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bisexualbaker: bisexualbaker: thwippersnapple: Tingle just cranked out 50k words for a spite story for JKR and I am LIVING for it! [Image one: Tweet from Chuck Tingle ( @ChuckTingle ): please enjoy new full length adult romance novel (52000 words) in paperback or ebook about the best wizard: TRANS WIZARD HARRIET PORBER AND THE BAD BOY PARASAUROLOPHUS available now also trans rights amazon.com/dp/B08B386R6J ] [Image two: Cover of the aforementioned Harriet Porber novel; Harriet is front and center, a young trans woman with light skin, long dark hair, and glasses; she has a wand raised in her right hand. Behind her are a mammoth in a wizard’s hat, an anthropomorphic duck-billed dinosaur, and a motorcycle with the head of a woman.] Chuck Tingle is a gift. OMG the summary: Trans wizard Harriet Porber is a master spellsmith who’s found herself in a bit of a pickle. After finishing wizard college, Harriet made a name for herself by creating a hit viral spell, but has since failed to craft a follow up. Now Harriet’s agent, Minerma, is breathing down her neck, suggesting that Harriet take a trip to an island off the coast of England for inspiration.Hoping for some peace and quiet to clear her head, Harriet Porber arrives to find that her new neighbor, an angsty bard named Snabe from the band Seven Inch Nails, is already there making a racket. This parasaurolophus spellcaster is a bad boy through and through, and with his incredible powers of metamagic, Snabe reveals that this layer of reality is much more than it seems. Could Harriet and Snabe really be characters in a parody romance novel?Soon enough, these two are discovering they have more similarities than differences: both trans, both strong, and both hoping to create a new spell that will change the world. But with the addition of two devious sentient motorcycles to the mix, Dellatrix and Braco, things start to get complicated.Now trans wizard Harriet Porber is caught up in a tale of magic and mystery where nothing is as it seems, except for one universal truth: love is real.This is a 52,000 word bad boy romance novel for adults. It contains some explicit scenes. : bisexualbaker: bisexualbaker: thwippersnapple: Tingle just cranked out 50k words for a spite story for JKR and I am LIVING for it! [Image one: Tweet from Chuck Tingle ( @ChuckTingle ): please enjoy new full length adult romance novel (52000 words) in paperback or ebook about the best wizard: TRANS WIZARD HARRIET PORBER AND THE BAD BOY PARASAUROLOPHUS available now also trans rights amazon.com/dp/B08B386R6J ] [Image two: Cover of the aforementioned Harriet Porber novel; Harriet is front and center, a young trans woman with light skin, long dark hair, and glasses; she has a wand raised in her right hand. Behind her are a mammoth in a wizard’s hat, an anthropomorphic duck-billed dinosaur, and a motorcycle with the head of a woman.] Chuck Tingle is a gift. OMG the summary: Trans wizard Harriet Porber is a master spellsmith who’s found herself in a bit of a pickle. After finishing wizard college, Harriet made a name for herself by creating a hit viral spell, but has since failed to craft a follow up. Now Harriet’s agent, Minerma, is breathing down her neck, suggesting that Harriet take a trip to an island off the coast of England for inspiration.Hoping for some peace and quiet to clear her head, Harriet Porber arrives to find that her new neighbor, an angsty bard named Snabe from the band Seven Inch Nails, is already there making a racket. This parasaurolophus spellcaster is a bad boy through and through, and with his incredible powers of metamagic, Snabe reveals that this layer of reality is much more than it seems. Could Harriet and Snabe really be characters in a parody romance novel?Soon enough, these two are discovering they have more similarities than differences: both trans, both strong, and both hoping to create a new spell that will change the world. But with the addition of two devious sentient motorcycles to the mix, Dellatrix and Braco, things start to get complicated.Now trans wizard Harriet Porber is caught up in a tale of magic and mystery where nothing is as it seems, except for one universal truth: love is real.This is a 52,000 word bad boy romance novel for adults. It contains some explicit scenes.

bisexualbaker: bisexualbaker: thwippersnapple: Tingle just cranked out 50k words for a spite story for JKR and I am LIVING for it! [Imag...

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what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely. : what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely.

what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychologica...

