke with Jenna; I understood I didn’t actually love her. I told her what I felt and why we couldn’t be together, at first we argued, she was angry with me and said that I was liar and god she slapped my face so hard I thought she had left a bruise for the entire month! But the reason I understood I loved someone else and not her was that…  when I found out she cheated on me it didn’t hurt me; instead I felt a great relief.” He paused. “After that, I knew I needed to tell you what I felt, I needed you to know that I love you, so I didn’t care about anything else and got in my car and drove and I reallydidn’t care about anything, for when the traffic was awful I wasn’t going to sit and wait, so I left my car and ran for I don’t know how many kilometres,  jumped tables and pushed people until I got to your door with lungs about to explode.”

“That was the night that- that he proposed to me.”

“Yes.” Tom’s smile was so full of hurt when he looked at you. “That’s why I invented the stupid excuse that my car broke near your apartment and a dog was chasing me. I saw you with the ring and with…” He pressed his lips and swallowed “with him. I knew it was too late for me, because I couldn’t understand what I feel for you.” His voice broke and a tear slid down his cheek as he remembered that night, because he knew something died inside of him as he knew another part of him will die today when he hears those words in the altar that will make him bleed black internally.

“And now I’m here telling you all this and spoiling your day. I’m sorry. I should go.” Tom stood up in head for the door but was stopped short with a hold in his wrist. He turned around and saw you grabbing his wrist. He hadn’t notice but your face was red and your eyes were glassy.

His heart writhes seeing tears in your face, and before he could say something or get away of your hold, you had stood up and crashed your lips with his. He didn’t reply to the kiss at first, in shock to what had happened, your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed his lips and soon he wrapped his arms around your waist as he kissed you with the same hunger and desire. After months of holding back his impulses of attacking your lips until they were red and swallowed, he finally let his inhibitions go and deepened the kiss getting drugged in your taste, in your scent.

Tongues battled together, and little moans mixed. His fingers wrapped in your hair and his other hand pulled you closer to his torso as both had been lost in this moment were any thoughts were in narcosis as you let only your sensations take over you. You stumbled and both fell to the couch, your back hit the soft material and his chest and hips crashed against you as he fell in top of you.

Panting, you looked at each other, his pupils blown out into dark abysms as he stared into your eyes that were just like his. You regained your breath and spoke with your voice hoarse from desire for him. “I love you. You are the only one I love. I said yes, because I thought I didn’t ever cross your mind, and that it was just a little crush that would pass by with time. I was wrong.”

Your heart felt so warmth knowing he loved you just like you did. Countless nights you cried when the wedding was getting neared for you couldn’t forget him. He wasn’t the only one who was withering painfully and slowly.  Now you knew it.

“Be mine, [Y/n]. Let’s run away together. No one will ever stop us.”

You looked at him with a sensation you’ve never fell before fluttering like butterflies.

“Tom… Yes.”

***

People were muttering waiting for the event to start officially, the groom was standing in the altar with his hand in front of him, people were talking to pass the time and even there were some kids playing somewhere in the back. Benedict sat beside Sophie at one of the front rows, and next to him, Tom’s spot was still unoccupied. Ben’s phone beeped in its message tone and opened it.

You were right. –TH

The bride’s song started to play, and everyone turned towards the door that flung open to reveal the astounding bride.

No bride stood behind, and people begun to mutter. Just air stood behind ready to marry and people were confused and concerned about it. A woman appeared, not the bride, instead one of the bride’s maid with a [colour] dress appeared with a paper on her hands and ran towards the altar as the music played.

Benedict’s smile was ridiculously obvious as he followed with his eyes along with dozens of eyes more the girl reaching the groom and the priest.

“The wedding is cancelled.” The priest announced after had exchanged some words with the pissed groom. Benedict looked like a kid in a candy shop as those words were announced and Sophie turned to look at him with a raised brow. “What’s so funny?”

Benedict laughed proudly “Oh dear! And you made a big deal when I accidentally heard that [Y/n] had feelings for Tom!” Ben said showing her Tom’s message.

What is: The problems with Gender Abolition

So a few people have been wondering why it is that I go after the idea of gender abolition.

There are many reasons, but the chief one is that it is used as a tool by people who do not actually care about it to attack, defame, and justify violence against trans people while seeming “decent” despite their hate speech.

