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flyoverkushtaka · 2 years

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I’ve been trying to think of something poignant and insightful to say about Kenzaburo Ōe after reading some of his early novellas over the past few weeks, trying and failing. Something about how every midcentury Japanese author was driven insane in their own special way? How the Emperor’s public statement of his non-divinity caused a mass psychic fracture? The long and looming shadow of Mishima? The ways in which Murakami, Yoshimoto, Ōgawa, and the rest of their inheritors and compatriots had to disentangle the myriad warps and woofs left behind from a culture that had to once again, like clockwork, reinvent itself?

“Prize Stock” is probably my favorite Ōe work now. Part of it’s the shocking subject matter, part of it’s the thrill of knowing that cretins and philistines who might accidentally be exposed to a different way of thinking if they were to take a peek at the text would froth and seethe, part of it’s finding the collection in the public library, opening the book to a random page, and immediately landing on the goat-fucking scene, part of it’s the true demonstration of humanity and fellow-feeling in one of the weirdest and most uncomfortable ways imaginable (there are weirder and more uncomfortable, certes, but the way the drama plays out would at least get honorable mention at the county fair bizarre bazar), part of it’s the. . . well, I wouldn’t want to say too much. Some things are better left a surprise, like a hollow birthday cake in an abandoned hotel room that’s been sitting there for ages, strangely untouched by time or dust or rodents, waiting silently to be dissected by the stainless steel knife lying on the bureau next to the complimentary stationary. (Why do so few hotels seem to do that anymore? I used to look forward to taking the pads and pens with me as keepsakes and mementos of the liminal spaces in which I’ve slept and masturbated and drunk g&ts out of small disposable plastic cups. Maybe I’m part of the problem. I can accept that. I will accept that with dignity and aplomb.)

“Aghwee the Sky Monster” also stands out as a gem. Well, they all do, all four in the collection (and real Ōe-heads can probably guess that the collection in question is Teach Us To Outgrow Our Madness, translated with perhaps a bit of incautious haste in a few parts here and there by John Nathan). I liked the part at the end where children throw rocks at the narrator out of hatred and fear, a situation with which I can very readily relate. Children are always throwing rocks at me, poking me with sticks, tossing me into campfires just to watch me sizzle and pop. There’s something very monstrous about children, especially children in Ōe’s stories: They’re half-feral, seized with dark emotions, inscrutable, deformed in body and mind, yet still capable of love, synthesizing love and fear into something primordial and eerie. Obviously Ōe’s own biography plays an important role in their depiction, considering the medical nature of his own son (a nature that, as Deleuze & Guattari point out in “The Geology of Morals,” cannot be so easily transcended or absorbed by pure language). The protagonist of the titular “TUTOOM” anguishes over the idea that he’s inherited his father’s delusions and disorders and (even worse!) passed them down to his own son where they’ve manifested in a much more outward, pronounced form: Is the story haunted by the ghost of Akutagawa, I wonder? He was so afraid of inheriting his mother’s madness that he pilled himself into another plane of existence at the age of 35. I would not be surprised if the event found a place to curl up and lair in Ōe’s psyche.

They’re all there: Akutagawa and Tanizaki and Abe and Kōnō and Sōseki and Mishima, yes, always Mishima with these things, the John Lennon of 日本文学 (Murakami is McCartney, of course. Yes I know they’re from different generations, but where we’re venturing, history is secondary to concept—and don’t think for a minute I don’t see the subtext in Hear the Wind Sing, A Wild Sheep Chase, and 1Q84), all these ghosts still lingering within the nooks and crannies and electricity of Ōe’s brain. The man carries a graveyard around in his skull and he must know this. Ōe is haunted—haunted by everyone he once knew who have gone elsewhere into or above the earth, by the reality of his childhood shattered into a thousand-and-one pieces, by circumstance and the human attempt to divine meaning from chaos, by his understanding of who he is and what he will become, his place in the chain of being where history stands with one boot firmly on the neck of concept, always willing to press down just a little harder when the inclination flits before its eyes.

And, um,

Bro.

What was I talking about again?

Hey.

Untuned radio static can be music these days, too, you know.

Let’s put on some Takashi Kokubo now and make spaghetti with sautéed broccoli.

#I also added a lot of garlic #And listened to Ryuichi Sakamoto instead

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tangiblejournal56 · 2 years

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12/28/11

These past couple of weeks, a whirlwind of activity & emotion, some good, a lot rotten to the fucking core. I sit & try to eke out what exactly I’ve been through & the weight of it all feels crushing, as though I couldn’t find the start of pulling myself out of it all long enough to compartmentalize it & store it away. My usual process of dealing with it all. Perhaps the link to why my temper has been shorter, my energy running low. I type this out now because the thought of writing it down yet still seems like a feat, I am as yet incapable of executing. I will start off slow, no order of importance as you will soon see. More of an order of what I am able to deal with in this moment, an attempt to build myself up toward spewing out the rest of it. Among all of this procrastination masquerading as prologue, I will begin.

Max. The past few weeks (excluding my first couple of nights with him upon returning) we have not slept together. Slept next to each other, yes, but without engaging in sexual congress. Neither one of us has made any moves toward each other, & it just never happened. I told myself I wouldn’t try for anything, as it was clear that we were only ever going to be friends, something I pathetically need to remind myself of, as my longing gets in the way of reality more often than than I’d like to admit. So the curse of abstinence was keeping me company. While dealing with the fact of my grandmother’s impending death, I had a bit of a breakdown. Max saw it coming, picked me up & took me to get a bottle of gin & ingredients to make his meatloaf, even purchasing me a pack of cigarettes. We went to his house where I got wrecked on a lot of G&Ts, & we watched cartoons & movies. Eventually I couldn’t stay up any longer in my drunken state, & lay down in his bed, crying heavily. He came & held me, keeping his arms around me & letting me bawl into his shirt. I didn’t see him again for a few days. When we next met up something seemed a bit off, like he was annoyed with me, his patience & entertainment for my silliness seemed needled down to nothing, & I wondered what I’d done to bother him so much. I wondered if perhaps I’d come back & wasn’t the girl he had thought me, or if he was no longer the boy who had liked that about me. As if one or the both of us had simply & quietly outgrown each other. He certainly acted accordingly.

