#and i feel so disconnected to the part of this country that i am actually bound to....

[beemintty]

something i struggle with is my australian identity. it's a fickle thing, identity that's tied to your country of origin. now those who know a bit about our countries history, I descend from the english part of the country. my dad is first generation australian (his parents are immigrants) and my mum's ancestors probably came across on the first fleet as convicts (we think that was the case anyway). so i'm british pretty well through and through. which is fine but i'm honestly not very proud of what the british did here to this country..... they stripped an entire culture of their own identity and practically erased it completely-- the people and the tradition-- and we are still making up for the unforgivable actions today (as we should be!). so yeah my australian identity feels a little bit conflicting.

so here's the thing. i want to learn and experience the indigenous culture that was so horrible erased by the british colonisation, but i understand how far away i am from indigenous australians and their culture. but i simply can't be a part of "just another western culture" i need more than just being a westerner.... i want my own individual culture that I can share and experience with food and tradition and ART and STORIES! like i feel so lost in "just another western culture".

but here's the other thing. australia is so uniquely isolated in its westerness. even though we are a predominantly western society, we are different. we do have tradition. we do have food. we do have art. we do have stories. it just doesn't look like an old, rich culture, it's growing and it's still young.

i feel like i find myself envying my lack of indigenous identity and therefore having no time to this land and no way in to understand the marvelous culture they have. but then again i also seem to despise my part in the western world. maybe out of consolidation or guilt but maybe also just out of not feeling particularly connected with australia's western traditions. so i'm stuck in this weird inbetween, unable to identify with either culture that make up my country.

i feel a bit lost.

[theinfinitedivides]

Dadju and Tayc being asked to describe their home countries in one word and simultaneously explaining every thought i have ever had about my own is some kind of sh*t that if i get into it in detail the therapist will be seeing me. my God

[laikabu]

re: my thoughts on laios’s sexuality (long post ahead lol)

let me start this post with this. first, this contains a lot of references to the new adventurer’s bible world guide book released last february. i can read japanese, but i’m sure they’re translated somewhere. general spoiler warning in case. also… i am ESL, so sorry for any grammar errors

second, if you’re on the team that insists laios doesn’t care about humans enough to form relationships, either read the manga again or at the very least read this thread.

last, please don’t chime in with your acearo headcanons on this post. there’s already a majority of posts here that insist laios is acearo and that anything else is impossible. i don’t like it the same way i don’t like when someone declares they hc marcille as bisexual to a poster who reads her as lesbian. i already have enough people here who declare he’s ace on my own art. at least people on twitter of all places don’t do this sort of thing to me. nothing in this manga is canon, you can headcanon anything i won’t get mad if you hc him as bi or something. just. don’t be weird on my post.

okay. trust me, i love women, and i love the idea of making my favs women lovers but the idea of laios being gay really appeals to me because of his background. this isn’t fueled by yaoi since i don’t even ship the only m/m relationship i bring up here, i just think it adds a nice layer to his disconnect with his own humanity

i do think laios has a very abstract relationship with his sexuality for a multitude of reasons. he grew up in a very conservative backwater village. he has a hard time recognizing his own feelings towards others just as much as vice versa. i don’t really care for the “laios is a monsterfucker” agenda people are pushing but i do think he’d engage in sexual thoughts in his own weird way, i won’t deny his deviantart fetish shit

as an autistic person myself, i relate to how he’d prioritize his special interest over social interactions. after all, he was fixated on monster food so he’s distracted from dark thoughts. he’s not an actual glutton

he’s shy around women, but i don’t think it’s out of attraction. i just think it’s because he’s awkward and doesn’t want to be seen as a threat. there’s a couple of times when, out of armor, he deliberately tries to make himself look smaller and nonthreatening.

he didn’t show any interest towards ashivia (the hubby hunter girl marcille replaced) and just humored her because she wouldn’t leave him alone. his other party members thought he was giving her special treatment so he had to tell her he “doesnt want to give her special treatment anymore”(even though he never did), so she left

ashivia did her best to butter herself up to laios and he didn’t care, but laios thought shuro was his bestest friend in the whole world because he was too much of a pushover to reject him. ironically… what ashivia did to him parallels what he was doing to shuro

also… yeah sorry i keep bringing up that one comic of laios saying if he were falin he’d marry shuro and then begging him to take him back to his country, or that comic of laios wondering why he doesn’t like him(and then the first two questions he asks the magic mirror was what if he or shuro were women). i don’t even ship them! but it’s not a reach to assume that he likes men because of this, even if it’s kinda played like a joke(after all,a lot of people like chilshi even though their ‘shippy’ interaction was played as a joke)

of course, given the setting, i don’t think knows he’s gay, he wouldn’t have the vocabulary to label himself. i do want to dance around with the idea of him forcibly confronting his own sexuality after years of yaad pressuring him to produce heirs lol. laios might not be cishet but he’s a king so he rdgaf about that right now. i’m open to him having female consorts for political reasons, but i don’t think he’s into women, is all.

before anyone brings up his succubus… god forbid an author makes hetbait. a part of the plot twist was that not-marcille wasn’t the only succubus enticing laios, his other party members were copied too. she was the only one who approached him. also… succubi aren’t always inherently romantic. once it realized marcille didn’t work, it switched to appeal to his desire to be a monster.

[sanzaibian]

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

[airplanned]

By popular demand:

Don't get me wrong, I'm really enjoying Tears of the Kingdom.  Parts of it are fun in ways that I never felt during Breath of the Wild.  And I really like the story itself, just not the execution of that story.  And actually the storytelling is fine, but Breath of the Wild did some narrative things that I have been praising for years, so to have less than stellar storytelling in the sequel feels jarring.

I have three points.

Point 1: Amnesia and the Time Skip

In Breath of the Wild, Link begins the game with amnesia.  Therefore, even though this is the country that Link grew up in and has explored, it's still understandable that he has no idea what kind of environment is going to be around the corner.  You the player are able to discover the world along with Link. 

Meanwhile there is also a 100 year time skip, which means most of the characters you meet have never met you before.  (The characters you did meet in the past completely understand that you've been gone a while and have amnesia.) You start knowing no one and are able to build relationships from the beginning.

Tears of the Kingdom has something like a five to six year time skip.  But instead of being in a comma during that time, Link was apparently up and about, helping to rebuild Hyrule.  Link ought to know significant portions of what's going on, but the player does not.  So we have our first disconnect between game play and story.  It's hard to tell what's a new development since the upheaval and what has been an ongoing process that Link ought to know about.

This is muddled even further because Nintendo wants the game to be accessible to people who haven't played Breath of the Wild.  They made the decision that instead of having all the NPCs greet you like an old friend (which all of the Zora do, so this is a thing that is possible), most NPCs will greet you as if you've never met before.  So what am I the player supposed to know?  What is Link supposed to know?  It's unclear.

And as funny as it is to think that Link is like Tony Hawk and no one recognizes the Hero, or that Zelda drew so much attention that no one noticed Link standing behind her, it's strange to me because Link made friends with these people not as the Hero, but on a personal level.  Link introduced couples.  Link attended a wedding.  Link helped a guy move out of his mom's house and start his own business.  Link helped couples in rough times.  These people should greet you with a, "Hey, Link!" even if they don't know that you're over a hundred years old and defeated the Calamity.

The theme of botw was isolation, so it made sense that Link started the game alone.  The theme of Tears of the Kingdom is working together.  So there's a disconnect, because instead of starting the game with a boatload of allies, Link begins the game having apparently lost a lot of the friends he made in the first game.  Once again, he's isolated, which is not what the game play and the co-op fighting is implying.

