red looks good on me

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@poison-doll
red looks good on me

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i'm very stupid and also dumb, i have a call of cthulhu MoN campaign i barely have time to prep, i just started as a player in a VtM game, and I'm about to start an overloaded semester and look for a full time job.
but also, i just read dust to dust and thought of a really compelling intro so what if i started running my own VtM game...?
“if you don’t draw GLaDOS as an old woman then you don’t actually want to fuck her” actually if you draw her as a human at all then you don’t actually want to fuck her. like the appeal is literally that she’s a giant robot who you can live inside of like a parasite. what are we doing here
i get that “mechanical construct of tubing and wires and metal” categorically isn’t everybody’s jam, but what baffles me about the amateur gladosfuckers of the portal fandom is the need to reassign her voice/personality back to a human body. Her voice is already hot, and part of what makes her an interesting (and sexy) character is that she has been irreversibly changed to no longer be a human
like, i’m not ordinarily into hanging machinery (though shout out to those who are) — i find GLaDOS’s body more conceptually sexy than i ordinarily would because i find her sexy. im only half joking here when i say that people who have to rationalise their attraction to GLaDOS as a human woman remind me of those cis people who tell trans women “phone me when you’ve had the surgery”
saw my least favorite folk etymology again (pic below for details)
guys what should my 10,000th post be
im so fucking stupid
i'm crying laughing this is so funny

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why does his dick kind of look like a gundam?
like, please tell me you all see it too
huh y'know i'm not sure why but i am somewhat suspicious that these important system notifications may not actually be from @staff
Despite what you said I'm interested in hearing about Ivan Ivanovitch
i can answer this now that i've had several sessions with him. he was a soviet conscript in his 40s, when he was alive. he considers himself fortunate to have been embraced before the wall fell, and that he got to die through the end of the soviet union when blood was cheaper than bread. like many gangrel, his sire killed him and dumped him in kazakhstan, told him she'd be back in a year. the mountains of eastern kazakhstan are very different from afghanistan where he served, but close enough that he could figure out how to live in the harsh terrain. he only went a little bit crazy, just enough that it took him three or four years to figure out it had been more than one. years without meeting another kindred, years of fighting leopards and wolves for scraps of meat and eating the occasional kazakh who was traveling too far from home. when he realized his sire wasn't coming back for him, he went home to yekaterinburg and started asking for her, only to discover she died fighting lupines. fortunately, she had had some pull with her sire, the gangrel volkov, one of the rare city gangrel and a major player in the prince of yekaterinburg's court.
so, ivan's grandsire took him in, made him part of his pack. this was in the late eighties, and ivan was not uncomfortable with doing terrible things when ordered to do so, as any soldier of any nation must be. it was easy enough for him to keep separate from his former associates--the only person he kept in touch with was an old sergeant of his, who just assumed he had faked his own death to get out of military service and turned to a life of crime, which was common enough, and fairly close to the truth. the nights of the 90s were good, and relatively easy despite the constant pressures of the war with the lupines.
then, jusssst as volkov is starting to feel like he can make a move for princedom, xaviar does his nasty thing in the ivory tower's conclave, and the camarilla's tenuous hold on yekaterinburg immediately explodes. the nosferatu remain mostly loyal to the camarilla, but are unable to elect a new prince since the brujah were already more or less anarchs in everything but name. the power struggles start immediately, and bring the golden years of yekaterinburg's court to a close.
now, it's the mid 2000s, and volkov has more or less taken control of the city--neither he nor ivan would say it out loud, but ivan was a major part of volkov's ascent to power. he's killed more than a few kindred, and broken more than a few mortal kneecaps. volkov doesn't want to be a baron, though, he wants the title he sees as having been taken from him back in the 90s. he wants to be a prince. for reasons that my storyteller has not yet devised but will, i am assured, eventually become clear, the prince of seattle, a ventrue named carlyle (don't mention it to him) was identified as someone who could and potentially would vouch for volkov being readmitted to the camarilla as prince of yekaterinburg. of course, nothing like that comes for free, so now ivan is in america. he despises the prince of seattle, who he sees as weak, and vain, but his immense loyalty to volkov and the importance of maintaining a relationship between prince and baron keep him from making even the slightest move against him. he's in seattle to be useful to carlyle and so that's what he's doing. he's not particularly good at courtly manners, but he knows how to wear a well-tailored suit, be polite, speak when spoken to, and follow orders. he and a pair of rather annoying siblings who frequently underestimate him have been granted a small domain in the industrial district, and on the rare occasions that ivan permits himself to hunt, he delights in finding blonde, american cattle who look rather like a certain prince and tearing them apart in dark alleyways.
in other words:

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Despite what you said I'm interested in hearing about Ivan Ivanovitch
i can answer this now that i've had several sessions with him. he was a soviet conscript in his 40s, when he was alive. he considers himself fortunate to have been embraced before the wall fell, and that he got to die through the end of the soviet union when blood was cheaper than bread. like many gangrel, his sire killed him and dumped him in kazakhstan, told him she'd be back in a year. the mountains of eastern kazakhstan are very different from afghanistan where he served, but close enough that he could figure out how to live in the harsh terrain. he only went a little bit crazy, just enough that it took him three or four years to figure out it had been more than one. years without meeting another kindred, years of fighting leopards and wolves for scraps of meat and eating the occasional kazakh who was traveling too far from home. when he realized his sire wasn't coming back for him, he went home to yekaterinburg and started asking for her, only to discover she died fighting lupines. fortunately, she had had some pull with her sire, the gangrel volkov, one of the rare city gangrel and a major player in the prince of yekaterinburg's court.
so, ivan's grandsire took him in, made him part of his pack. this was in the late eighties, and ivan was not uncomfortable with doing terrible things when ordered to do so, as any soldier of any nation must be. it was easy enough for him to keep separate from his former associates--the only person he kept in touch with was an old sergeant of his, who just assumed he had faked his own death to get out of military service and turned to a life of crime, which was common enough, and fairly close to the truth. the nights of the 90s were good, and relatively easy despite the constant pressures of the war with the lupines.
then, jusssst as volkov is starting to feel like he can make a move for princedom, xaviar does his nasty thing in the ivory tower's conclave, and the camarilla's tenuous hold on yekaterinburg immediately explodes. the nosferatu remain mostly loyal to the camarilla, but are unable to elect a new prince since the brujah were already more or less anarchs in everything but name. the power struggles start immediately, and bring the golden years of yekaterinburg's court to a close.
now, it's the mid 2000s, and volkov has more or less taken control of the city--neither he nor ivan would say it out loud, but ivan was a major part of volkov's ascent to power. he's killed more than a few kindred, and broken more than a few mortal kneecaps. volkov doesn't want to be a baron, though, he wants the title he sees as having been taken from him back in the 90s. he wants to be a prince. for reasons that my storyteller has not yet devised but will, i am assured, eventually become clear, the prince of seattle, a ventrue named carlyle (don't mention it to him) was identified as someone who could and potentially would vouch for volkov being readmitted to the camarilla as prince of yekaterinburg. of course, nothing like that comes for free, so now ivan is in america. he despises the prince of seattle, who he sees as weak, and vain, but his immense loyalty to volkov and the importance of maintaining a relationship between prince and baron keep him from making even the slightest move against him. he's in seattle to be useful to carlyle and so that's what he's doing. he's not particularly good at courtly manners, but he knows how to wear a well-tailored suit, be polite, speak when spoken to, and follow orders. he and a pair of rather annoying siblings who frequently underestimate him have been granted a small domain in the industrial district, and on the rare occasions that ivan permits himself to hunt, he delights in finding blonde, american cattle who look rather like a certain prince and tearing them apart in dark alleyways.
This is how we gonna look when you reblog that post from me instead
too cool to jerk off to pictures of women with impossible hip to waist ratios yet not cool enough to jerk off to the concept of being killed, the rōnin pervert wanders this land in search of a slightly-higher-concept yet not totally abstract form of fetish posting
community-sourced suggestions for the rōnin pervert (and, by extension, me) can broadly be sorted into three categories: 1: fetish that's mundane enough that it makes me realize just how far out of my circle this post has traveled 2: thing I'm already into 3: so esoteric that I feel blessed to have had your attention on my post for even a moment category 1:
category 2:
category 3:
Something that people still do not understand about the pandemic is how much the data was just erased or skewed so that we would all go back to work. An entire generation is facing mass disability because of a *preventable* illness that is still circulating untraced and undocumented.
Disabled people tried to warn us.
Epidemiologists tried to warn us.
Historians tried to warn us.
But when the money stopped flowing, it didn’t matter anymore. The lives and the quality of life of the masses was considered the cost of business.
I don’t even know how to grieve when no one will even acknowledge it.
glimpse into my beautiful imaginary world where arthropods are really big and we domesticated them
edit: people are starting to say some "my worst nightmare" or "eeeww no that one is yucky and scary" comments on this like they do on any bug post and id like to say. it's fine if you don't like bugs it's fine if you're scared of bugs but don't put that on MY post clearly talking about how much i like them and how cute i think they are. you can make your own damn post about how much you hate wasps or spiders or whatever. i'm blocking people who make these kinds of comments.