Then Josh came home for xmas, & Max came over after work to see him & my family. He & the boys went out to the bars while I stayed in, making my grandmother’s xmas present. They returned with my brothers drunk & Max well on his way, with more beers in hand. I stayed up with them a bit, through some of the absurd “Hobo With A Shotgun,” but eventually went off to bed. I awoke later to Max taking his clothes off & joining me, crawling beneath the thick comforter & clinging to my body for warmth. I don’t recall whether it was he or me who initiated the sex, but it occurred, in grand fashion. Passionate & trying to stay quiet, lest my parents in the next room overhear, even leaving a hickey on my neck, a first since we were sixteen, which I spent most of the holiday trying to mask & failing. He left the next day & I busied myself with my family & Shawn’s arrival.

Monday night, after our respective family celebrations, he picked me up, excited to show me his gains. He was wearing a plain black teeshirt with his new pair of one-of-a-kind jeans, a prototype too expensive for mass production, a gift from his sister-in-law, the head of this particular brand’s men’s design. He received three other like pairs. We went to his house & set up his new blu-ray player, & put in Woody Allen’s latest, “Midnight In Paris,” which I’d been anxious to see. I began drinking the gin I had left over in Max’s freezer & found myself drunk quickly. Mostly in response to Max’s snapping at me, his impatience at my drunken chatter throughout the film. This came unexpectedly, as he usually has no problem with my chatter, & he himself usually is the source of the chatter during most movies we watch together. I suppose I was probably annoyingly excited at the context of the movie, some of my favorite writers/surrealists being portrayed in such interesting worlds, but I still did not expect his actually telling me to shut up at one point. My feelings smarted from the comment so I tried to burn them back with more alcohol, & texted Shawn & Thom. I told them my night was miserable & they told me the same. Shawn offered to come pick me up but I demurred. Thom ended up calling me to relay a full account of his evening with Shawn & Josh, fistfights & drunken revelry. His story got my head spinning & I stumbled to the bathroom & informed Thom I needed to get off the phone & puke. It was a small amount, & Max slipped in with a glass of water, & back out again. This was a first, he’s never seen me drunk enough to throw up. I’m sure it came as somewhat of a surprise. Eventually I rejoined him, freshened. He was watching a bad television show & we chatted for a bit. He made a pizza & forced me to eat a slice so that I had something in my stomach. I couldn’t hold my head up for long, so I went off to his bed & passed out.

I woke up to his arms tight around me, we’d slept through the whole night like that, which is not a regular occurrence. Seeing him there, his pale strong arms in stark contrast with the black of his teeshirt, his face, half-buried by blanket in the morning light, it had a warming effect on me, like lying in the sun in the dead of summer. I ran my hand up & down his thigh, & he looked at me through slitted eyelids, helped me unbuckle his pants. “Well, someone woke up in a good mood,” he remarked, smiling. I grinned, buried my face between his arm & chest, “You just looked so good in that shirt,” I mumbled, bashful suddenly. The sex was silly & laughing & playing around, the mood light & affectionate. I sat atop him & told him we needed a diner breakfast, to have a badventure day. He laughed, I climbed off of him, we got dressed & departed. The first stop was Denny’s, “We gotta carb up!” he insisted, in anticipation for the heavy purchasing he was about to embark upon. The second stop was Best Buy, where he deliberated & pretended to consider my opinion upon new televisions I don’t know anything about, but bulshitted an answer because he wanted my preference. That same old fun game we play where we pretend my opinions mean anything. I say this good-naturedly, as I really don’t care a bit for technology. Racha was there working, she helped us load the final choice into his car. This was a necessary purchase, he couldn’t have a blu-ray player without getting a hi-def television, that would be absurd. Along with a new set up of course is required new blu-ray movies to watch on it, which is how he ended up with “The Tree of Life,” “The Dark Knight,” & the complete “Rocky” collection. Throw in an HDMI cable, frozen pizza & whiskey, he was set. All in all I watched him drop over a grand in two hours. It served only to enhance his good mood that began with such a lovely wake-up. Watching him put together his new television & setting everything up was so damn attractive, it really intrigued me. Made me quite impatient to watch him put together everything in our future apartment.

To sum this whole entry up, he acts cold & hot towards me, & I don’t know to what end, or just how to interpret it all. In short, everything is pretty standard to how it always is with him. I guess I can’t really ask for more than that, right? It’s at least a still point in my hectically turning world. That’s all I have the energy to contemplate right now. Next entry I’ll catch up on the rest. Maybe.

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budgetlascl · 2 years

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Enigma album 2018

ENIGMA ALBUM 2018 320 KBPS

ENIGMA ALBUM 2018 FULL

ENIGMA ALBUM 2018 SERIES

Burn Me Down (BRAND NEW STUDIO SONG - recorded 2018)ħ. Enigma (BRAND NEW STUDIO SONG - recorded 2018)Ĥ.

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This spirit truly makes “ENIGMA: Intermission 2” closer to a full new studio album than to a mere compilation.ġ. 2018 Harlequins Enigma 19-11-2018 Dance Heroine: Bedstories. The sweeping melodic power metal grandeur of Stratovarius, together with Timo Kotipelto's powerful yet emotional voice, is very much present on all of the 80 minutes of this release. Access the complete album info (18 songs) 2019 Harlequins Enigma 20-08-2019 Brooding Brains in Vain. JTim Sommer 18 Comments 1988, Albert Bouchard, Blue Oyster Cult, Imaginos, Kiss. Cretu had released several solo records, collaborated with various artists, and produced albums for his then-wife, German pop singer. Hallowed (From ‘Elysium’ Collector’s Edition) 4. Hunter (From ‘Nemesis’ Limited Edition) 3.

