#but! we cannot learn without trying!!!!
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shiinxart · 3 months ago
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forcing myself to finally actually practise anatomy today by making it about Him
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thenamesapollo · 5 months ago
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state of deltarune theories is so so bad cuz they all try to connect back to the theme of escapism without noticing that that theme isn't even in deltarune.
#the personification of noelle's overbearing mother follows her around throughout the cyber world.#and she spends the entire game scared and confused and alone. until the very end where she's forced to stand up to that figure that scares#-so much. not because she went through any eye opening adventure where she learned to be more brave-#-but because her friends were literally about to die.#she didn't grow at her own pace. she was forced to speak up at the last moment.#kris gets a weird effigy of their brother forced on them as a romantic interest without their say in the matter-#-because they literally cannot speak their mind.#and gosh. the most defying example. berdly.#he spends the entire game trying to build an actual escapist fantasyland. with all his shtick about making a 'smartopia'.#but it never works out.#berdly keeps trying to live that escapist fantasy. a fantasy where he's the hero and gets the girl at the end (the girl being susie)#but he never gets that.#absolutely nothing in the game points at it being about escapism in any shape or form.#hell. I'd say dark worlds don't even reflect what the lightners want in any way.#kris doesn't get friends because of the dark worlds. but because of *us*.#we. the player. is the the one making the right choices for kris.#deltarune is much more interested in exploring what it means to be stuck in a narrative-#-that forces per assigned roles on characters that don't want those roles than it is ever about escapism.#like. did everyone miss the huge player shaped elephant in the room or what.#✏️
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lhazaar · 6 months ago
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compassionately but crankily blocking myself off in an x-pen at work so the 6mo golden retriever puppy will stop dislocating all my goddamn joints with her boundless zest for life
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rxttenfish · 1 year ago
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one of the things that particularly pisses me off about art discussions, either in how nowadays everything has to aim for more and more realism in art styles and even live action to be seen as "real art", and in dismissing more abstract styles of artwork as not "real art" and having no inherent worth, is that they explicitly do not consider realism an art style either. to them, realism is just a given of "good" art, not chosen but rather just default. which i hate, because you CAN pick realism as an intentional style and a purposeful choice to suit a narrative, and all this results in is no one noticing or understanding why you made that choice or why that choice works better than any other possible choice to tell the story you want to tell.
#all the care guide says is 'biomass'#like i like realism because i have a heavy focus on anatomy as a theme#on the body as something innately complex and with a lot of feelings to have about it in all its messy ugly states#im interested in all the complex ways the body intersects with its environment and with culture and with other people#as the outside as contrasting the inside or serving as a strange reflection of it#like im kind of going for a lot of merfolk designs to not be particularly visually different from each other#they have incredibly similar silhouettes and thats on purpose#i want all of their differences and visual traits to be things that they would find more prominent#but we would struggle to pick apart without learning about them deeper and committing these to knowledge#because thats so much been my experience with trying to tell different individuals of the same species of wild animal apart#and i want to use that as a lens to then discuss how humans would then interact with an entirely different sapient species#and what happens when you are someone who experiences that#of someone else not recognizing you as individuals like you do each other#of them not even trying to adapt or learn your differences#what damage it does when this happens to you#and how much the world opens up when someone actually does learn these little differences#but of course#no one else recognizes this because everyone just thinks realism is the default#realism cannot be a purposeful choice done for a reason#realism is just What You Are Supposed To Do and Unevocative Of Deeper Meaning
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eggsnatcheskneecaps · 2 years ago
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#no because my parents have always been so weird to me from a medical standpoint#or abusive? neglectful. I don't know what i could possibly call this but#my Nystagmus. barely doing any research WHEN THEY ARE DOCTORS it's not like they don't know how to look stuff up#barely giving me any information on it. which crashed badly a few years ago when the dude at one of those glasses shops got scared by not#being able to give me full vision which promoted my parents into bullying me about possibly going blind and trying to twist it into being#my phone's usage fault. when low and behold! we go to an actual doctor. my vision didn't increase or decrease much and she says that#Nystagmus cannot be 20/20 THEN MY MOM STILL TRIES TO PROVE IT'S THE PHONE'S FAULT#also how they treated my Lyme Disease when i was little but I'm not. talking about that publicly.#and the fact that they were completely obsessed with the idea that I'd have a speech impediment back in the day#which was probably caused by the fact my sibling was Learns Very Early How To Talk And Does It Really Well flavour of autistic and I was#Barely Talks Very Late And Badly flavour of autistic#which meant they would force speech classes down my throat and when the teachers would go 'Nothing actually wrong with this kid' they'd#send me somewhere else#also the constant 'If you don't learn to talk correctly everybody will think you're stupid and they won't talk to you' which ok. ableist.#anyway the 'speech impediment' was your average 4 y o cannot pronounce r which i got over and they were still turning my life into hell#over it years down the line which meant i was in middle school convinced i had a speech impediment which at that point#WOULD HAVE BEEN A HEALTH ISSUE BUT WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT DO WE MOM/DAD#and i realised I don't only because my best friend went 'girl tf no you don't'#that is without to mention my father tried to ask me if i wanted surgery for my (inexistent) speech problem because he heard it fixed#someone else's kid problem#also in middle school i had some blood tests and they supposedly came back saying I'm anemic + i had strep but they didn't do anything#about that and at most blamed my anemia on my period which. i should probably get myself some bloodtests as an adult lol#then there is the one time they forced me to go to school with a mcfucking fever lol lmao#oh and also i would try to talk to them about these weird head tremors/seizures i have and they once again tried to blame it on my phone#only for my mom to see me having one recently and go 'oh yea lol i have them too it's normal' yes thank you /s#and they generally don't listen to me trying to sound the alarm about possible health issues i have unless my brother points them out...#aaaaand there is the entire shitshow they did to me when i was diagnosed with depression and put on pills#at least they are currently nicer about me saying i have autism but they didn't take me seriously at first neither...#egg.txt#vent
