understanding taxes

zellabelle  asked:

Happy New Year!! This year is the year we are finally getting my cat fixed. We've been meaning to since we got her but I've read a lot of things about spaying being potentially bad for them, that some cats have issues with anesthesia, and that some of the cheaper vets don't use as much medication to manage pain after surgery. What are some questions that I can ask my local vet to make sure kitty gets proper care, or to better understand the surgery? Tax: have you ever worked with exotics?

You can’t assume that “cheap = poor care” necessarily. Some places will discount their services below cost without skimping on the service, some places (eg shelters) will be able to lower their costs due to economies of scale.

Some questions you might want to ask include:

  • What anaesthetic monitoring is in place?
  • What qualification do the nurses/techs have?
  • What pain relief is provided for the surgery?
  • Do you use internal or external sutures?
  • Are revisits for complications or post-surgery checks included?
  • What is her expected recovery time?
  • Do you use one surgery kit per patient?

And yes I have done some work with exotics, but not so much these days.

Not wanting to sound like I’m shaming anyone who doesn’t understand the US tax code, but y’all need to know, anyone who claims that rich or marginally rich people pay over half of their income in taxes is full of shit.

Firstly, because the highest tax bracket is 39.6%, which you might be able to tell is less than 50%.

But second, because the US tax system uses graduated brackets. No matter how much you make, the first $9275 is taxes at 10%. If you made $10K in 2016, a whole $725 is taxes at the second tax bracket of 15%. If you make the median US income of $51,939 then you’re still going to have $9275 taxed at 10%, and then $28375 at 15%, and the remaining $14,289 at 25%. If you know anything about math, you can probably tell that this means, even though your tax bracket is 25%, you’re not actually being taxed at 25%. At that median income, your real tax percentage is actually 16.86%

And thirdly, this is all based on normal income. Long term capital gains, i.e. the biggest source of income for affluent Americans, are taxed at a substantially lower rate.

So once again, no shame if you don’t understand the tax code and think it’s too complicated for you to get. But I can 100% guarantee that anyone complaining about the rich paying “too much” in taxes is either straight up lying, or manipulating their data so much that it no longer even bears a passing resemblance to the truth.


Here’s the Yuri On Ice mini illustration collection. There are 13 colored illustration in box and cost 5200 yen (plus tax) for the whole collection. You can buy it per piece for 400 yen (plus tax) but it is usually sold randomly in stores like Animate.

They also released a Mini illustration set a few months ago. But unlike the previous collection, Georgi, Leo and Emil are included in here.
(I’ll post the previous collection and compare it with the newest collection later)

I don’t get it. Do people seriously hate the idea of taking care of their country and their community so much that they don’t want to pay taxes? Do they expect a decent infrastructure to exist without someone paying for it??

Or, like, is their hatred of disabled, poor, and sick people so strong that they would rather live in a post-apocalyptic world than give up a portion of their earnings to take care of them?


It was perfect, utterly perfect, and Neil felt at once inspired and horrified by the sight of it. How could he possibly play here? He closed his eyes and breathed in, breathed out, imagining the way bodies sounded as they crashed into each other on the court, the way the announcer’s voice would only come through in muffled, scattered bursts, the roar of sixty-five thousand people reacting to a goal. He knew he didn’t deserve this, knew beyond a doubt he wasn’t good enough to play on this court, but he wanted and needed it so badly he ached all over. 

… He’d made the right decision. The risks didn’t matter; the consequences would be worth it. He had to be here. He had to play on this court at least once. He had to know if the crowd screamed loud enough to blow the roof off. He had to smell the sweat and overpriced stadium food. He needed to hear the buzzer sound as a ball slammed inside the white goal lines and lit the walls up red. 

“Oh,” Nicky said … “No wonder he chose you.”

 - The Foxhole Court [Nora Sakavic]

Republicans do not understand what causes federal debt. They get spending, but they have no idea about paying for their policies.

Republicans do not understand progressive taxation.

Raising taxes on the ultra rich is responsible. Giving the rich tax breaks at this time is irresponsible.

| | > For some reason I keep seeing Hanzo described as ‘slender’ and ‘leanly built’ and I’m just like???? How????

idk about you but he looks like he could snap someone’s neck with one arm. He’s pretty gosh darn buff. Sure he isn’t a body builder but he definitely isn’t built like a sprinter in the 100 yard dash. Hanzo’s built to be repeatedly pulling back a bowstring. 

