#like. dog can you be reasonable please

[akkpipitphattana]

truly if i explained some of the things my anxiety convinces me of, i’d be admitted

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yk if i didn't grow up in a constant state of emotional repression, id probably be a disaster right now

[note-boom]

Just some thoughts again for this episode sorry but....

Kyouka protecting Atsushi

Tanizaki getting triggered when they hurt Kenji (maybe not as unhinged as he is with Naomi but HE WAS PROTECTIVE OF KENJI)

The way the water the ADA stood next to rippled as soon as they stood up and decided to choose the path that led to less loss of lives...a ripple effect??

YOSANO'S BUTTERFLIES ANIMATED I AM OBSESSED

ALL the character moments like Kenji encouraging the ADA, Tanizaki being frustrated and protective, Kunikida never letting any of them die, Yosano saving them all with her ability, Kyouka going back for Atsushi, poor Atsushi being so out of the loop -

I wonder where the hideout Yosano was going to take them to was going to be....

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[dayurno]

do you think kevin is strictly more on the submissive side or do you think he can be dominant too... youre the only other expert id ask

oh yes absolutely he can be dominant! kevin can do anything he’s a superstar! i’ve said this before i think but my favorite kevjean dynamic is actually service top/sub top jean so i really do believe kevin has it in him :) i think everything and every dynamic can be achievable and interesting if done right, and obviously i want kevin to be nice to jean and pet his hair and tell him he’s done a good job. so. i also quite like it with kandrew because the idea of andrew resting his forehead on kevin’s thigh while kneeling on the floor once gave me genuine physical illness

[staraxiaa]

lena. tell me ur kiribaku-in-a-different-font, violent-mc-who’s-a-hero-or-a-drummer fic idea. now. ♥️

ur actually the best. thanks for validating my need for yapping LMAOO ill drip market it in tags,,,

[cinnamon-bunni]

NOT okay right now im thinking abt pokemon leaving scars on their trainers + everyday, domestic problems.....

[carcarrot]

BASEBALL GAMES ARE THREE HOURS?

[aftermathing]

The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

They get their estrogen together <3

[get-more-bald]

can they not just. see I'm uncomfortable? maybe stop talking to me

[ajournalingtrex]

“how was your day?”

it’s one of my favorite questions. (it’s also easy to notice that it’s maybe always the first question of the day i ask someone). on both the receiving end and the giving end, i love it.

whether it’s the words of affirmation love language in me and i didn’t realize it until this break or that it’s been almost two weeks since i’ve seen so many of my friends i don’t know,,,, but i really love it when people ask me how my day was??? it makes my heart do a little butterfly flutter

it’s that whole casual intimacy thing that’s the same thing as wishing someone sleeps well. the i care so much about you that i wish for every moment of your day to be pleasant, even your unconscious hours. but it’s the step beyond that??? the curiosity about someone fueled by love?

i care so much for you that i not only wish you well, but i want to know how you spent your hours away from me in as much detail as you’d like to give.

it makes me so happy when people ask; if you know me well, you’re guaranteed to get at least one animated story about the day. it also means i get to hear from the people i love about what stuck out about their day, which makes me really happy to listen to. it paints a vivid picture of someone’s day to day life that’s honestly so valuable to me in knowing someone. loving people in the mundane >>>>>

i live partly for words. reading was maybe my first love, with writing as my second. i love expression, i love all forms of subtle and non-subtle communication. i love vocal inflection and facial expressions, how easily we can give ourselves away to a knowing eye (and it makes me weak in the knees when people describe how they read or perceive me).

and as i’ve grown older and more confident in my identity, i’ve loved talking. there are so many topics that i could go on about for hours—very little exaggeration there. (especially with a back and forth!!!) when i’m talking and it’s very clear to me that someone is listening (via body language, probing questions, and/or building off what you’re saying) it’s such a validating feeling. it fills me to the brim with so much love. it makes my heart soar. some of my most memorable moments with my chosen family are moments where i’ve shared something ridiculously personal and it was met with least the confirmation they were listening (though so much of the time they reach so far above that and it makes me cry).