Which will strike some folks as pretty sad, given that it is also many other really nasty things.

Nevertheless, Let’s look at these claims regarding gender abolition and why it is so wrong.

They are not trying to Abolish Gender

They aren’t. They admit it, as well, but they do not realize they are admitting it.

When confronted, what they mean when they say gender abolition is the abolition of Gender Roles (and sometimes Gender Behaviors and Gender Expressions). You have to wheedle this out of them, because they will describe these three distinct parts of gender as if they are all one thing.

They are not the same thing, nor are they one thing.  They are parts of gender, so what they really want to get rid of are parts of gender.

They do not want to get rid of the language issues. They do not want to get rid of the way we gender objects by declaring them male or female (the action of saying that something is “male” or “female” is an act of applying a gendered concept, and therefore using gender).

Now, the argument they will often use in defense of their statements is that they are arguing it from a feminist perspective. In this perspective, it explicitly excludes biological aspects – so referencing any sort of social construction relating to biology (such as saying that then only sex would be left) is in direct contravention to this idea, since the social constructions themselves are part of the social conventions and structures that are part of Gender.

I have already pointed out on several occasions that they do not understand what a social construct is, and that they do not understand what Gender is,so I won’t go into more depth on that at this time – unless I get a wild hair and decide to make another combo post.

But their not realizing that Gender is composed of multiple, distinct parts is part of the flaw int heir thinking, and is a holdover from a very ciscentric and limited way of thought that is influenced by their hostility towards trans people.

If you are going to Abolish Gender, you need to abolish all of it, otherwise, you are not going to achieve your goal, since all of these parts – language, “biology”, expressions, behaviors, etc –are all interdependent.

They treat it as an academic exercise without consequence

Inevitably, they use the phrasing and idea in order to gain credibility among their in-group, without consideration for what it really is.  When they do consider it, they apply it as a kind of mental exercise that is purely academic, without regards to the harm it would cause – their focus is on the outcome, and not the way they would achieve it.

The outcome they invariably arrive at is that the world would be a better place, so that the exercise really looks like this:

  • Say we will abolish gender.
  • ?
  • The world is better!

If you don’t believe me, ask them how they plan to achieve that stuff in the middle.

For them, this is little more than an academic exercise, not something they honestly expect to ever achieve, so it becomes strictly a rhetorical tool by which they further the oppression and harm of trans people.

Occasionally one of them will say that they would hope that people would see the benefit and change for the better peacefully – which is mighty naive and incredibly juvenile of them to think, akin to the way they often criticize pageant contestants and the “world peace” answer.

  • How would you convince them?
  • Are you going to use the culture you live in which has only the most superficial connections to their cultural ways of seeing gender?
  • How are you going to deal with cultures where gender is defined by what you do, instead of your anatomy?

and so forth.

In the end, this brings us to the next problem:

The idea is based on Western concepts of Gender

The arguments around the value and benefit of getting rid of gender all surround a couple of different aspects.  The most overtly hostile to trans people one is the one they use to make it seem like they are being supportive: without gender, you wouldn’t have to transition!

It sounds best if you say it in a breathy, child like voice.

But the more serious aspects of it are that it is based on western concepts of gender and the way that gender in western society is structured around genitals and secondary sex characteristics.

This classification of people is not a universal one for gender.  THere are some that classify someone’s gender entirely on what they do (the interests and activities they enjoy), and some do it using a blended form of both the physical and the activity.

By which I mean that they choices you are allowed later in your life through the socialization of you as a person into that culture are going to be based on what you enjoy, on your gentials (as they are in the US) or on a combination of both.

Western gender roles proceed from the designation, whereas other systems designate sex according to the gender roles.  It is the reverse, much like how most Americans find the Japanese system of house numbering to be incredibly confusing.

And all of which ignores that gender is a suppositional concept – it is based on the implication of genitalia, and signified in multiple ways that are entirely based on the cultural norms of that society.

Which means…

To achieve their goal, they must destroy other cultures

Getting back to that question mark, they seem to think that somehow this one thing will overcome all the other social aspects of differing culturals and varying identities, and magically change the world for the better.  Yet if you say to them they are engaging in magical thinking (literally) then they get defensive and deny it, and so you have to take them at face value if you are acting in good faith and that means they are willing to engage in the western notion of manifest destiny and righteous propriety and actively colonize and override and in the end force entire other groups of people who have very different ideas of gender and propriety and destroy those cultures.