Guys, you gotta understand how taxing pulling back arrows over and over again actually is. It takes a lot even if the string isn’t incredibly tense, because you are essentially stopping forward momentum with your own strength. Sure someone that isn’t very strong could shoot a few arrows but it’s important to realize that it requires a lot of stamina and endurance. The amount of bodily strength one has determines how taunt you can make the arrow and thus how far you can shoot it. 

Hanzo’s upper body is extremely defined. He’s ripped. He has to be if his primary weapon is going to be a bow. If he was built like a sprinter he’d have thinner in the upper body and more consistently muscular. Hanzo has a strong upper body and a weaker lower body - his legs aren’t as strong as his arms. 

anonymous asked:

I noticed that people who shout "Taxation is theft" don't actually understand the economy or taxes.

I noticed people that say “tax the rich” and “make college and medical care free” don’t understand basic economics and monetary policy.

anonymous asked:

If you think your child is old enough to go out to the dollar store to buy things of their own, then your child is old enough to understand how damn tax works SO THEY CAN BUY THINGS PROPERLY! That'll be great thanks.

I firmly believe that most parents are fully aware of what they are doing when they send the child in with the pre-tax amount hoping that the cashier will let them go because they are innocent, cute, whatever. Just so they won’t have to pay tax. I’m the heartless bastard that sends them back out without their item to get the correct amount. The number of parents that come in yelling that I should have just let their little crotch fruit have the item for what they want to pay used to surprise me.


Fire and Ice (Connor Murphy x Reader)

Alternative ending from my friend: My Ass Requested by @solitxde Thank you for your request I hope you like it! 

 You hated this, your family uprooted you from your childhood home and hauled ass half way across the country to this rural hell hole. You’d been here for a week, the week before school started and you hadn’t bothered leaving your house, why would you? “(Y/N) it’s the first day of your senior year, cheer up you’re almost done!” Your mother sang and she placed a bagel in front of you. 

“First day of senior year! Sounds like hell,” you deadpanned, grabbing the bagel and your keys. “Mom I love you but this whole chipper moving attitude needs to stop,” you pleaded. 

 She smiled sweetly, understanding just how taxing this has been on you, “try to have a nice day sweetie, I love you too,”

 "So this is my new purgatorial hellhole huh?“ You said to yourself walking up to front of the school.

"Welcome to satan’s sweaty grundel,” a shadow of a boy grunted as he walked past you. You smirked at his disgusting humor and followed in his tracks, grouping into the crowd of teens walking through the gates of hell. 

 "Move freak,“ a hard shove to the back and suddenly you found yourself stumbling into lockers. "Maybe you’re new here but you should already know not to get in my way, skank!” A black haired girl in a cheerleading outfit chided. Who the fuck wears their cheer clothes to school, let alone the first day of school? What is this a high school drama movie? You regained your balance and headed to your locker, 306 on the top floor. Once you arrived at your locker you saw a flash of brown hair spring up and speed away. The same boy as before, you wondered how many times you’d cross paths before you’d learn his name. 

 Overall your day had been going pretty well after Regina George’s Walmart knock off pushed you into a locker. You had math, biology, foreign language, and gym in the morning, and they all seemed like okay classes. But as you made your way to the cafeteria you realized lunch meant spending time with friends, and you had none. You decided to purchase your lunch and sneak it into the school library, hoping to eat in peace. Apparently the universe had other plans, “Well if it isn’t our new resident freak, what’s your name loser?” A familiar nasally voice sneered from behind you.

 "(Y/F/N), and your the wicked Bitch of the West,“ you growled back, not even bothering to turn around. 

 "The name is Sydney, and you need to learn your place here. Your an unknown newbie, so do yourself a favor and listen to us when we tell you to do something, slut!” She hissed following you out of the cafeteria with three football players behind her.

 "Ok listen, I literally have been here for 5 hours and you already want to ruin my life. Maybe it’s because your just that sad of a human being or maybe it’s because you already know I’m twice the person you are,“ you taunted, you’d dealt with enough bullies to not be afraid of anyone. Suddenly the lunch tray was slammed out of your hands. "Are you fucking kidding me, what kind of life are your trying to lead here? What the fuck is this, is your name Heather?” You barked. “

You think your smart don’t you whore? Have fun with the football team, it’s the only time a guy in this school with even look at you,” she jested sashaying away. 

