scareah

[scareah]

Me @ myself when my husband unexpectedly comes home early and interrupts my quiet alone time in the apartment.

daily affirmations:

i am kind

i am in control of my emotions

it does not bother me when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

everyone in the house has the right to be in the kitchen

i am kind and in control of my emotions even when someone is in the kitchen while i was planning to be in there alone

[scareah]

[scareah]

Remember "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" ? I feel like there's been a distancing from the "reduce" and "reuse" part and a favoritism towards "recycle" by corporate American.

Capitalism can still thrive with recycling in the mix. You buy Plastic Thing 1, throw it away after one use, and they take that and recycle it into Plastic Thing 2 and sell it back to you. All while continuing to harm the environment.

Reusing puts a damper on things. They can't sell you Plastic Thing 2 when you're still using Plastic Thing 1. Plastic forks, for example- there is literally no reason why you can't reuse plastic forks more than once (aside from maybe microplastics, but it's too late for that)

Reducing is the one everyone wants to ignore. Just don't buy Plastic Thing 1. You don't need Plastic Thing 1. Pick up a set of metal forks and use those for years. Convenience is killing the planet

[scareah]

I can’t get over Lockwood insisting to Flo that Lucy’s just an associate when just one scene earlier he held onto her hand like his life depended on it after they got out of Bickerstaff’s mansion. And then to round things off he looks at her with puppy dog eyes for the rest of the damn episode, only taking a break to look anxious over the thought of losing Lucy (to Fittes/Kipps).

My boy’s down bad, and I don’t think he’s even in denial about it at this point.

[scareah]

Baggage

Lucy Carlyle lingered in the grass. Flowers tucked themselves neatly next to a gravemarker, fresh-turned earth marking the boundaries of a too-small grave.

It was time. But how could she say goodbye? How could she pack all the feelings and thoughts tangled in her brain into mere words?

She tried. Through tears, she tried.

“I’m sorry,” she told the grave’s occupant. “I’m so sorry.”

The gravemark was simple: a single skull. No birth date or death date. No name. She’d never known either. But it summed up the entirety of her very best friend: a single skull, charred and empty.

[scareah]

[scareah]

[scareah]

Bet you guys didn’t know I also made the iron trio as 3 raccoons stacked on top of each other too. Once again, I don’t make the rules I just draw them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Genuine thank you to everyone who has reposted Hamster Barnes, I was not expecting such enthusiasm 🥺

[scareah]

One thing that the Lockwood & Co tv series does really really really well (one of a few of things it does better than the books imo) is really locking into just how fucked up the world of post-Problem London is, particularly in regard to children's rights.

Getting to see Lucy's backstory on screen in montage form, seeing the way her mom and Jacobs treat her, like a cash cow instead of a human child. Seeing Jacobs' complete and utter incompetence, and the way that the court believed him over her. It really hammers in the severity of the situation.

Minors are working, putting their lives at risk, but they still have no more rights than they do in our world. They're at the mercy of abusive family members and manipulative adults taking advantage of them.

Then there's the entire ward full of ghost-touched CHILDREN that Lucy finds in the hospital. And there's other things too: George's rushed "The Problem is everything we've ever know, all any of us us have ever known, and that's not okay!" The bit about: "The world that made women give up their babies, that's the problem."

Yes, part of the appeal of Lockwood's agency is that there's no adults, and yes, that's partly because the books were written for young people, but also, the corruption of Fittes and the way it manipulates and takes advantage of its agents is the central point of the books.

(Also there's a lot to be said about Kipps's story and the way that the major agencies discard their operatives after they're no longer "useful". Even assuming they do hire their former agents, they don't need nearly as many administrators as they need agents. And being an agent means dropping out of school, so once their Talent fades, former agents (those that survive, that is) are absolutely screwed over for the rest of their lives. Few job prospects, no education or more traditionally useful skills, not to mention a fucking boatload of trauma from being exposed to violent death for years. It's no surprise that Kipps is willing to risk his life for a few more years of job security. Not to mention that he's desperately clinging to the role that has defined his entire existence for at least half a decade. Losing the only thing that's ever made you worth anything (as far as the world is concerned)... no wonder he's terrified.)

