Every time <3

A COMINT !!

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

Well, you know, some bathroom graffiti offers insight.

A House Full of Broken Things

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Relationships: Fearne Calloway/Ashton Greymoore, Fearne Calloway & Orym, Orym/Will | Orym's Spouse (Critical Role), Orym/Dorian Storm Characters: Fearne Calloway, Orym (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Post-Episode C3e80, Fearne and Orym talk, quiet conversations, Canon Compliant, Spoilers for Previous Episodes, Sweet, Grief/Mourning, Mild Language, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Ashton Greymoore Summary: Fearne is having a hard time falling asleep after the trials. Orym shows up for a quiet talk. Post-episode 80.

Read it on AO3 here.

Snippet below the cut.

Fearne lay awake in her bed in Ligament Manor, staring at the ceiling. It was wonderful being home again, seeing Nana and Peepers and Dr Nesbit and Door and Sweet Pea and Bompers and even Birdie and Ollie. She felt safe here, safer than she’d felt in a long time, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that coming back now would only make it harder to leave.

Turning onto her side, her mind kept whirling. Her and Ashton’s new forms, the trust exercises, the truth about her father, before eventually settling on the image of the cracks in Ashton’s skin roiling like lava as their arm fell to shatter against the floor, of his eyes on hers, bright as a flare and just as dangerous, daring her to keep him alive, to get them through this, to not scream for the others, to keep her promise.

“No!” she pulled herself away from the vision, pressed her palms to her eyes, hard, and rubbed at them until the image broke and she was back in her bedroom again, rage smouldering in her belly.

More than fury at Ashton’s recklessness though, Fearne felt a deep, clawing shame. It felt like the ichor that poured from Laudna’s form of dread, black and sticky, impossible to wipe away. She wasn’t familiar with the feeling and she didn’t like it at all. She had told Ashton that she didn’t want the shard. Of course they would take that to mean that they should use it instead otherwise why had he bothered pulling it from the lava in the first place? He had only done that, had to go through that, because she had been too afraid of what the power might make her into, not for a second thinking that it would be worse, far worse, to watch it unmake Ashton instead. And not only had she given them the tools, but she had just stood there, helpless and panicking, throwing out healing spells that did nothing but prolong the torture. Watching her aura of life pulse every few seconds, keeping them on their feet, still feeling the rough pressure of his lips on hers.

Fearne’s heart spiked with a brief pain and she sniffed. She was so stupid sometimes. So naive. She’d never really wanted to be otherwise. Everything since leaving the Feywild had felt like a grand adventure up to this point. Sure, there had been bumps in the road. Bertrund’s death had been sad, and Lord Eshteross. And she’d missed her nana terribly, and finding her parents had been… complicated. They’d lost Laudna and got separated and Fearne had been worried then. At the Malleus Key she’d been worried too, that they were going to fail, that they were going to die. But she’d never really thought that they would. It felt like the games she used to play as a child, when she’d sneak places she wasn’t supposed to go or steal something important to see how long it would take Nana to notice it was gone. Or when her and her animal friends would take turns being the monster that the other would bravely fight off. Those games were always fun, with just enough danger to provide a thrill, but there had never been anything so scary that Nana couldn’t make her feel better, no monster that wandered into the fens that Nana couldn’t chase away.

Having Nana be there when she finally accepted the shard had made her feel braver, but she’d recently learned that not even Nana had the power to protect her from reality, she’d had a huge, bitter dose of that. The danger of what they were doing felt very, very solid. It had been creeping upon her ever since the clock tower.

Fearne liked to flirt. It was fun to watch Chetney turn bright red and awkwardly flirt back, to see Imogen smirk out of the corner of her eye, to hear Orym’s quiet chuckle. But hearing Ashton say that they thought she was hot had knotted something in her stomach, and saying it back hadn’t been fun, or light or flirty. It had been scary and heavy and honest and she’d run away so that she would never know how he would have responded. But it wasn’t just that. Her excursion with the witches and learning they were together, seeing the shadows that lingered in between them; her talk with Orym, his love and his determination to get them through; pulling FCG from the snow to the right way up, laughing until her sides hurt at the sight of them and Ashton ploughing face-first into a snow bank; Chetney trying to make her feel better by taking her to smash windows. Her bonds with these people were irrevocable now. She felt them in her chest, tugging at her heart until it tore.

They hadn’t even made it to the moon yet and things were only going to get worse. They had time now and although that was what she’d wanted, what they all needed, it rankled at her. Now she had more hours to worry, to think, to seethe and cry and question the truth that she had called out in the chasm, that maybe they weren’t ready for this. Maybe they would die for good. Maybe she would have to watch Ashton shatter again, or watch Orym crumple to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Maybe Imogen would be pulled somewhere else by her connection to the moon, maybe Chetney would be overtaken by the beast inside him, maybe Laudna would give in to Delilah, maybe FCG would try to take too much damage for one of them. She felt more powerful now, and Ashton had certainly looked more powerful, but power didn’t fix everything. The trust exercise had been good in theory but she wasn’t sure they’d really succeeded. They’d all been suspicious of each other; Ashton leaving FCG in the deadly vines, Laudna bringing out her hound for insurance, Orym questioning them with random trivia that she at least hadn’t been in a place to remember.