ENIGMA ALBUM 2018 320 KBPS

Or “Kill it with Fire” and “Castaway”, two epic and full blown power metal tracks that were previously only heard by Japanese fans. Imaginos: Cult-Album Enigma, Titanic Turd, or Both Looking at the deep history of a most maligned Blue Öyster Cult LP for its 30th anniversary. Album Enigma: Intermission II Year 2018 Genre Power Metal Country Finland Web Facebook Quality MP3 CBR 320 KBPS Tracklist: 1. Both combine an epic melody with a bombastic chorus and heavy riffs for Stratovarius’ trademark sound and remind of “Unbreakable” from their 2013 album “ Nemesis”, the most streamed song in the band’s history. Take “Enigma” and “Oblivion” for example, fresh from the studio in 2018 and most definitely two killer songs. With over 30 minutes of brand new material and 50 minutes of previously rare metal, “ENIGMA: Intermission 2” is definitely more killer than filler! The album is similar in concept to “ Intermission”, released 17 years ago between “ Infinite” and “ Elements”, in the sense that these seven tracks made in 2018 are completed by nine very rare, very hard to find power metal gems. “ENIGMA: Intermission 2” features three brand new songs as well as, for the first time in the band’s history, four beautifully arranged orchestral versions of popular Stratovarius songs. of a sold-out crowd to perform a duet of their 2018 mega-hit Rockstar. Stratovarius, the top name in the melodic power metal scene, are back with a new album – with some fresh and some very rare material! Pusha Ts new album Its Almost Dry drops this Friday and it features Kid Cudi. This list of popular Enigma CDs has been voted on by music fans around the world, so the order of this list isn't just one person's opinion.Stratovarius Enigma: Intermission 2 (2CD) €16.99 For the promotion of the album Enigma held some instore dates, where he met fans. List is made up of albums like The Cross of Changes (1993) and the more recent The Fall of a Rebel Angel (2016). Entitled Shardana, the album was released on 23 February 2018 and was also promoted by the singles Copernico and Nuvole & cupole in it there are ten total songs, some of which made with the participation of Bassi Maestro, MadMan and Gemello of the TruceKlan.

ENIGMA ALBUM 2018 SERIES

Make sure you don't just vote for critically acclaimed albums if you have a favorite Enigma album, then vote it up, even if it's not necessarily the most popular. Musical Project Shinnobu, Enigmatic Music 2018 The Way of the Enigma series with feminine voices and epic songs, The mythical Japanese Flute and. If you think the greatest Enigma album isn't high enough on the list, then be sure to vote for it so it receives the credit it deserves. To make it easy for you, we haven't included Enigma singles, EPs, or compilations, so everything you see here should only be studio albums. (1990) and Seven Lives Many Faces (2008). Formed in 1990 by Bucharest, Romania native Michael Cretu, Enigma brought Gregorian chants to the masses with their debut MCMXC a.D. The Sound of Her Voice (For Barbara Jean) Moon 2018. Albums include MCMXC a.D., The Cross of Changes, and Le Roi est Mort, Vive le Roi. Find top songs and albums by Enigma including The Ferrymans Song, The Sound of Her Voice (For. Since they’re such an influential band, let’s rank the best Enigma albums, with the help of your votes. Enigma discography and songs: Music profile for Enigma, formed 1990. Comes with sticker on shrinkwrap: 'The Colours Of Enigma 180Gr Heavyweight Coloured Vinyl Mastered For Vinyl 2018' Cat on spine & inlay '573 652 8', in runout '5736528'. 'Data Alpha' appears also as 'Data Alpha Editions'. List of the best Enigma albums, including pictures of the album covers when available. 'Enigma Songs' appears as 'Enigma Songs Edition'.

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barbeemclaughlin3 · 2 years

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giant-sketches · 3 years

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Hello everyone and welcome back to another chapter of Mass Emotions after such a long wait. I worked very hard to make it worth that time of course, but please do be patient with me as I find more time to write and draw for this side blog of mine. :9

To find rest of the chapters you can follow this link!

If you would like to be added to the taglist please DM or send an ask. :3

Disclaimer: Crying/Shouting/Cursing/Anxiety Attack/Pain/Slight Physical Harm

Side-note: The main ship in this series is fluff LAMP. Janus is seen as a guardian figure to the other sides and is therefore not shipped with any of them. All sides are the same age, but their maturity varied in the past.

It was night when Virgil started making his way out of the window from his room, sneaking past Logan’s surveillance drones, and into the surrounding woods. Two weeks had gone by of them discussing, or more like arguing over which of the remaining destabilized giants to go after. Obviously, Roman wanted to save his brother as soon as possible! On top of that Logan supported his wishes based purely on the fact that Remus was closest to breaking apart.

However, Virgil wanted to go for Janus instead. He was the first to destabilize so Virgil thought it only fair and Patton agreed with him. Saying he’d suffered enough of not being able to remember his family for the past years. Yet, there was another reason the anxious side wanted to save him first...Janus’s destabilization had been Virgil’s fault. He was the one who started it and He had to be the first to end it!

A surprise was waiting for Virgil though, a note stuck to the outside window instructing him to come to the cave on the West side, signed Janus. The timing was uncanny as he stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. Virgil was now alone in the woods making haste towards the obvious trap awaiting him.

Unfortunately, Patton’s sixth sense for tomfoolery kicked in as he suddenly woke up. Roman was snoring, Logan listening to his recorded tapes on scientific studies, and Virgil...nothing. Okay, that’s weird. Usually his Stormcloud liked to fall asleep to the sound of rain or ocean waves. Pat turned the knob to find it unlocked and then to find no Virgil sleeping within. “Oh kiddo.” He whispered, full of disappointment. He flew to the alarm and pressed the button to wake up the others.

“Holy! What, what is it?!”

“Ah! What time is it? Who hit the alarm?”

Patton stood in the hall with his arms crossed in full Dad mode.

“Virgil’s gone.”

“He’s WHAT?!”

“You have got to be kidding me. H-he didn’t...you know?”

Patton nodded. There was no way it could be anything else. “He’s gone to meet with Janus.”

“Are you sure?”

Just then Pat held up a crinkled note. It was the one Virgil thought he stuffed into his pocket, but it fell out while he climbed out the window. Pretty much Virge had made a lot of mistakes despite thinking he was being careful.

“Shit. I’ll get my gear on.” Roman ran back into his room and Logan followed suit. There was no telling how long it’d been since Virgil had left. They needed to hurry.

---------------- Many Years Ago in the Mindscape

“Big bro Jan Jan!” Janus turned around to find himself being tackled by a slightly shorter side.

“Woah! Hey Virgil!” He smiled sweetly. “Be careful running around like that. What if you got hurt?” Virgie only giggled, “You’re such a worrywart Big bro Janus!”

“Well, that is true, I am Protectiveness after-all. I’m here to make sure we stay safe and can protect Thomas when he needs us.” He said as he took Virgil’s hand. “I’m also here as your all’s caretaker my little ball of Curiosity!”

