#i also thought of possums but that was more of an irony thing. same for bats but both are ironically really resistant to disease and act

[puppyeared]

i have an idea for a character design but what animals are usually associated with medicine??? the most common answer i got was snake, but i also thought of lab rats/mice, rabbits etc

[generation1point5]

20 and 8 Years

I used to be tired of bildungsromans. Coming of age stories always felt like they dealt with issues that, while personal, never seemed to hold any connection or relevance to me. I could never relate to the protagonists who were my age, who went to school and went their phases of drama, trauma of some sort, loss and all the pains of growing up.

Yet here I am, now 28 years of age, thinking back on Night in the Woods as soon as I see a new Amazon Grocery replace the old Safeway a town away. They’re planning to do the same to another in the strip mall nearest my house.

I am not in Possum Springs. Although I am surrounded by forest, my circumstances are more akin to Bright Harbor (hello, Seattle) than any rust belt boom town suffering the loss of traditional industry to the gig economy and automation. The farm fields are on the other side of the mountain, the mines are entire states away. But the effects of gentrification, the rising homeless population and the onset of late-stage capitalism is no-less apparent to me here in the real world as it is in Possum Springs. The profound empathy I feel for something fictional has not led me to dissociate from reality; in a stroke of irony, it has surged a profound and terrible sense of empathy in recognizing the truth that the fiction of the game presented, and helped align my understandings of my own sense of loss, anger, despair, and persistence in spite of these things. I have no real connection to Mae Borowski, but I see her in the faces of ones whom I know by other names whom I have known prior. I know my Beatrices. I know my Greggs and my Anguses also. I can begin to grasp the reality of a place like Possum Springs and see its shadows in the corners of my home town.

I understand enough to grasp, but not yet identify. There is a necessary and distance between games and reality that I am thankful for. By it, I think I’ve been able to, throughout my life, connect to people different from myself over the years. Night in the Woods was a bildungsroman of a different sort. I didn’t have to match the circumstances to the character to relate to them. They’re several years younger than I, many whom have never gotten a college education, but they have deeply similar sentiments. They experience similar struggles, observe similar injustices, and persist in the most millennial way possible. That is what I appreciate about it. In a stroke of supreme irony, I find myself in the opposite place Mae finds herself in. There is more to Night in the Woods than pixels, or sentiments as a mere product of words on a screen created by a team of inspired developers funded on Kickstarter. Night in the Woods wrestles and struggles with the unseen, and does not take materialist reductionism at its face value, and in so doing opens up the question of what, at heart, truly matters, concluding that the end of all things is a matter to be discovered later.

The home we have built for ourselves over the years is, like all things in this world, subject to the laws of entropy, whether by the developments of socioeconomic conditions or by the simple passage of time. Age has a way of distancing everything that was once familiar, all at once giving and taking away. I have often wondered why this has at times produced melancholy, other times joy, and oftentimes mixed together. Home was (and ought to be, I think) a comforting place to be, a place to return to after efforts have been expended, a place of rest and that peace that comes with knowing that things in life are well. We are in a time and place where we no longer believe these things to be on the horizon, and so change becomes a melancholic thing. So it was with Possum Springs, and so it is at 20 and 8 years of age. I know the past was, in all reality, far less rosy than what I made it out to be, but the sentiment remains. Albeit natural to human nature, it is a mistake to react to change with conservatism; any honest clarity with reflection on the past would reveal as many flaws as there were benefits. That does not mean we ought to wholesale reject the past either, but we have the power to choose what to preserve and to build on to get to the place we want to be.

But that future seems altogether a distant one. There was a moment yesterday when I was struck with that profound sense of melancholy. I had taken my break, sat down, and at once realized the vast stretch of time that had passed between when I had first dreamed of a new future, and how distant that goal still seemed to be after having walked for many years down that road. I had been walking in the hopes that I would one day get there, but despite the distance that I have now progressed, I do not feel to be any nearer to where I want to be than where I first began.

The present has become something of a discomfort again, especially in the circumstances that we now inhabit. I conclude, finally at the end of these thoughts following my 28th birthday, to once again accept the present for what it is, and continue walking. It may not be today, but if I persist in hope, I believe I will find what I have been striving for these past years.