 The three football players who you had decided to name Chad, Chæd, and Ch@d stalked over to you. Chæd shoved you to the ground and than chucked your bag across the hallway, your papers flying everywhere. Chad leaned down and started spitting insults in your face, you were intimidated but kept standing your ground. Than you heard the familiar sound of metal slicing through the air, Ch@d pulled out a switch blade. “Not scared freak? Well you should be, you better watch you back after school, you can’t hide,” he spit into your face. Dropping you to the floor and walking away. 

You collapsed on to the linoleum floor and let your fearless facade fall. Blinking back tears, you felt a hand land on your shoulder, you flinched and quickly tried to fight them off. 

 "Hey hey hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you,“ a deep but soft voice assured you. ”(Y/N) relax,“

 "Who are you? We seem to cross paths a lot but I haven’t caught your name,” you whispered letting your heart rate go back to normal. 

 "I haven’t thrown it, but it’s Connor Murphy, our high schools resident freak and school shooter according to everyone but me,“ he grumbled helping you up, once he made sure you were okay he left you alone with $5 for a new lunch. He was cold and closed off but he was the closest thing you had to a friend and he made you feel like you weren’t alone if even for five minutes.

 You’d missed the bus, which after the threat to your life seemed like a better idea. You were quickly walking home taking all of the short cuts you could find, when a car full of three Chads pulled up next to you. 

"Hey loser. You missed your appointment with the surgeon, but that’s okay we do home visits,” Chad said gesturing to his friend holding an open switch blade. Suddenly your life went from Mean Girls to Heathers to the Outsiders all in one day, and personally you liked to keep real life and Hollywood separate. You were cornered and lost, the three boys climbed out of the car towards you, and a shadowy figure stalked up behind them.

 "What the fuck do you think you’re doing Magnus?“ The shadowy figure growled scaring Chæd so he dropped the switch blade. "I already called the cops to alert them to check the bank security cameras. Fucking dumbass,” Connor continued coming into the light and grabbing your hand. Police sirens in the distance came closer and Connor pulled you down the alley. The three Chads ran the opposite direction but it was apparent that they were already fucked. Connor walked you home and told you to wait at your door for him tomorrow morning. 

 Turns out Magnus’ switch blade was a fake but he still made threats, people still called you names and made fun of you, but it didn’t matter. No one could touch you as long as you were with Connor, he was your best friend and you were his. You were the only person he let into his life, he told you about his parents and how he needs therapy. He told you that he’s never had a friend and if he hadn’t chosen to make your life his problem, he would have killed himself that night. You two were inseparable, you went everywhere together, at first it was to protect you, but now it’s because you wouldn’t want to spend time with anyone else. And four months later nothing but the weather changed. It was the end of December and snow covered the ground so thickly that you could walk on it a foot above the grass. It was a particularly cold winter night when Connor Murphy, like a phantom , showed up at your bed room window. 

“Get the fuck out of bed," 

 "Jesus Con it’s midnight what are you doing here, aren’t you cold?”

 "I wanted to see you, thought it was a better idea than just dying. And no I’m not cold, I’m hot as fuck can’t you tell?“ You feigned laughter and climbed through your window, pulling your winter coat tightly around your body. 

He took your hand and lead you down the high way to the empty field by his house. You both laid on the hard icy snow, it was so cold that it didn’t even melt below you. The night sky was full of stars, even thought the atmosphere was still, you felt lightning shooting through your arm where it touched Connor’s. 

"So why’d you come and get me?” You whispered not wanting to the shatter the silence 

 "My house was empty and I just felt so alone all of the sudden, i couldn’t take it anymore so I came to you. That’s what I always do,“ he whispered back taking your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

 Your face flushed, it felt like you were on fire even if you were laying in a foot of snow "I’m glad you are comfortable enough to confide in me, I’ll always be for you,” you murmured as you laid your head on his shoulder.You had never been this close to Connor but you were glad he wasn’t pushing you away.

 "You’re the only thing I find comfort in anymore. I need you more than you’ll ever need me, but that’s okay,“ his eyes were red and he had tears pooling in them, they were happy tears that he blinked away. Usually he’d never believe someone when they said they’d be there for him, but he so desperately wanted to believe you. 

