#my family is from the country. like farmers and shit

[national-hockey-gay]

there’s a morgan wallen concert happening right next door to the wnba game i’m seeing tonight, and you’ve never seen such polar opposite groups of people

[g0ttal0ve101]

Johnny Headcanons <3

TW: GAH!!!! TEXAS MAN JUMPSCARE!!!!!!!!

Note: had to do it to them 😮‍💨 i decided to do a mix of romantic and random hcs cause i thought it was cutie but I did section them off from each other!! might write about tcm later on so i’ll take requests for it!!!!! @twsted-idiot :3

RANDOM

he definitely had a FUCK ASS haircut growing up. all those boys in that damn house did. NANCY HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS DOING 🗣️💥 she really pulled up with the scissors and said ‘alright sweetie just hold still’ and fucked up his entire life for a hot 10 years. after that no one gets near the hair…

fuck ass teeth lets be soooo real. from the amount of times he’s gotten into fights at the bar or in a street, he definitely lost/chipped a few in his prime teen years. his bottom teeth are also a lil crooked…but it’s cutie on him! our little gummy bear ❤️ (bitch has gums for days it’s ok to admit it!!)

i’ll talk abt a lot of his love languages in the romantic section but let me tell you, he’s good at pulling bitches but has trouble pulling ppl he’s ACTUALLY interested in 🗣️💥

^ what I mean by that is like. if he just wants a good fuck and a bougie dinner, trust he’ll have a bitch under his arm! but if he has someone he genuinely cares about and wants to be with, he’s more reluctant to show interest… if that makes sense.

everyone knows he has a farmer’s tan 😭 tan one second, takes off his shirt, WOAH!!! WHOS THIS WHITE MAN??? IS THAT A FUCKING GHOST??? oh no it’s just johnny’s tatas 😻

^ speaking of wish im a freckle truther so fuck you he has light freckles on his face 😮‍💨

ALCOHOLIC. REAL BAD. say bye bye to his livers 😿……but no seriously he has terrible drinking habits. practically drinks every night smh. and that’s on dealing with unbearable depression 😮‍💨

SMOKES HEAVY TOO. (johnny your lungs…😿)

idk abt yall but I think johnny’s a sweetheart to bubba….his mama taught him better than to boss him around and be an asshole like CERTAIN PEOPLE. although johnny can come off as demanding, i truly think he has the best intentions at heart when he’s interacting with bubba ❤️

kinda homophobic but gay at the same time 😮‍💨 and that’s on that TEXAN TIP 🇺🇸🦅💥 YEEEEHAW!!!

in my head i think johnny had his own room n stuff in the house up until he confronted nancy. after that and getting his eye fucked up, he wanted to be petty and sleep outside just to bother nancy. at first she didn’t care and thought he’d eventually just come back in but. he. DID NOT. instead he literally cleaned out the entire shack, found a cheap couch from some thrift store, n fucked that shit UP!!!!!! nancy was PISSED!!! 🗣️ “come back in”…..“no” type shit

loves keeping souvenirs of his victims. ESPECIALLY memorable ones. where did he get that belt? simple, really. this cute guy tried to use it as a defense mechanism! johnny strangled him with it shortly after ❤️ oh and this perfume? yeah, he found that in a REAL fighter’s purse. she was cute whenever she screamed 🌹

started driving at like. 10. nancy fucking FLIPPED OUT whenever she caught him riding around in a car as a literal CHILD. (influenced by certain people😒) but even after all her scolding, he never stopped 💀…that’s why he’s a good driver to this day!

this man loooooooooves his hunting. talking abt sum “THATS A BUTTON BUCK 🗣️” bitch no one knows what you’re talking abt be quiet. (I love him passionately)

johnny DESPISES wearing formal clothing. whether it’s some dumb church suit, dress shirt, or WHATEVER, he does NOT FW THAT SHIT ❌ the real ones know johnny walks around his house with just his boxers on…..and that’s on that country shit 🇺🇸🦅💥 (more like CUNTry)

CALLOUSED HANDS TRUTHER 💥 he definitely has some fucked up fingernails too. stained with oil n shit….SOMEONE GET HIM A PEDICURE IMMEDIATELY.

nubbins always instigates him into fighting a family member 💀 (usually sissy or the cook) talking abt sum: “she said you get noooo bitches…hot ones at least lolsies” or “he told me that he thinks you’re the weakest link of the family but yknow…” FALSE ACCUSATIONS!!!! but johnny falls for it every time 😭

ROMANTIC

HATES PHYSICAL AFFECTION AT FIRST!!! I’m telling you this right now he DON’T LIKE IT!!!!! and it’s not even in the cutie ‘aw he’s touched starved’—NO. HE DON’T LIKE IT. that’s not to say his opinion won’t sway a lil depending on the person (🤭) but at first that’s a big no no with him.

^ but once he starts getting comfortable with you, it’s impossible to pry him off. always wanna hug you n kiss you n play with your hair….he’s a lil love bug fr!

terrible at handling verbal affection. like god 😭 when receiving compliments, he kinda just scoffs, says something snarky, n tries to change the subject. keep doing it? he doesn’t know what to do with himself. it eventually becomes a staring contest with him being like ‘quit that rn.’ but let’s be honest, he likes it 😮‍💨

^ in terms of GIVING IT OUT, he’s pretty good at it. words of encouragement come easy to him since he just has to give you a ‘good job’ (maybe even adding a lil pet name if he’s feeling cute) n move on with his life.

^ but complimenting your laugh? your voice? your eyes? your hair? your clothes? he does it in the slickest ways possible. never over the top or on the nose, always subtle and almost unnoticeable.

he shows his affection through gift giving. stolen flowers from sissy’s garden, stolen jewelry from…trespassers, stolen expensive clothes with suspicious gashes through the fabric, severed limbs—LMAO OFC NOT!!!!! but yes he’s very inclined to give you lil gifts here and there.

surprisingly enough, he likes teaching you stuff. whether it be something small like the mechanics of a car or something big like gutting and skinning a corpse, he enjoys being the one who shows you how to do things he knows how to do well. and when he sees that he successfully accomplished his goal of educating you, he’s happier than ever. (this is also a perfect excuse for him to call you a good girl/boy!!!!!! he’s not slick!!!!!)

pet names consist of the TEXAN WAY BABY YEEEEHAW 💥🦅🇺🇸 sweetie/sweetheart, baby/babe, honey/hun, angel face/doll face, y’know how it is. and it’s kinda cute cause throughout your relationship with him, you unlock certain pet names!!

wanna see a magic trick? 🪄 MANIPULATION! johnny is a genius when it comes to manipulating you. and trust me, you will NOT know he’s doing it.

this is really fucked up (bc HE’S fucked up) but he definitely pushes your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship. it’s kinda like a test to see what he can get away with and how you’ll react to him being an asshole. are you gonna cuss him out? are you gonna hit him? cry? run off? he wants to know.

^ and by ‘pushing the boundaries’ I mean degradation n shit. you ask him what’s wrong and he calls you a filthy whore, a mangy slut, a stupid bitch, JUST TO SEE what you’ll do.

^ the way to pass the test is STANDING UP TO HIM. that’s what he WANTS. be an asshole back!! don’t lose your shit, just one-up him. for example, call him a bitch ass momma’s boy!! that’ll have him on his KNEES!!

who said jealous? BECAUSE YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. johnny IS insecure and thinks you’ll leave him, so it’s better if you DON’T talk to anyone he could perceive as a threat. he lays off with family n shit bc he gets it, but if they ain’t related to you? bitch they better know how to fight 😮‍💨

PDA is iffy with him especially around any of the family LMAO….but if he feels threatened by a guy or god forbid JEALOUS, best believe you’ll have an arm around your waist real fast. 🤭

you better like late night drives bc this man ADORES them. whenever he wants to have a sentimental moment with you or treat you real special for a night, best believe you’ll be in his car for a good while. takes you to the PRETTIEST landscapes he knows of and just chills with you.