[waitineedaname]

oooooo maybe a davekat meetcute? idk ne specific meetcutes but the more embarassing the better

shoutout to @bandersnatchbandwidth for helping come up with this concept AND the wonderful cat names. I loved writing this lol

—

“Princess Diana!”

What the fuck.

“Princess Diana of Southern Texas, my sweet angel baby, come here.”

Why. Why couldn’t Karkat have normal neighbors.

He peered out his kitchen window, bewildered and groggy. It was way too early to have to listen to the virtual strangers in his nearby vicinity lose their minds. His window looked directly into his nextdoor neighbors backyard. Dave… something. They’d barely interacted since he’d moved in, nothing beyond nods of greeting if they run into each other outside or the occasional “hey the mailman gave me your mail by mistake” “oh hey sick dude, thanks.” But of course, thanks to Karkat’s spectacular luck, he was having to witness Dave wander around in his yard in a bathrobe and boxers and not much else. 

“C’mere, beautiful, lemme get you back inside where it’s safe.” Dave continued to coo. What the hell was he talking about? Karkat watched his half naked neighbor crouch down at something, and then watched a ball of white fluff bolt to the opposite corner of the yard. He practically felt Dave’s groan in his own chest.

“Princess Diana, I’m begging you.” Dave approached the bush where his cat was now hiding with caution. “Come on, you’re not meant to be outside. Come back inside where it’s safe. I just got you groomed and now you’re dirty, this is just uncalled for.” He squatted in front of the shrub and Karkat had to try not to laugh as how absurd he looked. The cat was so small, but she clearly had an attitude. “Let me take you inside and I’ll open up a can of wet food and we’ll get our brushing on and you can do that thing where you massage my legs all cute and basically shred me to bits. You’re not meant to be usin’ those claws for hunting out here, you only know clawing up my knee, so come on, c’mere darling. You like the sound of wet food, ri- oh for fucks sake, don’t go further away.”

Okay, this was getting kind of ridiculous. Karkat wasn’t sure what drew him onto his porch other than the fact that he just couldn’t watch this anymore.

“Hey.” Karkat called out. Dave jumped like he’d forgotten other people could see him outside acting like a lunatic. “Do you need help?”

“Oh, hey man.” The cooing voice had turned off and was replaced with false casualness. “Sorry if I woke you or something, it’s just my cat decided to make a fuckin’ run for it. I’ll get her, though, don’t worry about it.”

“Let me see what I can do.” Karkat said before he could think it through. He was already walking over to the fence, though, so it wasn’t like he could back out now. He somehow managed to climb over it without completely falling on his ass, and then he and the cat were behind the same bush. Princess Diana of Southern Texas stared at him like ‘how the fuck did you get here?’ but she didn’t give any more complaint than a single betrayed yowl when he scooped her up in his arms.

“Holy shit.” Dave whispered in awe. “Bro, she doesn’t even let me hold her, the fuck.”

“I have plenty of experience in picking up ornery cats, trust me.” Karkat scratched her under the chin, and she suddenly looked a lot less ornery as her golden eyes drooped shut in satisfaction. “Are you gonna get the door or what?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah.” Dave jogged ahead of him to the door and Karkat gently tossed the cat inside. Dave shut the door before she could make a run for it again. “Seriously, I owe you so much, dude. Where the fuck did you learn to wrangle cats like that?”

“Like I said, I have a lot of experience. If you counted the number of people she tolerates on your hands, the result would be one solitary middle finger.” Karkat demonstrated and was pleased when it startled a single solitary laugh out of his neighbor.

“Can I meet him?” Dave asked, and Karkat blinked at him. Dave immediately looked embarrassed. “Uh, after I get dressed, that is. Or not, sorry, I dunno why I asked.”

Karkat did the mental math and decided fuck it, his morning was already abnormal. “I can’t give any promises he’ll like you, but sure, I guess.”

“Cool. Be right back, dude.” Dave disappeared inside, leaving Karkat to stand on his back porch, questioning his life decisions.