Also, @/paranormal-taters made a good point in this post about the decision to make Joplin a woman and the way agents would be more vulnerable to predatory adults (in several ways) due to the way that agents are treated.

I'm going to be upset about this show getting canceled until the day I die, but I would have LOVED to see how they kept going with this theming, since they seemed to be going a little more heavy-handed form earlier in the series than the books. (Which I love!!!! I think it's one of the most interesting things about the series -- in both its forms -- engaging with it as an adult.)

[scareah]

[scareah]

@adelinejclose

[scareah]

As a society we have benefited so much from successful public health measures that we now have the privilege of declaring that we must not need them anymore

Bitch before enriched flour, neural tube defects like spina bifida were far more common. Even now, spina bifida clinicians and researchers are begging to have salt and maize fortified to reach groups that don’t use as much flour. Before iodized salt, the United States had a fucking GOITER BELT. Eleven years after the introduction of fluoridated water, a city in Michigan found the rate of dental caries among school children dropped a staggering 60%— in an era where tooth decay regularly fucking killed people

I’m literally not even going to start on vaccines, which are among the most successful and robustly studied public health measures in world history

You might say “oh well today we all have access to vitamins and toothpastes and dentists so we don’t need those things in our food supplies” and boy do white people on social media loooove to fucking say that. But here’s the thing: no, people don’t all have easy access to those things. That’s privilege talking yet again

[scareah]

I wish they could invent a medical device that temporarily transfers your symptoms and pain to the doctor treating you and it worked like a shock collar. “I think light exercise would-.” and then bam they’re rolling around the floor clutching their stomach in agony and dry heaving.

[scareah]

[scareah]

My heart hurts and I can’t sleep at night because this is *still happening* every day.

“It’s a killing field”: Israeli soldiers describe firing on civilians at US-backed Gaza aid sites

Israeli troops say commanders ordered them to use live fire on unarmed Palestinians, per a Haaretz investigation

from the article:

Israeli soldiers deployed in Gaza say they’ve been ordered to open fire on civilians gathering at food distribution sites, many of which are operated by a humanitarian organization founded with help from U.S. evangelical leaders and private contractors.

According to a new Haaretz investigation, Israeli commanders have repeatedly instructed troops to shoot at Palestinians near the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF)’s food aid centers. The soldiers report that live ammunition, grenade launchers, mortars, and heavy machine guns have been used to disperse crowds of hungry, sometimes before dawn, when residents begin lining up in hopes of receiving food.

The Haaretz report includes firsthand testimony from multiple Israeli soldiers, one of whom described his post as a “killing field,” where “between one and five people were killed every day.” Another said civilians are treated “like a hostile force,” even though “there’s no enemy, no weapons.”

“I’m not aware of a single instance of return fire,” the soldier told Haaretz. 

The Gaza Health Ministry says at least 549 people have been killed and more than 4,000 wounded near aid centers since late May. The death toll has spiked dramatically in recent weeks, with certain individual days seeing more than 50 fatalities. 

[...]

One IDF reservist told Haaretz that firing on civilians is now routine: “It’s not even an ‘unfortunate incident’ like they used to say.”

“Gaza is a parallel universe. You move on quickly,” said another soldier. “The truth is, most people don’t even stop to think about it.” 

[scareah]

Gripping

It's the hands that give him away -- that always gave him away. No matter how polished he might have been in grey Fittes uniform, how glittering the jeweled chain at his belt, how distracting the medals pinned to his chest - each earned through the sort of daring work that even Lockwood might have found - passingly - tolerable, they couldn't quite cover it up.

His hands - and Quill Kipps thought, almost bitterly, the mutable, ambitious, impatient nature he was born with.