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inkskinned · 2 years ago
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which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.
except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.
He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?
so many people are screaming right now.
it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.
you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.
ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.
you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.
you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.
you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.
on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.
ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.
and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.
"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"
"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.
ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"
you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"
"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"
the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.
he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.
"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.
you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.
he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.
the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.
ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"
you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.
edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.
you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.
"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"
you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."
your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."
"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".
"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.
"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"
you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.
"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"
"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"
you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.
your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.
edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.
"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."
ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."
he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."
you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.
he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"
ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.
he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."
you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."
"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."
"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."
you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."
ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"
you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."
edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.
in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.
ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."
you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.
the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"
edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.
"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."
he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."
ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."
you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."
he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"
you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."
"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."
edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."
ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."
"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."
you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.
snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.
for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.
You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.
#SO long.#but also about like. siblings.#in this is one of the only times we learn the writer is in fact a middle child#i keep my family out of my writing which means i almost never write about sibling dynamics#but it's out of respect for their privacy#so gettin to play with the dynamics of siblings is fun when it's clearly not about us :)#but im very lucky to say im close with both of them!!#also somewhat been on both sides of this - being both like the Good Kid that is Unnoticed#and also the Complete Mess that fucks things up for their sibling without meaning it#this author has been permanently fucked up by that one scene in lilo & stitch#some of the real ones will identify ashe as being one of the only characters i've ever repeated#in the inkskinned universe#ps: i very carefully called it an event space and not a church :) they are not getting married in a church!!#1. they're getting gay married. so they might not even be able to get married in a church. & 2.#she really did want him to come. she chose a place he could come. he was just late and accidentally ruined it#(based on what my anxiety thinks will happen if i am late to events. im like. oh it would ruin everything and burn the place down.#better be safe and be there 3 hours early and then wait in my car for an hour and a half)#ps ps ps this is based off my relationship with my siblings so some of it is just like. sibling sense . i cannot explain#but the reason he brings up the fact she tried to kill him 2x as evidence she treated him the same is like -#she tried to kill him bc he is her brother and u try to kill your siblings sometimes#she was on that cain instinct.#but usually people respond like how we see in the story - screaming and worship and yes he absolutely has ppl tryna kill him#to like ''save the world'' when he's really just there to like do a job. HE didn't invent hell. he just runs it#and like i fully believe even before he had his powers he had the Sibling Instinct of like - she's not killing you bc of what you are#(the devil) she's tryna kill you bc of what you are to HER (her brother) . and i think that . really mattered to him#tbh low key became obsessed with this concept and was like. it would be such a good short-run tv show . fleabag style#bc i would write the demon king to be like. what it feels like to be neurodivergent. that no matter what you do . it STILL feels like you'r#never able to hide how inhuman you are. that you're always going to be alien to these people.#and just have the entire first season start here and be about him trying to throw a wedding for his twin sister#second episode is him in a farmer's market trying to find a good florist for it . just picture the dialogue with me. please.