Point 2: The Stated Objective

The story in botw was straight forward.  At the very beginning of the game, Rhoam’s ghost tells you how that story ends: Zelda is using her powers to hold back the Calamity.  Rhoam also gives you the game's objective: Defeat the Calamity.  The memories that you collect fill in the story of Zelda’s struggles to activate her powers and her changing, growing relationship with Link.  They deepen your understanding of where Link come from and what happened, but none of it is plot essential and none of it affects your objective.  There’s no shocking twist.  There’s nothing that would change the way you play the game (other than maybe not picking the silent princesses).

TotK on the other hand at the very beginning presents you with the objective: Find Zelda and solve the mystery of what happened to her.  Learning what happened is not presented as some deepening of understanding, but as the point of the game.  You don’t get the objective to defeat Ganondorf until much later on.

There are several story threads working at the same time, all of which lead you to where Zelda is. The hyroglyphs tell you what happened and where she is.  One of the sage quests tells you what happened and strongly hints where she is.  The Deku Tree strongly suggests what happened and where she is.  You know where she is.  You know what happened. 

And you cannot tell any of your allies.

There are other characters who are “helping” to solve this mystery.  With the theme of working with other people, it would make sense that I would share my breakthrough findings with them and we would work together towards the next step.  I’m thinking specifically if Purah (who explicitly tells you to search for Zelda by doing X even after you know where she is and that that while it would be nice to get another sage, it won’t solve the "find Zelda" problem) and Paya (who won’t let me into the floating ring even though she’s clearly working with bad information), and to a lesser extent the sages (Looking pointedly at Yunobo, who has apparently usurped my himbo throne???). 

Even if you've done all three of these quests, the game play treats you as if you don’t have this information.  It’s frustrating in a game that advertises itself as open play where you can do anything in any order.  It’s another disconnect when achieving what is expressly stated as the goal of the game is not acknowledged within the game.

Part 3: Lack of if-else statements

Honestly, this is the thing that pushed me over the edge into writing this. 

I went and helped the monster squad with a mission.  We killed some monsters.  It was a great time.  Side adventure achieved!

At the end, the team leader pulled me aside and said that he noticed that I didn't have my legendary sword.  In fact, my equipment looked less than legendary.  Har har.

...My good sir, not only do I have the Master Sword, but I am holding it in my hand, and I used it to defeat the monsters we just fought.  Maybe you don’t recognize it because I have fused a dragon part to it.

Why is there no if-else statement coded into this event to prevent this from happening?  There were if-else statements in the dialogue in botw when people talked about the sword.  They responded differently if I had it. Elsewhere in totk, there are elaborate conditionals about the weather.  Having the Master Sword is kind of a major plot point.  But the game is uninterested in if I have done the plot, even while directly addressing that plot point.

Again, it's fine.  Just disappointing after botw worked so well.

[imab00kwh0r3]

babel, and why i love it (SPOILERS!!!!)

ok im terribly late to reading it, for its not sold in many places where i live, so i found the pdf luckily.

babel is a book about colonialism and racism and oppression, it is about revolution and battling your inner conscience (in my opinion at least, i'll elaborate later). it tells the story of robin swift coming to the prestigious royal institute of translation or better known as babel, where during his yrs there he discovers that the glamourous oxford university isnt such a righteous place. his loyalty is tested, blood is shed and tears fall which leads up to a revolution to stop an incoming war.

there are many reviews regarding how its racist to white ppl (which is astounding to even think about) and that its not accurate as women werent allowed to go to university in the 1830s but im not going to talk about that, that much. i wanted to speak on the actual translation/language aspect of it.

throughout the book, translation and language r some of the main themes (obviously) but the impact it has on the people, both in the book and irl is smth i havent seen anyone mention. language isnt just a form of communication but it is part of our culture, it is part of our identity, and during colonial times many languages suffered, they were being erased as they were "barbaric" or "strange" they were banned and anyone who spoke them was punished like in victoires chapter. robin, ramy and victoire all can barely speak their native languages, robin has almost fogotten cantonese, ramy has very basic knowledge of bengali and victoire is never given a chance or is permitted to speak in haitian creole. they lost one of the main things that connects them to their motherland, they only have their appearance left. they will never be able to talk to their ppl properly.

victoire was frustrated that haitian creole isnt recognised as a proper language like how in their exams, her match-pair wouldnt be counted properly as haitian creole wouldnt be used much hence its "useless" in the eyes of prof. leblanc. she was beaten when she would speak haitian croele in her house in france. when she first came to babel she was correcting herself from "kreyol" to "haitian creole" and was unsure if she could even study it.

robin realised that prof.lovell actually knew more than him about his own language, his mother tongue. he could barely stand being back in canton and he felt isolated in a way as everything changed and was new and so was the language even though he was born hearing and speaking it.

not much is talked about this with ramy except that he barely knows bengali, even though hes fluent in english, latin, greek, arabic, persian and urdu. he knows 6 languages and in his chapter he is sed to "absorb languages like a sponge" and that he recited poems or writing in other languages he didnt know perfectly, even down to tone, only after having it read to him once but he barely knows his mother tongue.

this relates to modern times as many languages of previously colonised countries rely on english words like in india u will barely hear the word pathshala, instead u will hear school. in mauritian creole when people speak they will slip in english words, like "netwai whiteboard la" which means clean the whiteboard.

we dont know our language fully because of the erasure of them.

theres also 1st gen immigrant children where their mother tongue is smth they barely hear or they forgot after a while, they feel so incredibly disconnected once they realise. this is how robin is and this is how i am too, i was born in europe, then at 7 i moved to england and now im somewhere entirely different, i dont remember my mother tongue, i dont dream in it. which ultimately makes u lose ur voice in a metaphorical way.

u cant speak because u dont know how.

another important thing is the purposeful mistranslations and burning of books, thats not fully discussed in the book although it would have been a nice touch. colonisers purposefully mistranslated things to control the masses because when they burnt our books, they burnt our language, knowledge and people. and the exploitation of our languages like the statue at univ of william jones sitting at desk and 3 hindu sages on the floor infront of him exists, and how missionaries were taught our languages to help in conversion.

now onto the 1830s inaccuracies and racism:

its the fucking 1830s do u think white ppl were nice to poc at this time, like slavery just ended in the eyes of the law for britain but still continued in other places like america. reverse racism doesnt exist, white ppl can be prejudiced against but u lot r not oppressed and never will be, u lot wont be killed for being white, so stop crying. and about the women wouldnt be at university in the 1830s thing its fiction, r.f. kuang took some liberties.

and that is all i have to say, dont start an argument, anyways babel is great, go read it!!

[beesmygod]

I saw your answer about art experiences. How do you feel things from literature? I am consistently disconnected from things I try to feel from, like I read The Glass Menagerie and it was good, even, but nothing came of it, and usually it is so much less than that.

I thought it might be something like Having A Coke With You, where the art is superceded by real human relationships — and I actually did understand Having A Coke With You for a while, and it was kind of incredible, but now I look at descriptions that resonated me not two months ago and they're just empty. I don't think having friends did that.

I just want this to be me, I want to feel things so much, especially without looking on it from a consumer's perspective (cf. rayne fisher-quam's standing on the shoulders of complex female characters), which I feel is hindering all of this. I feel like I'm missing out on one of the great experiences of life, the connection and meaning that comes from art.

I watched Greg Guevara's video on art experiences, where he said that everyone is overstimulated and spreading out their art experiences into meaningless social media bits, and I don't know how to change that. I saw a play today and I didn't understand it and I was bored, even, and it didn't change me. I needed it to change me into someone who loved it.