The two used to be so close, just like brothers. Janus was always kind and stoic as he taught and cared for Virgil. He did the same for the other sides as well, since he was the most developed. Morality and Creativity being a little more mature than Virgil, as they all played together. To all of them Janus was like a guardian, despite all being the same age, and they loved him as such, but that did put a lot of pressure on the protective side.

One night, that pressure finally caused him to break. It was late when a strange sound caught his ear. “What was that?” He wondered, getting up from his bed to look down the hall. No one; still there was a slight breeze lingering below his feet. Is a window open or something? A sense of panic started setting in as he ran out to check on the others. Morality? He was sleeping while hugging one of many plushies. Then was Creativity okay? Yep, mumbling to himself about some dream. The last to check on was Curiosity...gone.

The window on the back wall was wide open as the cool night air taunted Janus’s paled face. “Virgil! Virgil, where are you? Please, please come here if you can hear me!” Where had he gone? Jan was trying hard to listen to any odd sounds around him, but the heart beat in his chest kept pounding. His eyes watery, ears ringing, why was this happening? Why did Virgil go outside when he’d been told to never leave the house without him? The stress had been building inside Janus for a while now.

His natural need to protect was eating away at him as the pressure grew. The pressure to be the perfect big brother Virgil idolized him for. The pressure to protect his family, protect Thomas, always be there, listen to their problems, and on and on! What about him? Didn’t he matter just as much? When was someone going to protect him, listen to HIM!

“No one ever really listens.” He grumbled.

*SNAP*

Quickly, Janus turned his head around in the direction of the sound. Running at full speed until he saw Virgil on his knees on the cliffside. What was he doing? “Virgil!” He shouted.

Virgil turned to look at his panicked friend and smiled as he started to get up. Waving his hand around like he hadn’t a care in the world...and that’s when it happened. A strong gust of wind hit, causing the curious side to topple over and begin rolling off the cliff. “NO!”

Without any hesitation Janus jumped down and curled himself around Virgil to protect him as they both fell off the side. This was it; Janus was going to break apart any minute now. He was going to disappear forever. It wasn’t fair...he didn’t deserve this! It was all Virgil’s fault for going out at night, for not listening to his warnings about staying out of trouble. He’d given up so much to care for him, for ALL of them. At that moment something snapped inside of Janus as his body started to grow in size.

He easily filled the space below of the ravine he had moments ago been falling into. The heat and pain was so intense that he fainted, with a tiny Virgil still lying safely under his hand. An hour rolled by, before Virgil stirred awake and began taking in his surroundings. Yellow, warm, and soft? What had he landed on exactly and how was he perfectly okay? From what he could remember he had found a big hole in the Earth and was curious as to what was inside it. Then...he fell into it somehow? The now very confused side held his head as a distant, but familiar voice rang out in his head. Only to then be cut-off by the ground underneath him beginning to move.

“What the…”

He trailed off as his eyes wondered upwards to see a giant with hazy eyes looking down at him. OH SHIT! In a panic, Virgil slid down the side of the giant to hide behind some of the fallen rocks.

He clasped his hands over his mouth and started counting down in his head to control his breathing. While the giant rubbed his eyes, none the wiser to Virgil’s stealthy escape.

“Where am I?” He groaned, working his way up to look around. “Some kind of ravine? Whatever, for now all I have is myself and that’s all I need.” Janus smirked as he walked away with a hum. Curiosity, now not so curious making sure the giant was gone before he made his way out and back home. All the while thinking how familiar the giant’s voice was.

--------------- Back to Current Time

Finally, he was here. The West side caves that Janus was hiding out in and enjoying his freedom ever since he destabilized. Virgil’s nerves started to wear on him as to what this slippery snake had planned for him. Had Jan started to remember his past now that the others' memories were coming back? Or was something else completely different going on?

“Aaaaaahhhhhh” A long groan came from inside, followed by a hiss of pain. The ground shook violently, but Virgil managed to make his way inside. The sounds of discomfort vibrating off the walls until he reached a large opening covered in lights. The interior was quite cozy for a cave. Leave it to Janus to make any location a perfect hide away. “You’re here!”

The greeting snapped Virgil out of his daze and back to the situation at hand. He’d refrained from increasing his size because he hadn’t come for a fight. “Deceit. Why did you call me here?” Virgil lacked information. He needed to see what Jan knew...what he remembered.

Janus bared his fangs with a toothy grin as he picked up his little guest. Luckily, no squeezing this time around. “Oh my dear little Virgil. Why do you think I called you here? I know you’re the one doing this to me.” This? What was he on about? “What do you mean?”

The smile vanished as his grip tightened around Virgil making it hard to breath. “Ah...stop please...Janus.” Suddenly, relief as the hand holding him relaxed. “That! Why are you calling me that?”

Virgil was still dazed from the lack of oxygen. He began wiggling his way out of the giant’s hand and rapidly began increasing his own size to match Jan’s. “You mean Janus. That’s your name.”

“No, no, no! My name is Deceit!” He banged his hand against the cavern wall as tiny items on shelves fell to the floor with a crash. “I don’t know who you think I am, but this is who I am!”

“No, that’s not true. Your name is Janus and you’re one of us. A side...a light side. There is no dark side Jan. Just you and me, and…and your family.”

“Family? Hahaha, what family? You LEFT ME! Remus left me. Everyone’s left...me.” The now sobbing Janus fell to his knees and wailed at the pain of past and present memories colliding inside his broken mind. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” “And you don’t have to be Jan Jan.” Warm hands, familiar hands embraced him in a welcoming hug as he continued to weep.

“I’ve been having these dreams. Where, we’re all together in one house. I’m looking after you all as your big brother. Are these memories?” “Yeah, they are.” “Why didn’t I remember before then?” “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry Jan Jan. I-I was too curious and you got hurt trying to save me. You destabilized and turned into this monster in order to protect me!”

Virgil softly cried into Janus’s shoulder as he held onto him tightly. Fearing he may disappear at any moment. “I remember now. Oh Virgil, it’s alright. I forgave you a long time ago somewhere deep in my heart.” “R-really?!” Janus smiled and helped wipe away Virgil’s tears as they both stood back up. “I think it’s time I go back home to my family.”

Right as the two of them started to leave the caves the trio of fashionably late heroes appears on the scene. “Virgil! Oh my gosh Sweetpea are you okay?”

