Art By Romain MAZEVET

Inspired by this WIP by @astranite <3

“Do I look okay?” John had frozen with his fingers tucked into his hair, a curl wound around his index. He twisted it on repeat, the only flicker of movement that remained, along with the dart of his eyes to Scott, around the room and then to the stars beyond. Would he pass their father's inspection? That’s the question John was really asking. Scott reached out. “May I?” John gave a short, sharp nod, eyes going back to the floor. His uniform hat hung loosely from his other hand, dancing on the borderline of keeping enough tension not to drop it.

Slowly and deliberately, Scott tugged John’s uniform straight, setting his lilac baldric on his shoulder proper, and smoothing out the wrinkles from sky blue fabric. It wasn’t perfect, it certainly wasn’t ironed, but it was better. John seemed more like his usual self, albeit standing shakily on his own two feet, now he didn’t look as much like he was fresh off of a crying jag. Or rather he was more of the John he put out to the world and everyone was allowed to see. And yet, there was a tiny bit more hope held in his frame and the way he actually breathed now. Scott kept his hands pressed to John’s chest a moment longer than necessary; he could feel his brother’s racing heart beating even through the layers of uniform and baldric. It was a blatant excuse to touch, woven together with the practical need to help, and an opportunity to be near taken after being so far away for so long. John rocked forward on his toes to lean into it and they stayed like that, locked together for a what could’ve been an eternity or a millisecond, before Scott slid his hands off the edges of John’s sharp shoulders and John returned to fidgeting with his hair. The movements though were a little frantic; John winced as he caught a snarl at the back as he attempted to fingercomb it into order, too clumsy and frustrated with himself. Scott gently took over when John’s stared at him, eyes an echo of sea green and pleading quietly. He clutched his hat to his chest as he wriggled the fingers of his other hand at his side in a never ending pattern of waves. Scott did his best to comb the back of his brother’s unruly hair to lie in the same direction, to become part of a pattern while the long, soft strands curl where John can’t see them. Waves. The waves of John’s stimming; the wavering lights of the auroras he studies. Maybe Scott was beginning to see why John always insisted it was all connected, the entire universe together. Then his mind returned to the waves of the oceans of Earth and the ripples of their pool overflowing when they all jumped in at the same time. Soon they would be there, John too. Scott swept a clump of strands away from where they brushed John’s neck and caught in his collar to join with the others. “Getting a bit long at the back here, Jay,” he murmured. John’s free hand turned to flickering. “Yeah. Maybe even Virge could… Y’know fix it while I’m on Earth.” “Course! He’d be happy to help. He does love a guinea pig for hairstyling experiments but he will just give you a trim, if that’s what you want.” John’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Better than letting Grandma get a hold of me.” Grandma wielding the kitchen shears was nearly as terrifying as the prospect of her getting ahold of Brains’ plans for a turbo nuclear powered oven. Again. It sure was a way to cook, not even the solidly frozen turkey had survived its maiden flight last Christmas. John and Scott laughed over past family mishaps together. Maybe it was the prospect of joining them that made it so John didn’t change the subject to avoid them. Casual conversation could be painful in ways other people didn’t see until it was too late. Doing John’s hair though reminded Scott of getting his brothers ready as kids, lining them up in their good clothes for their father's rounds of inspection. He’d never not expected military spit and polish. John was usually the one to need least last minute fixing up. Virgil was a dirt magnet for paint, food and grease. Gordon had a talent for getting soaking wet five minutes before they had to be out the door, and Alan had been a literal baby. John would either be found sitting at the ready by the front door, his nose in a book, or he’d be helping Scott out with the others.

okay people who have been fighting to unwhitewash the clones, now is your time to help māori!!

What’s happening

- 182.41 hectares of our ancestral land in Wairarapa has come up for sale.

- This whenua backs onto our maunga Tararua, our awa, Waiohine and is near our whānau urupā, Te Uru o Tāneroa.

- The tender price is between $1.2-1.5 million.

- Our whānau are trying to raise money to meet the tender price.

- Our iwi has not settled, so we have no collective financial base.

- Our whānau want to buy back our whenua and establish papakāinga and sustainable business to bring our people home to Wairarapa.

