#we are a society not a collection of individuals

[chiarrara]

the Israeli government and their supporters are trying to conflate their war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and genocide with Judaism. this is dangerous (for Jewish people), because if they succeed at this to any degree (which they materially have) it will naturally fuel antisemitism toward all Jewish people. This is a horrible horrible thing.

We all have personal responsibility to counter this, but we can't pretend it's not being pushed on an international scale.

They are intentionally drawing a hard line by saying "if you do not support us, you are antisemitic." this is not true but they are trying to make it true. this pushes people who are not antisemitic but do not support them across the line to be lumped in with actual nazis. this is a very bad thing.

Associating symbols of Judaism with genocide is a bad thing. Integrating genocidal ideology into religion is a bad thing. It does not mean the religion/ethnicity/identity is genocidal, but they are trying to make it so they are one and the same. This is a very dangerous thing.

[hella1975]

would you like to talk about how bad the mha ending was hella

as much as i would love to give like. a comprehensive response i genuinely dont think i can get my words together just yet without it being a constant unintelligble stream of 'AND ANOTHER THING-' and bc it's become quite torn in the fandom on if the chapter was good or bad i want like. an actual coherent response here. so i will reblog this if/when i can word it but know IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY

[destinyandcoins]

fuck anyone who tries to sneer at needing background music or an audio book or whatever to concentrate. human beings have been using storytelling and music to pass the time while they Accomplish A Task for literally all of human history, and it is in fact one of the distinguishing traits of humanity that allowed us to get this far.

sorry if I need to listen to a podcast while plugging these numbers into a spreadsheet, linda, it's just that the hunk of soft tissue firing millions of electrical impulses a minute to animate my entire body can't distinguish between this tedious task and the slow mind numbing process of chipping a rock into the desired tool that I need to more efficiently hunt or make fire and allow me to evolve from survival to a conscious appreciation for life and the wonders of imagination

[nowendil]

whooooo having an anxiety attack about covid. again 👍

[contagious-watermelon]

why do people on here act like personal identification and personal action is the only thing that exists or could have relevance. is it the individualism or

[decolonize-the-everything]

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A post shared by Caroline J. Sumlin | Author & Speaker (@carolinejsumlin)

Her caption:

carolinejsumlin: White Supremacy is the umbrella system that runs our society. It is the foundation in which our society is built on. It is the machine of our society, but this machine cannot run without each part working seamlessly to do its job. Each part of the white supremacy machine is one of these systems of oppression (and many others I was unable to fit here). Now, this isn't to say that these systems of oppression couldn't operate on their own. They absolutely can and do in other cultures and societies. However, within our modern, western society that was built on and continues to be run by white supremacy, these systems strategically run to ensure white supremacy's goal: a pristine social order of pure whiteness. One we understand the depths of how white supremacy works and just how much it is impacting us from every corner of society, we can begin to dismantle it effectively, while freeing ourselves from falling for its devices.

This concept is something I've seen posted and over and over by different people (usually Black women though). The idea that it's not just that specific groups are consistently targeted but anyone who deviates from the narrow norm of White Supremacy becomes a target, which is why Black women with multiple intersecting identities are the worst treated people in pretty much every society worldwide.

Which is why I listen and follow and share so many perspectives of Black women btw. When the Combahee River Collective said "If Black women were free, it would mean that everyone else would have to be free since our freedom would necessitate the destruction of all the systems of oppression." I didn't see any way that could be false and it's because of white supremacy.

And as for how and where white supremacy exists:

I like this White Supremacy Pyramid, it pretty much encapsulates my understanding and belief of how its perpetuated and builds on itself -ultimately up to the genocide of groups that don't fit into the White Supremacist categories of ideal.

The "Pyramid of White Supremacy" is a component of assistant professor Erin Stutelberg's Diversity and the Self class. It's a one-credit course required for students majoring in elementary education at the Maryland college. Stutelberg said in a Friday statement to Delmarva Now that the violent Charlottesville rally took place as the course was being planned. She felt it needed to be brought up in class, but wanted to carefully do so.

She didn't want her students to think about white supremacy only "as men in robes or hoods or torches marching in streets" because it would give them the impression that it was separate from their lives. "Instead, I want students to explore the ways that race and racism are part of all of our lives," Stutelberg said.

Source

And while not everyone (including myself) agrees with the placement of absolutely everything, it's still decent enough to use so that's what I'm doing.

That to say white Supremacy exists and is perpetuated anywhere and everywhere, so it's up to us individually and collectively to hold ourselves responsible for where it's growing in ourselves, our communities, and countrymen.

I don't see how liberation or human rights will be won with anything but solidarity for the most marginalized communities there are.

How do you build white supremacist framework for future generations if the people here now refuse to hate each other enough to allow it?

[fairuzfan]

"We have come together as Palestinian academics and staff of Gaza universities to affirm our existence, the existence of our colleagues and our students, and the insistence on our future, in the face of all current attempts to erase us.

The Israeli occupation forces have demolished our buildings but our universities live on. We reaffirm our collective determination to remain on our land and to resume teaching, study, and research in Gaza, at our own Palestinian universities, at the earliest opportunity.

We call upon our friends and colleagues around the world to resist the ongoing campaign of scholasticide in occupied Palestine, to work alongside us in rebuilding our demolished universities, and to refuse all plans seeking to bypass, erase, or weaken the integrity of our academic institutions. The future of our young people in Gaza depends upon us, and our ability to remain on our land in order to continue to serve the coming generations of our people.

We issue this call from beneath the bombs of the occupation forces across occupied Gaza, in the refugee camps of Rafah, and from the sites of temporary new exile in Egypt and other host countries. We are disseminating it as the Israeli occupation continues to wage its genocidal campaign against our people daily, in its attempt to eliminate every aspect of our collective and individual life.

Our families, colleagues, and students are being assassinated, while we have once again been rendered homeless, reliving the experiences of our parents and grandparents during the massacres and mass expulsions by Zionist armed forces in 1947 and 1948.

Our civic infrastructure – universities, schools, hospitals, libraries, museums and cultural centres – built by generations of our people, lies in ruins from this deliberate continuous Nakba. The deliberate targeting of our educational infrastructure is a blatant attempt to render Gaza uninhabitable and erode the intellectual and cultural fabric of our society. However, we refuse to allow such acts to extinguish the flame of knowledge and resilience that burns within us.

Allies of the Israeli occupation in the United States and United Kingdom are opening yet another scholasticide front through promoting alleged reconstruction schemes that seek to eliminate the possibility of independent Palestinian educational life in Gaza. We reject all such schemes and urge our colleagues to refuse any complicity in them. We also urge all universities and colleagues worldwide to coordinate any academic aid efforts directly with our universities.

We extend our heartfelt appreciation to the national and international institutions that have stood in solidarity with us, providing support and assistance during these challenging times. However, we stress the importance of coordinating these efforts to effectively reopen Palestinian universities in Gaza.

We emphasise the urgent need to reoperate Gaza’s education institutions, not merely to support current students, but to ensure the long-term resilience and sustainability of our higher education system. Education is not just a means of imparting knowledge; it is a vital pillar of our existence and a beacon of hope for the Palestinian people.

Accordingly, it is essential to formulate a long-term strategy for rehabilitating the infrastructure and rebuilding the entire facilities of the universities. However, such endeavours require considerable time and substantial funding, posing a risk to the ability of academic institutions to sustain operations, potentially leading to the loss of staff, students, and the capacity to reoperate.

Given the current circumstances, it is imperative to swiftly transition to online teaching to mitigate the disruption caused by the destruction of physical infrastructure. This transition necessitates comprehensive support to cover operational costs, including the salaries of academic staff.

Student fees, the main source of income for universities, have collapsed since the start of the genocide. The lack of income has left staff without salaries, pushing many of them to search for external opportunities.

Beyond striking at the livelihoods of university faculty and staff, this financial strain caused by the deliberate campaign of scholasticide poses an existential threat to the future of the universities themselves.

Thus, urgent measures must be taken to address the financial crisis now faced by academic institutions, to ensure their very survival. We call upon all concerned parties to immediately coordinate their efforts in support of this critical objective.

The rebuilding of Gaza’s academic institutions is not just a matter of education; it is a testament to our resilience, determination, and unwavering commitment to securing a future for generations to come.

The fate of higher education in Gaza belongs to the universities in Gaza, their faculty, staff, and students and to the Palestinian people as a whole. We appreciate the efforts of peoples and citizens around the world to bring an end to this ongoing genocide.

