#or somethng of the sort

[tennessoui]

The new chapter is amazing!!! The flashbacks are so, so cool. And baby obi-wan? 🥹 so precious!! Thank you for posting!!

i am so glad to hear you liked it! obi-wan was extra baby (literally) in tht chapter because for the next part of the chapter, he's extra bitchy:

Senator Wraeth’s eyes flash, and his hands emerge from his sleeves to curl into fists at his side. “Do not forget that Norr opened itself up—gave precious resources—for the sake of the Republic to support a war effort we never saw the benefit o—”

“The benefit of? Senator, your benefit of supporting the Republic was the fact that the Separatist bombs never landed on your doorstep. The moons of Norr were turned into shield and battlefield and until they are ready for habitation once more, it is the least your planet can do offer shelter and protection to those—”

“Making friends?” Master Skywalker asks, making himself known as he slips behind Obi-Wan. His hands settle for a moment on his bare hips, fingers slotting against the bruises there like he knows exactly where to put them and where to squeeze.

“And do you speak for the Jedi Order, Padawan Kenobi?” Wraeth sneers. “When the queen told me that they allowed a learner to lead negotiations for the Jedi, I was surprised and confused. Yet now I find myself slipping quickly toward offense.”

Master Skywalker’s fingers flex around his waist. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he means to hold himself or Obi-Wan back from lunging at the senator.

“The Jedi allow anyone who proves themselves knowledgeable on a topic to speak on behalf of the Order,” Obi-Wan says, smiling beatifically. “It is a model of conversational participation that I find myself wishing more of the galaxy subscribed to. I can see why it would baffle you, of course.”

“Alright,” Master Skywalker decides, using his grip to physically steer Obi-Wan away from the circle of senators. “So not making friends.”

[avephelis]

sosorry that my art is so inconsistent rn i think i'm in a blender AUGH UAGH RBRBBRBRAHGH AG

[thehardkandy]

even ignoring "is it art" even ignoring "is the majority of ai shitting all over copyright" even ignoring "is it good" i just cannot find a way to care about something someone didnt care enough to make themselves, when it comes to things like visual art, music, writing.

every time i see people posting ai stuff in places i frequent (music, books, gamedev) im cant find it in me to care. it might be entertainment. it might even be better than other stuff i would have checked out! but fuck man.who cares. makes me want to blow my brains out that everything is being reduced to content.

[nosignalformiles]

Jay - Hospitals and why he avoids them like the plague

This was originally at the END of the headcanon ramble, but this is like, honestly the most important part that might ever come up in an RP, so the part I’d actually want folks to read.

This is why Jay hates hospitals. It’s why he’d sooner stay in pain, sooner trust some back alley surgeon or a friend of a friend who’s training to be a vet nurse, than he would an actual medical professional. That trust is gone.

He is scared of hospitals. He won't act it. But he is.

He learned to clean up and deal with a lot of injuries himself, keeps a pretty complete first aid kit on his bike, and almost always has painkillers on hand. It’s basically put up a huge barrier between him and recovery.

While rare, Jay has experienced psychosis as part of his BPD. Far more common for him to go through manic periods of increased risk taking and confidence, though. The biggest tell with him when it’s not that, is that there’s an added jittery-ness. Twitchy like he’s on something when he’s not. Usually it’s audio hallucinations and paranoia, but there have been lights and sensitivity as well. It is very rare for him, and it’s not something I have ANY interest in RPing. He might have freak outs from substance use, but not psychosis related hallucinations. 

Related to this. Jay used to end up in the ER all the time, he’d get injured in stupid and avoidable ways, or he’d have a bad reaction to whatever he took, mixed with whatever else he took.

Three out of those many times, a nurse or a doctor saw something else. Three times, he’s been put in an involuntary hold at an inpatient facility. The nature of his time there, and how it reacted and worked For Him, was medically traumatizing. These can be useful and necessary resources for mental health, but they don’t help everyone, and Jay has never been in a place to actually Get anything but trauma out of them. It was scary. Isolating. Disorienting. It stripped away his ability to feel like himself.