^ cutie till he tries scaring the shit outta you with some horrific story abt what happened there or sumn. or even…idk…..starts the hypothetical scenario of “y’know I could kill you rn and no one would be able to hear you scream LOL! 😹” johnny…..if you don’t shut the hell up….

if shit is serious, you definitely made a blood oath with him that you’ll stick with him despite everything. basically marriage imo. peak romance right there <3

[nardo-headcanons]

i was looking at your naruto headcanons and they are amazing especially the ones about kirigakure!!! i was wondering if you'll have somes about gender dynamics and expectations in kiri. just asking... also i found out you do art as well...NICEEEEEEEE (im canonsinthehead btw...)

Hii! I'm happy to hear you enjoy my ramblings about Kiri and my art!! Makes me feel like I'm not just screaming into the void.

cn: mentions of colorism, sexism and queerphobia

Gender Expectations in Kirigakure

The role of women in Kirigakure

Generally speaking, it used to be rather uncommon for women to become kunoichi. One of the women who did was Ameyuri Ringo, who quickly became an idol to many young girls in her time. The idea of a woman swordsman was ridiculous - yet she fought her way up to the top. The shinobi affilitation was a very men-oriented field and those women who did became fully fledged shinobi were battle hardened and didn't take shit from anyone.

However, it was very common for women to be part of the workforce, since many citizens are on the poorer side, women from higher ranked families being the exception. The most common jobs taken on by women used to be rice and fruit farmers, seamstresses or business (co-)owners.

This has changed, however, once the fifth mizukage, Mei Terumi, rose to power. She encouraged young women and girls to fight for their dreams and become shinobi as well.

Women of the middle and higher classes are expected to take care of themselves, look pretty and be gracious, elegant and soft-spoken. Arranged marriages were nothing uncommon, often leaving the women with no choice in the matter.

Men's role in Kirigakure

Men are expected to be hard workers, providers for the family, but the image of the ideal man does differ from other cultures. Men in Kirigakure are rather comfortable in their femininity and it is not uncommon for men to wear makeup, do skincare and sleep with silken bonnets to take care of their hair. This often leads to Kiri men being seen as effeminate or flamboyant.

The exception to this are Kiri fishermen and sailors, who have adopted a more 'westernized' view of masculinity. Often foul mouthed and abrasive, they have formed their own subculture of 'new masculinity'.

Gender outside of woman and man

It is not uncommon for youngsters and teens in Kirigakure to reject the idea of being either a woman or a man, however it does lead to scrutiny and condemnation of Kirigakure's older population. People assigned female at birth are more often scruitinized than people assigned male at birth.

The beauty ideals in Kirigakure

Fair, pale skin Fair skin is seen as a sign of wealth and beauty in Kirigakure and a very desirable trait to many people. Skin bleaching creams are widely available and there are many problems with colorism in Kirigakure.

Long, luscious hair Another sign of wealth, long, open hair is seen as the beauty ideal because it means not having to work a tedious job where long hair would be seen as tedious.

Brown eyes In a country where people with kekkei genkai were frequently hunted down and killed, it is to be expected that anyone with a rare or unnatural eye color would automatically be seen as a freak, leading to brown eyes being the beauty ideal in Kirigakure.

A plump, well fed looking body This is pretty much self explanatory, as more plump bodies are seen as a sign of being well fed and able to afford leisure time.

That's all, folks!

[angel-of-the-moons]

The Ghost and The Relic

Merc!Ghost x Fem!Soul Survivor!Reader

TW/CW: Chem usage, raiders, slavers, murder, executions, child death.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Depending on how much I like this or how many people like this I might continue this but god I need to get this out of my head lmao.

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

It'd been four years since he took up this kind of work. Three since he'd joined up with the old man.

It was his idea, really, to form their little "Task Force" and roam the Wasteland, performing jobs here or there for settlements, providing temporary security and escort details for caravans...

But Simon "Ghost" Riley had a thought. Several, actually. But they all muddled together after a while, especially around his "team".

Their whole team, a rag-tag group of "soldiers" from all the way in the Mojave to managing, by sheer dumb luck to come ashore with their families from another goddamn country.

Ghost's family was one such case; they'd apparently immigrated 75 years after the Great War from someplace called London. He didn't care much about it, or his family, given how shit a hand he'd been dealt.

His father, the abusive sadistic bastard that he was, had fucked up his younger brother so badly that he himself turned to chems and booze, almost killing himself in the process.

Ghost had rejected that path, convinced his mother to leave his father, and they took his recovering brother and moved into a new shack he and a few of the other residents of their small farming settlement had built and they settled in there. Ghost took up a job in the local militia, defending their homes and settlements; and he became a terrifyingly good shot.

His little brother got clean, stayed sober, and married the girl from a neighboring farm. She was a good match for him and they both loved each other immensely. And it was to their small unit's great joy when they mentioned they were going to have a baby.

A baby boy. Joseph. Their mother was thrilled.

But it all came crashing down, eventually.

Thanks to the old rat bastard.

Raiders slipped right through their defenses during the changing of the watch, in the dead of night when the farmers were all tucked inside their homes.

They'd taken Ghost's farm first, nabbed him on the way down the dirt path to their shack and drug him to their camp, locked him in an old shipping crate.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, or how long he had been tortured... all he knew was that when he finally got free, their settlement was almost razed to the ground, the majority of the militia dead, women taken for sport.

And his family?

Dead. Well. His mother, brother, and sister-in-law anyways. There was still hope for little Joseph.

When he'd gotten to the meeting hall (or what was left of it) he found his father bound and beaten by the settlers, so tweaked out on jet and psycho he didn't even feel any of the pain.

He'd ratted them all out for some fucking chems, like the narcissistic, sociopathic junkie he was.

Ghost had suited up in the best scrap armor they had, bagged provisions, packed loaded weapons and plenty of homemade throwing knives, and set off to find Joseph and the others that had been taken as slaves.

He didn't even look back when he heard the gunshot from inside the hall.

He tracked them for days, maybe longer. He wasn't sure. All he felt was an all-consuming drive to get his nephew back, to save his former neighbors.

But he was too late. He found Joseph's crumpled little body beneath that of a partially nude woman, one he faintly recognized from the settlement, but not enough to recall her name as the haze settled in over his skin.

All he saw was red. Red, like the blood covering that poor, tiny, fragile body.

He moved in the dead of night, creeping like a spectre as he executed every raider and slaver he came across. He shot some, stabbed or slit the throats of others. One he left with his voice box slashed, another with their liver hanging out, both still alive as they bled to death in their dingy tents.

It took him less than an hour. A bunch of jet-addicted starved fools was nothing against Simon Riley and the black rage that swallowed him up.

He'd killed them all.

He led the surviving captives back to their settlement, along with the dead they could recognize, and then burned the camp.

Ghost cradled Joseph against him, swaddled tight in a ratty, blood-stained blanket.

The whole trek home, all his mind would think about was how tiny Joseph was. How he'd carried him like this multiple times back to his own bed after he'd curled up at their fireplace with their pet dog. How he carried him as a baby, and a toddler...

And now, he had to bury him alongside his parents and grandmother, and their beloved pet.

Simon Riley wasn't... he wasn't dead. But he wasn't alive either.

He was like a walking corpse.

A Ghost.

And his name became apt when he'd assumed that moniker (mostly due in part to the skull balaclavas he'd wear. The most intimidating one being the one with the actual skull attached to it...).

He moved like a Ghost, wandering aimlessly, performing jobs.

Then, he met the old man.

John Price, former NCR ranger, before he decided to retire early and leave. Well, more like he went AWOL.

Price was convincing in bringing Ghost into his makeshift military outfit.

There was Alex Keller, a former Great Khan that Price had picked up after his splinter tribe had been killed by his own former allies, the New California Republic.

Then there was Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, a Brotherhood of Steel scribe who became a soldier over a mission that went FUBAR, and left his chapter to travel with Price and his growing "unit".

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a rather peculiar man with a fondness for explosives who somehow managed to get close enough to Ghost to actually be considered a friend. He had been a Gunner, but left them shortly after he realized that he wanted to do good, not just work for caps.