We call upon our colleagues in the homeland and internationally to support our steadfast attempts to defend and preserve our universities for the sake of the future of our people, and our ability to remain on our Palestinian land in Gaza. We built these universities from tents. And from tents, with the support of our friends, we will rebuild them once again."

[imnotevenusin]

Random

- Cancer Placements are great musicians. Being ruled by the Moon—a planet the rules our fluctuating emotions, these naitves are susceptible to constant mood swings, which gives inspiration for art - mainly music.

^I also think this is why the Moon is one of the planets the rules music.

- Venus in Virgo (or any Virgo Degrees: 6° & 18°) are also great artists in whatever medium they take up. Venus being our aesthetics, social gracing, and values is paired with analytical Virgo; this can make the Native study and practice everything that comes to Art and master it.

- Aquarians can fall into conspiracy theories for a while. Being the sign that is supposed to break barriers and progress society as a whole, they are prone to questioning everything before them. This can make them pseudo-intellectuals too - still one of my favorite signs tho.

- Moon in hard aspect to Pluto or Uranus can make dangerous individuals. The Moon is a vulnerable placement, ruling the emotional state. Pluto is intense and uncomfortable, and Uranus is unstable. These Natives can make harsh and life-altering decisions based off of their emotional state. A bunch of serial killers and terrorists have this aspect too: Timothy McVeigh, Ted Bundy, The Columbine Shooters & Richard Ramirez.

- Mercury conjunct Mars natives will always sound mean and loud to everyone, regardless of what sign its in. Mercury is the way you communicate, while Mars is how you defend yourself and take action. This can naturally give you a loud and demanding-tone when speaking.

- March Pisces are usually seen as more bold and angrier since Mercury can fall into the sign of Aries when the Sun is moving through the later degrees of Pisces.

^Pluto in Sagittarius also squares the sign of Pisces—usually in the later degrees, which can make these natives come off as dominating and somewhat controlling.

- I’ve seen Taurus Moons being the most liked. Their emotional state is usually—depending on the aspects—calm and stable, which gives them a welcoming demeanor.

- Taurus Mars usually takes a long time to move on in romance. Once these natives are settled and comfortable with a person, its hard to convince them to snap out of it when they need to.

- the 12th House is a fame house. The 12th House can point out where we feel isolated from everything physical. The most famous people are able to live in their own worlds, separated from everyone.

^12H natives can also connect to the collective unconscious.

- Taurus Mercuries are the most stubborn people of all time. Taurus is comfortable and stable, while Mercury is analytical and interactive. This placement can cause somebody to be close-minded and (somewhat) argumentative. Whatever solution or opinion they think is right, will remain right, because they are so comfortable with it.

- The Sun either conjuncts Mercury or Venus, due to the fact most people’s Egos are designed to be aesthetically pleasing - to themselves or to others. You also have to use your ego through communication.

[netherfeildren]

Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 1. Genus: Tragedy

Series Masterlist ; Part 2.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you. 

She'll still come for you. 

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Light Angst; Slow Burn; Shocking Considering the Implications of Me and This Trope but Alas; Biologically Assigned Soulmates; Power Dynamics; Topping From the Bottom; Government Controlled Reproduction; Segregation of the Designations; Institutionalized Sexism; Vaguely Handmaidien Undertones; Incredibly Soft Despite the Tags; Be Not Afraid, Dear Reader!; Yearning; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Competence Kink; Alpha Joel; Omega MC; Very Soft Joel; Older and Jaded Alpha; Young and Needy Omega; Age Gap; Size Difference; Size Kink

A/N: I've found there is an absolutely shocking lack of A/B/O in this fandom, and this is my contribution to begin rectifying that. I swear that despite the way the tags read, this is entirely and sickeningly sweet soft, comfort, caretaking fic.

Share thoughts, please. It's sort of a different one.

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

Genus : Tragedy

To a one Mr. Joel Miller,

500 Sheahan Road

Clallam Bay, WA 98326

United States 

We are writing to inform you that as of January 8th, 2015 there remain two weeks until your designated omega’s twenty second birthday, and a year since she has come of age. We have made several attempts to contact you with no response. As mandated by the federal government, you must collect her by January 22nd, 2015 or she will be distributed to another individual of the designation alpha who would be willing to accommodate her. 

The omega’s evaluations are all up to date, and she has displayed pristine results in both health and behavioral tests. It is estimated that her first heat will occur soon, and we strongly encourage you to collect before the fever starts and our facility is forced to place her with another willing alpha that may see the process through. As she is part of the Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program, and is biologically paired to an alpha already, that being you, if not collected she would be placed in the bidding pool and distributed to the highest offer. 

Again, we strongly encourage you to contact our facility with a response on your decision as soon as possible so that we may prepare the omega. We would like to remind you that these creatures are delicate, and unexpected changes to their habitats and surroundings cause high levels of distress. It is of the utmost importance that we proceed in accordance with the omega’s nature. 

Enclosed is a brief note from your omega that she has requested to attach:

Dear sir,

I hope that you are well. I have been told that you have not decided if you will come for me, but I ask that you please do. I have been waiting, but they have told me I cannot wait anymore, and I do not know what will happen to me if you don’t come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do. 

And at the bottom, in a pristine and swirly pen, and kindly, her signature, there for him to see. The name of the woman, or girl, who seems to have taken all of Joel’s choices from him. He follows the letters with the nail of his thumb, scratching at the ink as if he could make it disappear, make the reality of this poor thing out there in the world waiting for him, disappear. 

At the outbreak of the designations, twelve years ago, there had been mass hysteria, mass chaos, a terrible uncertainty of how the world could continue on, segregated into biological designations as it had suddenly become. Thought to be a product of the dwindling population rates, some whispered a government experiment gone awry, a freak genetic mutation had begun to appear within the biological markers of certain people. 

Designations: Alpha, Beta, Omega. 

It was not that society had unfolded, lost sight of itself, it was more so that from one day to the next, a new and unknown sort of hierarchy had been established, those that were, those that were not. Those that could live their lives as they’d always done, unruled by their biological urges, and those now marked as something new and different and set by a different sort of mandates. 

Joel had been one of these people. 

The designations had become controlled, weaponized, systemized, almost immediately. Almost. Before the government had mobilized and taken stock and hold of the situation, there had been a momentary lapse of order. Chaos wearing the names and faces of the people he’d once known, people that should have been safe or protected, protective. The true nature of the dynamics were quickly revealed. Obvious: an unmated alpha in need of an omega was a volatile thing, quick to aggression, hungry for violence. Less so: an omega, once thought self sufficient, independent, autonomous, was found to be at times fragile, vulnerable, full of necessity. Both connected by that string of desperation that could only be soothed in a pairing of the two. The desperate drama of being no longer only yourself.

It should have been an obvious thing, the mutation, a byproduct of the dwindling population levels, reproduction rates, was in service of something that would correct this misdirection of nature. Alphas and omegas were, are, idealized pairings for one another in terms of reproduction, in terms of biological pairings. It should have been obvious that this would be wielded as a means of control. It should have been obvious that this was an untenable situation that would cast people into roles that left no choice for autonomy, for freedom. 

It should have been obvious to Joel, who almost immediately, and even though he had been well into adulthood, a father to a young daughter, presented as an alpha, growing pains once again this late into his life. It should have been obvious that this was a situation that should have necessitated greater care, vigilance, protection. After all, this was the role of an alpha. He should have listened to this new nature of his that was suddenly, demandingly, presenting itself, acted quicker, stronger, with more wisdom. But he’d failed, he’d continued to fail for years to come after that terrible night when the world had turned back to its base nature in a hedonistic attempt for the preservation of humanity. 

Alphas were immediately feared, ostracized, and above all else, obvious. A designation was not a thing a person could hide, especially not an alpha, the truth of their nature. Many were gunned down in the streets at the start, imprisoned, experimented on and sold, debased and tortured. They’d been caught, him and Sarah, separated from Tommy trying to escape the madness. She had, in her innocence and without designation, still only herself, still only his little girl, been caught in the crossfire of a world's desire to tame or trap something it could not understand. 

Joel had, in many and the worst of ways, been caught in the crossfire too. 

With time, years and the sort of suffering that can only be forced upon anything that is different or out of the norm, a system had been created. Government mandated programs, laws, registries that kept track of the designations. A hierarchy in which those that were essentially and biologically considered stronger than what a normal human should be, were ostracized, exiled, denigrated, muzzled, and those that would be considered weakest, left without any voice at all, without freedom either. 

The Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program had been established for the continued preservation and furthering of reproductive rates. A registry was created in which all those with the designation either alpha or omega had to present themselves on, biological markers determined, all choices stripped. The program served as a match making machine, when two biological markers presented themselves as compatible, as mates of one another, an omega was assigned to an alpha for keeping. To do with as they’d see fit. 

He had gotten word of her only last year. Twelve years of solitude, of nothing, of running from a girl with green eyes he’d not been able to protect and the reality of himself he detested, the what and why of who he was. He’d left Austin, wandered and hidden and groveled in the dirt like a worm until he’d finally found a quiet place to settle. A place alone, undisturbed. And for so long, he’d not been happy, surely, but he had been. Joel had been.

He looks down at the letter in his hand, dragging his thumbnail over the swoop and slope of her signature once again. This was a person who, as mandated by law or biology or fucking whatever, had been deemed as his. His other half, mate, ball and chain. The terrible reminder of what he really was and could not escape, in the form and shape of his perfect opposite. 

Last year, when he’d gotten word of her existence, that she’d reached the age of twenty one and was now ready and available for his retrieving, he’d balled up the letter and thrown it with such weightless force into the fireplace in his living room that the air filled wad of paper had fallen limp and nothingful just shy of the flames, rolling in the ashes and dust, coating the reality of this imposed, undesired fate in dark soot. He’d been so angry he’d gone out and howled at the moon like the beast the world would have themselves believe he truly was. 

He did not want to be an alpha. He did not want an omega. He did not want to live off the coast of Clallam Bay alone in this house he’d built with his bare hands because he had no other use of them now, no other function or purpose or meaning. He did not want it to be now, he wanted it to be twelve years ago. He wanted to still be a father. 

He did not want to be an alpha. 

He did not want an omega.

He crumples the letter in his fist, looking out at the bay over the edge of the cliffs from where the cabin is perched. From his spot on the deck he can see as far out as the sea allows, sight stopping suddenly as if the edge of the world had dropped off a ledge. Sometimes he longed, so, so badly, to go find that edge, to drop off it as well. He had only tried once. Never again. The grizzle of scar tissue at his temple, a testament to yet another one of his failures. 

The first summons had come two weeks before her twenty-first birthday, and he’d laughed, after the anger, he’d laughed. A girl-woman of only twenty one years, deemed of age, for the role the government or God had deemed her ready for, served up on a platter to him for his own ravaging. For the correction of what nature told was an anomaly that only their coming together could solve. It was sick, disgusting. He wanted no part of it. And so, despite the knowledge that this poor thing was out there, in some government facility, places they took omegas, many orphans, but also, oftentimes separating them from their families for so called safe keeping, just another word for kidnapping. Rearing and breeding and no choices, no choices for any of them ever. 

He’d ignored it, turned a blind eye and a revolted heart away from it all, and shirked the supposed responsibilities he owed this omega who he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him. But nature is, after all, a terrible and inescapable thing. And not even so much the nature of his designation, although that did, unfailingly, play a part in his demise, surely, but the nature of his character, of Joel’s heart, that was the true heavy player. He was not the sort of man who could turn away from someone who’d rely on him, who’d need him. A responsibility. That was, he convinced himself, all he should or could see her as. And for a year there’d been a sort of tugging of a string from behind his navel, an umbilical cord connecting him to his ignored fate. He hated it all. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He wanted to rot in his aloneness and misery and bitterness, fester in the fear that lived around him from the world. It’s why he’d come here, it’s why he’d exiled himself. Balanced on the tightrope border between the Salish Sea and the Makah Reservation on this high and pristine cliffside cut from the crust of the earth; he was left entirely alone, at peace with only his own chaotic demons to torment him. He wanted it this way, he wanted this; please, please, he’d already given away so much, lost so much of himself. Should he also be forced into this too? To sacrifice the terrible peace of his solitude to save this poor creature that was being forced on him. He wanted to say no, that he didn’t give a fuck, that what would happen to her could, it was no business of his. But those words… another willing alpha, bidding pool, highest offer… they made him see, not even red, black, black and devastating anger or rage or something horrible and base, and what could only be a product of mother nature railing against him for ignoring what he truly was. Something that whispered terrible words of mine, mine, fucking mine. A hiss he did not recognize, did not want to admit he recognized. 

He was old, weathered and beaten and past his prime. Unmated. At the end of his line and unmated and purposeless, and his bones were tired, but itching and clamoring within the confines of his skin that this was wrong, that he was wrong, and that he needed to right this immediately. 

That she’s waiting, and dear sir, I do not know what will become of me if you do not come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do. 

And so Joel goes to her because he knows she is waiting, because fate or purpose or nature is not a thing to be ignored forever. 

-

“It’s her birthday today,” the caretaker says, voice ascetic and cold and direct. Not a voice, Joel thinks, for soft things; cadence that has his teeth on edge, hackles raised. “You’ve arrived just in time. She’s been asking for you, and we’d just set her name in the pool, ready to release for auction tomorrow.” That black rage muddies the corners of his vision, and he focuses on the cold shock of the blank white hallway they’re making their way down. Hospital-like, barren and hard, this place, facility, prison, they keep them in, the omegas in the program. He feels slightly sick, uninhibitedly angry as if his teeth would fall out of his skull, as if he could throw himself to the ground as a child throws a fit, spew his anger for the world to see how much he does not want this, how vehemently he’s opposed to it all. 

“She may seem young and small, but she’s twenty two now. She’s ready, and she’ll take it as you wish. It’s what she was made for.” 

Joel seriously considers, just for a moment, killing the cretinous little man beside him. Take it, he says as if he has any right to speak of you taking anything that Joel would give you, as if it’s any of his business, anything he could ever understand if the beta stench oozing off of him is any indication. He hums nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement. If he parts his teeth he’ll take out a chunk of flesh. He should behave, there are easily frightened things nearby. 

White doors with a small circular window at the center line the hall on either side, endlessly down the length of the seemingly endless corridor. The caretaker, white scrubs, pristine like the rest of everything here, and Joel feels suddenly huge and bestial and brutish, marring and dirtying this place that is supposed to be of peace and quiet for the fragile things locked inside. 

A terrible place that makes him desolately depressed. You’ve been here so long, and he had not come, and it’s all just one more tally of failure on his rap sheet. 

When they finally stop before a singular door, the number fourteen emblazoned in large black, bold print just beneath the small viewing window, Joel suddenly feels– he can’t say for certain, he doesn’t know, or doesn't want to acknowledge the truth of the voices and sounds ringing in his ears, but he knows, recognizes it for the sound of the moment Sarah died all those years ago. His past and present suddenly clashing to meet here in this antiseptic white void, before the door to this fate that’s clamored in quiet waiting for exactly a year today. The sound of her voice, calling his name, saying it hurts, Tommy, his shouts ringing loud and then ebbing soft and as lifeless as she was while the reality of what they were living came to pass before Joel too, could realize. He’d left too, his brother, ran from the truth of Joel at the first easy opportunity. And she’s just there, her voice and her eyes and the feel of her is just there in his mind, on the tip of the tongue of his memory, and then the man opens the door and then there you are. 

He feels worse now, hulking, deformed, malformed like he was born wrong. “I’ll give you a moment,” the man says low, that cold voice monotone and almost too quiet to bear now. Joel feels he needs something loud and shocking. He fears he won’t fit through the door. “It’s better if you meet for the first time without distractions. She knows you’re coming.”

He thinks he asks if you’re sleeping, he can’t be sure, but he feels the vibrations of his throat work, his jaw move as if it’d come unhinged, his tongue swollen in his mouth, gums fat and painful, full of bile and terrible memories, and he is a badly made thing in need of some goodness in this moment. And then a shift of the small lump beneath the blankets, the reality of the moment snaps into focus, he steps inside the white box cage you’re kept in. The door shuts behind him, and then it is only him, the thing he would not be, and you, the thing he would not want. 

He doesn’t decide it until he finally peers into your eyes, that he can’t, will not, keep you. 

Wide, luminous and wet, but not afraid, wholly curious, peering up at him from above the edge of a thick wool blanket. Something drab and gray and stiff looking that immediately sets him on edge, brings that anger back, just the simple sight of the blanket. The two of you stare at each other in silence, the weight of that thing that tells of what you are, sitting heavy between the two of you as he looks down at you from his great height, presence that should be intimidating and cowing, looming over your prone and small form on the bed. But despite his stance, something swelling within him causing him to puff up like an angry dog and want to bear his teeth at you, despite the curtain of tears in your eyes, there’s nothing of the stench of fear. 