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harukaluvr · 5 months ago
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i miss you aiden
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chronicbitchsyndrome · 10 months ago
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i have been in community with profoundly developmentally disabled peers and peers with brain damage my whole life, bc i had a childhood diagnosis. i have also been leftist my whole life; my mother was a marxist and raised me that way, and while their politics were absolute dogshit, they were lefty dogshit.
my entire life, i have seen leftist educators throw mentally disabled people away as "lost causes" because they couldn't engage with the material the way it was being presented. leftist outreach and education does, genuinely, have a massive lack of accessible material. to be blunt, people are not interested in retrofitting their leftist outreach to be accessible to people who learn best through episodes of sesame street.
as in, i have repeatedly faced outright laughter and cruelty over the idea that this could be a priority. or even something that we consider doing at all.
"people who are that mentally disabled don't need to know about these things," the kindest interpretation goes. ("people who are that mentally disabled don't interact with the world, anyway, they're all in institutions or monitored 24/7 by their parents," the uncharitable underlying assumptions go. "they wouldn't be a worker who needs a union. or a library attendee. or a member of the community garden. or a volunteer at the food bank. or or or")
the people i have seen this hurt the worst, over and over again, are profoundly mentally disabled people of color whose lack of access to accessible antiracist education is causing real danger in their lives. institutionalized disabled people of color who have learned racist ideology and behaviors from white authority, whether they were adopted by white families or incarcerated in care institutions run by white staff. who are treated lower than garbage by leftist educators, who view them as "lost causes," as unworthy of time and effort and attention, as deserving of their abuses because they... what... internalized the abuses that make up every aspect of their lives since birth?
i see people saying things in this conversation like "disability isn't an excuse for racism or transphobia or whatever, people have the obligation to improve themselves." oh, believe me, i have seen again and again how many privileged disabled people utilize their disabilities to punch down on others, try to escape accountability for their punching down by citing disability. but individual weaponization of identity is just that: weaponization of identity.
the power structures at play are what they are. it is a noble and admirable goal to want leftist outreach and education to be more accessible to all. if that is truly your goal, you must eventually reckon with the existence of people who do, actually, really need it presented in a picture book. or an episode of bluey. or a conversation where you only use examples of people they know in real life, using things that happened to them personally. the existence of people who cannot grasp forms of abstract reasoning, who need information presented as rules, or as guidelines, or as categories. the idea that yes, fully grown adults who need daniel tiger to explain racism to them are human beings who not only deserve access to that very thing, but who also deserve to be a part of leftist spaces and benefit from leftist organizing. are people for whom it might be INTEGRAL they get to be a part of leftism. are victims of racism themselves and suffering without access to antiracist spaces and community and support.
and you will need to reckon with the abject cruelty of your peers who laugh and mock the very idea of this. you need to reckon with the fact that a lot of people you respect, a lot of leftists doing genuinely good work, will respond to this by making fun of the people you're serving, even outright telling you their violent fantasies about these people. that is the experience of organizing in leftist spaces for profoundly disabled people. that is why so many of us burn out so fast. there IS a structural problem with mentally disabled people being seen as disposable and not a part of community. and it is EXTREMELY present in leftist organizing and outreach efforts.