I read Anna Karenina in eighth grade and pushed through it and it was a comfort book and I related to Levin but I don't think I understood it, even (I don't have the book anymore). My friend – I have a bad habit of comparing myself to others, I know, but it's relevant – reads Crime and Punishment and feels things. I couldn't even get through the first part of War and Peace.

I'm sorry for the scatteredness, I write on my phone and I find it difficult to organize my thoughts here. I'm sorry for sending this to you, and I hope you feel free to delete it. Lastly, I'm sorry if you cannot answer this, if this is outside your experience.

i have a weird framing and personal philosophy about this subject that i hope does not come off as unsatisfactory to you but bear with me. i'm pretty sure i know this feeling; this is the feeling i get when i'm exposed to the wondrous, marvelous beauty of unspoiled nature. i could not give two shits about the glorious national parks of this genuinely gorgeous country despite my family dragging me all over the continental US for summer break as far as the family van would take us. i have seen some of the most spectacular sights this country can offer, from the grand canyon to the redwoods of california to the devils tower to yellowstone and so many more. and i tell you i stare at it dead-eyed like a fish. i know i should be feeling something, everyone else is. but when i see old faithful erupt all i could think about was how i could see water at home. absolutely 0 spiritual or emotional connection. even landscape paintings leave me cold. i can appreciate and understand the aesthetic value in what i'm seeing, but its like it stops at my eyes and never penetrates my brain.

but i have just accepted that there are things i simply will not be able to experience in my lifetime. this has always been the case for me being less than 5 ft tall with most things in life, but dont read that as self-pitying lore dropping. because the secret is that it's not really that big of a deal to not be able to do things. i might have 0 memories of yellowstone that aren't "insane thing that happened to us" but as an adult i can pursue things i actually do like instead of trying to force myself to FEEL something my brain isn't wired for.

maybe your relationship with reading is the same. you understand literature's grand purpose in the wide tapestry of history or whatever and have seen people have rapturous moments of artistic connection with specific books, but that experience is completely foreign to you. you can even read a book and enjoy it, like how i think the prismatic spring IS pretty fucking sick, but whatever ethereal feeling youre supposed to feel never materialize. thankfully, i promise you that its not a big deal. and now i never have to visit a national park again until i force my children to go see them because it's good for them or whatever. i can sit at home and experience art i DO get that feeling from.

anyway, in short: read things with no expectations of how you're "supposed" to feel about them and just enjoy a pretty good story. keep throwing yourself into artistic pursuits you do enjoy and feel connected to. and try new ones! you never know what will activate your brain

[vigilskeep]

I am reminded, in Inquisition, a little of Sebastian's 'commoners don't notice or care who the ruler is' comments to Hawke. When, historically the commons have absolutely noticed, and sometimes acted on it. Bioware is very, very bad about the idea that politics affect the lives of Real Ordinary People and not just Those People Over There, Who Don't Count.

lmao yeah exactly

sigh i mean i don’t mean to be super negative here (i’m enjoying wicked eyes and wicked hearts!) i’m just like... remember bhelen vs harrowmont... remember alistair vs anora... those were the days...

it’s been a bit baffling with the parts of inquisition i’ve been playing through because the templar mage conflict and like the celene gaspard freemen conflict is... so weird lmao. inquisition really suffers from a problem where it wants to make the enemies you’re fighting sympathetic for like ✨grey morality points✨ so it has the mages be, you know, as inherently sympathetic as the mages are, and it has the freemen make completely reasonable points abt how they’re ordinary orlesian soldiers who don’t want to fight for celene or gaspard anymore. but then the game remembers you the player have to kill these people indiscriminately no matter what (the freemen are literally here just to provide an enemy because the game can’t let you fight celene or gaspard’s people!) so it just has the mages and the freemen, like, kill random people for funsies and attack you for no reason. and you talk to the civilians and they’re like “yeah those guys make points but they also kill us indiscriminately bc they’re crazy now ig so you should get rid of them”. which. like. what...

like going back to what you say, it totally makes sense for sebastian to say this—notably guy who said “you lived here? i’m sorry” walking past hawke’s old house, definitely a guy with um a finger on the pulse of the people, that sebastian—but that’s not... actually how commoners work. breaking news, people have opinions. breaking news, deciding which individual leads a country has an effect on that country. it’s baffling to frame the templar mage conflict like both groups are completely disconnected from “innocent people” (as an aside, Explain Why Mages Aren’t Included In Innocent People. Quickly) as if how ordinary people feel is irrelevant. like, as just one example, one of the absolute central premises of the circle is that it’s the only place mages are safe from ordinary people. and it’s baffling that the only opinions i am getting on gaspard vs celene are like the casual whims of the people the inquisitor works with but i’ve been fighting through orlais for the last few days and nobody had anything to say or even questioned my loyalties when i randomly showed up to help both sides in a civil war

[nikoisme]

Regarding the "it's fine that you're queer, just don't show it." line I agree with you and share your feelings, It makes me so incredibly frustrated, because this is a very prevalent attitude where I live (along with the more extreme negative attitudes).

Like. People go "I don't care that someone's queer, I'm neutral about that", but 90% of the time that "neutral" means just "I'm not going to directly harm them or wish death upon them, but I don't want to see, hear, think or talk about them"

Hearing that "it's fine you're gay, just keep it in the privacy of your bedroom" is just... you're not even allowed to hold hands with your partner on the street because that can put you both in danger (yes, unfortunately here it is a very real fear. I know that there are countries, where things are better, and where the worst you'll get is a rare insult or a mean stare, which, don't get me wrong, it's still not pleasant, but it's not as bad as a constant threat of physical assault or worse). And I'm not even talking about being trans. This isn't "neutral" this is just negative and it makes me so angry, when people act like this.

The worst part, they don't even realise what the problem is and how incredibly suffocating being forced to live like this is. You either treat queer people as people and don't try to erase (or worse, completely stop) their existence and let us be or you don't. Simply not wishing death upon queer people and not harming them for existing isn't as great of an achievement as those people think it is...

Sorry, if this was too negative. You don't have to respond and also, if you don't like getting rants like this, please feel free to say so. I wish you all the best, your blog is a very nice place and your art is wonderful, thank you for existing)))

Long rant ahead whoops!! cw for queerphobia and mentions of violence

Oh you put it all so perfectly! The experience here is exactly the same. "Just keep it within four walls, why do you have to rub it in our faces" is one I hear constantly. They will see a same-sex couple just holding hands and immediately see it as if they're having sex in public or something. Like,, just holding hands is something so explicitly sexual, to them apparently. Like you stated, they will say "i am neutral about it", but they are neutral only if you don't show you're queer. They are "neutral" only if you aren't actually yourself. I was honestly shocked how many times the conversation would go from that "neutrality" to mockery to downright violence. So whenever i hear someone say "as long as they don't push it on me", i always put up my guard. Because i don't know if it's "i don't mind that you're queer, you're still the same person i know and you deserve to be loved, respected and have basic human rights" or just masked hatred.

They will literally claim that queer people aren't discriminated, but actually privileged because they have "their damn parade" and representation in media. They say that they will get all the accommodations of life, society and economy purely based on the fact that they are queer. Apparently this all "comes from the west", like i am actually from the west and not,, y'know,, literally from here?? Born here?? Raised here?? Had the same chaotic-ass childhood like my peers?? But apparently it all goes away just because i am queer? Idk man it all really disconnected me from my culture and identity, and i am still uncomfortable with that (but i'm slowly trying to heal that! Drawing slavic mythology helps :DD)

"They aren't discriminated, they don't actually face any harassment", there were cases of queer people literally being murdered here. If it was a cishet person, it would be breaking news. But since it's a queer person, no one speaks about it. Harassment is bad, but when a queer person is being harassed it's their fault? Because they couldn't keep it to themselves? There is no protection here towards queer people when they face discrimination and harassment. The government does nothing.