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dreamsofamadman: somethingaboutdelia: cryingalonewithfrankenstein: This photo always cheers me up a bit. It’s a front-page article from 1955 about Christine Jorgensen, one of the first women to have sex-reassignment surgery. Since the text is a bit small and I couldn’t find a larger copy, here’s what the small blurb says: A World of a Difference George W. Jorgensen, Jr., son of a Bronx carpenter, served in the Army for two years and was given honorable discharge in 1946. Now George is no more. After six operations, Jorgensen’s sex has been changed and today she is a striking woman, working as a photographer in Denmark. Parents were informed of the big change in a letter Christine (that’s her new name) sent to them recently. This article is 58 years old, and it’s more respectful of Christine’s pronoun choices and name than some publications are today. It makes me happy to see a newspaper be respectful of a trans person’s choice of name and pronouns like that :3 Say it again for the haters in the back who want to keep pretending that trans people, or even treating trans people with respect is even remotely anything new. 😎 It’s worth mentioning, that this was kinda celebrated as a wonder of the atomic age at the time. “Look at the power of our scientists! Look at what we can do!”You know, back when America was trying to be the leader in scientific advancement. : dreamsofamadman: somethingaboutdelia: cryingalonewithfrankenstein: This photo always cheers me up a bit. It’s a front-page article from 1955 about Christine Jorgensen, one of the first women to have sex-reassignment surgery. Since the text is a bit small and I couldn’t find a larger copy, here’s what the small blurb says: A World of a Difference George W. Jorgensen, Jr., son of a Bronx carpenter, served in the Army for two years and was given honorable discharge in 1946. Now George is no more. After six operations, Jorgensen’s sex has been changed and today she is a striking woman, working as a photographer in Denmark. Parents were informed of the big change in a letter Christine (that’s her new name) sent to them recently. This article is 58 years old, and it’s more respectful of Christine’s pronoun choices and name than some publications are today. It makes me happy to see a newspaper be respectful of a trans person’s choice of name and pronouns like that :3 Say it again for the haters in the back who want to keep pretending that trans people, or even treating trans people with respect is even remotely anything new. 😎 It’s worth mentioning, that this was kinda celebrated as a wonder of the atomic age at the time. “Look at the power of our scientists! Look at what we can do!”You know, back when America was trying to be the leader in scientific advancement.

dreamsofamadman: somethingaboutdelia: cryingalonewithfrankenstein: This photo always cheers me up a bit. It’s a front-page article fro...

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dontforgettospeak: wickedwonderlandd: trinikelly1984: morgrimmoon: letsmcflytobritain: deminat-20: smiling-grouch: ocean-again: loueejii: facelesssavior: twitblr: Dormant Predators This is why I have this. Even if they can get the lock opened they can’t push the door open. Got it at Lowes for $20. reblog for that last bit to save a life If you’re like me and have a large gap under your front door (someone could take a stick and just poke the leaning stick style door jam out), I recommend the Addalock. It’s small, perfect for traveling, and this lock is CRAZY. It’s so simple but the door does not move. You can’t see it from the other side, either. It also cost about $20, and I can’t recommend it enough. Easy to travel with, too! Great for Air BnBs! That’s why I have these on my doors. They get drilled into the side and once its flipped over the door nothing is getting it open. Not the door being unlocked nothing, I’ve unlocked the door and pulled and pushed as hard as I could and it didn’t budge. When I go on a trip this is what I use and when I’m home I leave it on too. No one is getting in here. Okay I know that it is necessary for many but what do you do if you need medical attention and you’re not able to open the door from the inside? Can the fire department get through these at least?   Yes. The fire department can and will break down your door if necessary, it’s one of the reasons they have axes; it’s entirely possible for door frames to melt/expand/seize or otherwise become unopenable during a house fire but the door itself can be hacked down. Or the window. In rare cases, the wall. Firefighters don’t fuck around with collateral damage when lives are at stake. Sharing for all the safety items!! This is horrifying that these things are even necessary. Reblog to save a frickin life I’ve got the addalock one from above (plus a bar for my sliding door and additional window locks) and it gives me serious piece of mind. : dontforgettospeak: wickedwonderlandd: trinikelly1984: morgrimmoon: letsmcflytobritain: deminat-20: smiling-grouch: ocean-again: loueejii: facelesssavior: twitblr: Dormant Predators This is why I have this. Even if they can get the lock opened they can’t push the door open. Got it at Lowes for $20. reblog for that last bit to save a life If you’re like me and have a large gap under your front door (someone could take a stick and just poke the leaning stick style door jam out), I recommend the Addalock. It’s small, perfect for traveling, and this lock is CRAZY. It’s so simple but the door does not move. You can’t see it from the other side, either. It also cost about $20, and I can’t recommend it enough. Easy to travel with, too! Great for Air BnBs! That’s why I have these on my doors. They get drilled into the side and once its flipped over the door nothing is getting it open. Not the door being unlocked nothing, I’ve unlocked the door and pulled and pushed as hard as I could and it didn’t budge. When I go on a trip this is what I use and when I’m home I leave it on too. No one is getting in here. Okay I know that it is necessary for many but what do you do if you need medical attention and you’re not able to open the door from the inside? Can the fire department get through these at least?   Yes. The fire department can and will break down your door if necessary, it’s one of the reasons they have axes; it’s entirely possible for door frames to melt/expand/seize or otherwise become unopenable during a house fire but the door itself can be hacked down. Or the window. In rare cases, the wall. Firefighters don’t fuck around with collateral damage when lives are at stake. Sharing for all the safety items!! This is horrifying that these things are even necessary. Reblog to save a frickin life I’ve got the addalock one from above (plus a bar for my sliding door and additional window locks) and it gives me serious piece of mind.
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honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame. : honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame.

honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canister...

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caitas-cooing: wendell-or-something: honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame. a word of caution about the plywood though… I just reblogged a post earlier today saying that if a rubber bullet hits that and shatters it, the splinters can put you in more danger. depending on how you’re holding it up, it can also damage your arm if you’ve strapped it on somehow, and carrying a shield can make you a target for them to shoot things at, so it might actually be safer on the whole if you don’t try to construct a shield, counter intuitive though that may seem. It’d be a shame if I reblogged this and people read it: caitas-cooing: wendell-or-something: honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame. a word of caution about the plywood though… I just reblogged a post earlier today saying that if a rubber bullet hits that and shatters it, the splinters can put you in more danger. depending on how you’re holding it up, it can also damage your arm if you’ve strapped it on somehow, and carrying a shield can make you a target for them to shoot things at, so it might actually be safer on the whole if you don’t try to construct a shield, counter intuitive though that may seem. It’d be a shame if I reblogged this and people read it

caitas-cooing: wendell-or-something: honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves...

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honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame. : honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas canisters and if this got shared to all those protesting… Would be a further shame if people started covering cameras (as seen in Hong Kong, with protestors using poles and rakes to lift cardboard boxes over security cameras), blinding drone optics with laser pointers, and flooding police-run reporting apps with junk data. It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt. It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles. It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters. It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise. All this would be a terrible, terrible shame.

honestmerchantsailor: passivity: Would also be really annoying if they wore heat resistant gloves to throw back the hot tear gas caniste...

