cresselian

[cresselian]

Happy 10th birthday to the best tweet of all time.

[cresselian]

greta was time's person of the year a few years ago. she was adored by all liberal world leaders and parties. and when she learnt about people's struggle under occupation and colonialism, she stood in solidarity with them . she now stands with palestine and armenia and kashmir and every oppressed person in the world. she could have been rich as fuck by simply remaining as a climate activist. yet she chose to do the right thing. i love her for her integrity.

[cresselian]

behind every late diagnosed neurodivergent person is a parent who has absolutely nothing going on at all don't worry about it

[cresselian]

obligatory post today

[cresselian]

My ethics professor once told our class that society justifies hating fat people by saying they overburden the healthcare system but no one uses that excuse to hate high level athletes who also disproportionately use the healthcare system

[cresselian]

We need to bring back free the nipple

[cresselian]

Okay, you know what? After reading this post, I jokingly said we should all just make a pact to reblog it five times a day forever. So I'm gonna do this louder for the people in the back:

AO3 WAS CREATED BY FANS, FOR FANS

AO3 IS RUN BY FANS (VOLUNTEERS, NO LESS)

AO3 IS PART OF THE NON-PROFIT, ORGANIZATION FOR TRANSFORMATIVE WORKS

AO3 IS NOT OWNED BY ANY COMPANIES AND DOES NOT EARN REVENUE

AO3 OPERATES ON DONATIONS FROM FANS

again:

AO3 WAS CREATED BY FANS, FOR FANS

[cresselian]

i hate seeing people now making fun of those who care about privacy online. i've seen people saying things like "well they already have your data. what are companies going to do with it" and it's like, that's not the point. it's that companies /shouldn't/ be able to have my data and sell it. am i aware they probably already have my data? yes, absolutely. but i'm still going to try and keep them from monetizing it any further, why are we defending companies selling data they shouldn't have to begin with though?

[cresselian]

why bother caring about the environment when 1. It’s so obviously a lost cause and 2. There’s definitely going to be a nuclear war?

And what are you doing about it Anon? Learn about ecological restoration or get out of my way.

[cresselian]

yes, things are bad right now. some even say it's irreparable. it's hard to imagine a world that is better with such crushing evil everywhere.

but I need you all to remember that we live in an age of miracles, too.

about three weeks ago, my dad almost died. he had a brain aneurysm rupture at 2 in the morning. if he had not been staying at his girlfriend's home, he very likely would have died. as it was, he ended up at the hospital very quickly. the neurology team diagnosed the problem and placed a drain tube in his head to moderate pressure while they formulated a strategy for the impending surgery. the day after, they placed scaffolding inside the broken blood vessel. they kept him on certain medications for several weeks to ensure he healed properly.

twenty years ago, my dad would have come out of this ordeal with at least minor —more likely moderate to severe— brain damage. he could have lost the ability to walk, or see, or speak, or remember anything for longer than ten minutes.

yesterday we shared some jokes about terrible hospital food and then he walked out of the hospital on his own two legs.

it's going to take more time for him to fully recover. he lost a lot of weight. he's still in some amount of pain. but he is here, whole, with a life expectancy of twenty to thirty more years.

yes, it is probable that a large part of his incredible recovery is due to sheer luck, and his natural physical resilience. but an even larger part is the fact that a team of highly trained, highly skilled people, armed with modern knowledge and technology, saved his life.

we live in an age of miracles, and I don't mean the divine type of miracle. every day, millions of human beings across our planet dedicate their waking hours to beating back the four horsemen their damn selves. and it is working. all of human history is defined by those who chose to look Old Grim himself straight in the eye and say: "I am smarter than you, I am faster than you, I am stronger than you, and I will not stop until you loosen your grip on all of us. Blink, motherfucker."

And by force of will, they make him fucking blink.

yes, things are bad. but don't you dare forget the good we can do.

[cresselian]

please supplement your marxist leninist political reading with emotional and interpersonal theory please please please learn how to have a conflict with someone that doesn’t involve obliterating them or freezing them out please learn how to solve a complicated problem with a friend and actually keep the friendship please treat your friends and partners and comrades like their internal context is important to you and you care about their emotional lives

[cresselian]

“Generically medieval”, by which we mean our peerage is French, our castles are German, our weapons are Italian, and everybody speaks English.

[cresselian]

[cresselian]

youre monogamous? oh… it’s ethical, right? ethical monogamy? okay good for you! i mean pretty much every monogamous couple i’ve met didn’t work out but maybe you guys will beat the odds! haha. so is it a sex thing? you guys have sex with- just each other? huh. how does that work? i could never do monogamy, i’m too jealous, i’d worry my partner would leave me for someone else instead of dating us both… how do you deal with the jealousy? is it hard? like, how hard? extremely? do you think you’ll break up? i mean in the long run these things rarely work out,

[cresselian]

british fantasy name: wicklebort smee

american fantasy name: aethiraimia “mia” windfeeler

chinese fantasy name: zhang youming (minimum two pages of in-text etymology about why they’re called this)

[cresselian]

Ao3 doesn't have ads. Thank you Ao3.

[cresselian]

I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.