He shuts his eyes to the sight of you, huffing long and bullish through his nose, mistake, the scent of you, God, help me, and he listens to the rustle and shift of the blankets, opens his eyes to see a little nose peeking out from beneath the gray, drab thing to sniff primly at the air he’s now filling with his presence. 

Soft and warm and woman, the smell of a cunt that belongs to him. That’s what it is at its basest. More complexly: vanilla, bergamot, juniper berries, sweat and fever and salt. Taking a plunge off the cliffside, bypassing the sharp teeth of rocks that would kill you, waiting for the dark ice shock of sea and finding nothing but molten life. This is what you smell like. 

Worst of all, there is something in you that smells of him. His, yes, but not what he means, not his, him. Something that smells of recognition, like the two of you are the same. 

Something chained inside of him rattles at the bars of its cage, desperate to be let out and quenched. 

He steps back, frightened at your movement, at the reality of what the two of you are, so obvious here in this cage, at your perking up, your recognition of who and what he is, what he’s come for. You don’t speak, but you tell him. You wriggle beneath the covers, shimmying to turn and face him more fully, still clutching the blanket up high over your mouth, still covering half of your face, and he wants to bark at you to let him see, that he needs to see, but he grinds his teeth together. Molars going to dust down his throat, muscle wrapped around his mandible strung so tight he fears the fibers of it might burst and pop. 

You settle on your side facing him now, and then something to beguile him, to bring him to his knees muzzled and obedient and calm, the sweetest, sultry little crooning cry. Something provoking, alluring, something to beckon him to you in surrender and acceptance and welcome, come from your chest up your throat to his ears. He jerks back at the sound, your big eyes still expectant and wet but demanding now. I am here waiting for you. I have been here waiting for you. Come now. He steps back to your bedside, a too small, too stiff metal railed cot he’s going to wrap around that fucking guard, caretaker, idiot, whatever he is when he comes back, falls to his knees, and your little fingers peek out and up and over the edge of the blanket now. And you surprise him doubly, tenfold, more than he can comprehend – but he already decided he will not keep you, he already made up his mind – when you say: “You came. You remembered me.”

He could never have forgotten.

A low hum, a sound to make your eyelids flutter and your legs shift beneath the heavily draped blankets. “Today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? Would you like to come home with me as your gift?” 

He could never have forgotten.

-

The house that the large man who you’d waited your whole life and then a year for, brings you to – and you can’t be entirely sure, for you’ve so little experience or knowledge – but from what you can think you’re feeling now, from what you can decide, is lovely. 

He had taken you in a car, a truck, you like the sound of the word, —ck, —ck, —ck, and driven a long while, through the big city which you’d seen little of, between forest and beside sea, and then finally up a long and winding road and more forest, more trees and green than you’d ever seen in your entire life, until you’d come to a cliffside, the backyard a drop off of air and rock and endless dark water, and a small house perched just there at the edge. Wooden slats, weather beaten and salt lashed, a copper sloped roof, and two pert chimneys, despite the not large area of the house, cabin. It looks, very much, as if it had grown straight from the cliff rock, sprouted by the forest, strong bones that spoke resolutely of remaining where they were no matter how hard the wind howled. 

“How did it get here?” You ask the man, alpha, who’s name is Joel who has finally come for you after a life and a year of waiting. 

“I made it,” and his voice is rough and demanding of attention, demanding of you, even if you don’t know, although, you do understand, what it is he’s demanding. 

And you think, yes, of course. It looks a little, a lot, like him. Obvious, that it came from him. 

It would be easy to think that you’re nothing but young and stupid and untried. Just a little omega kept in a cage. But you feel, after this life, not life, of being you and the thing you are, that you’re none of those things despite it all. You had lived, you had been out in the world at one time, even if briefly, even if only as a child, green and inexperienced and innocent, and although you still remain all those things, you had been out there at one point. You had never had a mother or a father, dead when you were an infant, killed in the outbreak, but you had lived with your aunt, your mother’s, many years older,  sister, until you’d been ten years old. So you see, and he should see too, this man now before you, this alpha, that you were untried and inexperienced and young compared to him, but you’d had a decade of real life, even if it was the life of a child, even if afterwards it was a not life, but the before, that counted very, very much to you and so deserved respect and acknowledgement. And he should see that, although you do not know, you do understand.

After your aunt had died, and they’d taken you, first to the orphanage, and then to the place for omegas, after you’d started to mature and develop, perhaps that real life had ended. Or been put on hold, waiting for him, this alpha who seems, for all intents and purposes and from what you can gather from his sullen silence and dark looks, nothing like pleased at your presence here now. But then there was the: today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? And yes, yes it is your birthday. 

It’s your birthday, and you’re free. And yes, you’d lived the not life in the white box for so long, and yes, you are, in fractions, so afraid and knowing so little of the world, but you do know that you want to live and to see the sky. 

You want to see the sky every single day. 

His big clunking truck rolls to a slow stop before the house, a wide deck wrapping around the entire boxed thing of it, and he starts to move, unclipping his belt, grabbing the bag he’d brought with him stuffed with his clothes he’d promptly tucked and folded you into when he’d shuffled you into the cabin of his truck, and you’d been all thank you, sir, to which he’d given a shake of his head, only Joel. Only Joel. No other words, no other directions, only his hands pulling your strings like a puppet. You had accepted it for the chance to feel his touch, to familiarize yourself with the closeness of him. 

You want to know things. You want to know him. 

He’d barely said a word the entire drive here, but you could be patient, and they’d prepared you for this, after all. They’d prepared you long and well and told you all they thought you’d need to know. So you find yourself, and not at all shockingly, as you’d waited so long for this, for him, for freedom and the sky, and look, now there’s even sea too, not even a little bit afraid, only anticipatory in bated breath, stuttering heart, excitement. 

You had never seen the sea before, and you want to know things. You want to know him. 

He jumps heavy and thudding form the truck, and you start to shift, something suddenly frantic and clawing rolling in your chest when you realize he’s leaving the confines of the small space the two of you had found yourselves encased in together, the warm heat from the vents blowing his smell, his smell, all around you. You’d never encountered anything like it before. Salted vetiver and warm cardamom, something sweet and musked and heavy like what your fingers taste like after you’ve pet long and needy at that soft wet place between your legs when the hurt was so tight you felt nothing would sate it. It’s a scent that you think would devastate to have taken away now that you’ve tasted it. And it’s everywhere as the two of you’d sat in his staunchly imposed silence on the truck ride to this place he was bringing you to, his home at what seems like the end of the world. It’s in your nose and down your throat, heavy and cloying and sweet on your tongue, wrapping around your waist and covering your skin and your hands so that you’d even pressed your palms entirely over your face and rubbed yourself like a cat, coating yourself in him. 

The door slams, bringing you out of his scent induced reverie and back to the present, and you scramble to undo your buckle too, even though when he’d clipped it for you he’d very sternly said to not take it off, desperate to follow him wherever he’d go. But you realize quickly he’s coming around the front of the truck to your door, and then he’s there pulling it open and letting in a biting gust of wind come off the sea and up the cliffside to slash you across the face with its icy rancor. You shiver, teeth clattering and chattering in your mouth, trying to gather the blankets he’d cocooned you in, his too big, so soft clothes, more tightly around yourself, and find your feet. 

He gives a rough but soothing noise, and easy as anything, plucks you up and out of the seat and into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him as he goes. Into his arms. You hold yourself stiff and wide eyed, chewing on the tips of your frozen cold fingers, and staring at him this closely, it’s shocking. Large, had been the first thing. Tall and broad and thick the way they’d said alphas are. This you had expected. The rest, you had not. The eyes, you think, more than anything. His eyes, a strange mix of hazel and brown, but dark. Eyes, that even in your greenness, you can recognize as sad and angry. And the creases at the corners, between his brows, the gray threaded through the lush, dark curls and at the corners of the hair along his jaw. He looks like he would be someone’s father. The patch of bare skin, heart shaped, amongst the whiskers. He’s beautiful, and unthinkingly, or perhaps entirely intentional, you stick out one of your saliva soaked fingers and poke him gently there, only a small prod, to feel what the heart feels like. His gait stops instantly, that permanent frown he’d worn since you’d first laid eyes on him, deepening. “Don’t do that,” he gruffs, continuing his steps up the porch now, the dark, heavy boots you’d noted as he’d taken you from the facility falling thunk, thunk on the wooden boards beneath. He’d not given you shoes of your own. And at his tone, the grumpy look, you have the inexplicable urge to laugh. To laugh at him. Surly, you want to tease, but swallow it, itchy fingertips back into the warmth of your mouth to stop yourself from touching again.

