#at least mention of it anyways

[syncrovoid-presents]

Researching for my hazbin fic (A Cannibal's Guide on Living Comfortably) has also made me realize that my adoptive family (and me in relation to my birth family) actually suffer from cultural loss. And this ties to my adoptive family being half french like Alastor.

This is sort of a personal ramble about my experiences and how it relates to cultural loss. Just thoughts I've been having that's making me rethink a lot of things from my life.

(Technically I'm not but that's a whole other thing. I was found as a kid and never allowed to learn about my birth family or heritage so yeah. I'm just whatever people say I am. Means I have double the cultural loss, both from the people that raised me and my own! Yippee! <- sarcastic)

Both my parents are half french and grew up in small communities where there was very very high English vs French tensions. Both of my parents parent's decided that it would be best to give their children the easiest life they could so they raised them as English as possible.

They weren't allowed to learn french and were punished if they tried (both by family and the community. It was a lot worse where my mother grew up), and weren't allowed to continue any traditions, songs, or anything culturally French. Assimilation was the best chance at a future, but meant that they lost all ties to culture that wasn't acceptably English/colonial.

They were born a long time ago, so this was during the era of corporal punishment in school, my mother wasn't allowed to wear pants, my father was punished repeatedly for using his left hand, etc. They were also forced into churches because that's what The Good English Do, even though neither are religious now nor would they have been forced to if the hatred against the french hadn't been so strong.

The small town my mom grew up in had a segregated neighbourhood for the french, and her family fought to cut all ties. Her mother was french but was forced to only speak English and cut all ties to her family.

I don't know as much for my father, but it was his father that refused to teach or share anything French because of the hardships he went through growing up (he also ran away and lied about his age to fight in the war too young, so he likely faced heavy trauma too)

While neither of my parents are half english, they were able to pass as english at the expense of their cultural identity and connection to their family. I've spoken to my mother about it and she says white culture is genocide, but I don't know if she realizes how it hurt her too (not to say the french did nothing wrong. They were colonialists and took part in genocide as well)

It's weird to realize. I was put in french immersion and while my french isn't great, I've realized that my parents did that to give me the only opportunity I could have to learn about their lost culture. They learned a bit from me and would use french words and sometimes share translation quirks their parents had caused by learning english after french.

I grew up thinking that because I don't know anyone I'm related to that i had no culture. I've realized that part of the reason it feels that way is because anything non-English was forced out of people. The more you could pass as english the heavier the assimilation is. To join the oppressors is to sacrifice culture, history, and family, but that's a choice both my parents parent's made and it's one we all struggle with.

As far as I go, I don't know my precise ancestry, but I do know my birth grandparents fled from a country that was dealing with fighting for independence and a highly struggling economy. I'm not supposed to know that or know anything more, but from what I can guess and based on what people have said I look like (closest thing I got) my ancestors dealt with fighting against being colonized for centuries, their culture and history actively being destroyed and demonized, and the language borderline dead because of it (isnt the british imperialism great? <- sarcasm). A bit over a century ago it would have been the cause of much prejudice and hatred, but like my adoptive parents parent's they traded culture for assimilation.

It's.... weird. There's not much I can change nor not much I can do with this information movie forwards. It has helped me connect my experiences more with that of cultural loss, especially those felt by others who don't know any birth family. Because I pass as white (I do not know my genetics, so I'd rather say that than call myself white. Especially because what ancestry I do know I have weren't historically called white and faced discrimination by white folks) I previously thought these experiences could not apply to me.

As a side note, I do hold the belief that orphans like me, or others that lacked any family for much of their lives are part of a "hidden" minority. I faced a lot of extra difficulties, social pushback, and was treated worse than my peers because I am an orphan, as did different foster siblings I had over the years. Adoption means either never speaking about my life to pass as "normal" or speak about it and face the consequences. Every person's experiences are different when it comes to this, but it really changed the expectations adults had on me and forced me to be more mature, resilient, perfectionistic and less reactive to my peers. The expectation was if you acted bad you didn't appreciate having a home and therefore didn't deserve it. What others kids could get away with can be what loses your home when you grow up an orphan.

Anywho, circling back to my fic I'll be adding some elements of my experiences in there too. Not as the main focus, mind you, but some of the struggles of adapting/assimilating to the majority to avoid discrimination will be present (as well as some French (more focused on Creole French history. It was something a few of my french teachers focused a lot on) ). Just background info, I'm as of yet undecided on how much of a character study it will all be, but if it does go into it more then these themes will be present

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[faunandfloraas]

Happy mother's day...

[lucabyte]

you dream of devouring your friends whole

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[frogisanut]

gammastuck au !

au with my friend that goes something like "earth c kids discover glitched version of sburb and the codes goes so wild that caretakers and beta kids are switched so badly that these are completely different versions"

eM - "mom lalonde" mF - "bro strider" eN - "dad egbert" fN - "bec"

[lilydvoratrelundar]

Jane Doe's backup dancing skills <3

[heybiji]

sketching a ttrpg npc that has yet to show up on screen yet. i'm well.