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malcriada · 11 months ago
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Help save Bilal's family!
i want to talk about my friend Bilal @bilal-salah0. for over a year now, Bilal has been living in germany, trying to adjust to his new living situation in a foreign country, learning a new language and working full time. 
when the war started, he was far away from home and his family and has been living in daily fear for their lives ever since. 
being forced to work long hours and promoting his family’s fundraiser at the same time, he has taken on more responsibility than anyone ever should. still, he managed to raise money for their evacuation fund and helped take care of his family’s daily needs with the money he was making while working. 
in a cruel twist of fate, all of this got taken away in an instant. he lost his job and his apartment and even his residence permit. which means he is at danger of deportation from germany that could happen as soon as next week!
i have been in daily contact with Bilal for a while now and connected him with some of my friends in germany. together, we are trying our utmost to make sure he can stay in the country. anyone who knows german bureaucracy knows what kind of hell it is. but we won't give up.
without his job, he was forced to dip into the money of his family’s evacuation fund to cover their daily expenses like food and shelter. this meant he had to raise his goal from €70,000 to €100,000. this was not an easy decision for him to make, he even asked for my advice on whether or not to do it, because he did not want anyone to think he was scamming people. 
even in such a desperate situation, Bilal does not want to be seen as someone who would ever take advantage of people's generosity
his family is comprised of 18 members, 10 of them are adults and 8 are children under 16 years old, some of them newborns who were born amidst the chaos of war and displacement.
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currently, he is sitting at:
€71,817 / €100,000
donations have been slowing down ever since he reached his original goal. i cannot stress how important it is that they pick back up!
WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME! HE NEEDS TO REACH HIS GOAL BY AUGUST 15TH!
THAT MEANS HE HAS TO RAISE NEARLY 30K IN THE NEXT TEN DAYS. THIS CANT WAIT.
his campaign has been verified and can be found on @/el-shab-hussein’s and @/nabulsi’s list of vetted fundraisers here (#132, line 136) so PLEASE don't hesitate to share and donate.
With such a tight deadline, i cant do this on my own. So i implore you to PLEASE share this wherever you can– on your whatsapp groups, on your discord servers, please share his story on other platforms wherever you have reach! Please share his story wherever you can, so that we can ease this burden from his shoulders.
[ID: a gfm link with a picture of two small children sitting in the sand in front of a cooking pot. they are looking up a the camera, eyes half-closed. the title reads "Donate to Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza to Safety, organized by Bilal salah" End ID]
tagging for reach under the cut, please let me know if you'd like to be removed:
@meaganfoster @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe
@schoolhater @pcktknife @sawasawako
@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria
@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim @neechees
@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis
@toiletpotato @fromjannah @vague-humanoid @criptochecca
@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul
@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat
@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz
@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2
@vakarians-babe @wayneradiotv
@psychotic-gerard @mavigator @communistkenobi @socalgal @chilewithcarnage
@ghelgheli @determinate-negation @papasmoke @omegaversereloaded
@xinakwans @givemearmstopraywith @loombreaking @killy @deathlonging
@palms-upturned @blackpearlblast @littlegermanboy @loveaankilaq @sar-soor
@fridgebride @27-moons @tamarrud @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3
@decolonize-solidarity @palipunk @gothhabiba
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syn0vial · 11 months ago
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disney arguing that they can kill your wife and not be held legally responsible bc you signed up for a free trial of disney+ one time four years ago.
do you have a disney+ subscription? now might be an optimum time to change that.
this is wild
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4-the-l0ve-0f-art · 8 months ago
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“The Captain’s beloved…wait, what?!”
Capitano x Gender Neutral Reader one shot
Work count: 2.2k
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship
Rating: General Audiences
Trigger Warnings: none
Summary: The fatui discover that their Captain does, in fact, have a life outside of work and gossip between the ranks ensues. (Cue silly fatui shenanigans)
Ao3 Link
Capitano, the Fatui’s first lord and harbinger, contrary to popular belief, was respected and admired by his platoons rather than feared. There was a widespread misunderstanding both in and outside the organization that the Captain was a harsh and dangerous leader due to his mysterious nature. However, the people who worked under him knew better as they had grown to admire him the more they interacted with him.