Another gust blows against the two of you as he somehow transfers you, cradled into only one arm, to pull the jingle of keys from his pocket, and you’re jarred with painful shivers, huddling closer into the unbelievably broad expanse of his chest, the unbelievably steaming warm slab. At the touch of your cheek against his collarbone you realize all he’s wearing is a simple, green flannel, no coat, nothing warm. “Aren’t you cold?” It seems suddenly, supremely important you ask, head shooting back up. He peers down his nose at you, finally getting the door open, and his eyes are a very peculiar sort of dark, you cock your head at him, a very strange sort of creature this man is, who’s come to collect you, who you’d waited all your life and a year for. 

“I’m fine,” he says. 

You don’t believe him.

He sets you down on a large, dark leather sofa, chocolate, the hide smooth and worn and lived in. The rest of the house, not only a house, also a home, for it’s obvious in the way of his things, the way they’re arranged and fixed and the way they too live here, not only exist here. I’ll be like that too, you think. It’s all comfortable, it’s all warm, like a den and a place to relax and be protected, juxtaposed by the sight beyond the large windows, nothing but dark, violent sea as you’ve never before seen. 

He really had found a perch at the edge of the world, brought you here to perch as well. 

There’s a large fireplace, inlaid with large slabs of dark stone and thick beams of wood, and yes, this too is also obvious in a peculiar and particular way. The house very much looks like it was made by the hands of a single man in some way that you cannot specifically say, but can obviously see the truth of. He made this house, and then he came for you and now he’s brought you here, and you feel, suddenly, so pleased and warm and right. Everything feels so, so right. You sigh dreamily, suffused at once with a tight, deep heat at the pit of your belly, the scent of him everywhere, bubbles floating up from the bottom of you and seeming to pop out your ears. You lean back into the deep couch, wiggling this way and that, rubbing your bottom into the soft cushions to snuggle up, bringing the neck of his sweater he’d put you in up to your nose to breathe deep and long. 

He’s moving around, arranging things this way and that, a thick log in the slumbering coals, a pillow here, another blanket atop you, not looking at you, setting a wide berth once he’s settled the throw, not talking to you. It’s fine, let him do as he pleases and needs, you’ll sit here and watch. You can tell he doesn’t like to talk, that words cost him something, and you know so little, but you understand this. Words do cost something, truths, the truth of your before life and your not life. The truth of those realities cost. So, yes, you understand, and he doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to yet. And looking at him, you realize that everything inside of you feels soft and bruised and little. And yet, despite all that, ready, in want and need of him. Ready to be big. 

Joel.

You must say the word out loud, his name, for he stops and finally turns to face you. There is something vibrational within him. Different. You’ve never seen a creature as such. You’d never seen an alpha before, not since you’d presented, you’ve never been around one. The caretakers were all always betas, people who would not be affected by the omega’s presence and fluctuations. 

He swallows once, twice, twitches and jerks and heaves a big sigh. He’s so full of energy as you, suddenly, in opposition, feel so sleepy and drowsy and ready to close your eyes and only feel warm and relaxed. You like his house, you might love it, even. 

Your eyelids droop low, slow blinks, and you watch his face fold into a frown. You want to laugh, he does that so much. They’d said that alphas could have big tempers, that they could be brash and aggressive and loud, but that the omega would naturally temper that. You think it may be true because as you watch him through the weave of your lashes, his frown deepening the longer he stares at you slowly drowsing on his couch which you hope he’ll never make you move from, the jitters and the shakes and the trembling that he’d seemed, just a moment ago, to be so full of, begin to quietly abate. 

He takes a step toward you, another and another until his shins meet the edge of the sofa, and you snuggle deeper into the cushions, making yourself into as little a ball as possible, so full of sleepiness. 

“How do you feel?”

“I like your house so much,” you slur, head drooping, lashes drooping. 

He clicks his tongue, makes that rumbly noise you think is an alpha thing because it has your eyes suddenly clicking open, sleep haze clearing momentarily so that you can look up at him again, and he’s looking at you so peculiarly. You scrunch your nose up at him, there’s no need to look at you so, you’re only an omega, only a little tired, nothing to stare at so strangely. 

“I’m–” he clears his throat, makes that rumble, growl, huff sound again, “I’m glad you like it. I wanted you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

And oh, he’s so nice, you tell him, and, “I am. I’m so comfortable.” You melt further into the couch, and he crouches down to peer at you more directly, pulling a soft pillow from the opposite end and tucking it under your head, the large, rough cup of his paw cradling your skull, big fingers weaving through your hair. He arranges you so gently, like he’d take care of you. Like you’re here, finally, finally, you’re here to be taken care of. 

It’s what they’d said would happen, and you’d waited so long. You’d waited too long to be let out of the white box, for him to come, to see the sky. And now there was so much; of him, of the house, of the sky, of your whole life and the sea.

You nuzzle your head into his big hand, the heat of it searing your scalp, your ear tucked into his palm. “Brave girl,” he hums. He has such a deep voice, a good voice for an alpha, you think, a very good voice. You feel it vibrating in your toes and in your eyelashes and in your belly. “You’ve been through a great deal, haven’t you?” You want to say yes, you want to remind him that you’d waited for him for so very long, and that when you woke up, if you remembered, you’d be very cross with him for taking so long to come for you. 

“You rest now,” he says. “It’s all alright now.” Yes, a very good voice.

2. More Intelligent Than a Face

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[yourstardarling]

Aquarius Through The Houses

Aquarius in our charts signifies where we stand out from others in society. It is where we are ahead of our time for being different than the popular majority. Aquarius is the inventor and pushes us to make things anew. By doing this we propel ourselves forward to the future, but this often leads us to feel outcasted by society. We may feel like an alien in the area of our lives the sign influences. It is because this is where we are called to be unique and shine for being different. Authenticity should be our top priority wherever Aquarius is placed. Conforming to everyone else in this area of our lives will only lead to self-destruction. Embracing what makes you different will lead to a since of liberation and freedom. In turn you will get to shine in your full capacity.

Aquarius 1st House: These people are the embodiments of indifference in the world. Your whole being is built upon standing out from the crowd. This might make you feel uncomfortable though, by how much you stand out from other people. When you were young, you may have had an identity crisis of not fitting in with groups of people your own age. You've often felt like an alien among your peers and may have dealt with a lot of people shunning you out as a kid. You feel validated when you surround yourself with other people, music, shows and things that are considered unconventional in society. Might have fears surrounding getting attention in the public eye. Something about your physical appearance is striking and makes it hard for you to go unnoticed. Your style and way of dressing is entirely different from the norm. Your goal is to learn to embrace your individuality and that not everyone needs to accept your uniqueness. The sooner you do this and try to stop fitting in, the easier you can shine and meet the ones who will support you. Understand that you are a futuristic individual and that it’s okay for people not to process who you are right way. Someday they will get it and see how ahead of your time you've been. Don’t be ashamed for being different!

Aquarius 2nd house: These individuals hold unconventional values that separates them from other people. You have a unique way of accumulating wealth and assets in your life. Innovative and forward thinking, towards how you gain stability. Your financial plans may be frowned upon by other people. You strive to find new ways when it comes to achieving your financial goals. While others might think you place high value on money, the freedom it gives is what you are really after. Not worrying about not having enough. In fact you are pretty detached when it comes to wealth and this unique approach is why you shine at gaining. It’s not about the money, but what can you do with it. You value your networks of people and they can help you a lot when it comes to gaining sustainability. Might invest into humanitarian causes to see the betterment of society. You truly do care about the collective knowledge. Intelligence is very important for you. Finding intellectual ways and concepts to help you achieve your goals is a priority. Your open to foreign concepts to see how other people view certain situations. Overall, you find liberation through your physical possessions and financial independence. What's most important to you is gaining freedom from the material world. Aquarius here urges you to figure out a unique outlook to what wealth means to you and focus on pursuing it in your life.