The walls around her almost seemed to be closing in, twisting her thoughts into a tangled mess of anxiety. She hated this. She’d never felt like this before and she hated it. Was this why FCG kept second-guessing themself? Was this why Imogen fought so hard against other people’s thoughts? Was this what Orym felt whenever he stepped in front of a creature at least four times his size? Fear. Real fear. That they would lose. That she would lose. It was the kind of feeling she’d always pushed away, the kind that hadn’t seemed important when there were more fun things to do, but now she couldn’t stop the onslaught.

“Fearne?”

Fearne sniffled and looked up at the soft voice. Orym was peering around the doorframe. She hadn’t heard him knock.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

Orym’s mouth twitched a little. “This is your bedroom.”

“Oh, right.”

Orym came in and shut the door behind him before quietly padding over to where she lay. She shuffled backwards towards the wall and he hopped up, sitting criss-cross-applesauce in front of her.

Read the rest on AO3 here.

You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.

me making sure i shake my head in disgust as i walk past booktok tables in bookshops

It is with profound disappointment that we report the industry CEOs have walked away from the bargaining table after refusing to counter our latest offer. (1/11)

We have negotiated with them in good faith, despite the fact that last week they presented an offer that was, shockingly, worth less than they proposed before the strike began.

These companies refuse to protect performers from being replaced by AI, they refuse to increase your wages to keep up with inflation, and they refuse to share a tiny portion of the immense revenue YOUR work generates for them.

We have made big, meaningful counters on our end, including completely transforming our revenue share proposal, which would cost the companies less than 57¢ per subscriber each year. They have rejected our proposals and refused to counter.

Instead they use bully tactics. Just tonight, they intentionally misrepresented to the press the cost of the above proposal – overstating it by 60%.

They have done the same with A.I., claiming to protect performer consent, but continuing to demand “consent” on the first day of employment for use of a performer’s digital replica for an entire cinematic universe (or any franchise project).

The companies are using the same failed strategy they tried to inflict on the WGA – putting out misleading information in an attempt to fool our members into abandoning our solidarity and putting pressure on our negotiators.

But, just like the writers, our members are smarter than that and will not be fooled.

We feel the pain these companies have inflicted on our members, our strike captains, IATSE, Teamsters and Basic Crafts union members, and everyone in this industry. We have sacrificed too much to capitulate to their stonewalling and greed.

We stand united and ready to negotiate today, tomorrow, and every day.

Our resolve is unwavering. Join us on picket lines and at solidarity events around the country and let your voices be heard.

One day longer. One day stronger. As long as it takes.

- Your TV/Theatrical Negotiating Committee

stop listening to music and start listening to the sounds of nature. the “eagles?”The “rolling stones?” The “beetles?” Come into the beautiful forest with me and you will find all of those things friend…. I promise….If you just believe<3

Pledging allegiance

My allegiance is not to crown nor king,

It’s to the dawn chorus on a morning in spring.

It’s to the bright glitter of a lake in the sun,

It’s to the woods and the hills of this country they ‘run’.

 I pledge to uphold my ongoing practise

Of small, everyday acts of kindness.

I’ll try to always treat others with respect

But tolerance is all the royalty get.

 I believe in protest and having your say

When the rights of your friends are being ripped away.

It’s in poor taste to ride a carriage of gold

When so many are starving or dying of cold.

 And so I promise to help where I can,

To vote my conscience, to improve this land,

To leave things better than when I arrived

And make it known that I was alive.

💥🙌👏

I want everybody who’s calling Ken a Trophy Husband to know that he’s actually a Trophy Boyfriend, because when Ruth Handler invented Ken in the 1960s, she was adamant that he would never marry her and instead be her “handsome steady”, so that Barbie remained a figure of independence for the little girls and was never put in the position of housewife.

Her house is hers. She bought it and furnished it with money she made in her own job. In STEM, in politics, in healthcare, in fashion, in academy, in customer service. Her credit card is in her name (women in the US couldn’t have their own regardless of marital status until 1974). And it’s all pink and fashionable because femininity and badassness aren’t mutually exclusive. No matter who you are, you can be anything.

That’s why Barbie’s slogan is “you can be anything”. Teaching these ideals to little girls is why Barbie was created. Empowering women and empowering femininity is the original meaning of the Barbie doll. It’s not that you have to be all this to be a woman, but if you are all or some of this, you too are awesome.

And somehow pop culture deliberately changed that narrative. Sexualised, bimbofied, and villainised her, when she actually isn’t responsible for the impossible beauty standards — people are, she’s just a stylised, not-to-scale toy like most others.

Men are frothing because he’s just Ken and I guess they were expecting her to be just Barbie, but that’s exactly what Ken is. Canonically. A badass woman’s himbo boyfriend.

This movie has the potential to change the way we collectively see Barbie radically into what Ruth Handler’s intended, I’m so very excited

Arcane + TV Tropes Act 1 episode 3 "The Base Violence Necessary for Change" (insp.)

Arcane + TV Tropes Act 1 episode 2 "Some Mysteries Are Better Left Unsolved" (insp.)