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TW: slavery and the slave trade
The fact that the trafficking of enslaved Africans underpins so much of western European culture is so severely underacknowledged by white western Europeans that it boggles the mind to think of it. I've posted here before about how pitiful have been the attempts of white institutions to account for the crimes of their past, how they will at best acknowledge only the most blatant and undeniable parts of their history while laundering responsibility for the great majority of it. One particularly striking aspect of that is how little museum space in western Europe is dedicated to discussing slavery.
The British Museum in London was formed from the private collection of Hans Sloane whose collection was funded by profits from Caribbean plantations inherited by his wife. The original museum building was bought by the British government from the children of John Montagu, a man who was literally granted ownership of the Caribbean islands of St Lucia and St Vincent by the British state. The current museum building was constructed starting in the 1820s (when slavery was still legal in the British Empire) funded directly by the British government, around 20% of whose tax income at that time came in the form of customs on imported products, such as sugar and cotton from the Caribbean.
Yet the extent of the museum's engagement with its total historic dependence on slavery is merely to have moved a bust of Hans Sloane's head to a new location with some comments on his slavery connection. There is an ongoing campaign to have merely one permanent exhibit about the slave trade at the musem. (And this is not even getting into the famous legacy of that museum as a repository of looted colonial plunder such as the Benin bronzes.)
It's not just big museums either. A tiny museum like Jane Austen's house in Chawton, UK, has a notice on its website regarding mentions of slavery that actually reassures guests that they won't go too far in doing so, "We would like to offer reassurance that we will not, and have never had any intention to, interrogate Jane Austen, her characters or her readers for drinking tea." An admission that's rather telling about what they expect the views of museum visitors to be. But why not interrogate her or her characters? That is exactly what they should be doing!
It is quite well-known among Austen fans than Mansfield Park is her book that deals with slavery: the protagonist lives in the house of a man who owns slave plantations in Antigua. Many fans are keen to find evidence in the text that the protagonist objects to this, but she ultimately marries the son of the plantation owner and lives on the land of the plantation owner and her husband's income is paid by the plantation owner, so her objections (if they exist) cannot be worth much.
In Persuasion, the protagonist's love interest is a naval officer who fought in the Battle of Santo Domingo, a battle that was explicitly about protecting British interests in the Caribbean (i.e. sugar plantations) from being captured by the French.
In Pride and Prejudice, Mr Bingley has no land and his huge income is derived from investment in government bonds, which is to say that he pays for British military campaigns (such as the same Battle of Santo Domingo) and in return he is paid by the British government out of tax income, of which a big chunk is customs levied on slave-produced products.
And that's without even getting into the question of where the cotton comes from that makes up the dresses which are a frequent subject of discussion for many Austen characters.
For that matter, what about the dresses worn by Austen herself when writing her novels? The sugar in the tea she drank? The very house she lived in was owned by her brother, who inherited it (and all his considerable wealth) from Thomas Knight, a Tory MP (which is to say, a politican from the British political wing which most heavily supported slavery). The world of Austen's novels is entirely about slavery, it is the very thing which makes the lifestyles of the characters possible. The whole museum is about slavery whether the curators like it or not, anything less than mentioning it constantly is a deliberate hiding of the truth. And when I visited it a couple of years ago, I do not recall seeing slavery mentioned even once (maybe I missed one sign in a corner of one room or something idk).
As well as the severe underreporting of slavery at museums, the lack of slavery-specific museums in western Europe is also really remarkable. The Mercado de Escravos in Lagos, Portgual and the International Slavery Museum in Liverpool, UK, are the only two that I am aware of, albeit the latter is closed until 2029. A slavery museum in Amsterdam has been proposed and is supposed to open in 2030, but given that a French slavery museum was proposed by Francois Hollande a decade ago and never built I will not get my hopes too high about it.
The London Museum Docklands has a permanent exhibit on London's connection to slavery, which is pretty good as far as it goes, but is utterly pathetic in the context that it is the only permanent exhibit about the slave trade in the whole city. The best I have seen by far is the Suriname Museum in Amsterdam, which dedicates a huge portion of its space to covering the slave trade in great detail. The fact that the museum was founded by the descendants of enslaved Africans who were trafficked to Suriname is surely why this particular museum is so good.
The contrast between that and white institutions like the British Museum is really stark. Do you treat the slave trade with the gravity it deserves, which is to say that you mention it at every opportunity and do not shy away from saying, "The slave trade is why this museum, this city, this country, this continent, why all of it is the way it is"? Or do you move one statue to a new location, put a little sign up about how one man's wife's family owned slaves a long time ago, and say "That's enough, we've dealt with the slavery issue now"?