If the tender is unsuccessful they will keep all donations for the next bit of land that comes up

Givealittle

#LandBack Help us buy back our ancestral land in Wairarapa

#LandBack. We have a once in a lifetime opportunity to buy it back and help recreate a hub for our Ngāti Kahukuraawhitia people.

(information has been copied from @/amscraig on twitter, who is a member of the iwi attempting to reclaim their land)

it is so disappointing that this is the only option to reclaim illegally stolen land for the iwi, but the government wont work towards settlement with many iwi so we have no other choice

if you have any money avaliable to donate please do, anything would be appreciated!

Fuck you, City of Ur!

If you're dumb enough to buy a cartload of copper this weekend, you're a big enough schmuck to come to Ea-Nasir's Imported Metals!

Bad deals! Low grade copper! Thieves!

If you think you're gonna find a bargain at Ea-Nasir's, you can kiss my ass!

It's our belief that you're such a stupid motherfucker you'll fall for this bullshit! Guaranteed!

If you find a better deal, shove it up your ugly ass! You heard us right, shove it up your ugly ass!

Bring your deposit, bring your sealed tablet, bring your messenger! We'll send him back!

That's right, we'll send your messenger back through enemy territory!Because at Ea-Nasir's, you're fucked six ways from Sunday!

Take a hike to Ea-Nasir's, home of challenge pissing! That's right, challenge pissing!

How does it work? If you can piss six feet in the air straight up and not get wet, you get no down payment!

Don't wait, don't delay, don't fuck with us, or we'll turn you into a eunuch!

Only at Ea-Nasir's, the only merchant that tells you to fuck off!

Hurry up, asshole! This event ends the minute after you make a donation to the palace, and it better not bounce or you're a dead motherfucker!

Go to hell! Ea-Nasir's Metals: Sumer's filthiest, and exclusive home of the meanest sons of bitches in Mesopotamia! Guaranteed!

Middle Kingdom LoTR by Leia Ham

Whgskl. Okay.

PSA to all you fantasy writers because I have just had a truly frustrating twenty minutes talking to someone about this: it’s okay to put mobility aids in your novel and have them just be ordinary.

Like. Super okay.

I don’t give a shit if it’s high fantasy, low fantasy or somewhere between the lovechild of Tolkein meets My Immortal. It’s okay to use mobility devices in your narrative. It’s okay to use the word “wheelchair”. You don’t have to remake the fucking wheel. It’s already been done for you.

And no, it doesn’t detract from the “realism” of your fictional universe in which you get to set the standard for realism. Please don’t try to use that as a reason for not using these things.

There is no reason to lock the disabled people in your narrative into towers because “that’s the way it was”, least of all in your novel about dragons and mermaids and other made up creatures. There is no historical realism here. You are in charge. You get to decide what that means.

Also:

“Depiction of Chinese philosopher Confucius in a wheelchair, dating to ca. 1680. The artist may have been thinking of methods of transport common in his own day.”

“The earliest records of wheeled furniture are an inscription found on a stone slate in China and a child’s bed depicted in a frieze on a Greek vase, both dating between the 6th and 5th century BCE.[2][3][4][5]The first records of wheeled seats being used for transporting disabled people date to three centuries later in China; the Chinese used early wheelbarrows to move people as well as heavy objects. A distinction between the two functions was not made for another several hundred years, around 525 CE, when images of wheeled chairs made specifically to carry people begin to occur in Chinese art.[5]”

“In 1655, Stephan Farffler, a 22 year old paraplegic watchmaker, built the world’s first self-propelling chair on a three-wheel chassis using a system of cranks and cogwheels.[6][3] However, the device had an appearance of a hand bike more than a wheelchair since the design included hand cranks mounted at the front wheel.[2]

The invalid carriage or Bath chair brought the technology into more common use from around 1760.[7]

In 1887, wheelchairs (“rolling chairs”) were introduced to Atlantic City so invalid tourists could rent them to enjoy the Boardwalk. Soon, many healthy tourists also rented the decorated “rolling chairs” and servants to push them as a show of decadence and treatment they could never experience at home.[8]

In 1933 Harry C. Jennings, Sr. and his disabled friend Herbert Everest, both mechanical engineers, invented the first lightweight, steel, folding, portable wheelchair.[9] Everest had previously broken his back in a mining accident. Everest and Jennings saw the business potential of the invention and went on to become the first mass-market manufacturers of wheelchairs. Their “X-brace” design is still in common use, albeit with updated materials and other improvements. The X-brace idea came to Harry from the men’s folding “camp chairs / stools”, rotated 90 degrees, that Harry and Herbert used in the outdoors and at the mines.[citation needed]

“But Joy, how do I describe this contraption in a fantasy setting that wont make it seem out of place?”