"They have the same rights as us, what more do they want?" i don't know man just not living in constant paranoia hmmm??? Pride parades, rare as they are, are always under threats of violence from anti-gay protestors. I think a lot of people here don't even think queer people are actually people. Usually queer characters here are the laughingstock in media. They are portrayed with such horrible stereotypes (the worst ones are gay men=pedos), to the point of sometimes dehumanizing them. There is just so many terrible misinformation. I am queer as fuck, my gender is transed, and i know nothing about some of the downright bullshit they claim. A few weeks ago i had to listen through "the gays and their agenda" thing. And i'm not kidding, someone said "you will be asked to change your sexuality to get hired. Soon you will have to out yourself as straight. Straight people are the actual minority". It was so dumb it was almost hilarious.

But while sometimes i can get a laugh out of their willful ignorance (they lowkey won't acknowledge intersex people), it can get really draining, really fast. At this point i am just exhausted and sick of it. Sometimes I'm just exhausted of being around my family, friends and classmates and knowing, deep down, that they wish people like me wouldn't exist. Listening to them talk about "all the things they would do if they saw a [insert f slur]" and fearing if they would do it to you. Not speaking in lgbtq+ themed conversations because you don't agree with them - and all the shitty things they say are, in a way, faced at you. I'm not out to anyone irl exactly because of this, so while i don't face harassment aimed specifically at me, it does get hard sometimes. The silent ostracization from your own culture, history, religion etc. just feels really bad. Not to get too into it, but all of it really really fucked me up, and it took me years to come to terms with myself. It's sad feeling like i simply don't belong here. Sometimes it makes me wanna scream in anger, sometimes it makes me wanna laugh, sometimes it makes me wanna just throw up, cry, sleep and sometimes i just spiral. I usually have a "lmao fuck them. I like myself and i don't care what they think of me" attitude (queer spite that i mentioned once HAHAHA), but I actually do care because sometimes the odds of me having a normal life in which i am happy with who i am and i don't live under the constant fear of being, y'know, KILLED,, they just seem nonexistent.

I don't think they understand queer people have hobbies, friends, families, interests, dreams. We do the same things as them, we eat sleep laugh cry. They will claim we make our queer identity the only part of ourselves, like it's our entire personality - but when you tell them you're queer, they stop treating you the same, as the same person you were before you told them AND STILL ARE!! They will treat you as "not cishet", something that is "sick" and wrong and just doesn't belong.

This got really personal real fast, but good god it feels good to get it all out. There is so much more i didn't cover, mostly because even typing this down made me really tired. And it's not a bad thing!! In a way i am really exhausted from staying silent about this, so this was nice. I guess like a big "FUCK YOU" to everyone around me who is like this LMAOO. but tHANK YOU this ask put all of the frustration into words much better than i could hahaha!!

[retrogradepermaculture]

♠︎ Animal Symbolism In Dreams | Deer 🦌

Inspired by a dream I had with a deer (which looked a lot like the one in the gif, complete with antlers). Kurt Cobain from Nirvana was also there, for some reason, so I might have to do a follow up post from this about celebrities.

Deer symbolism | possible meanings

• freedom

• peace

• pursuit or hunting (medieval meaning, nowadays more likely to indicate a symbolic search or can indicate a feeling of being prey)

• purity

• an untouched nature, the return to a true and uncorrupted state

• sensitivity

• guardianship (of old growth forests, woodlands, and glades)

• royalty (another medieval meaning, may have different meanings to you based on which country you are in and it's history)

Location of deer in dreams

• deer in the woods or forests - natural habitat, wildness, but also balance. harmony with inner nature

• deer in human environments or on the fringes of wilderness - meeting of two parts of your nature, the ephemeral, something tantalising, something difficult or out of reach

• deer close up - kinship with nature, gentleness. or can mean passivity, lack of awareness, loss of natural instinct

• deer from a distance - disconnection, a fleeting glimpse, the meeting point where life could have taken a different direction

This is just what I managed to dig up, I can't vouch for how true any of it may be but take what resonates as with all my posts...

Ngl, I am interested to know how common it is to dream about deer because I haven't actually heard anyone talk about it much. It may be because I live in the actual countryside so I do see them regularly and am exposed to the symbolism more

[123pixieaod]

Pilot!Max x backpacker!Daniel 👨‍✈️✈️💼

Part Two!

Part 1 here!

Max laughs, reaching out. Gentle fingers brush his, and then Daniel is gripping his hand, squeezing tightly. His palm is warm against Max's, fingers strong and dextrous. Max feels the hard calluses engraved in Daniel's fingertips like knots worn into wood. A far cry from his own hands, almost amorphous on their soft smoothness.

"A pleasure", Daniel says warmly. He drops Max's hand, and the stuffy bus air suddenly feels wrong against his fingers.

"I'm sure", Max echoes, and then thanks whatever diety is looking out for him that his warming cheeks are hidden in the darkness.

"So did you come here alone or?" Daniel asks, oblivious. Max scrubs a hand over his face. It's just because he's overly tired from this air traffic fuck up.

"No. My two colleagues."

"Are they Dutch too?"

Max snorts. "Regrettably not. One's German and the other is British."

"A German, Brit, and Dutchman get onto a bus", Daniel muses. "Sounds like the beginning of a joke."

"And an Aussie swoops in and steels the punch line?"

"I'm honoured you think me capable of such exploits," Daniel says. He sounds pleased, almost smug. Fuck, is he flirting? Oh double fuck, are they flirting right now???

"They fucked off though," Max blurts out, wires in his usually flawless mind having become disconnected, capable now only of repeating the train of thought of oh my gosh i think Daniel is flirting with me am I flirting back am I bad at this what if he's fifty years old do I really need a sugar daddy??? Does one even flirt on a bus can someone flirt at 2am are we just both sleep deprived maybe the driver did succeed in getting me to hit my head around one of those corners and this is simply a brain damaged fueled fantasy and -

"Where?"

He blinks, trying to focus himself. Once again, he thanks whatever stars that soon he'll be flying under that there's no lights on this bus. His cheeks feel all but glowing.

"Where what?"

"Where are your friends? Did they catch the same bus as you or...?"

"Oh," Max exhales. "No. They of course fucked off and took the only two free seats at the front, so that is why I had to go searching back here."

"Sorry you're stuck with me", Daniel says, in a way that very much does not sound he's particularly apologetic and Max is 90% sure is instead a flirty tone.

He barks a laugh. His face burns hot. Fucked. He's utterly and royally fucked.

-

Daniel, he learns, talks a lot. Not how Lando talks, this never-ending stream of consciousness where topics and conversations blend seamlessly into the next. Or not like how Sebastian talked, where every sentence is carefully constructed in his mind and spoken with purpose. Daniel speaks like he expects to be listened to, but also with the understand he'll listen back. He chats and then pauses, waiting for Max's input. He asks questions, looks for Max's opinions, and even sometimes disagrees with what Max says.

It's exhilarating. He feels as if he's known Daniel for years, and not just mere hours.