This is, again, not something I want to RP. The inpatient facility part, him in hospitals in general, and the fear - yeah, that’s cool. But given it’s one of the major things that’s hurt him as an adult, he will very, very, rarely - if ever - bring it up. Even if they go to a hospital, even if he has a panic attack, or intentionally goes a bit overboard, he’s not bringing it up outside of dire circumstances. I might mention it as part of internal narrative, but that’s it.

Will also say, while I’m not interested in RPing this stuff, talking about it during plotting or headcanon stuff is cool, it’s an important aspect of his character and how he experiences things, they’re just not scenarios i want to keep writing long form.

[lonelypuppet404]

Yun Yun Syndrome - Homescreen

So as I was trying to sketch out some fanart of Q-tie, I found somethng!

I had seen this before...but here's a full version of the home screen of the game!! Let's analyze!

SCORE

First up we have the score tab, which I believe will function similarly to the Task Manager Tab in NSO, aka holding all your stats. We have 'DOKIDOKI' which for translations sake basically means excitement/heart pounding, its a Japaneese onomatopoeia for those who don't know. From the text on screen, we can guess that this can be added to by listening to Denpa Songs. The next stat is 'YUNYUN' which I would say is probably how obssesed with yunyun we are. 10 bucks that this gets increased by going on twitter!! Finally...'RIZZ'. THEY HAVE A FUCKING RIZZ STAT??? HELP ME. It refers to Charisma here by the way, so I'm not exactly sure what this could mean in game. Are we going to date Yunyun???? I am confused.

APPS

So we have 8 apps to the left hand side of the screen, these are from order in top left to bottom right are...Denpa Songs, Health, Socials, TODO, Dream Log, MyPicture, Room Search, Setting.

First of all, denpa songs is probably the rhythm game portion, so we can get that one out of the way. Health is more interesting...will it be various medicine to help maintain our health? I'm not sure what this could be. Socials is also obvious, this is probably similar to the socials tab in nso, and we'll probably have a list to choose from and then post or doom scroll. TODO is obviously a to-do list of some sort, but I'm not exactly sure what for??? Will we have a guide of sorts for certain endings? I'm not sure what this will be. Dream Log is probably Q-Tie's diary, similar to the logs in Nso, MyPicture is probably either a fanart or ingame picture viewer! Room Search seems the most interesting...maybe we can search our room for certain items? I'm not sure. Finally, Settings is probably just the setting menu lmao.

OTHER TABS/APPS

First we have the trash can app, which is either the leave the game button, or a button to get rid of unneccesary tabs and such, not sure. There is also an app hidden behind Q-Tie...what could it be...

We have the Camera tab for Q-Tie and we see her messy ass room too, and then we have the text bar for Q-Tie. Overall nothing noticable here. And we also see Q-Tie's background!! It's Yunyun. are you surprised. Anyways that's it wooo!!! Some exciting stuff here!

[shroudkeeper]

There are many things I wish to share with you, and though I have no voice for it, perhaps these written words will transcribe what is etched in my heart. May it be something to bide our time, until you return from your travels.

I have never been romantic, the word itself I understood but it never held any sort of significance to me. The plays I have attended recently paint it as somethng both beautiful and fantastical. A part of me wants to experience this, and if you would allow it, with you.

Upon your return, I will propose our courtship to my father properly, though I have a feeling he would be against it, I hold on to the hope that he will understand the happiness you have gifted me.

[celticcrossanon]

“Camilla is not a happy woman. She has reached the pinnacle of her career, being Queen, and she does not like it. She is resisting the changes that come with her new position with all her might.”

—

So glad to see you’re back, CC, and feeling better! To me, this reading vis a vis Camilla screams, “Be careful what you wish for, young lady, for you will surely get it” (aka Karma). I remember the Diana era from 1980 on, and - although Diana was no saint, nor am I a Diana fan per se - from the beginning of Charles’ marriage to D, he and Camilla were in cahoots…the pre-wedding intertwined C&C bracelet, Cam’s attendance at the wedding, Cam’s social hovering over a young 20-somethng Diana, etc. Camilla had always remained in Charles’ equation, even before they resumed their physical affair while both were married to other (also unfaithful) spouses. 