And finally, there was Kate Laswell. Part of a small surviving group of something called the "Enclave" Price had explained what their group was at some point, but none of them particularly cared.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime Ghost was... Content. He had a purpose, no longer wandering aimlessly, part of a unit. A task force. "Task Force 141" Price named it. Apparently it was a nod to the unit he originally was assigned to as a young recruit for the NCR.

Very few of them focused on their past lives, they'd lost so much in their travels, in the shit order they'd been born in. There was no reason to think about all that, now.

After all, past is the past, is it not?

Not entirely, as Ghost came to find out.

Once they'd gotten through the remains of what used to be "New York City" back before the Great War (now it's simply called New Necropolis, given it's dessicated state, and it was strung tight with "death zones".

It wasn't until they moved a bit East that Ghost suggested they set up a permanent base of ops.

He suggested Boston, Massachusetts. It seemed like a good idea, supposedly riddled with Vaults they could repurpose, military checkpoints they could loot for scavenged gear...

Price surprisingly agreed to send him alone, like he asked. Ghost didn't want to risk the other members of his "family" on a possibility he may be wrong.

But... Ghost was rarely wrong these days.

Especially about the past staying in the past...

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

He'd managed to trek to a ruined neighborhood surrounded by creeks and a river, by the looks of it, emptying out into a large lake with several other tributaries connecting.

Sanctuary Hills, the old, overgrown sign told him it was. Yeah, maybe 200 years ago, it was a sanctuary. But then again, maybe it could be again. A lot of the houses were still intact. Plenty of scrap metal, wood, etcetera.

Put up some reinforcements on the remaining structures by cannibalizing parts from the ruined structures, build some fences, plant a few crops for provisions, stockpile weapons in the cellar behind that one house...

What he hadn't anticipated on was a Pre-War Mr Handy, still futilely standing watch over his previous owner's house.

He took offense when Ghost set up his sleeping bag in the yellow house across from his master's, citing that it was "impolite" to assume the house was uninhabited.

Judging by the dusty skeletons lying in the back bedroom, yeah. It was uninhabited, save for the radroaches and bloatflies that took a liking to the "idyllic" neighborhood.

That damned robot harped non-stop, although the water it purified for him was something he was grateful for, his yammering certainly got on his nerves.

"Oh, you should have met Sir, he was a soldier too, you know! A rather polite chap, loved the Missus and their baby boy! Oh, how I miss them." The robot sighed, sounding almost wistful.

Could robots feel emotions? He'd yet to meet one that did.

But then again how long had this robot been alone, exactly?

Apparently, he remembered when the bombs were dropped. So, a very very long time. Ghost tried telling him his masters were probably dead by now, even in the safety of their "Vault" he couldn't get into. It's been 200 years.

"Look, bot..." Ghost sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask, setting his hammer down on the table.

He'd been trying to fix up the yellow house for a few weeks. He'd managed some work, namely the roof and larger holes, obviously. Codsworth had even been kind enough to help with the cutting and the welding, just glad to be of service to someone who didn't shoot at him.

"I'm a little busy, here. So if you want to get nostalgic, save it for when I--"

His eyes went wide and he went deathly silent when he heard some kind of alarm blaring across the hills. Very faint, but it was a completely alien sound from the ones he memorized from the area.

He'd grabbed his pistol, and immediately started for the trail leading to Vault 111.

Which... is where he met you.

Dressed only in your blue vault suit, with a Pip-Boy secured to your wrist, you stumbled down, blinded by the sunlight and delirious from being down there for... well.

You'd collapsed against him and Ghost grunted, deciding to carry you over his shoulders back down to Sanctuary.

He noticed a glare in the distance, like the glint from a pair of binoculars, but he paid it no mind.

The moment Codsworth had laid eyes on you, the robot would not. Shut. Up.

He kept chattering on, almost blubbering, actually.

"Oh! Oh, it's the Missus!" He'd declared, obviously confusing you for his owner, long dead...

"Oh, but where is Sir and young Shaun! Oh, why is she alone! Where are the others?" Codsworth lamented dramatically.

Ghost waved him off, checking your vitals and looking at you for any injuries.

You had none. In fact, you were perfect. Your skin was clean, spotless and pristine, unmarred by radiation or scars.

He'd been silently looking over you when you awoke in the dead of night, Codsworth busy purifying excess amounts of water, apparently finding an intact bathtub to fill, so you could have one when you awoke. Or for cooking, or drinking... he didn't really care.

He was so lost in his curiosity of the one thing he'd never seen before: you. A Vault-Dweller, that he didn't register your eyes opening, long, clean lashes fluttering as you blinked, adjusting to the dimly lit room, only illuminated by a single oil lamp.

He'd set up his spare sleeping bag for you to use, while you were unconscious.

He was honestly taken by surprise when you screamed at him; scrambling back in the opposite direction.

Oh. Right.

The mask.

Yeah, it made sense why you were freaked out. Not a lot of Vault-Dwellers were probably rocking skull masks as the latest fall fashion craze...

"Listen." He'd growled out, fixing you with a soft, yet stern glare. Ghost was not without his mercy, and he understood that this new world must have been terrifying for you.

"My name's Ghost. Not gonna hurt ya. What's your name?" He said, sticking his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

When you'd uttered your name, his eyes widened visibly. It was the same name that Codsworth had said. Could be a coincidence.

That is... Until you told him about being frozen. For 200 years.

"I... I woke up, when..." You said, your voice breaking apart to cough, your mouth unreasonably dry.

Ghost had moved to kneel in front of you, handing you his old, dented canteen to drink down in a few gulps before wiping your face with the back of your hand.

"Oh god." You cried softly. "They killed him! They took my baby!"

Ghost's ears instantly perked up, and his own past flashed in the back of his mind before he pushed it aside.

"Who did?" He pressed.

"I don't know. Some... Some guy. A guy with a scar, and a gun, he... There was a woman in a radiation suit, then the man... Nate, he..." Your voice broke off in a choked sob.

He felt pity and sympathy for you after you'd given him bits of information.

And when Codsworth came doddering in to investigate your screams, Ghost knew you were legit.

You were his owner.

And you'd been frozen for 200 years inside an ice box; your family ripped away from you by some cruel force.

After a tearful reunion and the viewing of a highly emotional holotape, Ghost watched as you silently walked back into what used to be your home.

He gave you your privacy to acclimate (kind of) into your new "life", until he decided that some things needed to be said. You couldn't be emotional in the wasteland, that got people killed.

It could get you killed.

So Ghost decided to follow after you, where he found you on your knees in front of your baby son, Shaun's, crib, clinging to a slightly rotted rocketship that was once connected to the mobile that dangled above.

You clutched it to your heart as you sobbed quietly at the horror of it all.

What had the world become? How could you, a former lawyer, survive this?

Ghost cleared his throat and straightened his posture in the doorway, looking at you in the dark. The moon was full, casting dim cool shadows through the holes in the structure.

"I know this 's hard for you." His gravelly voice dragged out with each slow, deliberate step he took towards you.

He had to take it slow, like you were a wounded animal.

'Hnh. Not that far off, actually.' He thought.

"But you got'ta understand. You need to learn how to survive here, now. If you don't, you're as good as dead."

"What's the point?!" You snap, standing to your feet and tossing the plastic rocket at him.

It bounced harmlessly off his barreled chest and clattered to the floor.

"I don't have my son, I don't have my husband, I don't have my family!" You said through fresh, hot tears as your anger and grief rose to the surface.

And just like that, the flames died, and you flickered out, deflating into more quiet cries as you stood, defeated.

"I have nothing."

"Not true." Ghost said, shaking his head. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "You got a bot out there that's been making water for you for bloody hours, now just so you can take a bath. He's still here, and he's been waiting for you all this time."

You looked at him, eyes glassy and oh-so hurt, but you let him continue.

"And you have your little boy. Somebody stole him." His eyes flashed in the darkness of the room, a glint only illuminated by the moon's light, taking more steps to you until he was face-to-face with you, looking down at you.

God, this man was terrifying.