It's also informative. He finds out that Daniel:

- has one (1) older sister

- her name is Michelle (Max heard Danielle at first and Daniel had laughed, as if Max had said something actually funny)

- she is an accountant, working for their father's auto business

- she wildly disapproves of Daniel's backpacking around the world, telling him he's simply running away from responsibilities

- she is wrong

- Daniel isn't running away from anything. He likes to think of it as more running to something, if running has to be involved in the metaphor

- he's been to 33 different countries

- he's been travelling since he was 25 (Max refuses to question how old Daniel must be if he's already been to 33 countries since he was 25)

- he wants to know more about Max

"Well", Max says, taciturn. "I work in stocks." It's the one sure, fire way to stop any potential future questioning on his profession.

"Stocks", Daniel repeats slowly, as if Max has admitted to being a shape-shifting alien. "What type?"

"What type of what?"

Daniel laughs. Max feels the warmth bury in his chest. Fucked. He's fucked.

"What type of stocks do you work with?"

"You know about stocks?" Max asks, deflecting away from the question.

"Utterly against my will, but yes. My sister's an accountant and Emma is in finance, so between the two of them information on boring stuff like stocks and markets and rates were sort of forced into my head. Osmosis style I guess."

"Whose Emma?" Max asks, feeling like a balloon whose been popped.

"A girlfriend," Daniel says with ease. Max swallows, making himself to nod even though Daniel can't see him.

"Right", he says quietly. "Cool."

Of course someone like Daniel would already be taken. Of course he'd be straight. People like Daniel are magnets, and why on earth would Max think he'd be the first one to be drawn to Daniel??? Even if he's the most ugliest man alive, Daniel’s charm and easy chatter alone would secure any number of girls he wanted. Why would he even think about Max in that way? Fuck, his dad is right, he can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

"No need to sound quite so distraught Max," Daniel continues, now almost teasing. Max wants to rip the seatbelt off and leave, lie down on the aisle or the steps or even on Lando's fucking lap and just forget this ever happened.

"Okay", Max says nonsensically, trying to work out the quickest way to end the conversation. His cheeks feel as if they're on fire, and even the tips of his ears are burning now. Fuck. Victoria would laugh so hard at him if she was here.

"An ex," Daniel says. Max nods. Maybe he can say he has a migraine? Or pull the classic sorry my dad is calling me, and then phone and speak Dutch to Martijn until Daniel falls asleep or something. Daniel's saying something else about being in a relationship and Max wants to die, because he's twenty-three and shouldn't be this obvious, shouldn't have to have a stranger try to gently let him down.

"Are you as well?" He asks. Max blinks, looking towards the hazy outline of Daniel.

"Am I what as well?"

"Single?"

"What?" Max's brows pinch together, and Daniel starts to say something but it's interrupted by a static overhead speaker.

"Ladies and gents", the driver says, somehow making the honorifics sound like slurs. "We're approaching Terminal 2. A pleasure to drive ye here."

Then, the lights blink on, flooding the bus with brightness. Max winces, the sudden light after the hours of darkness irritating his eyes. He blinks and then quickly turns to his right. Daniel looks back at him, big, brown eyes wide.

"Oh," Daniel exhales softly, and then laughs. Fuck. Sun-kissed skin and tight curls and perfect teeth. Fuck.

"Hi," Max says stupidly.

Daniel laughs again, and Max feels the sound of it burrow into his chest like sunlight shining through foliage. Double fuck.

"Well, this makes things easier", Daniel says, still smiling. Aquiline nose and eyes of hot chocolate and dimples that carve deep into cheeks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Does it?" Max asks, tone soft. He can't look away from Daniel. He looks like he belongs on the crest of Australian red-earth mountains, making his way through the thick rainforest of Peru, holding his breath and diving deep into the ocean. Not in a cramped bus, not sitting beside Max, talking to Max, looking at Max.

"Yeah," he says, eyes crinkled and warm. "Because I was going to ask you out for coffee anyway, but if you had been an eighty year old man with dandruff my convictions may have been questioned."

"Well, I'm definitely not an eighty year old," Max says, mind still lagging.

"No? Can't dispute the dandruff claim?"

That teases a laugh out of him. "Well, I of course do not have dandruff either. I keep myself very well groomed."

He says it as a joke, but Daniel just looks at him, eyes intense.

"Yeah", he says after a beat, gaze tracking over his features. "I can see that."

Max's face positively burns.

Around them, the bus has eased to a stop, and the passengers around are beginning to sit up, unclip their seatbelts and stretch.

"So do you want to?" Daniel blurts out, and then blushes. "Sorry. I mean, I was serious. I could take you to a shitty little airport cafe right now, we could have burnt coffee and overpriced toast and it would be hideously romantic." He grins, but there's a nervousness to him now.

"I can't," Max blurts out. He's thinking of all the billion things he needs to do, the flight data he needs to check, the checks and double checks, the changing from these civilian clothes to his sleek pilot uniform, the transforming from a nobody to Max Kumpen, one of the most promising pilots at F1 Wings.

"Oh," Daniel says, smile suddenly dimming. "Yes, of course. I didn't- I mean", he forces a soft laugh, his cheeks heating. "Sorry. It's fine. Who knows, maybe we'll even be seat buddies on the flight too! You'll be stuck with me." He forces another laugh, and then gives Max a warm but distant smile. "Well, I'll-"

"No, I mean," Max babbles, his own cheeks heating. "I wasn't- i have work. It wasn't a lie or. But - you'll have a layover at Qatar, right? We should - I mean, if you'd still like to, it would be, in Qatar Airport, we could maybe -"

"Yes," Daniel says, beaming at Max. "I'd like that."

"Right," Max smiles, trying not to think about the five hour layover he's meant to be using to catch up on sleep before facing the night flight back to Dublin.

People are beginning to file off from the bus, and Max is suddenly filled with a strange sense of panic, as if Daniel can only exist in this liminal space of travel.

"Here," Daniel says, and his tone sounds strangely anxious as if he's feeling the same fear. Max looks over, and then before he can react, Daniel is bridging the distance between them, warm fingers wrapping around his wrist. He watches as Daniel grabs a pen from his pocket, feels the coolness of the ballpoint roll across his skin. He doesn't breathe. Daniel's frowning, expression intense as he scrawls the digits, carving himself into Max. Max suddenly is filled with the urge never to wash his hands again; never wants to be confronted with his pale, soft skin unmarred by Daniel's messy handwriting.

"There," Daniel says, dropping Max's hand. He looks up, blinking those deep, dark eyes. Around them, everyone else is standing, filing out. All Max sees is Daniel. All Daniel sees is Max. He smiles, the sun in winter.

"Don't go losing that," he says, and Max laughs, twisting to unclipped his seatbelt. They're the last ones still seated, and the driver has fixed his beady gaze on them.

"I'll try not to," he says, standing. His muscles ache from the uncomfortable posture, and he tries not to think about how sore they'll be after seven hour flight to Qatar. As Daniel stands, Max glances behind, spotting Lando and Sebastian already outside with their bags, waiting for him.

"I should -" he begins, voice trailing away as he gestures. Daniel glances, giving him a quick grin as he shrugs on his coat.

"Gotta get back to your German and Brit colleagues, right? Let me know how the joke ends."

Max exhales in amusement. "Probably with me covering for the Brit while the German tests our combined knowledge."

"Fun", Daniel says with a wink. A wink. "Maybe I'll see this dynamic at the gate or on the plane."

"Maybe", Max says, knowing that will never happen. "But I'll see you in Qatar anyway."

"Qatar for breakfast", Daniel grins. "It's a date."

Part 3 here!