Fast forward to the present and we’ve recently gotten gloating BP/Camilla-sourced articles about Cam winning “the Game of Thrones” against a dead Diana, or Cam showing “joy in jewelry” while Catherine is a jewelry disappointment. Camilla (as royal mistress) wanted the King, but without all the hassle of his Crown. But Camilla, dear, that’s not how it works…at least in Charles’ reign, because he would never have condescended to be a King with a Mistress rather than with a Queen. You asked for Charles, you got him…albeit with all of his royal trappings as well. They’re a package deal, Queen Camilla, so suck it up, Buttercup :)

*

Hi Nonny,

I remember the Diana era as well, and before hand, when Camilla was one of quite a few married women that Charles kept as mistresses (Lady Kanga was another one). No matter how hard I try to not judge and to see things from another person’s point of view, I just can not hold with that sort of behaviour. I do believe that Camilla was a presence in their marriage and that Charles paid her more attention than was wise, and I think that would have been hurtful to any spouse, let along a young woman in her early twenties. 

Those current articles are just gloating and spiteful. It is not a good look on Camilla - or indeed on anyone. I think that Camilla would have been happier today if she had remained the royal mistress, but that didn’t happen. Now she is in a situation where she is very unhappy. There is an element of ‘be careful what you wish for’ in it, I can definitely see that. At the same time, I wish she had the strength to use this situation to take the higher path instead of lapsing into pettiness, simply because it would be so much better for her as a person, and I like to see people work on developing the best in themselves and not the worst. 

[twopoppies]

Hello, hope u r having a nice day i wanted to know ur views on something ...please , if u r okk with it . i wanted to ask you do u belive in these rumoured twitter warning accounts like they say somethng and point out like this happened , i see many larries following it ....i am seeing one like gossey or the famous cbo are they reliable for one sec according to you. As i just wanted to know from u because i following u since 2022 and i really admire ur views and thoughts , so just asking.

Hi, darling. I don't know who gossey is, but CBO is an absolute troll. In general, I really think anyone who presents themselves as having continuous insider info is lying. These sorts of accounts throw out "warnings" that are so general that they eventually will look as if they actually know something. I don't think anyone directly connected to Harry or Louis is telling secrets to random Twitter accounts, and personally, I wouldn't waste my time following them.

[subsystems]

do you know any resources where you can talk to someone? preferably somethng that's open 24/7?

7-cups! It's a website where you can speak to volunteers about any sort of non-crisis mental health or life issue. It's open 24/7, although sometimes you have to wait a while before a volunteer gets to you (the most I've ever had to wait was like 15 minutes). I've had lots of good experiences with 7-cups! The only downsides is that there isn't a category for dissociation. So, if you need someone to talk to about dissociation or system stuff, you might have a harder time finding a knowledgeable volunteer.

If you're having a crisis, I'd recommend contacting a hotline instead.

[storkmuffin]

The thing I love about Jack Rackham is how very in touch with himself and his feelings he is among all these people who JUST ACT when moved to any sort of emotion. (John Silver lies, James Flint escalates, Charles Vane goes to hit somethng etc). Naming the worry, even if you belatedly realize you have it, is so healthy.

And Featherstone is of course already very in touch with his feelings, but that's because he has a very intimate relationship with his prostate.

[ampregloverblr]

WARNING: RANT AHEAD

Went to Asda todat to get a couple of pizzas as we do every other week, i order my usual as does mum and all seems good. We go through the self service checkout and mum notices there is no label on my pizza, s she says to one of the staff members and she said she will sort it by getting a new label. We get home and as mum is about to make the pizzas she calls me in to show me somethng, turns our the girl in Asda went and put my pizza back on the pizza bar with no label and brought back a plain cheese one. To say i am not pleased is a HUGE understatement.