He held himself with pride and treated his soldiers the same way he wanted to be treated: with respect and dignity. And in return, they learned the depths of this man’s strategic genius and strength. His strength was unmatched in combat and led his people well with good decision making and training. They could only hope to be as good as him in his various fields of expertise.
He was strict, and quick to discipline unruly fatuus, yes, but that did not stop others under his command from admiring him. And to emphasize this even more, it was clear that his fellow harbingers and even the Tsarista respected him, whether their goals and morals aligned with his or not. However, this made the people around him curious about aspects related to him outside of his work and title. He was a revered public figure and people were naturally curious about his personal life.
This is where you came in. You, his one and only beloved, the only person who held his whole heart in your hands. Not many people knew of this, but the Captain was a gentle man at his core, and you had somehow managed to uncover all of his being and see him fully as himself, without his title, without his strength. You knew this man inside and out, just as he had come to know you. It was a mutual love, one which even he did not know he was capable of feeling, and that made him all the more enamored with you.
This, however, people did not know. So you can imagine the surprise on their faces when you, an ordinary civilian, came to the Zapalyarny Palace and asked for directions to the Captain’s office. The clerk at the desk looked at you blankly, as if she were staring at an anomaly. This prompted you to try and explain yourself.
“..I’m here to drop off his lunch. So, if you don’t mind..?” You asked.
No response. The blank stare continued.
You already knew that you looked out of place in this grand palace with no Fatui uniform or mask on. But you were determined to make sure your beloved got his lunch, which you had specifically decided to make for him that day as a special treat for how hard he had been working while preparing for a business trip to Natlan.
“Excuse me..?” You said a little louder this time. That seemed to snap her back to reality.
“You cannot enter this place, only authorized personnel are allowed inside. If you’d like to meet our lord, please book your appointment accordingly.” She replied on autopilot, as if she’d rehearsed the same sentence multiple times.
“I’m sorry, I know you have your duties, but I’m here just to drop off his lunch. You can check with him yourself if you’d like..”
“He’s busy at the moment, please leave your package here and we will deliver it to him.” She replied. It seemed like you were being studied like a suspicious person who was attempting to sneak in.
Fair enough.. you thought. I was hoping I would get to spend a few minutes with him and see how he was holding up at work but that can wait till he’s home. And she’s not wrong, I did drop by without notice, so it makes sense for them to be suspicious.
Fatui soldiers passing by had also been glancing at the ongoing conversation at the front desk, eyeing the lunch box wrapped in patterned cloth in your hands with raised eyebrows. You decided to leave the food there, getting one last word in before leaving.
“If you could, please make sure it reaches him soon. It’s his favorite meal and I would prefer it didn’t go cold before he ate it.”
And then everyone watched as your ordinary self left, unaware of the number of eyes on you.
A pyroslinger skirmisher stationed near the entrance asked dumbfoundedly, “Did..did they just say that was the Captain’s favorite meal? Our lord harbinger?”
A cryogunner skirmisher who had also watched the whole thing go down as he clocked in asked another question right after, in the same state of confusion as the previous fatuus. “..Has anyone seen them around before? They don’t look like someone who would be seen standing next to Lord Capitano.”
And as the just as confused clerk left the scene towards his office with your goods in hand, excited chatter filled the halls.
Chaos would be the right word for it. You had left chaos in your wake with a simple visit to his workplace.
That night, as you and Capitano settled in to relax in your shared home after a long day of work, you asked him how his lunch was.
“It was delicious, my love.” He replied, gently caressing your face with his hands while looking down at you through his mask. “It felt like a treat to have your home cooked meal at work. You didn’t have to, but thank you. It made my day.”
You smiled and took his hands in yours as you nuzzled into his touch. “I’m glad you liked it. I was going to give it to you myself but I couldn’t enter the place.”
“You should visit more often. I’ll let the security personnel know to let you enter so you can come and go as you like.” He paused, clearing his throat. “..Seeing you in the middle of a long day would bring me relief.”