If family is the building block of a society, then gender is the building block of family.  That is how deep it lies within a given culture – at the root, as they note and claim, and what that means is that in attacking it, the ripples throughout that culture and society will, ultimately, destroy it. 

It will no longer be the culture and society that it was.  There are real world parallels for this activity, most notably in the treatment of the indigenous populations of many different nations.  I live just off a main street named Indian School Road, and the connotations to me as a Lakota, and to the people here who are Navajo, Hopi, Apache, and more and who were stripped out of their homes in order to teach them a new way of thinking has had incredibly consequences on their cultures.

This is why the idea is racist, colonialist, imperialist, and white supremacist. It is especially anti-Black, anti-Asian and Pacific Islander, and Anti-Indigenous.

and that leads us to the next point, which, thankfully, is…

They cannot achieve their goal

The biggest issue is that gender is a social construct, and there has, in all of human history, never been an abolishment of a social construct. That is not to say that it isn’t possible, but it is meant to indicate that doing so is so unlikely and improbably as to be outside the range of thinking.

Social constructs can be diluted, changed, warped, altered, reduced in import, raised in import, and assorted other thing, but ending them, abolishing them, has never happened, nor is it likely to happen given the nature of human social systems and the depth within cultural systems at which gender systems exist.

So that is why gender abolition is a pile of manure being sold to the gullible and the uninformed.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Berk Dragon Sanctuary AU

Berk Dragon Sanctuary AU fics and drabbles Masterpost

This takes place shortly after Astrid graduates from college and has started working at the sanctuary. Slight Hiccstrid. Implied one-sided Snotlegs.

Keep reading

6

Wilbur burst into tears. “I dont want to die,” he moaned. “I want to stay alive, right here in my comfortable manure pile with all my friends. I want to breathe the beautiful air and lie in the beautiful sun.” — E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web

Their eyes are never quiet, they may not speak our language, but their expressions tell us everything. They are aware of what awaits them and they know that their time is running out. Their dreams of being liberated and being able to run with joy will soon end, those dreams they thought of, will never come true, for their lives will be tragically stolen from them.
Don’t continue your participation in animal exploitation.
Think. Grow. Evolve. Go vegan. Photographed by Igualdad Animal.

alright i went ahead and read that german kirby comic about kirby and dedede being detectives and it’s fucking weird man

some of the weird shit that happens in this comic:

  • kirby is shown reading a dirty magazine
  • this realistic-ass, sexual-ass woman appears as their first client – she’s like three times kirby and dedede’s height
  • kirby is shown to be a regular at this shady-looking bar
  • kirby walks into the female restrooms, gets called a pervert
  • kirby and dedede get framed for homicide
  • for some reason mr shine is there but mr bright isn’t
  • kirby is shown smoking a cigarette
  • kirby falls off a roof and lands in a huge pile of manure
  • kirby has a girlfriend named susie who is literally kirby but with a bow and high heels, and she only shows up in one page to introduce rick, coo, and kine
  • kirby and co. go on a cruise ship and get ambushed by pirates
  • and the comic ends with an advertisement
  • also apparently the writer didn’t like sakurai and made this to get back at him. that’s pretty weird/hilarious

incredible

Apparently it's easier to find out how to grow magic mushrooms than legal ones

I have been trying to figure out how I can grow ANY kind of mushrooms in a yard or anywhere else outside. I don’t want to eat them, just look at them, so it doesn’t matter what kind. No one seems to know how I can do that. But if someone wanted to grow illegal, hallucinogenic mushrooms that will land you in federal prison, well, they have all sorts of ways and equipment and stuff you can buy online to do that.
Why do I live in such a goofy, upside down and backward society, where it’s easier to find out how to do illegal things than legal ones?
But I am trying to discover on my own how to do legal stuff in spite of this goofy society.
And I figure if I get different kinds of mushrooms and put them in a blender with water to suspend the spores, and I add some kind of carbohydrate to feed the spores, and add a little food oil to also feed the spores, and then blend all that together, and then mix it into a mixture of wood chips and cow manure sitting in a pile on the ground, then, surely at least one of the kinds of mushrooms will like it and I will get something growing.
In theory…
But there is also the possibility the ground up mushrooms will either digest each other or be too busy competing with each other to actually be able to grow.
I guess I am hoping one kind will grow initially and use up what it needs but set the stage for the next one to grow in what’s left.
So far here are the kinds of mushrooms I have chopped up or blended and dumped in the pile: white button, brown button, shiitake, enoki, white oyster, brown beech, yellow oyster, king mushroom, seafood mushroom, grey oyster, and wood ear.
My carbohydrates have been diet coke, diet pepsi, corn syrup, sugar, soy flour, and different seeds. The food oil has been palm oil and canola oil. And composted hardwood chips and composted cow manure.
Nope, you will have to stop salivating now…
What I am hoping will happen is the button mushrooms will grow in the manure and sprout up while meanwhile digesting the wood chips a little, and the oyster mushrooms will like the wood chips and sprout out of that while doing something that will let the rest grow later and then sprout. I don’t know what the others do to manure or wood chips but maybe they will grow later.
I don’t see anything anywhere about any mushroom liking food oil. But maybe it will hold the spores in or something.