[empiriical]

@collectalong / semi-plotted starter but also starter call.

"helloooooooo?" a fist pounds on the door, with no response. elmer jiggles the handle, but it remains locked. with a furrowed brow but an otherwise unfaltering smile, he jogs down the steps of the porch && paces around the house. hands on his hips, he tips his head back, squinting against the sun.

zeroing in on a window propped slightly ajar, elmer grunts as he pushes it open && hauls himself up && inside. "sorry, old man szilard," he murmurs, dusting himself off && straightening his clothes, "when you get home, we can try to talk things out, but i know for a fact that a lot of people will be happier this way. maybe i can still make you smile, too."

he walks through the house. it's clear that its inhabitant has been here recently, though the interior looks like it could be an exhibit in a museum.

"wooooow. talk about not keeping up with the times." whistling, elmer shoves his hands in his pockets. he turns on his heel, && walks to another door. peering into the darkness, it appears to lead to a cellar of sorts. "huh." the steps creak as he walks down slowly. "hmm, where's the light..." feeling against the wall for a light switch, his hand knocks... somethng, which falls to the ground && shatters. "whoopsie!"

[mamahex]

This is a very edited little story (the one on AO3 is VERY NSFW). So if you want to see the porny version, it's on there. I just want to say that this really hurt to write. It seems ridiculous, somehow, that I'm a forty two year old woman, sat here crying about the long since death of a fictional character from a game... but yet here I am. I'm really, really sad right now... 🥺

Why Does It Feel Like We're Saying Goodbye

By the time we got to Shady Belle, I knew the end was looming.

I can feel the end of us as if it were a physical thing, a giant creature that has been chasing us all since Blackwater, stomping at our heels no matter how far we ran. And I'm not stupid, I can see the decline in Dutch as clearly as if I were reading his story in a book held tightly in my hands, but I am as powerless to stop his decline as if it really had been a book that someone else had written many years before; beginning, middle and end.

Of course, I think of my boys... My two boys who I love with every ounce of feeling that's still held inside of me, but also the others, the women and little Jack... I've told them, time and time again to get out while they still can, because I know the end is near and I know there's no hope, no escaping this monster at our back's, no Tahiti...

But most of all, the thing that hurts the most, more than losing my own life or losing any one of my sons... I think of Dutch.

He has always suffered from these dark moods, retreating behind his impenetrable walls that I could never breech. He was always so full of life and light and love that each time he retreated into his darkness, it felt as if the whole world had suddenly been rendered black and desolate. It always hurt. But I had always been able to coax him back out, eventually, back to us, back to me. But since he killed that woman in Blackwater...somethng had changed, and I simply couldn't reach him.

And I know I've been as bad as the others have been, agreeing with his plans, encouraging him even when he rants about Tahiti or wherever else he plans on running us all to, and I do it just to see him smile. I do it just to see a faint flicker of life light his eyes again, like they used to be lit. And sure, we've argued, we've debated, we've stormed off from each other's company plenty times since Blackwater, but I haven't dissagreed even nearly as much as I should, and I hate myself for that. I'm weak...I'm a weak and pathetic old man, agreeing with a madman just because I love him...

I love him so much that it's beginning to kill me, seeing him like this.

Arthur simply agrees with Dutch, like he always has, because he loves him too. John is beginning to question him now, and that does surprise me somewhat, but all his doubts are doing is pushing a larger wedge between Dutch and they boy he loves. Dutch won't ever listen, won't ever hear him.

And Micah... Micah is the devil, I'm sure of it. I truly think that the end has come for me, for us all, and that the devil himself has come to march us all to hell. But of course, Dutch won't see reason, he won't see the truth, because the more we doubt his erratic plans and argue with him, the more Micah is there to tell him he is right and we are all wrong, and that's always the best medicine for Dutch: having someone tell him he is right. So long as he believes he is right, he will hear no other truth.

