#irreverence

[diana-andraste]

From Health and Efficiency, Dr Lakra, c. 2009

Ink and pencil on printed paper

[syren-6]

i think i’m on to something

[unusual-suspects]

The Gildan Softstyle® 64000 redefines casual comfort with a modern unisex cut and ultra-soft materials. Solid colors are 100% cotton, while

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[mase-basketcase]

I WRITE SILLY LESBIAN WEBNOVELS BASED ON SHIT I LIKE READ THEM READ THEM READ THEM

I would appreciate if people read my most recent one, F**k! These! Neurotransmitters! it’s about GAY NERDS who hate each other…. unless???

Rival academics seem to pass their college exams with flying colors, while utterly failing to note the effervescence of their own budding fe

Mainly that one, unless you like any others, then I may crawl out of a rut and continue those BUT I LIKE GAY COLLEGE NERDS RIGHT NOW

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[emmaklee]

[johnlatter]

Psychology of Donald Trump's AI art of himself as Pope

Trump needs to indulge less in such egotistical flights of fancy and focus more on the corrupted childhood issues from which they originate.

Many people who have unfortunate experiences in their formative years go on to resolve, in fits and starts, any residual adverse effects so that the saying, "life begins at forty" (or any age appropriate to the individual) has a real and permanent meaning.

Trump, on the other hand, is like all autocrats - whether heads of state, heads of organisations, or heads of families - in that he has hardened the surface fear of his psychological history and thereby created a "psychological weapon" with which to distress, damage, or destroy others. Or control them.

There's no such thing as a free lunch, however, and the weapon effectively replaces those core instinctive qualities without which a human being effectively becomes a HISO - someone who is "Human in Shape Only".

The image of "Pope Trump" illustrates this: even if intended as humour, a momentary escape from an inner conflict where a sense of greatness is constantly being thwarted by those who should have no cards to play, there's no natural awareness that the image may be an irreverence to Roman Catholics, particularly coming as it has so soon after the death of Pope Francis - whose funeral Trump attended! - but before the conclave has elected a new pope.

The portrayal of Trump as "holy" hides a darker reality. It does, however, reflect his need for the same kind of adulation at the international level as his fan base gives him in the USA.

Trump is "frozen in time" - an own goal - as far as the reclamation of natural qualities are concerned. Who would have thought that being a billionaire president, constantly concerned about money and power, could be so limiting!

[oddlittlestories]

Notre Dame Visit

Wrote up a little fic to go with this WIP fanart! This is inspired by @greghatecrimes elaborating on my life changing field trips post, and is currently brought to you by Anya’s prompt re my Halloween fic ask game.

Fic under the cut.

Chase & Thirteen as found family siblings. They're backpacking through Europe. Late s6 AU, probably consistent w/HH:Reprise. Trans masc bi Chase as a treat.

CW: mild travel danger, religious irreverence, religious homophobia reference

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re sure?” Chase whispered. Not that whispering was gonna help him. She was loud enough for the both of them.

“Yes, we’re fine," Thirteen cackled, "now take the damn photo.” She raised her middle finger to the ceiling of the cathedral. He supposed it was her way of sticking it to all that religious homophobia. They were a hell of a pair to be anywhere near a cathedral—a failed novice divorced bi trans guy with blood on his hands, and a deliberately-irreverent bi woman after House's own heart. But as Thirteen liked to say every time she dragged him into a cathedral, which seemed to be as often as possible, they hadn't spontaneously burst into flames even once.

That said, Chase could just imagine a priest clamping his hand firmly down on his arm… Chase hunched his shoulders, trying desperately to look over his shoulder and take the photo as fast as he could at the same time. Maybe no one would notice. If he could’ve melted into the Notre Dame floor he would have. It was mortifying.

He took the photo and lowered the phone as quickly as he could. Still, it came out pretty cool.

“Okay, let me see,” Thirteen said, scrambling for his iPhone.

“It’s fine,” Chase insisted, trying to tuck the phone back in his jacket pocket.

“I want to be sure! What if it’s blurry?” Thirteen made grabby hands, struggling with him over the device.

“It’s not blurry!” he insisted.

“Then show me!”

“Fine!” Chase heaved a sigh and let her have the phone.

She snickered. “Yeah that’s really good, you were right.” She sent the photo to House before he could even try to stop her. Chase rolled his eyes. As soon as House got it, he’d do what he’d done with the rest: print it out and tape it to the ddx whiteboard. Foreman would text him to complain about how hard it was to ddx “now that it was a scrapbook instead.” Kutner would use the red sharpie he bought to draw horns on Thirteen and Chase in the photos.

It was a group activity, apparently.

Later that night, Chase and Thirteen crammed shoulder to shoulder at the bar of a centuries-old pub. It wasn’t far from the hostel, and around them spilled French and English and a bunch more languages Chase probably could pick out if he tried.

“Mm, this is delicious,” Thirteen said. “Here, try.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He leaned in and took a crunchy bite. It was the best toasted cheese on bread Chase had ever had in his life. “Wow,” he mumbled, mouth full.

“I know, right?”

On their walk back to the hostel, the lights of Paris were glittering. It wasn’t nearly as quiet here as it was in rural Spain, and Chase thought they were both dazzled by the city after that. Paris was definitely a tourist town though. They cut down a side street for a shortcut to their hostel.

Thirteen got distracted by something in a shop window. He wasn’t sure what, because by the time he noticed she was just behind him, a guy was cutting between them. He was a street hawker, with “I heart Paris” lanyards hung all up one arm. And he was getting in Chase’s face, trying to grab him.

“Woah, there, buddy,” Chase said. “Hands to yourself.” But the guy would not lay off. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was probably gonna get pickpocketed if he did nothing. Or worse, he thought darkly, noticing how the guy was subtly directing him towards a dark alley.

And suddenly Thirteen was there.

She slipped her arm around Chase’s shoulders and said, “My brother and I have to go now.” It was just surprising enough that she scooped him away from the hawker and out into the busy cross-street.

“Thanks.” His voice was breathless with relief.

“Yeah, I did not like where that was going. You okay?”

Chase patted himself down, trying to ignore the way “brother” was rotating around in his head. Even if it didn't last… He frowned appraisingly. “Yeah. I’m great.”

Thirteen grinned and they headed into the hostel together, where their room with its two twin beds was waiting.

They had it down to a routine now, so it only took a moment for them to change and crawl into bed. Thirteen turned out the light, and Chase pulled his soft blanket up to his chest. In the darkness, it felt safe to say things. He played the word brother over and over in his head. He knew it was true. But how often do you get that kind of thing confirmed? “I’m glad we made this trip. Me and you.”

“Me, too.” Her voice was warm.

It had been a hard year, but right here and right now, Chase was so, so happy.

[aksarah]

Dearest Cheeseball Man

Thank you for bringing us joy

In these trying times