Karkat eventually decided it was probably for the best if he got dressed too since he was still wearing the sweatpants and thin t-shirt he’d slept in. He’d only just managed to pull on a clean pair of jeans when Dave knocked at his door.

“Do you like pears?” Dave blurted out before Karkat could even greet him.

“The fuck.” Karkat stared at him blankly. “Uh, yeah, I guess I like pears?”

“Do you want some?” Dave held up a bag of pear, and Karkat continued to look bewildered. “It’s just- My friend Jade grows pears, and she offered me some and I was like ‘sure, why the hell not’ because I thought she’d give me, like, four maybe, but she gave me eighty-two pears, and I just. I have no fucking use for eighty-two pears. So I thought maybe you’d like some as, like, thanks for making sure my cat’s attempt to tap into her wild roots didn’t extend past our cute little suburban fence.”

“I don’t- You don’t have to pay me for saving your cat’s life! I was just being a good samaritan for once in my goddamn life! Maybe this will be the one thing to tip the karmic scales and get the universe to stop fucking me over, but you don’t-”

“Karkat.” Dave cut him off. Karkat was surprised he remembered his name. “I have eighty-two pears. This is more for my benefit than yours.”

Karkat heaved a great sigh and took the bag of pears. “Fine. You wanted to see TB - she’s on the couch.”

“TB?” Dave asked, peering over at the couch while Karkat led him inside.

“Trash Bag. My cat.”

“Doesn’t TB also stand for tuberculosis?”

“What’s your point.”

Dave huffed a laugh. “Where is she?” 

“Right here.” Karkat dropped the pears on the kitchen counter, then went to the couch to scoop up the gray lump of fur. Said gray lump of fur yowled like a diseased possum getting tossed around in a garbage truck. Dave gasped in barely restrained delight.

“Dude, I thought she was a throw pillow.”

“Sometimes she acts like one.” Karkat huffed, petting Trash Bag’s head. She’d started purring as soon as she realized it was him holding her, and drool was already starting to collect in the folds of her squashed face. 

“Can I pet her?”

“You can try.” Karkat held her out a little, and Dave extended a hand for her to sniff. Trash Bag turned amber eyes on him, immediately identified him as Not-Karkat, and fluffed up even more than she was naturally, a congested growl forming in her throat. 

“Yikes.” Dave pulled his hand away.

“Yeah, she’s like that.” Karkat pulled her back to his chest and she went back to her gloopy purring. 

“She sure likes you though.”

“There’s probably some sick irony that the cat that doesn’t like anyone likes the most unlikable person.” Karkat rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t resist cooing a little when TB licked his finger.

“I don’t think you’re unlikable.” Dave said. Karkat looked up and found him wearing a similar expression to when he asked if he could meet his cat: the look of someone whose mouth has a tendency to say things before his brain catches up.

“No fucking offense, but you don’t really know me.”

“I mean. Yeah, no, I don’t, but. I dunno, you seem like a cool dude?” Dave scratched at the curls at the back of his head. “I know I haven’t really been that neighborly, but I’m having some friends together this weekend, and uh. Well, we’re calling it a ‘barbecue’-” He said with gratuitous quotation marks, “But it’s more like a potluck where Jade dumps all her excess fruits and vegetables on my table and Jake declares he definitely knows how to grill better than we do - which he does, but that’s not saying much - and June brings a metric fuckton of weird snacks she impulse bought at an Asian grocery store. You can come? If you want? You don’t have to, but it could be fun, um. If you want. And if my friends get too overwhelming, you can always duck inside and hang out with my cats.”

Karkat considered the offer, surprised. Trash Bag grunted at him and he resumed scratching under her chin. “Yeah, fuck it, why not. I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hell yeah. Just come over at like five on Saturday.” Dave bounced on his heels a little bit, fidgety. “Nice to meet you, Trash Bag.” She wheezed, and Dave huffed a short laugh. “See you later, man. Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it. Keep Princess Diana inside more, alright?”

“I’ll do my best.” Dave gave him a half wave, then jogged down the front stairs and meandered to his house. 