I went up to his room in the old, run-down plantation house without any sort of plan or reason. I just... I just needed to be with him. Sometimes, I simply need him, without words, without questions, as it has always been between us. Throughout all the years, it has always been the same. The love we share, it's never needed an explanation, or an identity, or a question... We have never felt the need to be each other's Only, to cuddle by the fireside, holding hands and showing everyone our love. We just simply have always been... We could have months pass without so much as a touch, but then I, or he, would simply walk up to the other and fall into his arms, and be taken, without question, and loved.

Molly answered the door, looking angry and dark. "No," she simply said, staring up at me. "No."

"Go sleep somewhere else tonight, honey," I said, feeling tired and old and not ready for a fight. I don't know if she had any real idea why I was there, why Dutch would simply not be there with her, some nights, but the look on her face told me she perhaps had an idea. But the fight had already been wrung out of her by then. I think that she, too, must have felt the end coming, more so for her and Dutch than for the rest of us. She simply scowled at me and pushed past me and left.

I went into the room and quietly closed the door behind me.

There was an old tin bathtub in the middle of the room that some of the boys had carried up for him to use. He was laying in the bath, then the hot water gently steaming the room, making the already swampy and humid air even more unbearable. He looked up as I approached and smiled at me. There was no question, no surprise. He knew why I was there, as was our way.

Without a word, I walked over to him and leaned into a crouch by the side of the bath, leaned down, and kissed him. We hadn't been together, like this, since before Blackwater, but the time that had passed and everything that had happened had done nothing to change our unspoken closeness, our unquestioning love for each other.

Dutch took a hand from the water and lightly pulled me closer, his hot wet hand touching my hair and making me damp. He leaned up and kissed me, one deep and lingering kiss on the lips, before sliding back down to sitting and taking back his hand. I got down to the floor, stiffly, and sat beside him.

"How's the headwound?" I asked, reaching out and stroking his wet hair, being careful not to touch the most sore place.

"It's better," he said. I nodded, still running my fingers through his hair. "I've missed you, old girl," he said. His voice was deep and quiet and full of thoughts.

"I've missed you too, my love," I said, and I felt as if I might weep, there, on the floor beside him. "I need you tonight," I said, my voice coming out thick with feeling.

Dutch turned to stare at me, his black eyes reaching inside of me to gently pluck at the very most hidden places. I was afraid, then, that he might reject me for the first time in over twenty years. But his dark look melted into a half smile, and he gently took my hand from the wet tangle of his hair and slowly began to kiss my fingers, my hand, trailing slow delicious kisses up to my wrist.

"We don't have to...if you are too tired..." I said, suddenly feeling shy, suddenly feeling the distance that had pushed us apart since Blackwater. I didn't mind if we didn't have sex, I just needed to be with him, very suddenly.

"I always want you, Hosea..." he spoke between kisses. "I'll always want you..." He turned back to look at me and gripped my hand a little tighter and tugged my hand into the hot water. He held my hand over his hardness, "I always want you..." he repeated, his voice grainy with lust.

I bent to kiss him again, a hungrier kiss than the last. As our tongues began to gently entwine, I felt my own arousal, my own need begin. We broke apart, panting slightly, staring at each other.

In one sudden movement, Dutch lurched to stand, water sloshing over the sides of the bath to sink into the floorboards. He stood before me, the fire in his eyes almost terrifying. I got to my feet and let him come at me.

He climbed out of the bath and went to me, pressing his wet body against my dry clothes, and kissed me. I felt the hot water from his body begin to soak my clothes, but I didn't care.

Dutch pulled away from me and began to tear at my clothes, his hands fumbling in his desperation. I helped him as best I could, stripping my damp clothes and casting them aside.

We made love then, a desperate, needy love that I hadn't realised I was craving until it was consuming me.

I gasped a laugh. "I'm getting too old for this..." I said.

Dutch smiled at me, and my heart flared at the sight of it.

"We'll never be too old for this."

"Come to bed?" I asked.