Aquarius 3rd house: The mind of Aquarius third housers are always one step ahead. Very future oriented people focusing on what is the next goal. They think of things quickly and find unique solutions to issues. As a young child, you could have felt very different in your school education. It's because your learning style and the way you pick up information is unique from those around you. This could've caused you feeling shunned out and doubt your intelligence because you couldn't operate the same way others received information. You have a unique communication style that can seem unconventional by other people. It can come off as somewhat detached which leaves some people to feel offended. Your siblings can see this detachment and you may have a distant relationship with them as well. The thing is you do care, but when you communicate your focus is on being as literal and factual as possible. You like talking about things that are out of the norm and thinking about the future. Your mind is always in the future and this leads you to having a lot o progressive ideas. It's because you desire to be a free thinker and be liberated through your mind. That is why you could’ve had a rebellious attitude towards school because it conformed your thoughts to be like everyone else. Aquarius is teaching you here that your forward thinking and unique curiosity should be cherished to separate you from the point of view of other people. Don’t just believe anything just because that is the popular way of thinking. Find unique ways to see things from different perspectives. You learn differently from your peers and need to find a way to gain knowledge that personally works for you.  Freedom of speech is important for you and you are called to raise your voice for humanitarian causes.

Aquarius 4th house: Family dynamics for these people is a little chaotic. Random changes could've been occurring around your home as a child. You may feel like an outsider within your own home. Something about your background separates you from others in your family. It could be you have a different nationality or ethnicity than the family majority. Your family could be foreigners within the land you live in. The detachment from your family members can make you clash and have different ideals than them. You may not show much emotion around them. An original thinker between your family, you see things differently and futuristically than them. You can be considered the rebel within your family and you are not afraid to speak out against them. Mainly because your able to see the generational issues and traditional values your family holds that don't align with you. What they push on you to do is just not who you are. Might be the black sheep in your relationship with your family and feel shunned by them. Aquarius here wants you to help your family progress and let go of ways that no longer serve them. Focusing on the liberation of the family line. A desire for social changes and humanitarian causes to be valued in your home. Your social networks and friends can be considered your family. You have a unique way of viewing what family means to you. The online world can be a place of comfort for you, offering a space for you to gain a sense of freedom.

Aquarius 5th house: Creativity is unique to you. You’re able to see new patterns and different ways to make creations. You stand out for your talents. The interest of these individuals can be shocking for other people to see. Through your art and creative expression, a sense of freedom is gained. You may value intellectual pursuits and gaining knowledge about topics you are interested in. Spelling is Fun. These people can find a lot of joy by learning new things. You are always trying to find unique avenues to gain a sense of happiness. Your friends can be a good source of fun for you and bring you a lot of excitement. This makes you stand out when you are in a crowd of people. Attraction towards romantic partners that are intellectually stimulating. Your children may be rebellious themselves to the systems that is placed around them. This is a result of your progressive approach towards parenting and finding out unique ways to raise your kids. It can also be because you can have a detached parenting approach with them. Aquarius pushes you to be experimental towards what brings you pleasure in your life. A push towards finding joy in spontaneity and that different is not scary. The more you do this, the easier it becomes to stand out from what everyone else is doing.

Aquarius 6th house: You have a unique way in how you move through your day to day that separates you from other people. Time is of the essence and you want to find a different approach to spend it wisely. Your schedule may be somewhat chaotic with you always having something new to do. The people who view you in your day today might not like your approach to your daily routine. However, that is what fits you personally and helps you keep composure through the storms in your daily life. You may be dealing with a lot of disorganization within your daily environment. Since this is the house of bad fortune, misfortunate events can occur out of nowhere. This can greatly disrupt your routine and send you into a state of panic. Aquarius is teaching you here that no matter how hard you try, not everything in your life will be order. You overcompensate in your life by trying to keep things in check, but something will happen and things will fall apart. It's about adaptability and being detached from the hurdles that come your way. In doing so you find unique ways to navigate your life. You can also have an unconventional approach towards health and wellness. Might be into home remedies and alternative medicine. Keeping your body healthy in a personal method that works for you, helps separate you from other people.

[furiousgoldfish]

When people hear stories about abuse, they often get fascinated and interested in the abuser, and the 'mystery' behind their behaviour. They'll want to analyze what happened to this person to make them act in such twisted and sadistic ways, and they want to find the past event or past abuse that would 'explain it all'. Abusers will also, very happily recount the past abuse whenever it's time to explain away their behaviour, so nobody could hold them accountable, because after all, they had had it rough! Of course they're now abusive, it's only natural.

Fascination with explaining away abuser's behaviour often leaves victim's situation forgotten and ignored. Victims are supposed to just 'get over it', not be so sensitive, and be careful to not turn into abusers themselves, because after all, being abused means you become an abuser, according to the abuser. Except it doesn't, and victims often don't end up abusing anyone else, especially not in the horrific ways they themselves have been abused. So we're having two opposing stories: one is told by the abuser, and it's easy, simple, explains everything away, and it says, abuse causes future abusers, I am the proof, I was abused and now I am like this. Victim's story goes: I was abused, and now I struggle to function, I have cptsd, I have flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, eating disorder. I struggle with suicidal feelings and wishing I didn't exist. I feel like I'm not important at all in this world and like I have no community, no family, no home. Failure of everyone to help me while I was being abused caused me to feel like an outcast from society, someone who isn't a part of it, who doesn't matter. I would never do this to another person, I feel like a part of me was torn away into pieces and I struggle to put myself back together.

Now that story is complex, it implicates the society in failing to stop the abuse and making the victim's life worse, it showcases the actual consequences of abuse, which are not 'becoming evil', but feeling ultimately traumatized and damaged, struggling to find joy and happiness in life in the aftermath. Society doesn't want to hear that; it makes abuse into a problem that should collectively be dealt with, rather than pushing it all onto individuals who find themselves trapped in it and suffering. It's much easier to pretend that abuse just makes someone abusive, and for people who are abusive, we need to feel sorry for, because they were 'made to be like this', and for those abused, we just need to shame them and control them so they don't become abusive themselves.

There are abusers who have lived privileged lives, there are abusers who have been spoiled and rewarded for their acts of abuse. Most abusers don't show the symptoms of trauma nearly as bad as the victims of abuse do, they're most often just having the symptoms of 'I lash out my anger on those who cannot defend themselves' and 'everyone needs to feel sorry for me because I am having the roughest time on the planet'. Weird how the victims almost never develop these two symptoms! Victims will go and compare their situation to everyone who has it worse, and will struggle to express or direct anger at anything. 

So what is the actual source of abuse, if not past trauma? There's no study or statistics that can tell us that for sure, and abusers are careful to maintain their story and are not interested in being studied past what makes people feel bad for them. I would guess that it's a mix of entitlement, being in a position of power over someone vulnerable, never having to develop empathy or compassion, being rewarded continuously for acts of abuse, and social influence (admiring other abusers and wanting the power they have). A lot of social structures support and enable abuse of those who are at the very bottom of it, with very few protections against it. A lot of people believe it's their right to abuse someone if they have the power over that person, and gain power specifically for that cause. Abusers will have children and believe this is their property and they can do whatever they please with it, abuse being a part of it.

If we don't know where abuse comes from, how do we combat it? I don't believe in feeling sorry for the abusers or giving them endless attention, chances, excuses and rationalizations; instead I believe we should stand firm on the fact that abuse is inexcusable, and will have consequences, regardless of how it came into their behaviour. If abuse always had consequences, regardless of the history of the abuser, they would know they can't get away with it, that they can't later make everyone feel sorry for them and go on with their sob stories. Abuse would get them punished, not sympathized with.

I also believe the abuser's point of view should be decentralized; it should be victims who get to speak. It's easy for the abuser to show themselves in the positive light, minimizing the abuse, insisting the victim provoked or wanted it, that it wasn't that bad and it was done with 'best intentions'. But if we listened to victims, we would quickly understand that anyone who can do this to another person is monstrous, and should not be extended any sympathy. Abusers don't extend their sympathy to the victims when they abuse, so why should they expect to get it? Society should take abuse more seriously and put defenses into place, so abusers are not as easily able to put it behind closed doors. Resources for recognizing abuse, especially child abuse and intimate abuse, should be taught, spread and shared in society, so nobody would be able to convince another that suffering abuse is normal, or justified.

One of the biggest barriers to escaping abuse is victim confessing what's been happening to a trusted family member or a friend, and then this family member or a friend shaming and blaming them for it, instead of offering help and protection. It takes a lot of courage to even say something out loud, knowing the abuser would punish them for it, and then to be punished externally for speaking out, it's devastating. If abuse was taken seriously, and victims understood to be fault-free, but singled out, isolated and hurt in a way that nobody should be, and it was understood it's a societal responsibility to protect them against this, it would be easier to speak out, and get support. It often takes a society to help someone get free, because abusers are hell-bent on abusing once they start to, the victims need multiple barriers before abusers could get anywhere near them.