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e-e-e-s: dudeinpyjamas: anadiableau: Okay but honestly fucking shit like this when they show Zuko’s scar side when talking about Sozin and then having the bar pass and have his non-scar side when Iroh says Roku is his great grandfather if EXACTLY the kind of shit that elevates this show to where really no other show has ever come and probably never will I mean if you frame it in a photo it looks much better, in reality it was a moving shot. Still nice but not amazing. What really is an amzing shot is this Who is realy imprisioned here? The way this shot is framed makes it clear that Zuko is in a prison of his own mind. In fact you can look at how Zuko and Iroh are generally framed in this scene Zuko: and Iroh: Even in shots where Iroh is framed together with the iron bars he is far removed from them while Zuko is right in front: What takes the cake though is the following shot sequence: When it shows Iroh it zooms in from this: To this: While with Zuko it’s the exact reverse. It zooms out from this: To this: Say what you want but man Avatar had some amazing shot composition.  Also the reason The Last Airbender was better than Korra is because atla had Zuko and Iroh, while Korra didn’t. Fight me. In addition to this scene being very well done, the whole The Avatar and the Firelord episode is just genius. It just makes the parallels between Zuko and Aang so much more powerful in retrospect. They weren’t on parallel paths just because. They were on parallel paths because they’re two parts of one lineage: Roku’s Fire Nation lineage and his spiritual-mediator Avatar lineage. And throughout the series the two of them are paired up through visual language, and the show even goes as far as match-cuts between the two of them as they’re in different locations and different fights. I forget where, but I KNOW there’s a shot where Aang is dodging in a fight and basically running towards the viewer and it cuts straight to Zuko doing the exact same thing, like they’re two enactments of one story. And the twin blades? Zuko himself says they’re two halves of a single weapon, and shouldn’t be thought of as separate. The twin blades which we really first see in The Blue Spirit storyline, in which Aang asks Zuko if they COULD HAVE BEEN FRIENDS. It’s been stated that the blades represent the good and evil parts of Zuko, but isn’t that just a direct result of him grappling with his lineage, which is directly tied to Aang? In conclusion: I am not ok and will never be ok. Thanks Avatar. : e-e-e-s: dudeinpyjamas: anadiableau: Okay but honestly fucking shit like this when they show Zuko’s scar side when talking about Sozin and then having the bar pass and have his non-scar side when Iroh says Roku is his great grandfather if EXACTLY the kind of shit that elevates this show to where really no other show has ever come and probably never will I mean if you frame it in a photo it looks much better, in reality it was a moving shot. Still nice but not amazing. What really is an amzing shot is this Who is realy imprisioned here? The way this shot is framed makes it clear that Zuko is in a prison of his own mind. In fact you can look at how Zuko and Iroh are generally framed in this scene Zuko: and Iroh: Even in shots where Iroh is framed together with the iron bars he is far removed from them while Zuko is right in front: What takes the cake though is the following shot sequence: When it shows Iroh it zooms in from this: To this: While with Zuko it’s the exact reverse. It zooms out from this: To this: Say what you want but man Avatar had some amazing shot composition.  Also the reason The Last Airbender was better than Korra is because atla had Zuko and Iroh, while Korra didn’t. Fight me. In addition to this scene being very well done, the whole The Avatar and the Firelord episode is just genius. It just makes the parallels between Zuko and Aang so much more powerful in retrospect. They weren’t on parallel paths just because. They were on parallel paths because they’re two parts of one lineage: Roku’s Fire Nation lineage and his spiritual-mediator Avatar lineage. And throughout the series the two of them are paired up through visual language, and the show even goes as far as match-cuts between the two of them as they’re in different locations and different fights. I forget where, but I KNOW there’s a shot where Aang is dodging in a fight and basically running towards the viewer and it cuts straight to Zuko doing the exact same thing, like they’re two enactments of one story. And the twin blades? Zuko himself says they’re two halves of a single weapon, and shouldn’t be thought of as separate. The twin blades which we really first see in The Blue Spirit storyline, in which Aang asks Zuko if they COULD HAVE BEEN FRIENDS. It’s been stated that the blades represent the good and evil parts of Zuko, but isn’t that just a direct result of him grappling with his lineage, which is directly tied to Aang? In conclusion: I am not ok and will never be ok. Thanks Avatar.
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lowoncliches: note-a-bear: My mom sent this to me and i’m howling White woman: Hi fellow white people. Are you having a sad because that family is enjoying a picnic in the park while being black? Did that customer in front of you just speak a language that makes you irrationally angry? Well this is a great time to try *holds up bottle* Mind Your Own Fucking Business. With Mind Your Own Fucking Business you’ll be able to grow the fuck up and act like a decent fucking human being. Our patented technology allows you to pull your head out of your ass and see the world beyond the brim of your MAGA hat. White man: Hi honey, I saw some black people at the Starbucks today. Woman: Did you mind your own fucking business? Man: I sure fucking did. *both laughing* Woman: Stop bothering those nice people today with Mind Your Own Fucking Business. Man: Side effects may include not harassing people, no one getting arrested or murdered by police, a general sense of well-being for people of color, a lack of Internet fame and or trolling, and coexistence. Please consult a doctor if you are still a piece of shit after Minding Your Own Fucking Business as the symptoms may be result of a deeper problem and require further treatment. Woman: Now available at Anthropology in Whole Foods. [Censoring beeps removed for better readability.] : lowoncliches: note-a-bear: My mom sent this to me and i’m howling White woman: Hi fellow white people. Are you having a sad because that family is enjoying a picnic in the park while being black? Did that customer in front of you just speak a language that makes you irrationally angry? Well this is a great time to try *holds up bottle* Mind Your Own Fucking Business. With Mind Your Own Fucking Business you’ll be able to grow the fuck up and act like a decent fucking human being. Our patented technology allows you to pull your head out of your ass and see the world beyond the brim of your MAGA hat. White man: Hi honey, I saw some black people at the Starbucks today. Woman: Did you mind your own fucking business? Man: I sure fucking did. *both laughing* Woman: Stop bothering those nice people today with Mind Your Own Fucking Business. Man: Side effects may include not harassing people, no one getting arrested or murdered by police, a general sense of well-being for people of color, a lack of Internet fame and or trolling, and coexistence. Please consult a doctor if you are still a piece of shit after Minding Your Own Fucking Business as the symptoms may be result of a deeper problem and require further treatment. Woman: Now available at Anthropology in Whole Foods. [Censoring beeps removed for better readability.]
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cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER : cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

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