The Adventures of an Arctic Fox

Doorstopper fantasy is like the worst genre to be only moderately engaged with. Like, I very much do want to know what happens next, and it's killing me that I don't, but it just introduced a thirty-seventh viewpoint character, and I'm simply not invested enough to keep track of who all these people are.

(I swear some authors lean into it on purpose in order to weed out the weak, too. I once attempted a big fantasy tome which randomly hit the reader with an entire chapter told from the viewpoint of the tertiary protagonist's horse. It wasn't even a named horse.)

Pulling a reverse load-bearing boss and setting up a contingency spell triggered by my own death so that if the heroes kill me a cursèd citadel of iron and bone will spontaneously construct itself right in the middle of their stupid town.

this makes me less sad every time I see it no matter how sad the rest of the world is making me

"Diversity of opinion" but the opinions are "We should use a chainsaw to rescue a cat from a tree" and "We should trap more cats on the tree and then set it on fire"

To clarify: If those are your only options (and they often are) it's your moral imperative to choose the chainsaw.

Fuck this rhetoric. You are not obligated to choose the chainsaw. Go create a better solution.

i thought i told you to eat your vegetables

The crazy thing is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, if you asked me on any given day "Would like to see a picture of some genitals?" my answer would be "😰 No, that's... No, thank you. I'm okay, actually." I have nothing but the utmost respect for people who do engage with the penis side of the internet, but personally, I've spent the better part of two decades doing all I can NOT to have pictures of dick and balls or sexy bikini babe buttcheeks blasted onto my retinas constantly. And yet... to be denied the penis? To have a jumped up pile of javascript tell me, a grown adult with an air fryer and an outstanding council tax bill, that I cannot be trusted to withstand the sight of a bare nipple unless I let it scan my drivers' license? I will move heaven and earth to see that fucking nipple, friend. I will walk a thousand miles barefoot on hot coals before I give you big brother bitches my passport number. A thousand miles through the desert with five VPNs just to press my face up against the glass and see the last uncensored picture of two My Little Pony Characters sixty-nining each other, and I don't even want! to look at it! But I will! I must! for the sake of our fucking democracy!

A free-range group therapy called "get herded, idiot", where you and everyone in your group is set loose to run around on an open field while a highly trained shepherd dog tries to keep you all in one group. I am not sure what benefit this would have for anyone involved.