 "Connor I need you so much, you’re my best friend, you literally saved my life -" 

 ”(Y/N) it was a fake knife,“ 

 "Shut up and let me finish Connor, you’re the only person I’ve let in and you make me so happy. God Connor, I-I love you!” You confessed, you were never one to back down from anything, and admitting your feelings to Connor was one of those things. 

 "(Y/N) do you want to know how much I love you? I love you so much that I live for you. I would die for anyone, but it takes so much to live for someone,“ his voice cracking and the tears creeping from his eyes. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up in the snowy field.

 Connor decided that you would spent not only that night but you’re entire lives together. 6 years later after high school, college, and a lot of therapy Connor finally felt ready to take your relationship to the next step. He proposed in the spring and you decided on a winter wedding. Another six years had passed And your 4 year old daughter sat on your dresser examining the engagement ring you wore everyday. 

"Mommy what does this say?” She asked while you were applying mascara, you took the ring and examined it closely. 

You had never noticed it but engraved into the inside band, in worn lettering that looked strangely like Connors sharp cursive from high school was ‘I live only for you’

About A Girl (Tate Langdon x Reader)

Request: “If it’s not too much trouble, could you write a post-death Tate oneshot/headcanon (whichever) about a “preppy” girl that moves into the murder house and Tate doesn’t really like her at first because she reminds him of the popular kids at his school but then one night he hears her blasting nirvana and starts to fall in love? Sorry if this is really long! 😳 thanks!”

Warnings: Plaid (it deserves its own warning, okay? I think I meant checkered though originally), small cliffhanger, poking fun at preppy kids, I went a little off-request

Word Count: 1,018

A/N: I actually really love this request, thank you. I’m a lil’ nirvana stan have no idea why, though. And when I wrote this, I typed a whole, like, 300 words but they’re missing? RIP? It was about 1.2k but I totally forgot what the hell I used to fill it in, so like I said, RIP.

BY THE WAY: I’ll make a more informative post on this later, but one of my kitties is heavily pregnant. If I go missing for a while, it’s because she’s had her babies. Don’t worry. I will probably take a hiatus and/or close requests when they arrive, since kittens are a lot of work, but I can assure you that I’ll be back.

Tate had always liked girls that were more on the “grunge” side of the spectrum. Girls that reminded him of the 90′s, when he was alive. He had never gone for preppy girls (which is what he classified Y/N as), in fact, he often made fun of them. Never out loud though, he was only that much of an ass to his mother. At least she gave him those morals. Though, that might just be his common sense.

“I’ll finish that box later.” You say, scooting the box containing your clothing out of the bedroom doorway. Tate watched from the opposite door, silently laughing at your plaid skirt. Who wore plaid these days?  He knew a few girls that wore, like, plaid dresses in his days, but it wasn’t quite in-trend in the 2010′s, in his opinion, at least.

And you seemed a little… Off. Kind of like the vibe he got from Kyle Greenwell. He was a football player who came from a rich family, everything he could’ve asked for served to him on a silver platter. Tate knew he probably wasn’t as bad as he had made it out to be in his head, but Kyle was still bad. You came off as a little… Well, preppy. And as we said earlier, Tate never liked preppy. 

Your mom mumbles an agreement, hunched over the stairs. Her attention was focused on some kind of legal papers that you didn’t understand. Taxes, maybe? Or was it something to do with buying the house? Either way, it was holding her attention and looked heavily confusing.

Deciding to avoid whatever those paper were, you walk back to you room. Tate quietly follows you. As you push the bedroom door shut, Tate sneaks through. Perks of being a ghost, right? You start to un-zip your skirt, letting it pool at the floor. He watches you as you undress. He knew it was weird and pervy, but he was Tate Langdon for God’s sake.

Once you’re changed into some comfortable clothes, you hear a knock at your door. Sighing, you open it to reveal the blonde haired boy. He walks in, looking at your bedroom.

“It’s not unpacked yet, sorry.” You stand awkwardly at the door as he picks up several of your possessions, examining them. “Who are you?”

“Tate.” He simply says. “I live next door.”

“Oh! Are you, uh…” You trail off, almost expecting him to read your mind. “That blonde woman’s son?”

“Constance?” He snorts. “Yeah.” 