Dutch took my hand and pulled me into his bed. I gladly fell into his embrace, resting my head on his chest, running my hand through the hair on his chest. He held me tightly, his body warm and familiar and safe. We clung to each other, and there was nothing but love and the promise of a better future there, in that bed.

But, of course, I knew it was only temporary...

I know that, in the morning, we are to rob the bank at Saint Denis. I know that it's meant to be our last big heist. I know it's meant to be the last big take we need before...Tahiti.

I sighed, feeling the bliss of our lovemaking leaving me.

I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time we will ever lay in bed together. I can't shake the feeling that I was saying goodbye...

"Dutch," I whispered.

"Mmmm," he said, half sleeping beheath me.

"Tomorrow... after the bank job...after we get the money..."

"What?" he asked, waking up a little more.

"When we get the money, when we leave...I've been thinking...I want to go away with you. Just you...I want us to go away somewhere and... just be together. I can't lose you, Dutch."

I felt tears begin to sting my eyes, and the awful, desperate feeling that I was losing him gripped my chest like a vice.

Dutch peered at me. "We can't leave the gang..."

I sighed, swallowed anything that was trying to come to the surface. I knew I'd never be able to convince him that the gang was finished. I knew that he believed in his promises of a life in Tahiti... I knew he wouldn't listen to reason, and I didn't want to end this night with another argument. So I did what I've done all along, and I let him keep a hold of his plans, his dreams, simply so I didn't have to watch him retreat back into his own darkness once more and leave me cold without his light.

I'd wanted to ask him to come away with me, to let the boys go... I wanted to get him away from Micah and then, just the two of us, we could be safe, and I wouldn't have to lose him. Of course, I wanted Arthur and John to remain close, but the gang was done...

But I couldn't say it. I couldn't ask it.

"I know, Dutch... I don't mean we leave the gang... After, when we are settled... How about you and me go somewhere together, just for a while, just the two of us... Somewhere, we can grow into older old men, with each other. And when we get back to the gang, watch our son's grow, whatch our...family thrive? But before that, before that, let's just let it be you and me for a little while..."

Dutch stared up at the cieling, deep in thought.

"We need to get everyone settled..." he said.

"I know, and we will... But once they are all settled and safe, lets just you and me go away together, sleep together like this every night. No more running, no more hiding... We can be free after tomorrow. The bank job is going to work, we are going to be rich, and when the family is safe, we can be together."

Dutch smiled up at the cieling and smiled up into his dreams.

I sat up and looked down at him and stroked his hair back from his forehead.

"Tomorrow," I said, "we are gonna be rich. I say we send Micah back to Blackwater for the rest of the money while we book passage to Tahiti, and then we can meet him out there... and once we are settled... we can be together like this forever."

I knew that the words I had been trying to say had morphed into a lie, but I simply couldn't bring myself to disappoint him...

I smiled and bent to kiss him.

"I love you, Dutch," I said, and again, I could feel tears begin to choke me. "Whatever happens tomorrow, with the bank job, with the plan... just remember that I love you. I'm in love with you, I have always been utterlly in love with you, and I always will be, until we are both up in heaven..."

"I love you too, Hosea," Dutch breathed, huffing a slight laugh at my unusual display of affection. "Why does it feel like we're saying goodbye?" he asked, kissing my forhead and holding me a little tighter.

"I'm not saying goodbye...I'm just saying I love you, Dutch...and I'll always love you."

"I love you too, old girl... there is no world without you in it... you are my world...if something should take you from me...I dread to think what would happen to me."

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Dutch," I whispered, stroking his face.

Dutch grinned at me. "See, you are finally starting to believe, Hosea! We are gonna be all right, we are gonna be better than all right! We are gonna be rich and safe and free, just how we planned it, right from the start..."

I kissed him softly, our lips warm. "Get some sleep," I said, snuggling back down into his chest. "Tomorrow will be difficult."

I felt Dutch snuggle deeper into the old and battered matress beneath us and sigh, sleep taking him.