The exhausted giant waved down to his friends to show he was well and good. “Stand back from that scaly fiend!” “Roman, it’s okay. He’s started to remember.” “Remember? Do you mean to say he’s begun restabilizing?” Logan perked up curiously. “Yeah, though he’s not running a fever yet so I’m not sure when the process will st-”

Just then a hot wave started to bubble up inside of Virgil as he toppled over in pain. His face sweaty and pale. Janus was confused until he noticed himself shrinking. “What is this?!”

Between gritted teeth, “You all need to get away from here. I’m not completely sure what’s happening but I know it’s dangerous to be near me right now!” The group didn’t ask questions, they trusted Virgil’s judgement as they made their way quickly down the mountain. Meanwhile, Janus was shrinking fast and Virgil was crying out in extreme pain as his body grew rapidly. Soon he had reached his maximum height of 1000 feet, but he continued to grow. What was happening to him?

Once Janus had returned to the normal size of a human he too quickly got to somewhere safer than right next to a constantly growing giant. “Janus! How is Virgil? What’s going on?” “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I suppose if I had to guess he’s stolen my height and added it on to his own.” “He’s adding it on?” “Yes, but not in an exact manner. He’s already grown past 1000 feet, but adding mine on he would have stopped at 1070, but he hasn’t.” “How big is he going to get then?” Janus gulped as he looked back over to the mountain that Virgil’s new size was slowly consuming, “I have no idea.”

Virgil’s body now laid on top of the mountain as he could finally feel himself cooling off. More memories returning to him as his eyes focused onto his surroundings. He had grown to a whopping 5000 feet, nearly a mile high! Virgil quickly spotted the others not too far away as he reached down to grab them up. They were so small he needed to be extremely careful with them. Virgil then laid back against the mountain and smiled. He loved seeing more of his family together again.

The others were mesmerized by his tremendous size. Roman and Patton were definitely blushing as they called out to him. “Are you feeling alright now Darling?” “Yeah, I feel amazing honestly. Usually, I’m really scared and anxious when I’m so big, but this just feels so right.”

They all knew how much Virgil enjoyed being big and they were happy to see him comfortable, still they had to wonder why this happened.

“Do you have any idea why this happened to you Stormcloud?” Virgil shook his head. He had no clue. “All I can say is that it was similar to the fever I had before, but it happened a lot quicker, so the pain was more intense.” “Then perhaps Janus’s restabilization was a catalyst of sorts.” “A catalyst?” “A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change.” “Seriously Logan, not really the time for a chemistry lesson.” “True, but I think a secondary definition is in order. A catalyst can be a person or thing that precipitates an event. The person being Janus and the event being the increased growth of Virgil.” “Well, besides all the science talk...what does that actually help us understand?” “I’d need to do some tests and get more data, but my starting hypothesis is that somehow Virgil and his new stable form is linked to those who remain destabilized. That chaotic energy inside the body of someone unstable needs to go somewhere and I believe Virgil’s body has adapted in a way that allows him to absorb it. Thus his increase in stature.” “So he eats crazy energy?” “....yes Patton, Virgil now eats crazy energy.”

That was cool! Either way, that was one giant down and one to go. Although, for now it was time to head on home. There Virgil and Janus could both rest and in the morning he’d get an earful from Logan and Patton on protocol and house rules for him running away after finding a note from a crazy giant serpent man. Still, a good ending for now.

To be continued...

@crystalk17 @paranoidgurl @gentlegiantdreamer @suckedinfandoms @craz-ewaters @rainbowbowtie @pattonvirglsanders @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld @im-a-creepy-cookie @radicalskatervirgil

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transpathfinder · 6 years

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ah yes one of my fav ot3 lines ever they fit sooo well together. this is it... this their entire dynamic right here ♥️

#altho i consider kaidan emotional too but he's just a bit more reserved than ash in those #sam shepard #sam pics #ot3: alliance spectre trinity #mass effect for ts

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notquitetwilight · 3 years

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Ireland has a very complicated history with the Catholic Church that has led to the physical, emotional and sexual abuse of women and children for well over a century. One of the ways this manifested was through institutions known as Mother and Baby Homes and Magdalen Laundries, which saw many unmarried pregnant women — or even just young girls who were deemed too “spirited” or sexual as opposed to traditionally well-behaved and virginal — enter their doors when they’d be shunned by their families and society at large.

These were Church-run institutions that had some financial support from the State, and under their “care,” thousands of babies died, thousands of babies were separated from their birth mothers and sold to wealthy married couples across Ireland, the UK, the USA, Canada, Australia and so on who had been looking to adopt, many babies were used as guinea pigs in vaccine trials without their birth mother’s consent, thousands of women were made work on farms, in laundry rooms, in hospitals and more without pay, thousands of women and girls were degraded through forced hair shaving and name-calling by nuns, thousands of women and girls were forced to undergo pregnancy, labour, post-natal and breastfeeding complications without pain relief or adequate care as punishment for the sin of getting pregnant out of wedlock, and so much more. These abuses were largely overlooked and downplayed (if not somewhat denied) by the State and the Church for years. The most recent State investigation into these institutions was prompted by the discovery of a mass grave in which the remains of a “significant number” of babies and toddlers were found in a septic tank at one of the homes that recorded close to 800 infant deaths.

The report on the findings of this latest investigation has already been deemed a “whitewash” by survivors. Its biggest failings include placing most of the responsibility on the victims’ families and the society that they lived in as opposed to these institutions and the State that funded them, failing to adequately commit to a clear redress scheme that would see survivors compensated for the unpaid labour and abuse they were forced to endure, and failing to guarantee that those adopted from the Homes would be given the right to access their birth certificates. Once again, #NoCountryForWomen Ireland has chosen to protect Church and State interests over the wellbeing and care of survivors of one of the darkest and less talked about stains on our nation’s history.

Signing this petition puts pressure on our government to look at how they can make adoptees accessing their birth records an exception to GDPR laws so that they can access this most basic of human rights. It shows the government that thousands of people are aware of the mishandling of this investigation and are awaiting its rectification. It also shows survivors and adoptees that countless of names stand with them. ❤️

https://my.uplift.ie/petitions/birth-certs-now-for-adoptees

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insanityclause · 3 years

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BEST REVIVAL OF A PLAY Betrayal Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune A Soldier's Play

The race: The latest Broadway production of Harold Pinter's backward-looking Betrayal was the kind of elegant, pedigreed production to which Tony voters gravitate when they want to seem classy, so it has the advantage. But don't rule out the vital revival of A Soldier's Play, a powerful interrogation of divisions within the Black community.