You felt slightly flushed at his straightforward choice of words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being so..open with me. But I like it, of course. I would like that as long as I’m not disturbing you at work.”
Capitano chuckled. It was like the angels decided to bless you today, really. “I will always make time for you, my love. Just as you do for me.”
You beamed. “Okay, okay, let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Loverman. We still have work tomorrow in case you’re forgetting.”
A kiss on the forehead and the rustling of sheets was all you heard before you were whisked away to dreamland.
Unbeknownst to you and Capitano, however, word about you spread like wildfire across the next few days between the excited fatui soldiers. Some from even the different departments under the other harbingers might’ve heard. The person who looked like a civilian, dropping lunch packed in pretty cloth for their Lord did not go unnoticed.
This was the only time someone unrelated to work had been seen asking for their Captain and questions about your relation to him were on the tip of everyone’s tongue during break times.
Two fatuus gossiped as they watched the Captain spar in training with his fellow soldiers, admiration evident in their eyes.
“Someone dropped off lunch for him? I thought he would be too busy having meals with high rankers from across Teyvat.”
And after a short pause the other replied, “Dude, hold on, does he even eat? I thought he was superhuman or something.”
“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were that dumb, my guy.”
“Hey! Just saying… anyway, are we even sure the people weren’t hallucinating when they saw the person drop lunch off for him?”
“I heard it was his favorite meal, freshly cooked, apparently. Who knows, man? Maybe it was a fan or something. Our lord does have a pretty big following, y’know.” The fatuus stated proudly.
Their lively chatter continued until they were called back into training.
A few days later, as soon as you found the time, you decided to visit Capitano at work with yet another home cooked meal. You wanted to make most of your time with him before he traveled to Natlan and having meals together would be a good way to wind down a little.
You entered the palace yet again, determined to meet him this time. It should be fine, right? He did say he would inform them..
And as you had hoped so, he did, in fact, inform them. As soon as the same clerk from before saw you, it seemed like her eyes were bulging out of her sockets. All you had to do was reach the desk and she confirmed your name and led you to the training grounds, where he was currently working. It seemed like some sort of training session was in the works, with all kinds of combat taking place between the soldiers in the distance.
Before you could ask her if you were even allowed to enter this place, she bowed and hurried back in the direction of the front desk. The strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you but now you had to find your way to Capitano across the opposite side of the field. Since you were here at last, why not just see things through?
The middle of the field was the most densely occupied with various people fighting in different groups, while what you recognised as skirmishers were practicing their aim at dummy targets on the right side. The soldiers were hard at work even in the harsh everlasting winter of Snezhnaya. The left side of the field, however, seemed less crowded compared to the rest as people seemed to be setting up their gear or resting. Your Captain, opposite to you across the field, was busy conversing with a group of soldiers who seemed to be listening to him attentively.
You decided your best option was to take the left side. It would be easier to walk through the calm atmosphere over there.
As you made your way through the crowd, people started to notice you. They were pretty intimidating with their weapons and muscled bodies at display so you decided to be extra careful to not bump into anyone and quickly made your way across, and as you got closer, Capitano’s voice became clear.
“The heat in Natlan will be unbearable. You will be stationed in the wild all day, so make sure you have the appropriate supplies to get you through the day. It is of the utmost importance that...what, what is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”
The group’s attention shifted from him to you, as you stood behind him and tapped his shoulder.
“Capitano, do you have a moment..?” You asked as he turned around, his armor clinking from the movement.
“Oh, my love!” He exclaimed in a soft voice. “What brings you here? Hold on, let's get you back inside. You’ll catch a cold here.”
The group (and everyone nearby) watched in complete awe as his demeanor from before completely switched from authoritative to somewhat… joyfull? Was Lord Capitano being affectionate?
“I brought you lunch, but I can leave it in your office if you’re busy right now.” You said hurriedly, not wanting to keep him busy.
“No, that won’t do, my love.” He took the package from you and placed his hand on your back. “Eat with me inside.”
He then turned back to the group, who jolted straight up at his sudden change. “Finish the supply preparations once you’re done training. All of you are dismissed.”