"And you're going to get him back."

"What...? But--but how? I'm just... me! I was a lawyer, for God's sake!" You blathered.

"First thing's first: you learn to survive." Ghost told you bluntly. "Then..."

He reached into the holster on his chest and slapped a pistol into your hands, the weight almost as hefty as the one you felt settle onto your shoulders, and into your heart.

"You learn to defend yourself. You need to learn to shoot."

He turned to walk away, gesturing for you to follow with a jerk of his head.

"C'mon, then. Let's get to it." He grunted.

"Right now?" You stumbled as you followed him out into the ruined street. "It's past midnight!"

"No time like the present."

You couldn't tell, but you were certain this man was smirking at you behind his mask.

"Hey... what's your name?" You asked him as he began to line up old cans and bottles against a rusted car.

"Name's Ghost, like I said. Now, lift the gun and aim down sights. Don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it."

"What does that even mean?" You asked, taking aim as he stood beside you, still as a statue.

'Still as death.' You thought sardonically.

He grunted again, his voice coming out an annoyed growl:

"If you want to survive, you'll learn what it means. Now, keep both eyes open..."

[mixelation]

i am so invested in this chuunin exam. i cannot wait for the inevitable chaos with team 4

and it’s probably been mentioned somewhere but did deidara just leave iwa the minute he could walk or does no one remember him? im assuming he was still born in iwa in the reborn au

nope, in plasticity canon he wasn't born in iwa! i've mentioned this several times but idr if I've posted about it explicitly/by itself.

basically, there's a family of regular-ass Earth country farmers that have mouth-hands. most of them don't have fully formed hand-mouths, but Iwa pays them to have lots of kids because they're trying to get a new bloodline limit, as they don't have very many of their own. a lot of the kids have ninja parents, including deidara, but the ninja parents don't usually stick around. deidara got explosion release from his ninja biological father, but he never met the guy. deidara's family is.... not great? mainly they have too many kids to give them much individual attention, and the adults mostly see the kids as a way to generate money. he wasn't necessarily mistreated, but he didn't grow up very loved or supported

in original flavor plasticity canon, Deidara was the one kid with sufficiently well-formed hand-mouths and chakra that Iwa wanted him. So he was carted off to Iwa at like 6 and prevented from seeing his family again. (This... contributed to why he's Like This.) He never bothered to look them up as a missing-nin either; he doesn't have strong memories of them and it just never really occurred to him

when he was reincarnated, he sort of realized he just.... doesn't like his family that much, and he refuses to go back to Iwa. so he just... left. bye

i haven't decided how much of this he shares with konoha. they'll definitely notice his uuuh very iwa techniques lmao, but "yeah my mom banged a ninja during wartime" is a very easy explanation. AND he was never part of iwa in this timeline, which is one reason minato is receptive to recruiting him. free genius genin???

iwa was mad he disappeared, but they have no concept of how good of a ninja deidara could be, so they're not desperate to get him back. most rando iwa-nin don't know their village is paying select civilian families to try and generate bloodline limits and they don't know to be on the look out for hand mouths. eventually iwa will connect the dots and be mad about it, but minato has a pretty good fake paper trail of deidara being taken from a fire country orphanage (or... whatever cover they decide to go with). bc deidara was never formally a part of iwa, they don't have a real claim on him, although it might look bad to the international community that konoha basically stole explosion release

likely under normal circumstances iwa might attempt to prevent deidara from leaving, but the exam does in fact go completely to shit, so we'll never know what they'd try to do :)

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

some of yall should consider unlearning your superiority complex regarding drugs for real. you can talk about the issues with drugs from production to trade, addiction and social consequences without demonising individual drug users. if you want to be supportive of homeless, mentally ill, prostituted, traumatised and otherwise marginalised women - who obviously are not all on drugs but might be at a higher risk - you cant go around and scream about how evil they are for struggling with addiction and substance abuse.

a lot of people with substance abuse issues have started young and often have a family history of drug and alcohol abuse. and if this is the case for you and you didnt develop addiction - congratulations, good for you. if you could just turn addiction on and off, a lot of people would be a lot happier, but fact is that most people with addiction will relapse even if they try going sober, and guilt just makes it more difficult to stop.

if i have to see one more feminist comparing drug use to watching porn i will go feral. porn is harmful to the people in it and women as a group, drugs are primarily self harm. which is an issue but not a moral failure. a lot of porn consumption is literally getting off on violence, the product is the harm done to others, meanwhile buying drugs - like many other products under capitalism - is supporting a system that sadly exploits the most vulnerable without enacting or even engaging with violence yourself. and additionally, a lot of women exploited by the sex industry are on drugs. now what? they are the same as porn consumers? fuck off.

of course it is unethical to buy drugs when it directly supports gang violence, and i understand that someone whose home and people they know have been destroyed by drug use or the drug trade doesnt have the patience for drug users, but its also extremely oversimplified to think these issues will be solved if people just stopped buying drugs. 

blaming drug users for gang members raping and murdering women as a feminist is fucking wild. a woman smoking a joint is responsible for a gang member sexually assaulting another woman? like okay. people also dont need chocolate or coffee which is produced under infamously exploitative conditions with no regard for human rights, should people stop buying that also, or is it more useful to the workers to establish fair trade and urge governments to force corporations to adhere to human and workers rights? what good is it to coca farmers to demonise drug users when gang violence is a result of systemic destabilisation of governments and poverty in production countries as well as the war on drugs, which is directly supported by the demonisation and stigmatisation of addicts?

and dont get me started on gendered aspects of gang violence and how masculinity and machismo play into it. if gangs dont sell drugs, they go more into human and sex trafficking, weapons, and other shit, as long as corruption and poverty are not alleviated. the local drug dealer is also just trying to get by and make cash in a rigged system.

in my humble opinion, legalisation of production, trade and consumption would help both the regions where its produced and the people affected and exploited in the drug trade as well as addicts because a fair trade, workers rights and unions and so on could be established, and money saved on persecuting drug dealers and users could go into rehabilitation programs, and taxes could be used to support everyone involved. resources wasted on the war on drugs could be used to fight remaining gang activity. and so on!

drug use in dedicated places and moderation just like alcohol is not the issue, the issues are one: the production and trade, which is illegalised and criminalised and because of this in the hands of brutal gangs (while other products under capitalism are in the hands of unregulated corporations who care as much about human rights and dignity as gangs do); and two: addiction and other consequences of substance abuse like lowered inhibitions and the link to domestic abuse and other violence, which is also not helped when drug users are stigmatised and buying drugs is criminalised.

i completely understand if you personally take issue and voice criticism of buying drugs especially towards privileged westerners as someone from a country of production, all im asking is some more nuance and as a feminist, compassion with women who have substance abuse issues. no need to coddle anyones feelings, but most addicts - especially women - already feel bad about struggling with addiction and frankly dont need women telling them what a terrible person they are for it, or be told they are just like people who get off on sexual violence.

[taste-thewaste]

Hi Amber!!!! 👋💖 for the tummy prompt: Alex and Henry take a shower together and Alex washes Henry's tummy? The glide of soapy hands on a soft tummy is just the best feeling ever 😌

Thank you so much for writing about Henry's tummy, I love it and I can't get enough of it 💖💖💖💖

Hi my dear Calou <3

finally filled this prompt!

read on AO3

The day has been long and Henry is exhausted. His bones ache, his head is swimming in fatigue, and all he wants to do is disappear. He’s been playing the phone call with Phillip over and over his head since this afternoon, words bouncing around in his skull with accelerating ferocity. He comes in the front door and dumps his bag and shoes in the foyer with a sigh that rattles windowpanes, shakes doorframes.

“You look like hell,” Alex says in his trademark blunt way from the armchair in the corner where he’s buried in a Torts textbook, and Henry rolls his eyes. “You sound like hell, too.” 

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, always knowing what to say,” Henry says in an uncharacteristically harsh way, and Alex raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve just had a bad day.” 