BEST ACTOR IN A PLAY Ian Barford, Linda Vista Andrew Burnap, The Inheritance Jake Gyllenhaal, Sea Wall/A Life Tom Hiddleston, Betrayal Tom Sturridge, Sea Wall/A Life Blair Underwood, A Soldier's Play

The race: In a crowded field of six, Tom Hiddleston stands out for his veddy English turn—restraint, restraint, flood of emotion, restraint—in the prestige revival of Betrayal. That he's also a Loki mass-culture star only sweetens the deal.

BEST DIRECTION OF A PLAY David Cromer, The Sound Inside Stephen Daldry, The Inheritance Kenny Leon, A Soldier’s Play Jamie Lloyd, Betrayal Robert O'Hara, Slave Play

The race: This is one of the year's toughest categories to call, but we suspect that Robert O'Hara—a brilliant comic provocateur in shows he has written himself, including Bootycandy and Barbecue—will take the prize for the acumen he brought to staging the very tricky Slave Play. Of the other contenders, Stephen Daldry leads a tight pack.

BEST SCENIC DESIGN OF A PLAY Bob Crowley, The Inheritance Soutra Gilmour, Betrayal Rob Howell, A Christmas Carol Derek McLane, A Soldier’s Play Clint Ramos, Slave Play

The race: Rob Howell's work for A Christmas Carol is showier, and may end up winning, but Clint Ramos's smart set for Slave Play—which cleverly mirrors the different tones of the work's three sections—has a slightly better shot.

#tony awards #predictions #tom hiddleston #betrayal #jamie lloyd #soutra gilmour

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makingspiritualityreal · 3 years

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Perfect Blue - Dream or Nightmare?

Although made quite some time ago, Perfect Blue has definitely not gotten old, and is only getting more relevant, as the influence of social media becomes stronger in our society, with people making their entire living and careers on the Internet. There are many reviews of this film, in both text and video format. Most people have picked up on the message behind the abusive portrayal of media and how the necessity to uphold one’s image can ruin one’s mental health. I have watched this masterpiece yet again yesterday (it must be my 7th time at least, I love messed up psychological thrillers) and I wanted to write down what I felt like I didn’t find in most commonly found reviews.

Suffice it to say, if you haven’t watched the film, prepare to get spoiled, because I’m about to lay down an interpretation of the entire plot. However, Perfect Blue is about the “how”, not just about the “what”, so I bet you would enjoy watching it even if you are completely familiar with what is going to happen, and admire every second, knowing what each scene represents.

Usually when people review a film, they start with presenting their point and then they move on to a conclusion. Here, I will do the opposite - I will start with my view on what this film is about in a nutshell, including the title, which is pretty revealing in itself, and then I will present arguments on why do I think it is so, including significant plotlines, that many people still debate about after all these years.

Perfect Blue is a creation about people’s inherent psychological and emotional need for peace, perfection, order, logic and serenity, and how without having those needs fulfilled, each and every one of us has the potential to have their mind unravel. This need in people is so strong, it overpowers the need for having a grasp on reality. The brutality of Perfect Blue is displayed in showing us, that people don’t want or need truth for comfort, because reality is often either too painful to face and bear or simply unpleasant, boring and disappointing. People on a collective and also individual level, are socially conditioned and addicted to a perfect, illusive image of serenity, innocence and purity, and will go to any lengths to preserve this illusion of balance and not face the reality of chaos that exists both in the outside world and within themselves.

This is shown to us in two ways - on an individual level, through exploration of the protagonist’s mind, and through symbolism, by showing us how pop culture is a collective opium for the masses, who need a respite from their imperfect lives by looking at something Perfect.

On a side note, as an astrologer, I would associate all these needs with Rahu obsessions and our inability to let go of them, and during the course of the film we can observe what happens, when our unprepared mind has these illusions violently stripped before it is ready for it, and how it causes us to escape to higher levels of fantasy, just to avoid facing the harsh spiritual truth, represented in Ketu. It also shows, why we need both Lunar Nodes in order to even want to live in the first place, and how without balancing both energies we turn towards self destruction.

In most reviews I read, people associated the “Blue” in the title with the final scene of the film, that focuses on a perfectly Blue sky. This is the most literal interpretation. For me, the scene with a perfect sky shows the protagonist, needing to achieve the state of serenity at all costs, no matter how much she has to lie to herself to do it. “Blue” can also have another meaning, referring to a screen of a PC or a TV, a projector for so many of modern “illusions" of perfection. Blue is also a calm, clean colour, that puts our minds at ease, and soothes our emotions, turning us more towards the logical mind, linked to our throat chakra of free-flowing, logical and verbal self expression. The Blue in the title is juxtaposed with the color we see most commonly in the film - Red. Red is the color of the Root Chakra, a color associated with base survival, but also aggression, fear and anxiety. Thus, we can see the film’s main statement about a basic human need to tame these “lower” impulses with a more logical, calmer energy. This gives us an illusion of self-control. Throughout the film, as we see the protagonist’s mental state collapse, she loses this control and red appears more and more, being a sign of how the main character is unable to overcome her intense, negative experiences that lead to an outburst of so much accumulated internal emotional aggression, that she has tried to repress.

For those, who struggled with understanding the actual events happening in the film, I suggest you rewatch it after reading my text, picking up on the small clues here and there, because the author has actually subtly explained what has happened on a “physical level”. To truly understand this film, you need to extrapolate, or you won’t be able to get anywhere. However, it is key to realise this is of a lesser importance, because the point of this film is to transport you inside someone else’s mind, and everyone’s mind has its own, subjective landscape. Still, observing psychological patterns based on this film is a fascinating experience, one that I personally enjoy every time.

That being said, the most important thing to understand about Perfect Blue is that none of the movie is “real” per se, because the entirety of the plot is a dissociative projection. There is a scene in the movie, that directly lays it out for the viewer. The main character is suffering from what is called a Dissociative Identity Disorder, and the entirety of the plot takes place in an “inner world” of imagination, that the protagonist created for herself in order to be able to cope with her life. Because of that fact, we only get glimpses of facts, and we need to grasp at straws to piece them together…pretty much like the MC herself. Only, she unscrambled the pieces herself on purpose, because she can’t bear with the reality of her life.