“Y-yes, my lord!” They replied in unison and bowed. And yet again, they watched in awe as he guided you back inside the palace, ever so gently, one hand on your back and the other carrying a box wrapped up in a floral patterned cloth. A stark contrast to his all black and blue outfit.
As soon as both of you were out of sight, chaos erupted yet again, more loudly this time, with multiple voices talking over the other.
“”My love?” Did he just call them “my love?” Did I hear that right?!”
“What was that? What did we just witness?”
“That was so romantic, holy shit! Was that the same person we take orders from everyday? What the hell?!”
“DID THE LORD HARBINGER JUST… GET VISITED BY THEIR SPOUSE?”
“I thought that ring on his finger was for fashion…”
And that is how they found out that their beloved Captain, who seemed to have no soul outside of his work, was a married man with a loving spouse.
This proceeded to be the hottest gossip in the Fatui for the rest of the month, until they discover more about you from another future visit.
BONUS:
Sitting in the privacy of his office, you enjoyed your meal together.
“..You seem to work with very strange people, Capitano.” You said to him.
“Do I? How so?” He asked before you fed him a bite.
“Hm.. actually, nevermind. It would be even stranger if they weren’t strange, considering they work with you.” You chuckled.
You enjoyed your time together and went back home, leaving your beloved in confusion from your conversation, and the sight of you fondly feeding him for him to think about for the rest of the day.
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inkskinned · 4 months ago
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she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.
i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.
a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.
it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.
ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.
in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.
i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.
i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.
i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?
i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."
on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.
i hope one day it stops hurting.
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dutifullythoughtfulsalad · 2 years ago
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Group projects are gonna turn me into a killer.
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samah-2 · 3 months ago
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"A mother's dream from Gaza: Can my children have a better Future?"
I'm Samah, a mother of three children, living in Gaza, where war and destruction have become part of daily life. But despite everything, despite all the pain that surrounds us, I still dream, I still believe that my children deserve a better future. Just like any other child in the world.
When I look into my children's eyes, I see questions I cannot answer: "When will this end? When will we live in safety? When will we go to school without fear?" I smile at them, trying to hide my fear, but inside, I die a little every day, watching their childhood slip away.
I have always dreamed that my children would grow up in a safe environment, where they could go to school without fearing the sound of airplanes, where they could play without the sky being filled with smoke. I want them to learn, to become doctors, engineers, and teachers—to have the future they deserve, not one filled with constant fear of whether this night will be their last.
But in Gaza, dreams feel like a luxury. We don’t think about the future; we think about how to survive today. That is why I have decided to seek a way out, to a place where I can give my children a dignified life, where they can sleep without waking up to the sound of bombs, where they can simply be children.
But this is not easy. Traveling is expensive, the process is complicated, and all I have is faith that there are kind hearts willing to help. That is why I am asking for your support—not for myself, but for my children. Any contribution, no matter how small, could be the difference between them having a future or remaining trapped in this nightmare.
If you can help, please donate here
I am not asking for a miracle—just a chance for my children to have a future.
Vetted by @bilal-salah0
@tamamita @anneemay @sumikatt @khanger @timetravellingkitty
@loverboy-ish @imjustheretotrytohelp @palms-upturned@westaysilly @bilal-salah0
@dragondemoness @divortion @hametsukaishi @anneemay @normal-thoughts-official
@theinconvenientlifestyle @officialspec2 @transmutationisms @northgazaupdates2 @an-elegant-void
@theinconvenientlifestyle @officialspec2 @transmutationisms @northgazaupdates2 @an-elegant-void
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@ot3 @mangocheesecakes @good-old-gossip @schoolhater @dragon-master-kai
@lesbianmaxevans @heydreamchild @opencommunion @heliopixels @theaethernetconnection
@sawasawako @jehadism @lonniemachin @halalgirlmeg @commissions4aid-international
@vampiricvenus @girlinafairytale @dirhwangdaseul @chilewithcarnage @punkitt-is-here
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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago
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I know your ask box is probably full, so I totally get it if you don't get to this anytime soon, but I need some help.