[astro-rainbow777]

Astrology Observations ⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤐 Volume 3 𖤐⋆⁺₊⋆

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Good Afternoon friends! I hope you enjoy my observations that I’ve gathered. I am not a professional astrologer so please take these with a grain of salt 🫶

Take what resonates, Leave what doesn’t! Only you know what is best for you 😊

✨Enjoy! ✨

✧ Sagittarius Risings usually have family from different countries/parts of the world. If not, family can have a different cultural background and distance from the native. They also tend to get a lot of attention and comments because of the way they walk/have a generally noticeable lower half…hehehe

✧ Libra Moons are sooo sweet, good intended and charming. Me being a spiritually passionate person, the topic of soulmates never escape a conversation with a Libra moon. I want to remind allll Libra placements that there is more to Love than the romantic kind! Again it is very endearing, but you guys have the tendency to form peer relationships around the topic of romantic love at the center. So when y’all are finally in a relationship- there goes everyone else in your life. Of course this is not all Libra placements but there are some I’ve met like this. If you are a friend of a Libra moon, please try being supportive of whom ever they decide to crush on- even if you don’t agree. When you reject who a Libra moon loves, it’s like you’re rejecting them. Remember that they tie a big part of their ability to love others. In doing this you may forfeit them being authentic with you. Bonus points if they have Aquarius personal placements! You may get ghosted 👻

✧ Virgos, especially Virgo stelliums, why are you so good at EVERYTHING?!?! Like, y’all are the prodigies of life! So unfair, I have zero earth placements- there are days where I’m lucky if I can walk straight. But y’all? Y’all will try something once and be consider a master. Virgo risings have usually have Gemini midheavens- so you may be consider a jack of all trades. So much versatility and flexibility. I’m obsessed with y’all 😐

✧ Venus in the 12th: you guys are just the kindest, most selfless, beautiful souls! I love love love love you. I’m so close with a lot of you. That being said, you have THE WORST taste in romantic partners. No actually. At least one relationship in your life you have been a secret to someone. I genuinely feel for you people because y’all are so loving. Have the type of broken, egoic, heartless people- your intentions are good, but you can’t let people take advantage of you! You are just as guilty if you reward bad behavior. In health tho, yalls love is just so pure. Beware of substance abuse with this placement. Can also love fall in love with the idea of someone. Prone to day dreaming about potential partners, than falling in love with your thoughts about them <3 it’s kind of sweet in a way because your brain is so beautiful it falls in love with it’s self. These people turn trash into treasure in their own dome 🤕

✧ Sun in the 7th people are so popular! Everyone knows them-they usually have a pretty clean reputation too! You guys are pretty likable, at work y’all have sooo many connections.

✧ Saturn in the 9th can be very dogmatic in their beliefs. Now, the ones that I have met have experience some traumatic events to make them so opinionated. But there seems to be a disconnect between that one experience and the collective. For example) one guy I work has a Transgender cousin who SA’d some woman, so now he really believes that all people who are transgender are bad people. Which is not the truth obviously. But that’s their truth…so it is THE truth 😬 yikes

Mars in 1st house people can come off very strong…yes, but if you don’t know these people they can come off as just rude, aggressive, or annoying. When you really get to know these people it’s very common though to find that they are just very protective of themselves and that’s why they can be an intense personality. Y’all have a Sand paper first impression..does that make sense? Haha, no but for real y’all are warriors- usually these people have had violence/aggression in their home at a very early age. That being said, it’s very important when meeting new people that they establish their “dominance”- does that make sense?

Mars in Libra-ruled by Venus, these people had to have invented being fashionably late, always! Y’all need a timer strapped to you at all times! Love you tho, always thinking of how their actions will affect others.

Cancer Risings are sooooo pretty and soft. No fr! Your skin is so soft and plushie! Also your eyes twinkle, especially the woman. Y’all are sooo beautiful too when you’re taking care of someone you love, your just in your element.

Moon in the 3rd/Gemini don’t stick with one feeling for too long. As a result, if you are venting to some with this placement, don’t expect them to wallow with you in your feelings. Their type of cheering up is distracting you from them! That’s only what they know though! They do the same thing for themselves. But if your a sensitive soul, try a fire/water moon if you want someone to feel with you.

Individuals with a fifth house stellium may have an earlier introduction to parent hood or struggle with infidelity. Especially if Saturn is here. Life of the party tho!

Jupiter in the 8th, do people just give/buy you things? I have mine here and I don’t even have to ask people just give me stuff! Especially like hand me downs and food. I don’t even ask! It’s weird. Jupiter shows abundance and the 8th rules over other peoples possessions, so It’s a possibility that this is a manifestation of that placement 😏

Some Scorpio + Taurus Big 3 women I’ve met are VERY open about their sexual kinks- like post on social media about sex a lot. The ones I’ve met have a fascination with being a dominatrix/bondage? I know this doesn’t apply to all but just some that I’ve seen. Also posting about money, posting things that they want others to buy for them?

Thanks you for Reading✨

Let me know what you resonate with or don’t resonate with in the comments! I love feedback 💕

[hjellacott]

When I was a teenager, my father passed away from years of chronic illness and I got very depressed

I don't remember much for about a year, other than being in bed, crying. Life paused for a year or two, so that although time went on, my life didn't. Effectively ending it would've merely been a physical affirmation of what was already true: I was dead, at least, inside.

My father and I had a very close relationship. It wasn't like we got to do that many father-daughter things together, but mostly it was just that we were two faces of the same coin; similar enough to understand each other without a need for words, and to feel understood by each other, but different enough not to rub each other off the wrong way. I am far more different from my mother, and yet, the mother-daughter bond being as legendary as it is, we've always been attached to each other's hip and we have a deeply affectionate relationship. But after my father died, I felt abandoned, left out, alone. I felt like the black sheep of the family, the different one, because the one person who got me, who I was like, was gone forever. If only I'd known then what I know now: everybody tends to feel the same way at some point.

It affected my relationship with my father's side of the family. My parents were together until the end, so I'd always spent the most time with his side of the family, which lived near us, rather than my mum's, which lived farther away. My dad had been the best of his family, so I was never particularly close with anyone there except my, by then, very elderly grandparents. Without my dad, I experienced an odd feeling of disconnection; like a cable that's cut in the middle. Like, the thing that united me to them was gone, so was I even one of them any more? And it might seem strange, but actually, the fact that I had my dad's surname there was something I held onto firmly to remind myself I was still part of my family. Still, even a decade later, it's my mother's family I feel more united to.

Losing a parent at a young age was, to me, like being blown away by a bloody tornado when you were just beginning to learn how to walk on your own. And suddenly you're all alone, waking up in unknown turf, standing in the ruins of your family, your home... whatever remains when a chronic illness has been punching everyone where it hurts the most for years and years. And it took me years, and actually leaving my country, to find my footing again and stand strong again.

My point is that, for many years, I was in a deeply vulnerable and fragile mental state. I didn't seek refuge in drugs, but I did start to drink for the first time, even when I've always despised the taste of alcohol. In my late teens, it was trendy to be dark, mysterious, depressed... and none is that more than someone going through the kind of grief and heartbreak you can't make your friends understand. So my sudden drinking (not to drunkenness, but certainly completely out of my normal behaviour), my quietness, my self-isolation, were seen not as warning signs, but as cool behaviour, among my friends.