The Internet nowadays has some educational resources on DID, and before making any false conclusions, I invite you to do basic research. This is a very commonly misunderstood condition. The media presents people with it in a negative light, as abusive murderers, when in fact these people are only dangerous to themselves, most often having strong self-harming tendencies. This movie actually shows this pretty well, which makes me happy. Sadly, people misunderstand the film, and don’t realise that it is actually an accurate representation of people with this condition. These people need healing, a safe space, and protection from further abuse. Please remember that, while coming across any mention of that disorder, and if you ever meet anyone like that in person, treat them with particular gentleness.

Moving on to the facts that we can actually find in the film, this is the timeline of physical events that happen, according to my interpretation.

1. MC suffering early childhood abuse, born as someone with a creative streak prone to dissociation, as these two character traits are often linked. The one thing we never find out about, is how the main character came to become the person she is. DID forms due to a traumatic childhood, with repeated abuse suffered at a very young age. Thus, we have to assume, that our main character entered her teenage years and early adulthood already as a traumatised person.

2. Nevertheless, she had creative interests and ambitions, which leads to her pursuing a career as a pop idol. However, her career turns out to be a total flop, most probably because such a career path is linked to an extremely high level of stress, even for a person with an average psychological background. A person already so traumatised will not be suitable to pursuing a career in such a cruel industry.

3. Most probably, while trying to make it as a pop idol, the MC also attempted simultaneously to enter other avenues in a creative world, such as acting, or being photographed. However, that turned out to be a failure as well, and on her way there she is continuously objectified and sexualised, being taken advantage of, having naked pictures of her taken, all the while struggling, having to work side jobs for money.

4. That leads to her working in a nightclub, which is psychologically believable. People with DID often put themselves in dangerous, unpleasant situations in order to give themselves the illusion of control over the abuse they have suffered by consciously recreating it.

5. Her continuously pursuing questionable activities and not so pop-image friendly side jobs, leads to her falling out with band members, that she was trying to succeed with. Soon after, the other band members succeed in their career, which makes her feel like a failure, and deteriorates her already fragile mental state. It is probably at that point, that she starts slowly acting completely unhinged - creates fake internet websites, maybe even stalks her ex band members.

6. The breaking point for her is one night at her night club job, where a customer that was only supposed to watch her strip, gets out of hand and assaults her. That is too much for her - at this point she suffers a complete breakdown, and is admitted to a mental facility. This scene, we can see directly, with a female doctor diagnosing her condition right after her breakdown.

7. Very important to understand. The actual events of the movie happen YEARS AFTER. The MC has been in the facility for quite some time - she has put on weight and gotten older, and in reality she looks like the mental patient we see at the end of the film/her “manager” Rumi - they are the parts of her psyche that represent her physical body. What we see as a young, attractive girl trying to make it, is a twisted flashback of a painful past, long gone. What is left in the present is a patient in a mental institution, unable to cope with her painful past, using the world of fantasy to dissociate further and further, in order to escape from an equally difficult present - it’s not like being permanently locked in a facility is a fun life either.

8. Another important fact - the MC never harmed anyone besides herself. All her violent fantasies are directed at HERSELF. She blames herself for the choices she made. She imagines aggressive scenarios to cope with the self loathing and shame she experienced - she tries to “erase” the part of herself, that had anything to do with the abusive situations she found herself in, but this is a symbol of self hate, for allowing these situations to happen in the first place, mixed with the awareness of career failure. Her failing career makes her blame herself, and gives her an internal monologue of “you should preserve a virginal, modest image, maybe then you would have succeeded”. Which is something, that media does to most stars, especially it was the case in the 90s, while the movie was taking place.

9. The MC was NEVER a successful pop idol. All the images of success are a fantasy. She had some minor audience, but she never made much money or made it big. Her real life is “the life of a failed idol” projected on her “manager” Rumi.

10. And the final super important point - all the characters in the film are projections of her mind, a part of a dissociative fantasy. Some are just background noise, some are key figures, alternate personalities. For example, the fellow actress she looks up to, is in fact a psychiatrist evaluating her in the hospital upon admittance. Because reality has become unbearable, the MC has created multiple personas to cope with it, but even these personas are not enough to sustain her false reality. As a result, even her illusions are haunting her, because her mind is not a safe place for her anymore.

11. These personas can even be distinguished, according to the functions that multiple personalities most commonly serve in a mind of a dissociative person. The young, beautiful pop idol Mima, is a “fronting” personality, someone she uses to occupy most of the time in her mind, a main person, someone she would use to interact with the outside world. Her “manager” Rumi is a protector type alternative personality. This is someone, that takes on a certain burden of the physical life - like the burden of her physical body deteriorating in reality, the burden of being in fact a “failed” pop idol. The MC also has “persecutor” type personalities - “Me Mania” that wants to preserve her perfect image at all costs, as well as the ghostly projection of the perfect, glossy “pop idol Mima” image. These persecutor type personalities haunt her throughout the movie more and more insistently, being a representation of the MC’s self hate. The turning point is a psychotic breakdown, in which the primary protector can’t fulfill her role anymore, and thus “betrays” the fronting personality. In truth, the real protagonist couldn’t carry the weight of this personality being “ok with the status quo”…because this personality just like any other one within her has a deep desire for fame and recognition, that she has never received…thus she tries to “rightfully take her place”, because “Rumi” is feeling exploited by the main “Mima” personality. Because of this, “Rumi” “kills/destroys” other personalities, like Me-Mania, or other representations of the inner world, because she feels taken for granted.

12. If you need a scene to prove, how strongly Mima dissociates and projects herself into everything according to her will, rewatch the scene, where she is imagining herself as the perfect member of the “Cham” trio, celebrating the success with them, even though it never took place. There is also a brief shot of her typing on a pc with a distressed expression - this is Mima embodying the “Me-Mania” persona. You can clearly see, how easily she dissociates in every moment when it’s convenient for her and inserts herself into situations in a fantasy like way.

13. Last nugget of information - I don’t think the MC’s real name is Mima at all. Maybe it’s her stage name, or something she imagined for herself. Her real name, as revealed by the psychiatrist is “Takakura”. Same with her safe space - “Mima’s Room”, a representation for an inner world, that exists in the psyche of every person coping with dissociation on the daily. Which is why, as the room stops being a safe space, the whole world stops being safe for the MC as well.