(probably also why someone remembering something about me sends my brain into a spinning frenzy.)

but one of the most beautiful things about words are the innate desire for a return!!!! letters aren’t sent to be read and then shoved into a back drawer, never to be seen again. no!!!!! communication is a two way street love!!!

i love responses. i LOVE hearing other people talk. other people are so interesting!!!!!! please just talk. what i would give to hear certain people just talk forever. i love listening. (i try hard to be good at listening!! it’s one of the things i'm most conscious about.) i love when other people infodump. i love hearing nuanced opinions and i love personal stories. i love asking questions that people give thoughtful responses to. i love hearing things about other people. i love knowing things and remembering things. elaborate stories and simple anecdotes and personal details and self-proclaimed preferences make me so happy.

tldr; i just love words, i guess. i just wanted to write about words and how i love words and why i love words so deeply. (and it’s my blog damn it. if you got this far you clearly wanted to hear me rant about words).

and i miss people and i try so hard to love people with so much of myself. (and a surefire way to brighten my mood? ask me how my day was.)

[ghostofasecretary]

tired of having painful allergic reactions to Literally Fucking Nothing

it only happens at work (so far), so is it stress or is it ambient Essence Of Dog or is it a secret third thing? i wasn't at work all last week and i had no allergic reactions, and my reactions have also been getting *worse* all week. i really think increased exposure to allergens is a big part of why i'm currently having. The This. but it's probably not all of it

whatever it is i want it to stop! hives are The Worst! my mouth itches! fblargh

[fingertipsmp3]

Was straight up Not Doing Well but then I met a cat and now I think I’m okay

[saritawolff]

Phew. This one took, uh… a bit longer than expected due to other projects both irl and art-wise, but it’s finally here. The long-awaited domestic animal infographic! Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough space to cover every single domestic animal (I’m so sorry, reindeer and koi, my beloveds) but I tried to include as many of the “major ones” as possible.

I made this chart in response to a lot of the misunderstandings I hear concerning domestic animals, so I hope it’s helpful!

Further information I didn’t have any room to add or expand on:

🐈 “Breed” and “species” are not synonyms! Breeds are specific to domesticated animals. A Bengal Tiger is a species of tiger. A Siamese is a breed of domestic cat.

🐀 Different colors are also not what makes a breed. A breed is determined by having genetics that are unique to that breed. So a “bluenose pitbull” is not a different breed from a “rednose pitbull”, but an American Pitbull Terrier is a different breed from an American Bully! Animals that have been domesticated for longer tend to have more seperate breeds as these differing genetics have had time to develop.

🐕 It takes hundreds of generations for an animal to become domesticated. While the “domesticated fox experiment” had interesting results, there were not enough generations involved for the foxes to become truly domesticated and their differences from wild foxes were more due to epigenetics (heritable traits that do not change the DNA sequence but rather activate or deactivate parts of it; owed to the specific circumstances of its parents’ behavior and environment.)

🐎 Wild animals that are raised in human care are not domesticated, but they can be considered “tamed.” This means that they still have all their wild instincts, but are less inclined to attack or be frightened of humans. A wild animal that lives in the wild but near human settlements and is less afraid of humans is considered “habituated.” Tamed and habituated animals are not any less dangerous than wild animals, and should still be treated with the same respect. Foxes, otters, raccoons, servals, caracals, bush babies, opossums, owls, monkeys, alligators, and other wild animals can be tamed or habituated, but they have not undergone hundreds of generations of domestication, so they are not domesticated animals.

🐄 Also, as seen above, these animals have all been domesticated for a reason, be it food, transport, pest control, or otherwise, at a time when less practical options existed. There is no benefit to domesticating other species in the modern day, so if you’ve got a hankering for keeping a wild animal as a pet, instead try to find the domestic equivalent of that wild animal! There are several dog breeds that look and behave like wolves or foxes, pigeons and chickens can make great pet birds and have hundreds of colorful fancy breeds, rats can be just as intelligent and social as a small monkey (and less expensive and dangerous to boot,) and ferrets are pretty darn close to minks and otters! There’s no need to keep a wolf in a house when our ancestors have already spent 20,000+ years to make them house-compatible.

🐖 This was stated in the infographic, but I feel like I must again reiterate that domestic animals do not belong in the wild, and often become invasive when feral. Their genetics have been specifically altered in such a way that they depend on humans for optimal health. We are their habitat. This is why you only really see feral pigeons in cities, and feral cats around settlements. They are specifically adapted to live with humans, so they stay even when unwanted. However, this does not mean they should live in a way that doesn’t put their health and comfort as a top priority! If we are their world, it is our duty to make it as good as possible. Please research any pet you get before bringing them home!

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

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