And why shouldn't we want that? If we know there are people in society such as children, young people, people without regular income, poor people, disabled people, compassionate people, marginalized people, people who struggle to recognize and flag down predators, shouldn't we want to make sure they're protected? That nothing bad happens to them, and they're free to live their lives safe from those who would do them continuous harm and make them want to die? We want our young, old, kind, vulnerable, sensitive, disabled, poor, compassionate and marginalized people safe and happy. There's no reason to throw them under the bus and leave them to suffer abuse.

[bebsi-cola]

i was already chewing this over but i got some reblogs that made me consider saying my opinion out loud. to be direct: applying the dynamics of identity based politics towards disability is a far inferior social analysis than treating disability as a class [and gaining some class consciousness]

social analysis benefits from zooming out from time to time otherwise we risk focusing too much on the individual when society and culture is about groups of people.

i don't dislike discussions around identity in regards to social analysis. there's many instances where it's worthwhile. although i feel like the strength of any analysis of the sort would be linking the individual (identity) to the collective (social status). the categories that make up "identity" are made relevant by the social, cultural, and material conditions which brought them into existence. for example i am mixed race and may identify as such. but the existence of this label hinges on the global understanding and categorization of race, and that which separates white people from brown people.

in this sense when you make disabilities about identity, it sort of levels everyone into "disabled" or "not disabled" instead of looking at disability as something belonging to a class of disenfranchised people. which is why i think people get threatened by the idea that there are heavily disabled people, because they feel like it's shifting the cornerstones of the criteria for "disabled" away from them and taking that "identity" away. i also think this is why intra-community disagreements end up becoming so personal: because of the notion that someone disagreeing with you, a disabled person, on disability, is an invalidation of your legitimate claim to the disabled identity. instead of what it usually is - a difference of opinions based on either different experiences, levels of knowledge, locations, or so forth

furthermore there are people with health conditions that are not disabling. it may disadvantage them in some situations, but it largely doesn't exclude them from abled society. there are also people who are usually abled, but currently have an injury. most people i talk to would agree that they are not disabled. i think both of these groups might have overlapping experiences with the disabled community. but if you centre disability on identity, and having the experiences to justify that identity, then people with health conditions are forced to frame them as a disability to be listened to, and disabled people often dislike their experiences being related to by someone who was injured for a few months.

i think this is what leads to conflicting ideas, loopholes, and arguements. i think it is fine to say that a person who had to use crutches for 3 months will have some knowledge on the experience of using crutches. but they are not disabled like me, a full time crutch user - not because we don't share experiences (we might do!) but because our relationship to abled society, and our social status as people are different. being disabled disenfranchises you legally, socially, academically, economically, culturally, and religiously even. this makes up a large part of the disabled class experience, even though some people who are not disabled may relate to us in symptoms, and even if two people who are disabled have no common symptoms!

finally if you consider disabled people as a class then you can rightly call ableist disabled people what they are: class traitors

[sugar-grigri]

It's all about the number 2 

Asa and Yoru, Nayuta and Denji, two Chainsaw Man, two camps of worshippers versus detractors, two protagonists, a second part, the two identities of Denji, a high-school student and a hero himself, both demon and human: Chainsaw - Man. 

But before we balance all that, let's take a closer look at this chapter.

First of all, I'd like to say how rich chapter 140 is. I see a lot of people criticizing Fujimoto's writing as someone who simply sets up absurd situations when absolutely nothing is left to chance. We're reading a manga by a film buff, so get your head around Chekov's rifle. 

I'd like to remind you that Chainsaw Man is set in Japanese society. 

Ejecting a sect from a building, or even belonging to a cult that has nothing to do with a dominant, ancestral religion, is more common than in the West. 

I've seen plenty of people wondering who could be at the head of the church for making people believe such a stupid story as a violet-ray weapon that would make adults stupid.

When it's the other way around, the church is exploiting the fact that high-school students are just thinking too much. And if there's one thing that saves Denji, it's that he thinks less. 

Let's put things in context: this is the '90s, and even if the idea of nuclear weapons has been erased by Pochita, meaning that the Cold War has surely taken a different form in Chainsaw Man, Fujimoto has never denied geopolitical tensions. 

Whether it's the mention of the USSR with Reze, Makima's instrumentalization of Japan, the history of weapons, the fact that the American government sought to eliminate Makima or that countries share the remains of the weapon demon...

Countries are in tension. The church exploits this atmosphere of anxiety among teenagers who are beginning to form opinions that dissent from their parents. 

Adolescence means coming into conflict with your parents' ideas, so come up with a story about how a gun makes them stupid. It's simply targeted manipulation that exploits the vulnerabilities of individuals in the midst of an identity crisis. 

Becoming a teenager also means freeing oneself from a certain carefree attitude and better understanding of the world around us, hence the mention of Americans on the same level as adults. 

I'd like to point out that this is not just a collection of absurdities. But for that, a bit of history... I hope I'm not teaching anyone that Japanese society has been turned upside down by the United States.

Without going into too much detail, during the 19th century, Japan went through the Meiji era. The Meiji government pursued a policy of modernization with the ultimate aim of bringing Japan up to the level of the Western powers. 

To compete with Western powers such as the United States, the government relied on centralized power to control citizens as much as possible... and this involved reforming the matrimonial system. With the popularization of "love marriage", the Meiji government changed tactics: the polygamous system was replaced by exclusive "love marriage". 

The church used the same method of control as the Meiji government: reforming the matrimonial system by overturning institutions. From now on, it's no longer sex after marriage, but before it.

It's this kind of talk that just digs into the cracks that allows them to be brainwashed. But talk has never worked with Denji, who thinks concretely with what he can grasp. A date with a pretty girl, steak, sex, feeling the buttocks when he does the chair. What one would point to as perversity is what saves Denji. He thinks through his senses, his literal needs, not the abstract. 

We can't say that Miri, who thinks he's free when he's being instrumentalized, repeating that it's the Americans' fault again, or asking Chainsaw Man if he's sure he hasn't picked up any ultraviolet weapons... that he’s stupid. Because weapons have lost their memory, they have no loved ones, no stories to refer to. 

Miri convinces himself he's free, filling the void of his own forgotten history with false stories. The lack of education, of pillars, of history is what had tortured Denji, who was so easily manipulated. I'd go so far as to say that Reze is the most striking example of this. 

It's impossible to determine Barem's psychology, but he still demonstrates a third reaction to manipulation: while Denji evolves, Miri locks himself in denial : Barem manipulates in return. Revenge, reproductive mechanism, any number of reasons could explain why Barem exploits one of Denji's weaknesses: Asa. 

Now you're thinking, yes, that's all very well, you talk a lot... but what's that got to do with the number two?

The scale is the very image of dichotomy, of a relationship between two forces, two weights, two entities. And what does it have to do with manipulation? Several things.

First of all, manipulation also means taking on ideas that are not our own. It means no longer questioning them, confronting them with dissident ideas that would contradict them, or balancing them. 

To balance is also to confront two options in a dilemma. Something that's come up several times, first initiated by Yoshida, then taken up in his own way by Barem: embrace his identity as Chainsaw Man or continue his normal life as Denji?

The manipulation since the start of Part 2 has been to split up Chainsaw Man. To have separated what constitutes his essence: human and demonic. To have split his nature, which has always been that of two beings in one. 

And what if I told you that the answer lies in chapter 2 (yes, man). Here, Makima clearly explains to Denji that Pochita is not dead but continues to live with him, that he has two smells.

Fami's project is openly to separate Chainsaw Man, to cut its essence in two: the reunion of two beings. 

That's why this chapter talks about marriage, which refers to the reunion of two individuals. 

Barem would have us believe that these two choices are antinomic, that they are contradictory and cannot be fulfilled together. Only Denji can have both choices, he had already answered that. His sign of strength is two fingers. Two is Denji's strength. Becoming two is what literally allowed him to be reborn. 

Of course, Denji doesn't want to marry; he's already one with one being through a contract: Pochita. 

Pochita had merged with him so that he could live a normal life. It was never a normal life, but the life Denji wanted to live. Chainsaw Man is literally the means, a better life, the end. 

The secret to surviving the manipulation then lies literally in Denji's heart. 

[quasi-normalcy]

I know that this is the "Turning social problems into matters of individual virtue" website, but here's one change that you can make to yourself as an individual that I honestly think will have beneficial collective effects:

Stop Thinking You're Better Than Other People.

Do I mean that you should go through life thinking that you're the lowliest and most wretched scum who's ever lived? No. I mean that there exists no meaningful criterion by which one human being can be said to be absolutely 'better' than another. And even if there was, you don't know enough about other people's circumstances and interior thoughts to meaningfully judge them in these absolute terms. So don't even try! It's a futile endeavour.