I'm a sixteen year old aspiring writer with ADHD and anxiety. My writing patterns are horrible. I go months without writing then spit out a hundred pages. I've been writing since I was eight and I've never finished a story longer than a few thousand words because I physically cannot force myself to write in order, though I can eventually fill in the gaps (if I'm given a few months).
I'm trying my best, but it feels like my best isn't good enough for the world. Do you (or any other successful writers you know) have similar problems? Or is this something you overcome with time? Basically wondering if there's hope of me being successful despite these traits. Thanks!
You're sixteen. The reason why the world isn't filled with successful sixteen year old novelists is we were all (or most of us) trying to figure out how to do the writing thing in bursts and spurts and with dozens of beginnings and not a lot of endings, and we have some characters over here and some story over there and we can't work out how to make them align and work together. And so on and so forth.
You are not a failure if you haven't published a Hugo-award winning trilogy by the time you're twenty. You're an egg that hasn't even finished hatching.
Write. Read everything you can. Write more. Finish some short stories. Read more. Write more. Experience some life. Finish longer things. You'll get there. It's not a race. It's a way to learn.
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foldingfittedsheets · 18 days ago
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Today at work a little crow fledgling was just having the worst damn day. The little goober kept trying to shove its way into the door and screaming at its reflection while I was helping a lady look at a bed.
I pointed it out to her and together we regarded the infant screaming.
After she left my coworker came up and informed me there was a bird on her car. I went out to look and lo, the fledgling had scrambled up onto her windshield and was pecking forlornly at its reflection.
It stayed perched there in the hot sun, trying to move higher up the car with no success but too scared to fly down. She was agitated that it was on her car since she didn’t know if it would leave on its own.
“It’s a baby,” I told her, “It’s still learning how to fly.”
“That’s a baby?! It’s so big!”
“Yeah, it’s just a little guy.”
I went out to investigate. The parents began screaming and swooping. I placated them with crackers which they accepted without relenting their screaming. My coworker said she could now see that the creature on her car was indeed a baby with the sleek black parents swooshing angrily around in the air.
We regarded the baby together. After a while I started noticing it was showing signs of fatigue and distress. Mouth gaping but not begging for food, wings drooping. I went back out to check on it.
I was debating moving the baby; the day kept getting hotter and it didn’t have the energy or skill to relocate itself. My coworker also wanted the bird to stop pooping on her car. So eventually I announced, “I’m gonna move the bird.”
“Your gonna grab it? Aren’t you scared?”
I looked at her in bafflement. I grew up around every imaginable kind of fowl. The only bird I’d be scared of would be some of the big flightless ones. Even geese/swans are manageable if you just grab their necks before they really get flapping. The parents were not gonna go for my eyes like magpies and in general crows tend to recognize when you’re trying to help. “It’s just a little baby guy. It’s fine.”
I approached the baby amidst its parents shrieking crow obscenities down upon me. I scooped it gently like the burger.
I cannot begin to convey how soft that baby crow felt. It was the downiest most pleasant tactile thing that I’ve maybe ever held and the experience was only slightly marred by the goober trying ineffectually to bite me. It was stymied by the fact that it ain’t my first rodeo.
I brought it ten feet away to a nice shady tree. I held the baby gently so it could get its feet under it on the branch. It seemed a bit confused at this point but eventually gripped the branch and I stepped back and threw peanuts in self defense while the angry parents swooped showily around at me.
It stayed there pretty much the rest of the day. Its parents both checked in to make sure I hadn’t murdered it then flew back to where we could see a nest. So best theory is that this dingus was the first to start fledging and couldn’t actually return to the nest after launching.
I told my wife afterward and they went, “You. You touched the bird?!” My coworkers husband was also flabbergasted that I’d been brave enough to grab it. My coworker said she was just gonna shove it off her car with a broom.
As if they didn’t know who they married. As if I am not someone who would confidently help a stray cat or wrangle a chicken.
I informed them that barring gloves I had thoroughly washed my hands twice and it was worth it to get the silly infant off a slippery car and into the shade.
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