“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince FancyPants McElferson propelled forwards using his arms to direct the motion of the chair.”

“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince EvenFancierPants McElferson used to get about, pushed along by one of his companions or one of his many attending servants.”

“But it’s a high realm magical fantas—”

“It was a floating chair, the hum of magical energy keeping it off the ground casting a faint glow against the cobblestones as {CHARACTER} guided it round with expert ease, gliding back and forth.”

“But it’s a stempunk nov—”

“Unlike other wheelchairs he’d seen before, this one appeared to be self propelling, powered by the gasket of steam at the back, and directed by the use of a rudder like toggle in the front.”

Give. Disabled. Characters. In. Fantasy. Novels. Mobility. Aids.

If you can spend 60 pages telling me the history of your world in innate detail down to the formation of how magical rocks were formed, you can god damn write three lines in passing about a wheelchair.

Signed, your editor who doesn’t have time for this ableist fantasy realm shit.

I just discovered foodtimeline.org, which is exactly what it sounds like: centuries worth of information about FOOD.  If you are writing something historical and you want a starting point for figuring out what people should be eating, this might be a good place?

Executive dysfunction hacks

1) For doing the dishes

Use dishwashing gloves. Get yourself a pair of nice ones that are made of thick latex and soft on the inside if you can. This will minimize the bad sensory experience of touching gross wet food, and you’ll be able to use the hottest water possible, which makes cleaning easier.

If you are sensitive to smells, use unscented dish soap, or a dish soap that has a smell you like.

Instead of filling up the entire sink with water, only fill up individual dishes with water. For example, fill up a mug with hot water, and put the cutlery inside to soak. Fill up bowls with hot water and stack them on top of each other. You get the benefits of soaking without the incredible inconvenience of turning your kitchen sink into a filthy pond of gross, stagnant water.

2) For the bathroom

Get yourself a sponge with a handle on it, one of those that come with a reservoir for soap. Fill it up with dish soap and keep it in your bathtub or shower. That way, whenever you’re showering, you can use that opportunity to give your bathtub or shower a quick scrub.

3) General hacks

Set your timer for 20 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes, whatever you can handle. Then do the thing (you know, that thing you don’t feel like doing) for the duration of this self-alloted time. And once the time has passed, you reward yourself, because you fucking deserve it. Example rewards: watching an episode of your favourite TV show, reading a good novel, etc. It helps to also set a timer for the reward. I often alternate 20 minutes of watching an episode of a TV show, with 20 minutes of doing a chore. This is an adaptation of the 20/10 idea from Unfuck Your Habitat.

If you can’t handle taking out the garbage until later (for whatever reason), double-bag it so that it doesn’t stink up your apartment and leak garbage juice. Yeah yeah, it’s wasteful, you’re using two garbage bags…look, who cares. Better to use twice as many garbage bags than live in an apartment that smells like garbage.

Use an app that gamifies your to-do list, such as Habitica (I might make a separate post with app recommendations).

Brevity is the soul of wit & this was so damn creative

Pro-tip to young trans guys:

If a stranger misgenders you, please please please do not ever utter the phrase, “I’m a man.” It sounds very unnatural and immediately sounds overly defensive.

My advice? Just look at the person like they’re an idiot and, in the deepest voice possible, say, “Uh. Alright, then.”

Just act as though they made a huge and obvious mistake, and don’t get flustered. If you’re comfortable with it, handle the situation with humor and say something like, “Man, I know I’ve got a babyface, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

A Betazoid character who isn't in a nurturing profession, but is a tactical officer.

"Captain, I sense they know they're about to get their asses handed to them"