"But what about fascists? Surely I'm better than them!"

Okay, so let me preface this by saying that fascists are dangerous, they're misguided, their acts and intentions are evil, and they need to be stopped, including through physical violence. But you're not better than them. I know that this is a difficult pill to swallow; I myself used to pat myself used to pat myself on the back because, well, at least I wouldn't have been a Nazi. But you know what? If the circumstances were right, I could have been. We all could have been, just as we all could have joined a cult at some point.

Looking at myself, for example: there was never any serious possibility that I could have been swept up into the alt-right movement. Why? Because I'm transgender, and I was raised to be a socialist. How easy it is to *not* become a fascist when you're one of their scapegoats! How much harder it would be to avoid if you're one of the people they flatter and groom, if you're raised by people who are sympathetic to fascist ideals, if you grow up in a community where such ideals are common! The fact that fascist movements can seemingly emerge amongst every nation and people--including those who have historically been victims of fascism--confirms this. What if I had lived a hundred years later, at a time when transgenderism was a complete non-issue, and they'd moved on to some new scapegoat? What if they had approached me on my absolute worst day and told me that all of my problems were caused by moochers and parasites, and that I could fight back and claim my birth right by joining them? Can I really say that I wouldn't? Can anyone?

But even beyond that, what is a fascist but the ultimate example of someone who needs to feel superior to others? What is scapegoating but the act of selecting an entire group of people and declaring them to be inferior to you? And if you just refuse to believe these things; if you refuse to accept the premise that some people are better than others, and call it out whenever it comes up; then you're cutting these movements off at knees! The ideological force of fascism comes from imagining humanity as a strict hierarchy, with the master race on top and the degenerates on the bottom. Simply refuse to believe in such a hierarchy! Refuse to even entertain it!

"But then how can I feel self-esteem? How can I feel that I matter and have value?"

You have value just by existing as a person! But if that's not enough for you, then try this: instead of trying to increase your sense of self-worth by finding people to feel superior to, increase it by being of value to others. Help them! Make their lives better! Contribute to society! Not even in a way that you can (necessarily) put a dollar value on, but in any way you can! Create art! Plant a pollinator garden! Tell a joke! Make someone happy! If nothing else, you can at least give someone love, and I guarantee you that that will be of value to them. The universe is so vast and we're all so small that any value we can ever have will only ever be to each other. And surely it beats spending your life trying to be king of the microbes.

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do you write boys dialogue? it’s really hard when I write it it comes out like girls usually talk but when I write it to sound like a boy it comes out cringy and weird

Boy Dialogue vs Girl Dialogue

It's important to note that, generally-speaking, how a person speaks is not dictated by their sexual organs or gender identification.

There can be differences in when and how language develops, but these differences are general. Individuals vary.

Historically-speaking, and still today to a lesser degree, socialization into gender roles and cultural norms have also played a role in how people speak. But again, this is a general difference because individuals vary.

Can you tell whether the following sentences were said by boys, girls, or nonbinary people?

-- I'm in biology and recently we dissected a frog, which was really cool because everyone got to participate, and when my partner, Rachel, cut into it, it like splattered all over her, and I was just like whoa! -- Me and my brother collect corks, like, bottle cap corks, and um, we have a couple hundred in our rooms upstairs. -- My relationship with my parents I think, relatively, is pretty good. Obviously, being a teenager, there are moments when I don't really feel like talking to them. -- When something's on my mind, I usually go to my friends about it, I don't really talk to my brother. -- I don't know if they'd like to hear it, but [my friends] are definitely the burnout/stoner kids. But they're great people! -- I'm pretty nerdy. I do computer science.

Those are all real sentences spoken candidly by teens of different genders, but you can't really tell who said what, right?

So, when writing characters, it's infinitely more important that you make your character sound authentic to who they are. If you are writing about a 17-year-old girl in 1950, then of course there will probably be some differences in the way she speaks compared to her brother, because at that time gender roles were much stricter, and there was a lot of pressure on young women to be "prim and proper."

However, if you were writing a 17-year-old boy in 1950, he would speak quite differently from a 17-year-old boy in 2024. Not only because societal expectations and cultural norms were different then compared to now, but also because things like slang, pop culture, popular phrases and idioms, etc. are different now compared to then.

So, instead of worrying about your character's gender and how that influences how they speak, focus instead on who they are. What is their personality like? What is their education like? What types of people and things might influence how they speak? How does their society and family expect them to speak? What are their hobbies and skills? As long as what they say makes sense with what you've laid out for this character, you're writing authentic speech.

Here are some other posts that will help:

Writing Natural Dialogue Giving Your Characters a Unique Voice Recognizing a Flat Character

Also, I think it's very helpful to make sure you really know your character, so here's a post for that. Also, I find it helpful to cast my characters with real actors/models, because it helps me imagine them more clearly, which helps their dialogue come across more naturally in my head: 5 Tips for Getting Attached to Your Characters Guide: Casting Your Characters

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[kleopatra45]

Ketu/South Node in Astrology

Ketu, or the South Node, represents past life experiences, karmic lessons, and inherent talents. It signifies what we are comfortable with and tend to rely on, often indicating areas where we need to let go and move beyond to achieve spiritual growth and balance.

Ketu in 1st House

Ketu in the 1st House suggests a past focus on self-identity and personal development. Individuals may naturally feel self-reliant and independent. The challenge is to balance self-focus with relationship needs, embracing partnership dynamics to grow beyond a solely self-centered perspective.

Ketu in 2nd House

In the 2nd House, Ketu indicates past experiences related to material possessions and self-worth. Individuals may have a natural detachment from wealth or a tendency to undervalue themselves. The lesson is to develop a healthy approach to finances and self-esteem, balancing material needs with spiritual values.

Ketu in 3rd House

Ketu in the 3rd House suggests a past focus on communication, learning, and social interactions. Individuals may feel comfortable with intellectual pursuits and expressing ideas. The challenge is to develop deeper emotional connections and focus on higher learning, moving beyond superficial interactions and knowledge.

Ketu in 4th House

In the 4th House, Ketu indicates past experiences centered around home, family, and emotional security. Individuals may have a strong attachment to family roots or a tendency to retreat into domestic life. The lesson is to embrace career ambitions and public life, balancing personal and professional spheres.

Ketu in 5th House

Ketu in the 5th House suggests a past focus on creativity, romance, and self-expression. Individuals may feel naturally talented in artistic pursuits or seek pleasure and recognition. The challenge is to develop a sense of duty and service, moving beyond personal gratification to contribute to the greater good.

Ketu in 6th House

In the 6th House, Ketu indicates past experiences related to work, health, and daily routines. Individuals may have a natural inclination towards service and discipline. The lesson is to balance work with spiritual practices and avoid getting lost in mundane details, embracing a more holistic approach to life.

Ketu in 7th House

Ketu in the 7th House suggests a past focus on relationships and partnerships. Individuals may feel comfortable in one-on-one interactions and often rely on others for validation. The challenge is to develop independence and self-awareness, balancing relationship dynamics with personal growth and self-reliance.

Ketu in 8th House

In the 8th House, Ketu indicates past experiences centered around transformation, power, and the occult. Individuals may have a deep understanding of life's mysteries and an affinity for intense experiences. The lesson is to embrace stability and material security, balancing the quest for transformation with groundedness.

Ketu in 9th House

Ketu in the 9th House suggests a past focus on philosophy, higher learning, and spiritual pursuits. Individuals may feel comfortable exploring different cultures and belief systems. The challenge is to apply this wisdom practically, developing a sense of responsibility and contributing to society in tangible ways.

Ketu in 10th House

In the 10th House, Ketu indicates past experiences related to career, status, and public life. Individuals may have a natural inclination towards leadership and ambition. The lesson is to develop a strong emotional foundation and prioritize family, balancing professional success with personal fulfillment.

Ketu in 11th House

Ketu in the 11th House suggests a past focus on social networks, friendships, and collective goals. Individuals may feel comfortable in group settings and community involvement. The challenge is to develop personal creativity and individual goals, balancing social engagement with self-expression and personal aspirations.

Ketu in 12th House

In the 12th House, Ketu indicates past experiences centered around spirituality, solitude, and subconscious patterns. Individuals may have a natural affinity for introspection and spiritual practices. The lesson is to engage more with the material world and daily responsibilities, balancing inner growth with external achievements.

©️kleopatra45