“Come here,” Alex says simply, sliding the textbook onto the coffee table and holding out his arms, and that’s all it takes for Henry’s brave face to melt away. The day’s stress, which he’s been holding back with phone calls to benefactors and busy work, comes to the surface because he’s finally home, he’s finally safe, he’s finally with the one person who can handle it all with him. Henry slides onto Alex’s lap and rests his head on his shoulder, and lets it all melt away. “Tell me what happened today.” 

He talks about Phillip, about the phone call he’d gotten on his lunch break after an already stressful morning, about how he was admonished for not being there for their family, for their country. How after all of that, he’d had a stressful afternoon at work, too. “He said I’m…becoming another lazy American,” Henry murmurs into Alex’s shoulder. “He told me…he said I’m not a part of the family anymore, because I only care about myself.”

Alex says nothing, because if he starts speaking he will start yelling, and that won’t do either of them any good. He wants to fly to England, grab Phillip by the collar, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Alex knows what that call was really about. He knows what ‘lazy American’ means. He’d posted photos of the two of them at the farmer’s market over the weekend, a selfie of the two of them and a photo of Henry debating the merits of various zucchinis. It was the first warm day of the year, and Henry had worn a t-shirt from the previous summer that had definitely fit better the previous summer.

The evidence of Henry’s happiness and domestic bliss had been evident under the t-shirt, in the form of his soft tummy, and Alex knows that’s what Phillip had really been upset over. It isn’t a stretch to imagine that the royal family has certain body standards to adhere to. 

One look at Henry’s fallen face shows Alex that he’s right. 

Alex takes a deep breath. He still wants to yell, he still wants to punch things, but instead he lets out his deep breath and says, “Baby, you’ve had a long day. How about a hot shower?” 