The problems with gender abolition, a racist, sexist concept

So a few people have been wondering why it is that I go after the idea of gender abolition.

There are many reasons, but the chief one is that it is used as a tool by people who do not actually care about it to attack, defame, and justify violence against trans people while seeming “decent” despite their hate speech.

Which will strike some folks as pretty sad, given that it is also many other really nasty things.

Nevertheless, Let’s look at these claims regarding gender abolition and why it is so wrong.

They are not trying to Abolish Gender

They aren’t. They admit it, as well, but they do not realize they are admitting it.

When confronted, what they mean when they say gender abolition is the abolition of Gender Roles (and sometimes Gender Behaviors and Gender Expressions). You have to wheedle this out of them, because they will describe these three distinct parts of gender as if they are all one thing.

They are not the same thing, nor are they one thing.  They are parts of gender, so what they really want to get rid of are parts of gender.

They do not want to get rid of the language issues. They do not want to get rid of the way we gender objects by declaring them male or female (the action of saying that something is “male” or “female” is an act of applying a gendered concept, and therefore using gender).

Now, the argument they will often use in defense of their statements is that they are arguing it from a feminist perspective. In this perspective, it explicitly excludes biological aspects – so referencing any sort of social construction relating to biology (such as saying that then only sex would be left) is in direct contravention to this idea, since the social constructions themselves are part of the social conventions and structures that are part of Gender.

I have already pointed out on several occasions that they do not understand what a social construct is, and that they do not understand what Gender is,so I won’t go into more depth on that at this time – unless I get a wild hair and decide to make another combo post.

But their not realizing that Gender is composed of multiple, distinct parts is part of the flaw int heir thinking, and is a holdover from a very ciscentric and limited way of thought that is influenced by their hostility towards trans people.

If you are going to Abolish Gender, you need to abolish all of it, otherwise, you are not going to achieve your goal, since all of these parts – language, “biology”, expressions, behaviors, etc –are all interdependent.

They treat it as an academic exercise without consequence

Inevitably, they use the phrasing and idea in order to gain credibility among their in-group, without consideration for what it really is.  When they do consider it, they apply it as a kind of mental exercise that is purely academic, without regards to the harm it would cause – their focus is on the outcome, and not the way they would achieve it.

The outcome they invariably arrive at is that the world would be a better place, so that the exercise really looks like this:

  • Say we will abolish gender.
  • ?
  • The world is better!

If you don’t believe me, ask them how they plan to achieve that stuff in the middle.

For them, this is little more than an academic exercise, not something they honestly expect to ever achieve, so it becomes strictly a rhetorical tool by which they further the oppression and harm of trans people.

Occasionally one of them will say that they would hope that people would see the benefit and change for the better peacefully – which is mighty naive and incredibly juvenile of them to think, akin to the way they often criticize pageant contestants and the “world peace” answer.

  • How would you convince them?
  • Are you going to use the culture you live in which has only the most superficial connections to their cultural ways of seeing gender?
  • How are you going to deal with cultures where gender is defined by what you do, instead of your anatomy?

and so forth.

In the end, this brings us to the next problem:

The idea is based on Western concepts of Gender

The arguments around the value and benefit of getting rid of gender all surround a couple of different aspects.  The most overtly hostile to trans people one is the one they use to make it seem like they are being supportive: without gender, you wouldn’t have to transition!

It sounds best if you say it in a breathy, child like voice.