And then things got weird. I was seventeen, bursting into tears in high school, in front of everyone, because I'd misplaced something my dad had gifted me and couldn't find it. It wasn't even something important, just a pouch where to put money... but it was my dad's gift to me, and I could only find one friend who understood why it mattered to me, and helped me find it even if I was making a huge thing out of a grain of salt. And for a decade, I've been lashing out. A small feeling of discontentment or annoyance suddenly bursts into flames of fury, and I screamed at my mother, even though I'd never done it. I still go from 0 to 100 with tremendous ease; in sadness, in happiness, in anger, in laughter. Every feeling starts dull and is suddenly overwhelming. And so in the middle of these years of grief, I fell in love, went from 0 to a 100 in five minutes, and if I hadn't stopped myself right on time, I would've agreed to marry someone who simply wasn't right for me. Someone who loved me 80%, when I was there 100%. By now I've accepted that everything is always going to feel too much, too suddenly. That tears will burst out of my eyes for no particular reason, but so will laughter from my chest, and love from my heart. It is both a super power and a dangerous thing, but I'm treating it as a super power, and doing my best to control it when I can, without eradicating it.

One of the things I did in my grief was cross-dress as a man. I put on a three-piece suit that didn't really suit me, and cut my hair from long to zero, and even tried to use fake beards.

I wasn't a man. I never identified as such. I was always clear on the fact that I was seventeen and I just wanted to know "what it's like". But deep inside, it was about control. You see, I'd been left shattered, I was scrambling to keep my head above water, I had no control - and I longed for the power of being a man.

I wanted to stand strong as a man. I wanted to be like my late dad. To be a good man in the storm. To fight, to be strong, to be tough, to dress however I wanted, to stop being whistled at and catcalled, to have a man's salary, a man's work opportunities, a man's power.

It was just a period of my life. The closer to thirty I've gotten, the more comfortable I've felt as a woman, the more I've loved being a woman, the more I've remembered my father's happy eyes on me, watching me speechless the first time I put on a dress, make-up and heels, telling me how beautiful I was, taking photos non-stop with his professional camera and making me feel like a gorgeous princess. And damn it, I've never given a shit about male admiration, I've never fancied dressing "to impress", but my dad had such a way of looking at me with eyes full of wonder, not in a sexualised way, but in a "my god, you're a grown-up woman!" way, that I'd happily fight to have that back. This was the same man who, when I first got my period and was in a mood, cracked a smile on my face by grinning at me and saying "you're all grown-up now!", the same man who when I was just born, was the only one who said I was beautiful, and was too afraid of hurting me to even hold me for a wee bit, the same man who, if I was sitting alone with my head on the table going through whatever, would sit next to me and put his head on the table too, without saying anything, just so I wouldn't be alone, and the same man who'd go above and beyond to do things with me and get to know me. I don't look back on my dad as a dad, I look back on my dad as a best friend. I used to want to be just like him - now I just want to be like myself, and see in me the wonders that he saw. Now I stand proud as a woman, the woman I know he would've been stocked to know.

The Cass Report has brought back into the forefront of my mind what a pain it was to be a teenager and a young adult. In my case, it was because of Earth-shattering grief. In my case, I could want to have male things for a bit, and I got to experiment, to cross-dress, to kiss boys and girls, to make mistakes, and to, over the course of a decade, find my way back.

That is what I wish for children to be given back: the space and the time to figure things out without having to deal with more life-changing procedures.

Teens were in a mental health crisis a decade ago and it's only gotten worse since. And if my friends had seen what I was doing in my grief as alarming signs of mental health problems, instead of as a cool, trendy behaviour, then maybe I would've gone to therapy instead of opening a bottle of Vodka. I probably would've taken it wrong to be told I had mental health problems - and I would've rebelled, fought, argued, and in fact I did, the one time my mum insisted I saw somebody. God how I hated psychologists then, and now it's one of my main fields of study. I didn't want to be told I was sick any more than these kids do. But I needed to hear that. I needed my problems validated, even if I didn't want to hear it. I needed to be forced to accept help. I needed to be told grief is one thing, and feeling like you can't possibly go on is another. I NEEDED PROFFESSIONAL HELP.

That is all the Cass Report shows. That children need professional help. That children go through hell and back because they're barely equipped to deal with big shocks to the system, and the world has never been more hostile to them. And that just because alarming behaviour that points to mental health issues can be perceived as "cool" or "trendy", and become fashionable, it doesn't make it less of a mental health problem.

[cottonkendi]

Betrayal | 9

MASTERLIST

Kunikuzushi x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: idk, it’s like a filler… what genre is this? ksksks

Warning: None

Synopsis: Suspicious Figure

Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

a/n: ayeee, it’s an update that’s not 2 months late 🥳 n e ways, here’s to hoping that this writing fever lasts until I finish this series and maybe even more so that I can actually start taking in requests and ACTUALLY writing said requests 😖

Wordlessly, you kneel before the throne, eyes staring straight ahead as you await for the shogun’s words to allow you to speak. 

It’s barely been a year since everything has fallen apart, barely a year since Kunikuzushi was shunned away by the god before you. 

And now, you stare her down, fists tightly curled on your lap, willing the swirling emotions away. 

It is not your place to feel such things, much less towards a god. 

No matter how much your insides burn, you have no place to act on it against the god before you, even if you wished to do so. 

No. 

Your duty is to be the geo archon’s yaksha. If you so much as speak out of turn in front of the electro archon then you may as well start another war between the gods. And for what?

For Kunikuzushi… only for Kunikuzushi. 

“I heard that you have taken him under your wing.” The archon’s voice echoes inside the barren room, the vicinity ice cold, like that of an abode. It feels like it’s disconnected from the normal realm with its blurring views, thunder clapping in the background despite the foggy walls around you. 

The plane of euthymia… 

“I can’t say I’m opposed to you protecting the puppet… though I am curious as to why you would do such a thing… Answer me, yaksha.” Beelzebul drawls out though you can see the look of steel in her eyes, can see the way her hand tightens around the arm of her throne.

“I have vowed to protect Kunikuzushi, your son, for the rest of my existence. As long as I shall be alive in this world, then Kunikuzushi will be under my protection-” 

“He is no longer my kin. He is but a citizen of Inazuma or any other country for that matter. I wish not for him to be tied to me.” 

Your jaw clenches at her words, hands tingling as you start to feel the hilt of your claymore materialise though you try your best to will it away. “Whether he is part of the electro archon’s kin or not does not matter. My vow still stands and your words shall do nothing to change it. Though if I were to give my humble words of advice, I do not think that pushing him away so suddenly was a wise idea. Protecting him by hurting him… I do not think that the late electro archon would be pleased.” By now, you have stood up from your previous position, just as the thunder starts getting louder. 

“You speak of my sister with such familiarity, yaksha. I suggest you know your place.” 

Turning around, you are met with the sight of Beelzebul holding her sword as she stands before her throne, looking down at you. “The battlefield is a place that I am quite familiar with, electro archon. I have spent quite the time with Baal. In fact, Kunikuzushi himself shares a lot in common with her. Perhaps that is why you’re so afraid of keeping him close…” 

With that, you make your way out of the plane of euthymia, your hair starting to stand up as lightning strikes the ground.

The heavy feeling in your body quickly disintegrates as you’re met with the sight of Kunikuzushi laughing with the village kids, racing their way towards the blacksmith for their usual afternoon lessons. 

It’s only been a few months since you got Kunikuzushi out of your abode and into Tatarasuna. A small island near the main Inazuma island which hosts a small village where you met Niwa who was quickly taken with Kunikuzushi. 

The man quickly opens his home to the both of you, offering to help Kunikuzushi with whatever he may need on the island. The two of you were quite hesitant to be so comfortable with him but soon enough, Kunikuzushi takes to liking Tatarasuna, having his days filled with classes with Niwa wherein he teaches him how to forge swords, along with helping around in the village, you’ve never felt more assured with leaving him alone for a day or so while you continue to do your responsibilities in Liyue. 