There was no hiding either things - his temperament, or the hands: calloused, rough, and used to more than just holding paper files and pens to sign paperwork, or idling about a room engaging in chitchat.

Even at the nicest parties, even in the fanciest of rooms, even with the most important of guests.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy a good party. But there was something tedious about so many of them. They lacked challenge - lacked excitement.

Perhaps that's why he'd goaded Tony so many times in the past - why he'd spoiled for fights when he was supposed to be enjoying himself.

His hands were used to moving - his body to swiftly tackling ever-shifting problems. He'd been trained to it as long as he could remember - had been practically born for Fittes, a rapier in his hand from almost birth.

His mind had been given a different sort of working, a practical, on the job sort of training, and it raced through options, as honed to the task as any elite athlete in their respective arena.

His arena was a world of hidden dangers, and flashing rapiers, and lightning-quick decision making. Life and death, and teamwork all together in an exhilarating frenzy.

And - perhaps - it didn't help that he was, undeniably, exceptional.

He might have fleeting introductions to billionaires, might sit behind a desk and liaise with DEPRAC, but those hands would always telegraph the truth: as much as he'd worked to belong in that world, he was simply meant for something else.

It was why he couldn't - no matter how hard he tried - just ignore a challenge. Why he'd devote days - hours - to studying an enemy, to puzzling out a chess sequence, to picking apart and understanding his newest case, before approaching it in person.

It's something Penelope Fittes herself pointed out - so long ago in the past it might as well have been another lifetime. They'd dressed him up for an award ceremony, in the flashiest version of the uniform they had. Tailored, and crisp, and camera-ready. His hair, short and red and nearly bristly with how cropped it was - had been done special, even though it hadn't looked any different after.

It was good - he was good - but she'd frowned at him, before leaving to take the stage, and pursed her lips slightly, as if finding a fly in her cocktail, and murmured that while everything about him might look picture-perfect, if a bit daintier than she'd like, the effort was wasted when those hands of his ruined their carefully-crafted illusion.

She was talking about the callouses from the rapier work and the fanatically-honed fencing skills, but the words cut so much deeper, laid bare the kernel of insecurity that he'd wrestled with since joining Fittes.

Had his rough, working hands trembled slightly? Had she noticed the nerves?

He was good. He knew he was good. But did anyone else really believe it?

Was it even really true?

And though the medals on his uniform - the swift way he flew through the ranks - should have allayed that strange doubt, at the end of the day, it was his hands that gave him away.

Working hands. And the one thing they struggled to do was truly idle, or worse, let well enough alone.

No, Kipps was the sort of man that had to find a challenge, and then ruin himself trying to kick it apart.

[scareah]

hygiene in this late-stage capitalist society is ridiculous and it makes me want to die

potentially incoherent rant:

people often critic communism for its perceived lack of diversity in products, but when i look at the state of hygiene and "beauty" products in capitalism i feel sick. people feel a pressure to buy absurd products in a bizarre addiction to consumerism. this manifests as exponentially complicated (and expensive) skincare routines, overpriced shampoos, make-up almost everyday, and an ever-raging war on body hair.

to argue that this is simply a result of human nature is naive, it is an *exploitation* of human nature done by the capitalist system to the benefit of corporate greed.

you should not need makeup to feel pretty. you should not feel the need to pay a fuckton of money for some hippy dippy conditioner made of unicorn tears so that your hair can be nice. to give in to these desires is to lick the boot of the capitalist. resist the urge to turn your self-perception into another facet of capitalist exploitation; love yourself radically, love yourself despite the propaganda telling you that you need to be changed. do not lie to yourself that your skincare is a fun "ritual" or that your expensive shampoo is good in the name hygiene. do not lie to yourself that someone elses skin looks better than yours because it is clearer.

give up on being pretty. its never going to be enough, the system relies on you always wanting to be prettier.

BE UGLY .