Tate fiddles with the small radio perched on your nightstand, and soon enough, some band starts playing at full volume. He doesn’t bother to turn it down, instead making funny faces as he listened to the lyrics. He obviously didn’t care for modern music.

You rush over to the device, twisting the volume knob down before your parents could hear. “Look. You seem nice, but I think you need to go.” Shrugging, he flips through the preset stations, twisting the knob back up. You shoo him away from the bed, and soon out of the bedroom. “I trust you can find your way back out?” He nods, and when you look away, he’s vanished.

That was the first night Tate visited you. Well, that you were aware of. He had mainly stayed away when you were home, not liking you very much, but when you were gone, he snooped in your belongings. He didn’t find many things that seemed important or deemed you worthy of his liking (unlike his previous flings, of which he found these things quickly. That’s where a lifetime of sneaking around came in handy). That was until he found your stash of mixtapes and whatnot. 

He wasn’t able to play them very long before you came home and forced him out again, but from what he heard, nothing changed. He still disliked you, if not a little bit more. 

A few days later, you hear a knock on your bedroom door. “Come in.” You groan, expecting a member of your family. “Oh my God, not you again…”

“I came to apologize.” Tate sighs, walking in. “It was rude of me to come in that last time and go through your stuff.”

Damn right it was wrong. Didn’t he know about personal space? Or personal belongings? Surely Constance taught him better than that…

“Just that last time?” You ask. He shrugs, half-nodding. “Fine, come on.” Putting down your book, you watch him like a hawk watches prey. He sits down in the rug in front of your bed, looking around. You somehow know exactly what he’s thinking. “Go for it.”

His face lights up, and he crawls quickly to the radio. For some reason, that was always the reason why he had snuck and your room. 

“You can tell a lot about a person by their music.” He says, flipping through the preset stations again. He knew all (well, most) of them, but still liked to see what was on. You nod, picking the book back up. Opening the cover, you notice something. The library slip had several names written in it, the most recent being from November of 1994. Tate Langdon, the neat, yet messy, cursive read.

“Tate Langdon?” You question, staring at him. He shakes his head, seemingly ignoring your wait for an answer. As he presses the CD button, the first track of Nirvana’s Nevermind album blares at what seemed like the loudest setting. 

“Huh.” He smirks. “Mixtape or album?”

You turn the volume down once more, frustrated that he always turned it up. Nothing seemed to get into this boy’s head. “Album.” To confirm, he turns it to the next song, In Bloom. Tate flips it once more so it’s on Come As You Are. 

“This one was always a favorite.” The boy smiles, leaned over the nightstand. You nod. 

Somehow, the two of you ended up spending the night talking about Nirvana, music, the 90′s, and school. You never asked him 1994 was stamped next to his name. In fact, you forgot about it for the most part. You forgot about it until it happened. 

I will never understand Kentucky. It’s your tax dollars! You are giving tax dollars back to the richest people. How does that give you better and cheaper health care? You have no way to pay for insurance without govt subsidies.

anonymous asked:

I reeeally wish people would stfu about "the US should include tax in the sticker price!" The reasons why it's not included have been explained and really aren't that hard to understand. Different items are taxed in some states but not in others. Different states have different tax rates. Sometimes taxes even vary from one county to the next. Everyone clear on that now? Can we move on?

anonymous asked:

awesome blog, love the pictures and following your adventure. I just have a question I'm curious as to how you can afford to do this especially since it appears you have high end equipment (yeti coolers,danner boots camping equipment etc) not to mention the van and land cruiser. not hating just curious because ib always wants to pack up and leave everything behind just couldn't figure out the financial part of it.

Well, I’m in a pretty good place now - with a great job as the manager of technical operations at a communications company… and it’s almost hard to admit that out of an irrational fear it will all be taken away.  As a farm kid that grew up well below the poverty line and barely made it through college by working 3 jobs, I live in a constant state of psychological fear that I shouldn’t be comfortable - that I’m an undeserving fraud.  I also have to say that although I worked hard to get where I am, I was also a beneficiary of our government social systems - my family benefited from food stamps and food banks and without the financial aid I was awarded could never have attended college.  I also have to recognize, in good conscience, the unfortunate benefits I have just for being a white male in this country - and to those that are not white males I sincerely hope that this is not something I recognize as a benefit on my death bed.  That being said, let me give you some tips I’ve learned along the way when I didn’t have much money at all:

1.) Work at Gear Shops.    For the most part, I’ve always had high end equipment - even as a poor ass college student: so, get jobs at outdoor shops so you can get “pro-deals” on high end gear.  “Pro-Deals” are special discounts (usually more than 50% off) given to employees of gear shops so that you will own and use a specific company’s gear.  This way if a customer comes in and want to buy a cooler - as an employee you can say “I own the yeti cooler and it is amazing” - this will influence the customer to buy what the store employee uses.  