Henry looks gratefully up at Alex from where he’s buried in Alex’s neck, and nods. 

~~~

The shower is warm, and Alex takes his time peeling Henry’s layers apart. He leads Henry in, pulls him under the warm water so it falls in rivulets down his soft skin. He presses his chest to Henry’s back and pulls him in tight, wraps his arms around him and caresses him. Alex’s hands are lathered in the sweet-smelling soap that Henry loves, and Alex runs his hands over Henry’s soft belly. 

“Sweetheart,” Alex presses his lips to Henry’s ear, “You are so fucking gorgeous. Your body is perfect exactly the way it is.” 

“I’m too big,” Henry says softly and Alex’s heart breaks. 

“You’re just right,” Alex says quietly, “and I don’t want anyone to ever make you feel like you’re not.” Alex’s hands continue to rub small circles on Henry’s tummy, his lips find a home in the softness at Henry’s jaw. They are all places that Alex wants to devour, wants to live at. “I could scream from the rooftops about how wonderful you are.” 

Henry turns in Alex’s arms and looks up at him, his eyes brimming full. “Really?” He asks and Alex answers by putting his arms around him and drawing Henry tightly against him. 

He feels Henry’s shoulders drop just a little bit, and Alex knows they haven’t solved everything. He knows Phillip’s words will continue to sting, but he knows that Henry has a home in Alex and Alex’s words and touches, and that is something.

[queer-ragnelle]

So who among the Arthurian characters is into cottagecore? Morgan has to be right?

hi!

you know what i'm gonna have to disagree. i don't think morgan's affiliation to magic and nickname "le fay" are enough, especially bc she prides herself on a lofty status that elevates her above the humble rural living that cottagecore romanticizes. i mean here she is in the vulgate proclaiming herself a king's daughter (isn't she the daughter of duke gorlois?) while she prepares to kill her husband and get away with it.

queen shit. here are some characters i think would be into cottagecore.

arthur: when thomas berger wrote him as loving his simple life in wales with his family and sleeping out with the dogs and genuinely relishing his modest upbringing with his foster brother? i felt that.

blanchefleur: she definitely named herself "white flower" after her own garden's award winning blossoms at the county fair. she bottles it for perfume too, if you're interested. perceval always keeps a little vial around his neck so he can smell it and think of her while on quest or when he gets lost on his way to take out the trash. thanks wifey.

brangaine and palamedes: whether or not she can actually achieve this lifestyle whilst in the service of isolde, she definitely dreams of fleeing to the countryside with palamedes. it also makes his commute shorter (cottage is on the edge of the enchanted woods in which the questing beast roams).

culhwch and olwen: after the nightmarish tasks they underwent just to get married they absolutely retired far away from court life where those shenanigans wouldn't reach their children.

dindrane: she's the quintessential nun, one who didn't learn necromancy. she enjoys all the typical stuff expected in a remote hermitage; gardening, baking, making wine, going on an adventure bilbo style complete with chaotic means and tragic ends, bird watching.

fisher king and elaine: since the queen passed away they just want more father and daughter bonding time out on the boat to fish. they catch dinner in their little pond and take it home to cook and go to sleep happy. they do the same thing again the next day without any obligations besides living. nothing bad happens.

green knight and wife: pretty sure they invented cottagecore or at least introduced the concept into the realm. they have their own line of cottagecore starter kits with little seeds to grow personalized mini gardens for a country oasis even in the discomfort of your monarch-sanctioned barracks. so what if the plants they sell are annuals and you have to buy a new one every year. aren't you committed to the aesthetic?

isolde and tristan: did they or did they not smash in that grotto like their lives depended on it? i rest my case.

merlin: have you read mary stewart's merlin trilogy? my guy wanted the quiet life so bad it made him look stupid. he died as he lived, in the middle of fucking nowhere. say what we will he committed to the bit to the very end.

tor: he is literally a cowboy farmer kid turned knight. actually forget the whole list he's the only one.

thanks for the ask!

[everything-is-crab]

:))

This is what I meant when I said both rightoids and liberals in India are equally dumb as fuck. Both are pro imperialists. She's not even lower caste and yet she's speaking on behalf of us. I have seen this trend in a lot of "anticasteist" upper caste women (who unfortunately have more voices than people like me, actually women from oppressed castes).

How are these people different from the white supremacists who say brown people are intellectually and socially inferior?

"At least the goras let us have meat" oh okay we're gonna ignore the 3 million lives lost in Bengal famine caused by Churchill's policies (after which he blamed it on us instead of his own greediness). Did he let those people eat meat then? Unhinged shit. They wouldn't let people fill their bellies cause sometimes instead of food crops they wanted our ancestors to grow cotton, indigo, spices, tea. Which also left areas prone to land disasters. Commercial stuff that they could sell at much cheaper prices in their own countries and others in the Western world as well. Also levied extremely unreasonably high taxes. Leaving us with no money. Delusional world these middle/upper class liberals live in where the British let us have meat. They didn't even let us have rice.

The British protected the caste system. Read Sharmila Rege's work about how the British introduced the process of "Brahmanisation" in colonial India.

This is the exact thing Hindu nationalists are doing rn! And have been doing forever! Protecting Western imperialists! Why do you think Modi is bootlicking the US so much? Do you think the farmers' protests and the after effects of globalization after 1991 are disconnected from Western imperialism?

Just because nationalists claim to be against white dominance doesn't mean they practice what they preach.

And this folks is why you need to incorporate class and gender in your analysis and not read about the work of only the middle class men of a community :)

Women and poor people matter too.

But unfortunately many earlier anti caste activists who were middle or upper class were anti Marxists and only later few like the Dalit Panthers and R.B More realized the importance of Marxist analysis for understanding modern caste based oppression more. Yes many Indian Marxists ignored casteism. But that does not mean we must dispose it as a useless theory.

But who tf cares about the Dalit Panthers or anyone else? Have you even heard of any other names that aren't Phule or Ambedka? Everyone followed and still follow people like Periyar, Ambedkar, Phule who were all from relatively well off family. And why will people who uncritically follow these people not think colonization was as bad? All of them attended British school and went for higher studies as well. The British was staunchly anti communist. They constantly resisted communist activists in colonial India. This is a privilege even today many people from oppressed castes cannot enjoy.

I have seen all these upper caste women, ignore people like me pointing this out. They think we're against education of oppressed castes (why would I advocate that for my own community?). But rather we take issue to these men ignoring their economic and male privilege and speaking on behalf of all of us.

A reminder that Periyar criminalized devadasis and read Ambedkar's arguments against Hindutva solutions to the Partition (hint: he cared more about the money that could be wasted in missionaries rather than the violence and human rights and unironically called Muslim people "tyrannical" and referred to "Muslim oppression" on Hindus). He was anti casteist, but he was Islamophobic.

To avoid with this kind of thinking, follow Dalit feminist theory. Dalit femininism from its inception has been pro Marxist (cause women make most of poor here). And they explain the effects of colonization on lower caste women (how the British introduced evidence act, a law that justified rape against lower caste women and let me remind you gang rape of lower caste women by upper caste men is a national issue. Ex the Manipur case, the rape of Phoolan Devi, the Hathras case etc). And how dowry (that earlier used to be a practice mainly amongst upper castes was now becoming dominant in lower castes as well due to capitalization of economy during colonial era). Maybe then you will understand why the British abolished sati but not any temple prostitution or other issues faced exclusively by women from oppressed castes. In fact they called upper caste women those who deserve to be protected but lower caste women were inherently deviant in their justification. But please go ahead and argue how imperialism brings "good things" sometimes.

Just read about caste reformation during colonial era. The choice isn't between hindutva and colonial era. The choice is between hindutva and hindutva along with colonial rule. Why do most liberals pretend the British never favored the Brahmins over everybody else?

White supremacy is so much better than Hindu supremacy for women of lower castes am I right guys?

This is so much better?

Also reminded of the "breast cloth" controversy. Do not mistake that anti caste activism is always anti caste for both Dalit men and women. Sometimes it favors Dalit men. And oppresses Dalit women further. Cause usually the colonizers never cared about oppressed castes but when they did, it was only for the men.

Ik many upper caste Marxists are not good at anti caste politics but I cannot separate Marxism from my anti caste or feminist politics. And as a Marxist from a formerly colonized country, I cannot ignore the imperial divide between the West (that is white dominated) and the global south (that includes India). You cannot separate the conditions of brown and black people today in the global south from the past dynamics of the colonizer and the colonized.

Lower caste women are obviously very poor. The poorest of all with least social protection. These upper caste women can sit on their asses and write papers and blogs on how much white supremacy was much cooler. But the ones from oppressed castes and working class? They don't have this privilege. They have the same burden of upper caste women related to marriage and domestic work and everything. But on top of that they have to do labor as well. And after globalization, when condition of "blue collar jobs" degraded (wages lowered, subsidies cut, worker protection rights gone etc) , the percentage of women in these fields increased. That's not a coincidence. Men always force women into lower earning occupations that have little job security. I am not gonna ignore this.

Fuck Hindutva. But fuck white supremacy too. For me neither is better. Both go hand in hand in fact. Look at the Hindu nationalists in France allying with white supremacists over shared conservative interests.

[butterfrogmantis]

Precontext this is sort of a replacement for my original Kheprii & Diligent dynamic because as much fun as that was it was based off a dream and in my actual au it doesn't really work properly due to in-universe stuff so like it was fun and all but it's more or less retconned now maybe they still had the epic fight and maybe they still had a lil' something but then Kheprii returns to her assigned post and yadda yadda mostly just a fun au rather than being part of the actual Butterverse ya know

SmurfIvy was the head animal handler for the lead Grove scout team. Not just dragonflies, but equipped with a varied knowledge of other mounts for the grove. This is perhaps how she met her wife, SmurfBuddleia. The head of the farming committee and lover of animals herself, bubbly, buff Bud was the perfect match. Their baby did come with some complications – an infant infection needed a lifesaving amputation of her left arm as a child but after that it was a smooth recovery and the family were happy. Until they weren’t.