But the more serious aspects of it are that it is based on western concepts of gender and the way that gender in western society is structured around genitals and secondary sex characteristics.

This classification of people is not a universal one for gender.  THere are some that classify someone’s gender entirely on what they do (the interests and activities they enjoy), and some do it using a blended form of both the physical and the activity.

By which I mean that they choices you are allowed later in your life through the socialization of you as a person into that culture are going to be based on what you enjoy, on your gentials (as they are in the US) or on a combination of both.

Western gender roles proceed from the designation, whereas other systems designate sex according to the gender roles.  It is the reverse, much like how most Americans find the Japanese system of house numbering to be incredibly confusing.

And all of which ignores that gender is a suppositional concept – it is based on the implication of genitalia, and signified in multiple ways that are entirely based on the cultural norms of that society.

Which means…

To achieve their goal, they must destroy other cultures

Getting back to that question mark, they seem to think that somehow this one thing will overcome all the other social aspects of differing culturals and varying identities, and magically change the world for the better.  Yet if you say to them they are engaging in magical thinking (literally) then they get defensive and deny it, and so you have to take them at face value if you are acting in good faith and that means they are willing to engage in the western notion of manifest destiny and righteous propriety and actively colonize and override and in the end force entire other groups of people who have very different ideas of gender and propriety and destroy those cultures.

If family is the building block of a society, then gender is the building block of family.  That is how deep it lies within a given culture – at the root, as they note and claim, and what that means is that in attacking it, the ripples throughout that culture and society will, ultimately, destroy it.

It will no longer be the culture and society that it was.  There are real world parallels for this activity, most notably in the treatment of the indigenous populations of many different nations.  I live just off a main street named Indian School Road, and the connotations to me as a Lakota, and to the people here who are Navajo, Hopi, Apache, and more and who were stripped out of their homes in order to teach them a new way of thinking has had incredibly consequences on their cultures.

This is why the idea is racist, colonialist, imperialist, and white supremacist. It is especially anti-Black, anti-Asian and Pacific Islander, and Anti-Indigenous.

and that leads us to the next point, which, thankfully, is…

They cannot achieve their goal

The biggest issue is that gender is a social construct, and there has, in all of human history, never been an abolishment of a social construct. That is not to say that it isn’t possible, but it is meant to indicate that doing so is so unlikely and improbably as to be outside the range of thinking.

Social constructs can be diluted, changed, warped, altered, reduced in import, raised in import, and assorted other thing, but ending them, abolishing them, has never happened, nor is it likely to happen given the nature of human social systems and the depth within cultural systems at which gender systems exist.

So that is why gender abolition is a pile of manure being sold to the gullible and the uninformed.

zinfandelli  asked:

who shovels all that magical shit lindz, and where does it go? Does newt repurpose his creature poo, does he make little pats of it to burn like firewood? does he secretly bottle it up and sell it black market style as a magical facial mask?

(emily jfc im dying how perfect)

Bonus of magic is you can disapparate things to wherever the hell you need them. Fertilizer for the gardens is the usual place stuff goes, and besides potions Newt’s other skill is transfiguration (may not even be a particular talent so much as a patient teacher who didn’t judge him when he cried over turning a mouse into a teacup). And it’s very easy to transfigure a pile of manure into more suitable soil since they’re already so close together.

Newt also is probably a master of knowing what…refuse is best for what purposes (sterilized erumpent dung is one of the best fuels you can find) and doesn’t see why people get so PARTICULAR about it.

Of course, there are some particularly vile refuse piles. And he DID ONCE have the perfect place to send them all.

But then he got an extremely loud howler from his mother telling him off because dear Theseus has only ever been patient with Newt’s little games and habits and has bailed Newt out of so many legal issues that he is the LAST person who deserves this sort of treatment from his little brother

Drums of Autumn - ch. 50 favourite

“And what makes you think I want to be married to anybody at all?”

His mouth dropped open.

“Want?” he said incredulously. “And what has want to do with it?”

“Everything!” She stamped her foot.

“Now there you’re wrong, lassie,” he advised her, turning to pick up his fork. He eyed her stomach with a nod. “You’ve a bairn coming, who needs a name. Your time to be choosy is long since past, aye?”

He dug his fork into the pile of manure and heaved the load into the waiting barrow, then dug again, with a smooth economy of motion born of years of labor.