Well. Karkat supposed he could have worse neighbors.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

What My Private Instagram Habits Say About Me

http://fashion-trendin.com/what-my-private-instagram-habits-say-about-me/

What My Private Instagram Habits Say About Me

You can tell more about a person by her Instagram bookmarks than by her actual personal feed. I developed this theory fairly recently when I compared mine with those of MR Fashion Editor Harling H. Ross. On her screen shone a grid of bright colors, sharp angles and so much sparkle. It was a veritable parade of eye candy, a colorful reflection of her colorful personality. Mine, in contrast, was unsettlingly brown, made up almost entirely of low-res animal photos and videos I found special and insisted on bookmarking for impending use cases, like, for instance, if and when I’m suffering a hangover.

Last month, MR’s Head of Creative Amelia C. Diamond took us through 19 things she’d recently bookmarked on Instagram, and in doing so curated a charming collection of art, fashion and design. Fitting, too, don’t you think? I’ve done the same for you below. I’m not sure what this ragtag selection says about me, but as MR’s Digital Editor who just published a piece about refocusing her consumption habits, the first thing that springs to mind is the urgency with which I need to drop my phone off a cliff and look at literally anything else.

That said, I need you to look at:

It’s hard to say why I’m so taken with this Cinderella foot trying to squeeze itself into a glass slipper, but I think it might have something to do with the foot’s length, which is at least twice as long as the ankle’s proportion demands. Would I frame this in my home? Yes.

I bookmarked this because it made me realize MR Photographer Edith W. Young should shoot more models holding random, color-coordinated objects. Also because I was inspired by the gender-fluid dressing, and believe everyone should try a midi skirt at least once, just to make sure they don’t love it, because what if they do?

Harling sent this to me after a conversation we had about “relationship neutrality” — an idea I’ve been mulling over for a few weeks now and intend to write about soon. This quote may be featured in it.

I bookmarked this around the time I was developing a thesis around modern friendship because it not only speaks perfectly to the fucked up narrative our generation has propagated about friendship, it also features some kind of possum in a cardboard box. This is my ideal content.

The Pekingese is one of the most majestic dog breeds; I follow several on Instagram to glean tips on grooming and poise. I bookmarked this because I felt deeply fulfilled that Gucci realized there was a Peke gap in the fashion market.

I love @guldies stop-motion work. It’s so utterly charming in its simplicity and unlike anything I’ve seen before. I love the idea of being so dedicated to a personal vision that you’re willing to spend days on a what might amount to a 10-second video clip. It’s refreshing.

I love that this poodle, painted by Fernando Botero, was a short-lived meme about being a good boy. He really does look like such a good boy, don’t you think? Please bookmark.

I’m consistently drawn to artwork that riffs on the expression “OK.” I love the kind of optimistic ambivalence of it, and I appreciate how this little illustration seemed to capture that in such a simple and clever way. I want in on a shirt or something.

Literally why are you making me explain this?

I bookmarked this out of FEAR that I would lose it again. I found this important gif a long time ago, and have continued to lose and re-search for it several times over the last few years. It’s perfect. I’m keeping it close this time.

This is art of our times.

I saved this post by MR Contributor Claire because it gave me pause and made me think about the female gaze. What defines it? What would my female gaze capture? (Definitely necks, if we’re getting specific, but also certain subtle movements.) I found the prompt thought-provoking and wanted to remember to come back to it.

I have a personal rule that I bookmark any photo that features non-shoes worn as shoes, because it’s never not funny.

I love @annettelabedzki‘s work. As with @guldies, I find her stuff so unusual, and a true testament to the power of making art that speaks to you, even if some people don’t get it. That said, I definitely get Annette’s work. It’s heaven and makes me want to aimlessly play with paint.

I’ve looked at this photo so many times I know every detail. There’s something almost unnameable about its appeal to my senses; I wouldn’t change a thing about it. I also want to wear this whole outfit, top to bottom.

As a life-long food-player and object-fusser, I find @witenry‘s arrangements so delightful. They make me want to find new ways to look at mundane objects, and they remind me that art doesn’t require much more than idle hands and a curious mind.

This video made me cry.

I love how @emotionalclub always manages to pinpoint the dark irony of living an emotional life in a world that constantly demands you smile.

On that fun note, what have you bookmarked recently?

Feature photo via I Am That Shop; @iamthat_shop.