2.) Buy old vehicles.     Yeah, I own an iconic Land Cruiser but it only cost $6000 - and I do almost all the maintenance myself.  Countless times someone in a brand new car tells me how cool my rig is and how they wish they could afford something like it … and then I see them get back into their $30,000 to $60,000 vehicle and drive away!?  

3.) Sleep in your car.    This is how travel is cheap for us.  You don’t pay for hotels or campgrounds….  or flights because you are in your car. 

4.) Use free public land.  Federal public land is my favorite thing about the USA.  I am a public land owner.  This means that I own river front property with access to amazing trout fishing.  I own property in the mountains with the best mountain biking trails.  I own property in the desert on the rim of a canyon where I can have campfires, roast marshmallows and see every god damn star in the universe.  Because there is so much public land in the Western USA - I am a rich man.  Trails are free to hike on, rivers are free to fish in, mountain lakes are free to swim naked in, sunsets are free to dine under… (For those of you that take things literally I understand we pay taxes to support and have access to public lands - and in fact I have researched this and on the average each US citizen pays approximately $4 in annual taxes for federal public lands).    

These are all things I still do today… even though I have a good job.

exo as everyday moments pt 2

(part 1)

minseok: when you use siri or alexa to call a customer service robot and you realize society is doomed, noticing that you talk to your cat more often than any of your friends, hoping that the middle-aged woman arguing with the dunkin donuts cashier finishes up soon so you can get coffee and feel human again

suho: going to a paint and sip class just for the sip part, marathoning diners drive-ins and dives because you yearn for flavor town, when you can’t believe it’s not butter

yixing: arguing with people over their astrological sign, discreetly shazaming the song playing at hot topic, goldfish crackers being the closest thing to a meal you’ve eaten all day

baekhyun: watching jeopardy and confidently calling out the wrong answer, that “good enough” feeling after you’ve tried to even out your eyeliner for 15 minutes, not understanding taxes and being too afraid to ask at this point

jongdae: impulsively cutting off all your hair, thinking about how you probably share all of your main interests and hobbies with 85 year old women, ending a service call with a complete stranger with “thanks love you”

chanyeol: sharing the results of your buzzfeed quiz on facebook, practicing your fast food order and messing it up anyway, saying “hi welcome to chili’s” to the actual chili’s employees because you’ve watched 10 different vine compilations in a row

kyungsoo: when the high point of your week is buying a new kitchen appliance, making up obvious lies about yourself during ice breaker games to avoid legitimately becoming close to anyone, going to 7-eleven at 1am and realizing you’ve entered a liminal space

jongin: buying a party size bag of chips for your party of 1 (yourself), going on webmd and suddenly having 30 new illnesses, never bothering to match socks because you just don’t care

sehun: saying “there’s been a glitch in the matrix” after every minor inconvenience, that feeling of disgust after your 14th consecutive day of treating yourself, wearing designer perfume or cologne over an outfit you’ve been wearing for days and haven’t washed

zarosian  asked:

"were you military or tax exempt at all?" "yes" 😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑 or my favorite, "were you military or tax exempt at all?" "no" *finishes their purchase* "oh im oregon" DO U NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT TAX EXEMPT MEANS..... we get contractors n businesses too and ppl from alaska n other states!!!!!!! if u dont pay tax ur Tax Exempt. Congrats. pls learn to listen to me

i know i should be sleeping but i think i really need to ask that you not to play the game if you feel like you aren’t able to cope with the things happening. be it the IG conflicts or the gore or anti being an asshole. we understand how emotionally taxing ARGs are, so please do make an informed decision before joining.

nobody is ever going to blame you or guilt you for dropping, but it’s better if you don’t put yourself through something you can’t handle to begin with, specially if this is your first experience with an arg.

and make sure you’ve read the rules and you’re free to ask both rav and i any oog questions on discord (rav is anti ofc, and i’m damien from the marionette division)