“Now, Ian’s a sweet-tempered lad, and a hard worker,” he said, eyes on his task. “He’s got his own land; he’ll have mine, too, in time, and that will—”

“I am not going to marry anybody!” Brianna drew herself up to her full height, fists balled at her sides, and spoke in a voice loud enough to disturb the bats in the corners of the ceiling. One small dark form detached itself from the shadows and flittered out into the gathering dusk, ignored by the combatants underneath.

“Well, then, make your own choice,” Jamie said shortly. “And I wish ye well of it!”

“You…are…not…listening!” Brianna said, grinding each word between her teeth. “I’ve made my choice. I said I won’t…marry…anyone!” She punctuated this with another stamp of her foot.

Jamie thrust the fork into the pile with a thump. He straightened up and eyed Brianna, rubbing his fist across his jaw.

“Aye, well. I seem to recall hearin’ a verra similar opinion expressed by your mother—the night before our wedding. I havena asked her lately does she regret bein’ forced to wed me or not, but I flatter myself she’s maybe not been miserable altogether. Perhaps ye should go and have a word wi’ her?”

“It’s not the same thing at all!” Brianna snapped.

“No, it’s not,” Jamie agreed, keeping a firm grip on his temper. The sun was low behind the hills, flooding the stable with a golden light in which the creeping tide of red in his skin was nonetheless quite visible. Still, he was making every attempt to be reasonable.

Your mother wed me to save her life—and mine. It was a brave thing she did, and generous, too. I’ll grant it’s no a matter of life or death, but—have ye no idea what it is to live branded as a wanton—or as a fatherless bastard, come to that?”

Seeing her expression falter slightly at this, he pressed his advantage, stretching out a hand to her and speaking kindly.

“Come, lassie. Can ye not bring yourself to do it for the bairn’s sake?”

Her face tightened again and she stepped back.

“No,” she said, sounding strangled. “No. I can’t.”

He dropped his hand. I could see them both, despite the fading light, and saw the danger signs all too clearly, in the narrowing of his eyes and the set of his shoulders, squared for battle. “Is that how Frank Randall raised ye, lass, to have no regard for what’s right or wrong?”

Brianna was trembling all over, like a horse that’s run too far.

“My father always did what was right for me! And he would never have tried to pull something like this!” she said. “Never! He cared about me!”

At this, Jamie finally lost his temper, which went off with a bang.

“And I don’t?” he said. “I am not trying my best to do what’s right for ye? In spite of your being—”

“Jamie—” I turned toward him, saw his eyes gone black with anger, and turned toward her. “Bree—I know he didn’t—you have to understand—”

“Of all the reckless, thoughtless, selfish ways in which to behave!”

You self-righteous, insensitive bastard!

“Bastard! Ye’ll call me a bastard, and your belly swellin’ like a pumpkin with a child that ye mean to doom to finger-pointing and calumny for all its days, and—”

Anybody points a finger at my child, and I’ll break it off and stuff it down their throat!

“Ye senseless wee besom! Have ye no the faintest notion o’ how things are? Ye’ll be a scandal and a hissing! Folk will call ye whore to your face!”

“Let them try it!”

“Oh, let them try it? And ye mean me to stand by and listen, I suppose?”

“It’s not your job to defend me!”

He was so furious that his face went white as fresh-bleached muslin.

“Not my job to defend you? For Christ’s sake, woman, who else is meant to do it?”

Ian tugged gently on my arm, drawing me back.

Ye’ve only the twa choices now, Auntie,” he murmured in my ear. “Douse them both wi’ a pan o’ cold water, or come away with me and leave them to it. I’ve seen Uncle Jamie and my Mam go at it before. Believe me, ye dinna want to step between two Frasers wi’ their dander up. My Da said he’s tried once or twice, and got the scars to prove it.

I took a final glance at the situation and gave up. He was right; they were nose to nose, red hair bristling and eyes slitted like a couple of bobcats, circling, spitting and snarling. I could have set the hay on fire, and neither one would have spared an instant’s notice.

It seemed remarkably quiet and peaceful outside. A whippoorwill sang in the aspen grove, and the wind was in the east, carrying the faint sounds of the waterfall to us. By the time we reached the dooryard, we couldn’t hear the shouting anymore.

“Dinna be worrit, Auntie,” Ian said comfortingly. “They’ll get hungry, sooner or later.”