“Kunikuzushi was looking for you, y’know?” Humming, you look to your side where Niwa makes himself comfortable against the tree, chuckling to himself when he sees your ever so serious face. “The kid was sulking all day when you didn’t visit at your usual time. He said that even though he can call you at any time, he didn’t want to bother you while you were off doing your duties in that foreign land. He likes telling the village stories about your journey, y’know? Sometimes, he even brings out books about you.” 

Crossing your arms, your gaze moves back to Kunikuzushi who’s starting on forging the metal that was freshly out of the water. 

Sighing at your usual silence, Niwa pushes himself off of the tree, a small smile on his face. “Dendro yaksha, you shouldn’t worry so much about Kunikuzushi… the village practically treats him as family, we’ll protect him.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you finally look Niwa in the eyes. “Please do so. His safety and happiness is the only thing that matters. Kunikuzushi deserves at least that much.” 

A little taken aback by your words, it takes the man a few seconds to respond, but when he does so, he offers you a genuine smile. “I promise you, I will do everything that I can to protect him. He is in safe hands.” Patting you twice on the shoulder, he starts to make his way over to the village once one of the villagers calls out to him. “Now c’mon, yaksha, there’s this Fontaine merchant that’s been visiting for the past week and he seems to have taken an interest in the village’s metal work. He’s been talking about making this place a more appropriate place for the forging, something about bringing in some new equipment.” 

Raising a brow at that, you silently follow before him, the pit in your stomach growing restless as you sense something shift in the air the closer you get to the village. 

Something’s not right… 

“Along with that, he’s even taken an interest to Kunikuzushi. The man’s been bringing in different devices from Fontaine, said that it’ll surely enhance Kunikuzushi’s abilities.” 

Frowning at his words, you can’t help but be unsettled at the thought of this man though perhaps it’s just because you haven’t met him personally… you’ve always been wary of strangers. 

“Ah, there you are, Niwa and oh? Is that the yaksha that everyone’s been talking about in the village? My my, it’s an honour to finally meet your acquaintance.” The man dressed in foreign attire greets you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand. 

Immediately, you feel something trigger your senses. This man… feels familiar.

“My name is Escher, it’s nice to meet you.”

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[scoutpologist]

You are NOT sensitive. Obviously most people in Florida would agree with you, but more importantly the only reason ppl hate Florida is the racist old people and if Florida drowns where do they think they’re gonna go? 🤨

Florida has a important beautiful diverse ecosystem and provides so much for the country.

Maybe this part is ME being too sensitive but just joking about the water rising from climate change/glaciers melting is just never smth i found funny

sorry to get to this so late anon i've been busy </3

and yeah, for clarity i am people from florida. i've lived here my whole life. and people saying they hate florida because we're all crazy (ie florida man), or the wildlife is scary, or it's too hot, or the bugs... i don't care lmao and sometimes it's even funny, cause no one actually hates florida for those reasons.

a lot of people hate florida because we have a supremely shitty government and assume that like... everyone thinks this way. but not everyone thinks this way. there's a huge community of progressive people in florida.

and sidenote, it's kind of strange to see a bunch of people talking about how you should NEVER visit florida as a trans person because. like, your concerns are 100% valid, and if you feel like you're in danger, do whatever you have to to keep yourself safe. but also we still live here LOL like i can be semi-open about being nb with 0 issues and i know a lot of trans people who are medically transitioning. i brought hrt up with an endo who doesn't specialize in that and she didn't bat an eye, she even recommended me a place that could get me hormones.

i promise we're still here and thriving!! we have some of the biggest pride centers in the country!! i attend a HUGE pride event yearly where everyone is happy and loud and openly queer. i'm lucky to live in a beautiful and vibrant city like this and many of us don't fare as well, but we ARE here.

and you're not too sensitive, bc that's what i worry about all the time when it comes to ocean levels rising. i'm worried about the beautiful ecosystem i've grown up in being drowned by the salty ocean. our ecosystem is one of the most diverse and beautiful in the entire country and people have the audacity to say this state is ugly and provides nothing lmfao.

idk it's just a lot like it's not like it's as if floridians are oppressed but sometimes there's just this disconnect between people who live here and people who don't. it's mostly fine i'm just bitter that some people will stereotype a whole state and ignore the vibrant communities and beautiful ecosystem and go "i'm not worried because it's florida".

[msfbgraves]

What mental health issues do you think Terry has? Not to trivialize/make fun of people with actual issues. I’m just curious. So many people say he’s a psychopath. I’ve also heard people say he is Bipolar, a Narcissist. Even has Anti-social Personality Disorder, depression.

Nonnie, I am not a psychiatrist, and as such unqualified to diagnose anyone. I'm a historian.

Now, historians are pretty good at saying: "In these circumstances, people are likely to do X, because that's what they have done the last 20 times this happened."

Terry is part Jewish it seems, going by Cobra Kai, and given his age, his parents will have been through WW II. Which means there is colossal trauma there, especially for the Jewish parent. Given his last name, Silver, a likely anglicised version of "Silber" which you can find in many traditionally Jewish surnames, his father is the most likely candidate.

Terry's family is wealthy, yet Terry served in Vietnam. That is weird. Especially since he would have likely been headed to college and exempt from the draft. Why then did he enlist? When his father is Jewish and lived through WWII, and he did not flee Hitler (probably not because 1938-1968 is often too short a time to establish the connections you need to build not only a business but the kind of business empire that would be hung up on legacy, another one of Terry's fixations) then it's likely that his father served in the US Army. And where? Well, Terry is obsessed with Asia, not Europe, and hates the Japanese enough to be very crudely racist to Mr. Miyagi, so my guess is the Pacific. Dad served in Asia, he'll serve in Asia. Only that his Dad would have been thought a war hero, and he, a 'Nam vet, a morally corrupt loser.

The whole Cobra Kai "No Mercy" schtick could have been not so much a Vietnam thing but a second generation WWII trauma because of a too close encounter with the Japanese imperial Army and their attitude to POW's. No mercy indeed. Yes maybe Terry got it from Captain Turner, but that doesn't negate this theory. Maybe Turner served in the Pacific too. Note that what he teaches is Korean. The Koreans also suffered terribly under the Japanese invasion of their country.

Oh, and to add to generational trauma. If Terry's mother is not Jewish, that would not help because Jewish fathers who lived through WW II very often had issues with that, even when they themselves of course chose to marry gentile women, likely for protection from antisemitism. Notice again that his surname, if Jewish, has likely been anglicised.

Terry's nickname for Daniel, the constantly referenced "Danny boy", hints at Irish-American heritage on his mother's side. Very probably Catholic. And that, too, was not mainstream growing up in the 1950's. So Terry's a double outsider with a likely traumatised father, a desire to prove himself so great he enlisted at the end of a war that was already going badly, a war trauma all of his own with intrusive memories, a fondness for alcohol and drugs, which could be self-medication, he's also likely into boys and, later in life, he feels that he needs to hide behind a façade, again likely because of an intense fear of persecution. I mean he devises his own philosophy on how to, as quickly as possible, incapacitate enemies. "Strike first", if fighting is inevitable, right? And it is, in his worldview.

Also he gets off on causing people pain, either himself or by proxy. He wants people to experience fear and pain, maybe in a perverse desire to connect. War vets, be it WWI or later, often talk about an intense disconnect to people who have not been through crippling pain and fear. So if he wants to get close to people, he needs to make sure they can relate to him, yeah? How does he do that? By inflicting pain and fear. On Daniel. On his Cobra Kai 'children'.

And that, I think, is What Is Wrong with Terry Silver.