I tried to sleep. I lay there, feeling his breathing slow and watching him doze off, but sleep wouldn't come to me. I gently slipped out of bed and retrieved my still damp clothes from the floor. I bent to kiss him, just before I left him sleeping, and smiled as his brow furrowed slightly at the invasion.

Sitting here now, writing in this book... That awful feeling is gripping me once again. The man I love is soundly sleeping upstairs, my boys, my family, they are all well around me. But...for how long?

Tomorrow, we are to rob the bank at Saint Denis, and it was my own plan, so I know that nothing should go wrong. So why does it feel like the end?

I don't know what the morning will bring, but I'm determined that, however this plays out, wether its Tahiti or the end of a rope for us, I'm going to make sure Dutch is with me.

[cassyblue]

its sort of telling that when i’m suicidal its because I am struggling with money. It’s not other stuff. It’s always when I am living paycheck to paycheck, strugglign with impulse buying, and so on. I sell my expensive dresses and then as soon as I have a large paycheck I just blow it because I don’t know what I’ll have money again and I hate it. And the thing I spend the most money on isn’t gas or clothes its food. Food is a simple comfort when i’m struggling to go get a fancy coffee or somethng. i havent been eating because of anxiety making me super nauseaous so it just a horrible cycle. 

I just if I hadn’t gotten fucked over my unemployment i wouldnt be here. But they fucked me over. They denied my claim because they told me the wrong information and i was too good at following direcitions. 

[lonita]

The love of money

I think I'll long for a life of near-destitute academia, where one's importance as a person is not determined by the size of one's bank account. I'm as much a capitalist as the next person, in that I want money and all the joys it can bring. But I'm enough of a socialist to be disgusted by money being treated as some sort of sacred cow. The struggle for money for no other purpose than to have more of it for its own sake, is repugnant to me. I discovered just the other day - while listening to someone describe a friend of theirs only in terms of job status and bank account - that I actually loathe people who seem to only be impressed by, or want only to impress others by, their money and "importance" of job. It also made me wonder if that person could think of nothing else to say of someone they call "friend". I don't know about you lot, but I define my friends by means other than the superficial nature of their existance. Certainly money is an important thing, and certainly having a decent job is also important; but if those are the only things you can think of to define yourself as a person - if that's what you've become slave to - then you certainly have a lot of empty places in your self; don't you? Coming from the perspective of one who's had very little money her entire life, the prospect of having a lot of it is certainly attractive; but not having money seems to do one of three things to people. Either it makes you realise how unimportant it is in the fulfilment of a person; you become a slave to getting it and become shallow; or you become totally repugnant of it simply because you are a have-not. Not having money has helped me personally to realise what things do have real worth in life. Value is not solely defined by something worth its weight in gold bullion. Not having money has also made me extremely conscious of security. Certainly I want money so that I do not have to worry about what will become of me when I'm elderly, where my next meal is going to come from, and not having to turn my friends down when they want to go out because my last dollar has to go towards buying a litre of milk rather than a bottle of beer down the pub. Mind you, that's where the debate of worth and value really comes to the fore. I will, and have, starved myself for a few days so that I could spend time with friends. People are more important than money. Reading good books and improving the self are more important than money. Doing something so that you have somethng to share with others, is more important than money. It has always seemed to me that a person who only talks of their financial resources, doesn't have very much to say for themselves. It's not merely repugnant, it's also boring. Then again, you have to wonder about any person who obsesses so constantly about any topic. We all have our obsessions; we would not be human without them. There are, however, reasonable limits.

[happynewyear-99]

hey dude. its me. the uh. the gnarpy guy. i just wanted to come over and say that i made that post when i wasnt feeling all that there and im sorry. i should have actually tried to come up with criticisms that would help instead of hurt and i need to learn how to actually critique.

after around a week of making that post i sort of saw qualities i didnt before. and the post doesnt reflect my current views as of writing this. im just a stranger on the internet that wanted to talk about somethng that pissed me off and i forgot something important about critique and that was actually making it constructive.

thank you for this man