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[taffywabbit]

local silly girl tries to learn something new, dozens injured

(this caption could refer to Claire or myself and it would still generally apply)

[deserthusbands]

cody: you're sick.

obi-wan, laying pathetically on the bed: no.

cody: you can't deny it this time.

obi-wan: mmf, yes i can.

cody: i will get helix.

obi-wan: no. :(

cody: you're sick.

obi-wan: i am not sick.

cody: i will take you myself—

[mollywog]

Okay so we know Maysilee was the previous owner of the Mockingjay pin,

BUT

There is no mention of the pin as Katniss and Peeta watch the 2nd Quarter Quell footage (I don’t think this is an oversight on Katniss’s part: At this point she has an inkling that the mockingjay is connected to the rebellion and wouldn’t she (or Peeta) be hyper aware of it, especially while watching its previous owner?!?!) - leading me to believe that the pin was not her token and never saw the inside of the arena prior to 74th.

So

What if we discover that Maysilee was in fact wearing it and all footage of her with the pin was erased after the initial airing?

[chronologically-challenged]

I think this fandom is too normal about Petronille. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S ONLY IN HER LATE TEENS/EARLY 20'S WHAT DO YOU MEAN?????

Like like!!!! We don't have a timeline on when Bonnie and Nille ran away from home, but it HAS to be when Bonnie was really young. Bonnie doesn't seem to remember their parents well at all, and the most we hear about them is that they were "mean". So like!!!! Depending on how old you see Bonnie (10-12ish) and how young you think the two ran away, that could range from 5 to 9 years give or take.

Thats!!!! A range!!! At the oldest Nille (say 24) she was 18 or 19 when the two ran away, which is an adult but still pretty young, but the youngest range????? Hello??? If Nille is 19 now, she could have been as young as 11 when she took Bonnie!!!! What!!!!

I don't think that's the case, but still??? If we take the average of those two, Nille would be 16!!! 16!!!!! And taking care of her sibling basically on her own!!! Nille is a kid who had to grow up too fast and take on the world to make sure Bonnie and her could survive!!! Nille's probably been fighting a good chunk of her life for their happiness and that doesn't even ACCOUNT for the abuse their parents messed her up with. And then after EVERYTHING basically sacrificed herself so Bonnie could have a chance to live from the King's Curse!!!!!

And after all that!!!! Suddenly, she's offered protection from 4 random adults who also adore her sibling and want to take care of the both of them??? What do you do with that??? Do you even BELIEVE that??? Can you even trust that someone else than you could be trusted with your baby sibling? That you can let someone else take that responsibility. The responsibility that you took on with your whole heart and soul to the point you made sure that even if you basically DIED for all that mattered, at least Bonnie would have a chance.

You've been asleep for months and woken up in a new reality where you're not your sibling's whole world anymore. They've changed. You weren't there for it. These people Iove Bonnie so much. But do they know them as much as you do??? They weren't there all this time!!! You should know your sibling better than anyone here!!!

And yet. Yet...

You don't know what to make of this. You're happy Bonnie's safe. You're terrified you don't recognize the new parts of them that have shown up without you being there.

Your sibling lives in a whole new world now. They love you. They would come back to it just being the two of you if you pushed it.

But if you do, you're not sure Bonnie would ever forgive you for it.

(Are you seeing my vision??? Do you understand why I'm not normal about Nille????)

[mayasaura]

It's not an accident that John is an indigenous man. It's not an accident that he's implied to be a survivor of childhood sexual assault. It's not an accident that he's clearly mentally ill, with no support network outside his colleagues who are relying on him to save the world.

John, as a character, is about how much pressure and how much suffering a person can endure before they break. He's about the weight of generational trauma. He's about having a meltdown that destroys your life, that hurts people, that you can never really come back from, and having to live with the consequences. His rage and his pain are both massive and legitimate, and if you don't engage with that you are missing the fucking point. Respectfully.

This post is not rebloggable to make sure I don't go nuke melbourne myself. Love and peace. ✌️

[add1ctedt0you]

The Untamed - Episode 19

Throughout the night, he [Jiang Cheng] had somehow managed to sleep a couple of times. The first reason was that, having been too tired from crying himself weak, he couldn't help from passing out. The second reason was that he still had the hope that this might be a nightmare. He couldn't wait to wake up after some rest and open his eyes to find himself lying inside of his room back in Lotus Pier. His father would be wiping his sword in the main hall. His mother would be angry again and complaining, scolding Wei Wuxian who winked in a funny way. His sister would be in the kitchen, thinking as hard as she could about what to make today. His shidi would be refusing to do their morning lessons properly and jumping around.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Chapter 59, Poisons- Part Four

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: a digital comic based on the owl house, featuring Hunter and Willow. The comic is a redraw of the "alphabet confession" meme comic. In the first panel, Hunter stands nervously in front of Willow, saying "I..". The next panel is a closeup of Hunter as he continues, saying "I...I" with an intense expression. In the third panel Hunter stops and looks suprised as Willow (partly off screen) continues, saying "J, K, L, M, N, O, P...". The next panel is a closeup of Willow, somewhat bashful, continuing listing the alphabet, now on "Q, R, S, T, U, V...". The penultimate panel is a closeup of Hunter as he finishes off the alphabet for her, saying "W, X, Y, and Z". He looks equally bashful. The final panel shows Hunter and Willow holding each other and seemingly spinning in mid air as flower petals circle around them. The comic is in black and white with the gutters between panels being light pink, and Hunter and Willow are both in their post-thanks to them designs. End ID]

HAPPY 1 WEEK TIL FOR THE FUTURE! Here's a silly comic idea that would not leave my head <3 they are so fucking stupid