That night happened. The night SmurfStorm crashed into the grove, panicked and shaking, desperately seeking out the baby she knew had just been orphaned. Stormy’s team of 7 had been reduced to 1 in a freak accident involving a scouting party gone wrong. An unknown human wizard had captured the other 6 members of the scout party to turn to gold. Amongst these were the married couple SmurfTiger and SmurfPoppy, who had recently had a stork delivery, and SmurfIvy, whose wife and young daughter were at home. Whilst SmurfStorm was desperately seeking the orphaned baby (later Quixotic) it was SmurfLily who came to Bud with the bad news.

I mean. There’s other ng that are country kids. Mari simply has a country accent, Wrangler gets involved with a cowboy lifestyle, Sower is a textbook farmer’s daughter and even child Diligent could lay down a banjo himself, but Fuchsia was the grove equivalent. Banjo skills to rival Diligent even with a prosthetic arm - but with a voice that didn’t quite match up, Fuchsia dove hard into the honky-tonk ways of her mother Buddleia for the first few years of her life and was darn-tootin’ proud of it too. Unfortunately it wasn’t always viewed so well by the other grove kids, and Fuchsia started to resent it later on.

Buddleia and Farmer are pretty good friends even if they don’t see each other often, them’s farmin’ folk stick together. The kids? Less so. Fuchsia insists her farm in the grove is much cooler than Dil’s and they have a lot more workers and more animals so why does only Diligent’s tall dad work the village farm … also his little sister is sorta weird looking no offence Fuchsia just doesn’t really hang around babies much they’re too squirmy and gross and actuallly boys are gross too what's she even doing here.

Fuchsia is one of the oldest NG, coming just under Lapidary in the official pipeline list of deliveries (for important ng – truth is there’s a lot more than my ocs wandering around but I don’t have time to dedicate 100+ ocs) Fuchsia very much grows up in the grove but she starts to turn away from her farming life in her preteens. She becomes embarrassed of her mother’s extroverted and simple ways and ends up in a rebellious phase of wanting to be looked up too, starting to look more towards the kind of person her other mother was and resentful she barely remembers her. Fuchsia starts working to become a major athlete – allstar trackstar, rock climber, swimmer, martial artist – she’s got the attitude to match the muscles and a mean fightin’ side to her. She’s not necessarily mean herself but VERY quick tempered and arguably as bad as Tuffy for instigating fisticuffs.

Fuchsia returns to Smurf Village for the first time in years to see her friend Foxglove and wow this place has hardly changed a bit since she was a kid and HOLY SHIT IS THAT THE FARM BOY SHE USED TO KNOW? He’s …… actually super buff wow. Fuchsia joins the Diligent simp club (get in line).

Butttt unlike the majority of the simp club Fuchsia will flat out refuse to admit it, culminating instead in what looks like a one sided rivalry. Truly, despite being one of the nicest dudes around Diligent always finds himself paired with people who want to kick his ass for some reason. Unlike Slacker who originally hated his work ethic and Kheprii who wanted her damn beetles back, in Fuchsia’s case it’s because she’s slightly obsessed with proving herself more athletic than him. Or perhaps she just wants to see him in tank tops. Her goals are beyond your understanding.

SmurfFuchsia and Quixotic have a vague mutual … acknowledgement, since both lost mom’s in the scout party disaster. Quixotic lost both but also gained a whole new family whilst Fuchsia still has 1 bio mom but has become distant from her … perhaps talking with Quixy will give Fuchsia the push she needs to repair the relationship with Bud.

Not Vitriolic tho. That’s putting gunpowder and fire together. Vitty is more of silver tongued fox with less muscle and Fuchsia's more of a physical fighter that can't come up with insults but stick em in a room together and watch em explode. They've definitely kissed

SmurfIvy, SmurfBud, SmurfFuchsia, Diligent, Sower, SmurfFoxglove, Quixotic and Vitriolic are mine

[xiaoluclair]

some of y’all will really look at a man who always talks with unparalleled animation through his entire big-breasted, thick-thighed self, who can never ever make up his mind because I Mean, It Depends and I Like Both I Like Boats *0.03* seconds later* I Hate Both Boats and coincidentally gives off the biggest bisexual energy, who newton-cradles between terrible dirty jokes and terrible-er dad jokes faster than the race car he drives that he never ever fails to acknowledge the brilliance of and the minds and designs behind, who laughs at said terrible jokes with his entire face and accompanying crow’s feet and is a dad to both two cats and a sweet little girl whom he carries on his shoulders and smiles at like she’s the only person ever, who unfailingly throws all caution to the wind in press conferences like fruit this fruit that i’m the fucking fruit bowl the fruit forest, here let me press my mouth up to this piece of glass like a silly little fish to make this man laugh and here let me talk about us as two men in a heteronormative sport cuddling together at night and massaging each other and here let me tease you for spinning and making me slow for yellows and lean forward to see if it makes you laugh or blush or both, who has been found on the floor and butt-naked by his teammate like bro what the fuck happened there, who hugs with his entire soul and buries his face into collarbones and cries sweet tears of happiness and has an entire team who loves him from their toes up take him into their arms and lift him on their shoulders and catch him when he runs to them after a race and throws himself into their embrace, who sizzles years worth of fighting and dreaming and achieving down to it Just Brings Back A Lot Of Rest and This Hasn’t Been For Nothing and the quiet blame he sets on his own self of a doomed marriage he had no control over he was a child (a child), who has the smallest dearest freckle on his lips that sends strangers into deranged sweats and righteous mutiny when even touched by photoshop, who wears one singular type of cap like a farmer who was warned by a witch that his carrot farms would die from famine if removed, who when he heard theories about how the curved cap gives him more luck over his regular bae only wore the regular one out of spite bc Fuck You Superstition!! who retains information about countries and flags and world cup trivia like it’s a human citizenship requirement, who has retained this information from when he was the littlest boy the smollest potato with dreams dropped onto his shoulders and determination in his spark blue eyes that crinkle so beautifully at literally anything even remotely funny to his relatable and therefore hilarious shit humor, who lets his heart go without limit and knows his self worth and isn’t embarrassed to speak out against something that hurts him and especially hurts his friends and family, who will defend the people he loves with everything in him to a fault and then some more, and go

[haila-wetyios]

I come from a third world country. Which makes it easy for peeps from the first world to have several misconceptions about living conditions or even where I am (my favourite is the one where they think Nicaragua is located in Africa, or me being Russian).

That said, my husband (who I now believe is the saint of patience in disguise) has done his best in the 10 years we've been together to try and at least explain to his family that no, I don't live in a hut, unaware of all commodities and twiddling my thumbs, trying to marry him to get a visa and dump him right away. Or that yes, there's several towns at my country with rich agriculture but all are modern enough that you won't feel like you're in the end of the world or in some random mountain in your tent (unless of course, you really wanted to go camping to all our green areas).

We got a half assed functioning capital city, we only have Summer all year round, and greens and dairy products are so rampant that there's tons of cheeses that I can't smuggle out to my friends because they come with zero preservatives and maybe some extra seasoning from the farmer hand that handled them that had no time to wash it before we got it.

We lack a few of the fancier things in current modern society yes (as in, old models of several things), but it reflects mostly in the lack of manners and survival of the fittest practice that we have to deal with on a daily basis against each other. And of course, the government insisting on getting the country to crumble from the inside and the oppression of those against it, but that's a topic for a different writing.

This of course, has not gotten through my dear mother in law's head, and now that I'm staying for a brief period of time with them to get the hang of Canada, everyday is a very wild day of hot takes from her strange assumptions about me, or the way she handles things in general. Here are some of them:

"That's a train! Have you ever seen/been on a train before?"

"Oh I just got organic milk! It's good for your body. Have you ever had organic milk?"

Asking which Canadian brand I have never heard off I would like for certain groceries.

Going through roads I've only seen once since first arriving and asking if they're familiar to me.

"OH I HAVE TO TEACH YOU HOW TO USE THE TV" *proceeds to press the ON button and tell me to choose Netflix on the menu*

Suggesting that since they got a bag full of toothpaste, lotions, deodorants and so on, that I could grab those and make small packets to bring back to gift to my friends and co-workers at home.

Being very confused as to why I would take a walk around the neighbourhood without my husband, who is chilling playing games and letting me do my own thing.

Asking my husband why I didn't cook him breakfast instead of us sharing duties on breakfast prepping.

Asking if I've ever had cheese from Portugal often (it's always a new different brand).

"Y'KNOWWHATIMEAN?" x8 times (minimum) to me during the day.

Trying to get me to agree that the current weather is blazing hot while I'm wearing at least 2 jackets.

Being very confused when I mentioned my parents went out on a fishing trip, asking why if our house 'is right next to the sea' (we live in the city).

Insisting that I accept several cloth donations.

Insisting that my family take several cloth donations.

Asking in different words if I've ever had boiled eggs???

Losing her mind when I mentioned we don't have sweet potatoes at home.

Being shocked that we grow our own herbs in the backyard (parsley, thyme, etc etc).

Now just in case, this doesn't upset me as much as it amuses me at this point. We deal with too much shit at home for misconceptions to get to me. But those are only the tip of the iceberg of everything I've seen and heard in roughly a week of being around. And I do have to admit, I'm both wondering while also being terrified of whatever misconception comes next. I've had several moments of giving the benefit of the doubt and my dear mother in law grabs those, and throws them into a home run far, far away.

She loves me and changing the way she thinks is definitely impossible. So just gotta take the list of things and roll with them I guess. In her eyes, I either popped out of thin air, or have been living in Canada for a long while, there's no in between image of me

[necer0s]

More personal shit under the cut

I’m so fucking pissed right now. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that at least part of my vacation should be spent relaxing, right? At minimum, one full day should have been free. But because my family has delusions of living out some city-person-ass farmer fantasy, instead I spend the entire week driving up the country for eight hours, boiling down maple sap into syrup, fixing up a shitty chicken coop, hauling heavy shit around, tossing cover crop into muddy fields during pouring rain, doing dishes that no one else can seem to be assed to do, and then drive eight more hours back home just in time to go back to my actual job. And on top of all that, I’m supposed to pretend like I’m excited for the most shitty half-assed birthday party imaginable where I get handed book 3 of a series that I’ve never heard of in my life. I am literally going to burn that book. No joke, I am going to put it with all the brush in my backyard that I could have been getting rid of if I didn’t have to put up with my family’s bullshit, And I am going to burn it. I have never burned a book before in my life and normally I would find the concept appalling, but right now it sounds like the only reasonable form of catharsis available to me. Because I can’t scream at them, I can’t shout at them, because then I’m the one who’s overreacting! I’m already the one who “didn’t get my nap today” and obviously that’s the only reason why I’m so cranky, it’s not at all because I’m in actual physical pain from lugging around too-heavy bags of seed or because the one thing I actually wanted to do with my family (play a single fucking game of Illimat) never happened. No. Obviously I’m cranky because I didn’t get my nap. As though I didn’t try, because I know better than any of these assholes just how screwed over I’m going to be when I have to adjust back from days to the night shift. As if I’m not the one who was told the wrong days to take off so that I spent ten days working in a row for no reason, and now I’m getting screwed on the other end as well. It’s infuriating. And all of it, all of it, has to stay inside or only come out in tiny little joking complaints. Because anything else would be too much and would become a whole thing where everyone else gets to tell me that they’ve had it worse, actually, and really they worked much harder than I did, and blah blah blah blah blah. As if I weren’t the only one who doesn’t actually give a shit about this nonsense farm vacation house. I’d be perfectly content taking my every vacation from here till forever as a staycation, but no. The family wants to raise and slaughter chickens, and make their own maple syrup, and have a tiny orchard of fruit trees, even if all of those cost more in supplies alone— not even the time and labor— than would be spent on just buying those products at a grocery store. And so here I am. Lying in bed, waiting to go home so I can go back to work with barely a day of rest, stewing and venting on the internet because nowhere else is available. Fuck. Fuck this, fuck them, fuck it all.

[acgames]

I do not understand why people in cities in my country are so damn rotten to the core or I just never noticed before, but over the last week I had experienced two instances where I or my family were treated worse than dirt just because of how we look while we shop. Idk maybe there's some new law than only people from vogue cover are now allowed to shop in big stores or something...

Rant below:

So, first of all me and my family, we are villagers. My parents are hard working and simple farmers, me and my sister too work at farm and interact with farm animals on daily basis. But that doesn't mean we are dirty people: we have good hygiene, we bathe, we wash our clothes, we are tidy and pretty normal looking people in clean clothes, and yet we aren't super fashionable, me and my sister do not wear huge cleavages and don't wear any makeup (my skin is allergic to most makeup tbh, same for my sister).

So on saturday we stop at one of new big shops. My dad wanted to grab something and me and my sister went to check the place out. Not 5 mins in and we are stalked by security lady who confronts us and asks to carry a shopping basket, because apparently she thinks we look like types to swipe something. I have been shopping in these shops all around the city during my studies/work and I never had been confronted by security like this on guises that I might have stolen something.

First of all me and my sister brush it off and go to find our dad. We tell him what happened and he also tells security lady told him the same thing, and yet we were the only three people approached with suspicion like that. I literally watched other people walk in the store with stuff in their hands and no one was accused of looking like type to steal. Only us three...

Today was another instance. I was waiting at self checkout, while some hag before me decided to randomly walk away from the line. I didn't pay any attention to her, because I mind my own business and she left her spot, so once the self checkout freed I went to it, only to be interrupted by that same hag, because I took her line. Listen, yeah I get it, apparently she never left the line and if she was normal person, we would have talked, I would have apologised and let her to do her own thing first, but she literally looked at me and talked to me like I am a lesser being with "Hey, how dare you take my spot? What are you blind??" and while I allowed her to take the spot (I actually needed to be a petty bitch back to her and show her a 🖕 before checking my own stuff). The whole exchange with her was that I told her she should not have left the line and that she should be more polite with other people instead pretending she is some diety. She just kept making fun of me like "Yeah no one cares about likes of you" and I actually had huge desire to fist her, but y'know, laws prohibit that...

So idk... I never had this happen to me. And yet we have been doing our shopping in smaller town for a long time, where people actually have respect towards others and know how to act polite (most of time), but city is that place where every bitch thinks she is above everyone else and her shit doesn't stink...

I hate people...

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Y‘know I‘m usually not into shipping at all but, hear me out, TP Link x Hena (fishing pond lady)

No wait come back hear me out

Ok, so. Farmer boy is sad about never being able to see companion again. Country expects him to date the princess and fulfill the fairytale story despite them barely knowing each other and both knowing the city will never be his home. Actual Home Town still expects him to get together with childhood friend like they probably would have if nothing happened, but it did. Both of them changed, but most importantly, by growing into his destiny he outgrew the village. He’s not part of one or the other, but something in between, a wolf trapped behind wooden gates and stone walls. So, Farmer Boy leaves both behind and wanders (hey look it’s the post credit scene)

Riding across the country, searching for something do to, a problems to fix, a new destiny to be fulfilled. Farmer Boy ends up visiting the fishing pond for respite on his travels from time to time, just like it was a save haven during his adventures. Through those meetings, and with more time on his hands than before, they slowly befriend each other over all sorts of different things.

Genuine interest in that rolling game Hena made thats sitting in a corner. Both getting excited whenever Link beats another rolling game level, her making new levels and him beating them turning into a challenge. Oh your brother’s running a small shop at the edge of Faron? No way, my fam lives in Ordon, I even met him. Yea his soup still tastes like shit. Hey you gotta bring me some of that Yeti soup with fish sometime. Yea fishing is pretty cool. Let‘s compare fish notes. Woah that’s some rare guys you’ve got here. What do you mean your predecessor and maybe ancestor also managed to catch that mythically rare fish no one‘s ever seen in decades, that’s wild. Would be funny if we managed to do that too right? Haha, yea, that’s a fun thought. Yea.

Hey what was the price for canoe-fishing with staff supervision again

So they start doing that, but it’s not the right season so they prepare by scouring every lead they can find and Link riding across the country to collect as much info as possible on that fish, meeting in-between to compare and plan and just hang out together and maybe go say the fam and friends hi until summer arrives and they go out together on that canoe every day in hopes that maybe today they’ll finally manage the impossible. And that means more bonding time, during which Soup Brother gets befriended by Ordon villagers through knowing Link and also soup, and they realize that their own family member they haven’t seen in a long time has been doing the best they’ve been in a while thanks to the others‘.

But back to Farm boy and Fish girl, they continue canoe-fishing and bonding, and as the time goes by it becomes clearer that with each passing day they meet less for the fish and more for each other, and sooner than later summer is almost over and they still haven’t caught it. So they sit in that canoe together, maybe it’s even a sunset for that extra cheese if you’re into it, or not, and they go, hey, we had a good time. Promise this won’t be the end? And it won’t be.

…And if you’re up for even more cliche cheese on all that cheesy stuff, maybe right when that conversation happens, the fishing line suddenly gets pulled. Fast. No way?? They look into each other’s eyes and don’t hesitate before grabbing that fishing rod together, pulling as hard as they can, and there it is- the super mythical fish no one’s seen in decades. No way. No way. They got it. They actually- the fish pulls real hard and takes both of them + the canoe with them, swimming back into the pond and leaving them in the water. Ah well, that’s too bad. But now that they know it’s real and here, Link just has to keep coming back here after all so they can try again next summer. So, not that bad after all.

And in the meantime, they can maybe eat some soup with Ordon cheese and rare fish. :)

[oolong-strawbby]

I always wondered how my slapdash, dawn-written, hot take essays would get high marks from my english and literature teachers.

It wasn’t until I entered college, helped correct my friends’ and classmates’ essays, that I realised that the reasons why my teachers seemed so relieved when it came to me.

The bar is so low it’s not even off the ground.

When it’s bad, it is so so horrific.

No shit. These essays are not even being re-read by the student writing it themselves. They’re made for an audience of no one. By teens who had to get up, bleary-eyed, at the crack of dawn while juggling assignments from 7-8 other subjects.

I only wrote like that because I had fun writing. Other people would rather die than go through that again in their 20s.

I guess the difference is that quality suffers when what you do is treated more of an obligation. And you, the worker, some product on a shelf, replaceable as the last.

Those Japanese or Thai artisans you respect soooooo much are only able to put their utmost bussy into every facet of their craft because they are making an active choice to pursue it in an era that disregards high quality, in exchange for slop funnelled out as inhumanly fast as possible.

Laud all you want at the overworked barista or teacher because “hey even if you aren’t being paid well, take some pride and do your job well” in lieu of the sweet old Mexican cochineal bug farmer, or the wise calligraphy ink craftsman in Japan’s Nara prefecture.

(yes I have been watching Business Insider channel)

In another life, those coworkers you only know in short glimpses would’ve also liked to be a lovely mentor whose students show obvious progress, or just puts care into whatever shit they like, because they have the time and ability to support themselves.

Capitalism. Yeah that’s pretty much it. It’s been a while since I short circuited back to that lmao,

My boyfriend realises this too. How he saw this metal craftsman sitting on a street in Thailand at night just tinkering with these beautiful, delicate, monstrously difficult sculptures that engulfed the size of his torso, and knew the guy wasn’t even doing it to be paid. He’d just be doing it anyway.

And I told him, how sad it is, that we don’t have that same kind of artisan culture here in Singapore, where someone makes it their life, hell, their family’s trade, to just be good at one thing.

That one thing could either be food, art, tools, growing things, getting materials.

Nature is reduced to a mere concept here.

The lines of hands are not welcome here, instead lined with wire. It’s all wrapped in artifice and hubris. No wonder my friends are so sick of this country.

But if we do have remnants of that culture, it’s all from our elders who descended from China or our neighbours.

We do not cultivate the love of craft.

Or autismos. Oh thank god for them. Autists are universally the only vanguards of culture left. So intensely concentrated with this obsessive drive to catalogue, create and crack solutions to the most minute issues, that they are our modern artisans.

All culture trickles down from them now. Too bad their interests take them usually to just obsessing over locomotives, internet memes, or the average children’s programme.

Oh and being the backbone of Wikipedia in the form of unpaid investigative journaling and editing.

Supremely invaluable to the human race for that. Plus data/record keeping.