So, to sum up. The MC imagines being filmed/famous/in the spotlight/presenting real life events as movie scenes, in order to cope with reality - aka, if it only happened as part of a movie script, it didn’t happen for real, which is a basic coping dissociation tactic. She creates many personas to cope, but ultimately the ugliness of reality seeps in through these personas, together with her mental problems and repressed negative emotions. The real “Takakura” has nothing to do with the success and fame she so idolises and strived for, and that is what pains her, that her real life is so filled with failure and negativity, while her ambitions ran so high. She focuses strongly on the unpleasant dirty aspects of fame, like her sexuality being exploited, because it’s a reflection of her old past failed career, and she can’t cope with the sexual abuse she suffered. There is also a lot of jealousy, and anxiety over people’s opinions about her.

However, her internal negativity, reflected by the imaginary murders, haunts her and ultimately her fantasy collapses. Having lost her primary protector persona, she also loses control and tries to end her life. Yet, the survival instinct proves too strong…and she survives and regains control yet again, in the only way comfortable and available for her - by believing she is now an accomplished and famous actress. While there is a part of her, that still clings to her pop idol fantasy, that we can see in the mental facility, holding a bouquet, physically she is still stuck there, which is why she dissociates on an even higher level, and escapes for the last time…mentally running away from the facility itself, and convincing herself all her problems are solved, and that her “perfect” reality is the “real one”. In reality, she is still locked up, and I will risk to say, she will never fully be ok, because she doesn’t have the mental capacity for recovery, and dissociation is her only means of survival. She will never be innocent or pure ever again, because she can’t put herself back to the way she was, and she can’t cope with her own imperfections, so she dissociates into the unrealistic perfection that she wants to live in instead.

The scariest thing about Perfect Blue, is that there is a “Takakura” inside each and every one of us. We all have parts inside us, that can’t survive in this reality, without us deluding ourselves. She is an extreme example, but this film speaks to so many people, because we all have imperfections, and dark parts of us, that we are too scared to face. We are all scared, that our illusions can shatter, and our dreams can become nightmares. We all have beautiful, pristine ideas that we cling on to, because life without them would be too unbearable. We all use fiction, famous people and role models in order to cope with ugliness of reality. We all cling to mental illusions, unwilling to face the ugliness inside us, or society. Yet, deep down, we want nothing more than to be loved for all of us - even these ugly parts. We want them to be loved by others, because we also want to be able to love the ugliness inside ourselves. “Perfect Blue” asks a pivotal question - how much are we able to lie to ourselves in order to feel even an illusion of that love? How far can we go in our delusions in order to convince ourselves, that everything is “perfect”? Satoshi Kon gives us a disquieting answer - that we will go to all lengths for just a sliver of a mirage of that peace, we will do anything to preserve it and we won’t care about the means that we are going to have to use to do it.

#perfect blue #satoshi kon #psychology #film #film review #chakras #red #blue #dissociation

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elvencantation · 3 years

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my aunt just sent me the stupidest fucking article in the world

even before i clicked on it i was like... nope that’s depression. but i clicked through hoping to be proven wrong, hoping it wasn’t as bad as the title suggests

“It wasn’t burnout — we still had energy. It wasn’t depression — we didn’t feel hopeless. We just felt somewhat joyless and aimless. It turns out there’s a name for that: languishing.”

it was worse. depression isn’t always about being hopeless. and depression also saps ur energy. i’m not burnt out, i’m chronically depressed

“Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield. And it might be the dominant emotion of 2021.”

nope that’s just depression

“Languishing is the neglected middle child of mental health. It’s the void between depression and flourishing — the absence of well-being.

You don’t have symptoms of mental illness, but you’re not the picture of mental health either. You’re not functioning at full capacity. Languishing dulls your motivation, disrupts your ability to focus, and triples the odds that you’ll cut back on work.”

these descriptions are all literally symptoms of depression. there are levels of depression, dont u know that? or call it dysthymia, which is technically what i have- chronic low level depression (these days it ain’t so low level but still)

“Part of the danger is that when you’re languishing, you might not notice the dulling of delight or the dwindling of drive. You don’t catch yourself slipping slowly into solitude; you’re indifferent to your indifference. When you can’t see your own suffering, you don’t seek help or even do much to help yourself.”

this is literally just depression

“Languishing is not merely in our heads — it’s in our circumstances. You can’t heal a sick culture with personal bandages.

We still live in a world that normalizes physical health challenges but stigmatizes mental health challenges. As we head into a new post-pandemic reality, it’s time to rethink our understanding of mental health and well-being.”

just replace ‘languishing’ with depression, and i agree wholeheartedly. the advice in this article isn’t horrible,

but it’s very important to be able to recognize depression, because it already is very good at lying and convincing you that you aren’t sick, you’re just weak, or lazy

we don’t need another stupid article telling people “oh you’re not depressed you’re just languishing.” like that’s in any way helpful

tldr; depression is a liar. if you’re feeling dull and unmotivated, enough to disrupt your day, your work, or taking care of yourself- you are mentally ill. and that’s okay. it doesn’t make you weak. the pandemic is a mass tragedy that is putting us all through psychological trauma, and the best thing you can do is ask for help. it’s hard, but asking for help when you need it is bravery not weakness

“Here’s what we do know: No one reacts to mass events in the same way. For some, this event triggers anxiety, while others experience chronic depression.

Individuals who have already been diagnosed with anxiety disorders or depression are at greater risk, Silver says. A person’s circumstances, such as having a place to live or a steady job and quality support network, can also influence their ability to cope.”

from a better, if older, article

“Even though things might seem bleak, Silver cautions against gloom. Human beings, she says, are quite resilient in the face of long odds.

“We’ve seen that time and again after tragedies, and we know that people and communities are able to rebuild,” Silver says.”

#depression #i got all steamed up here #new york times #u gotta up ur game #mental health #mental illness #blue rambles #please feel free to reblog #i fear how many people will read this article and decide they don’t need help or medication or therapy #i literaly woke up from a nightmare and this article was what greeted me #new york times languishing #nytimes #mental health system #mental health stigma #mental health struggles #long post

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feelingbluepolitics · 3 years

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Highest recommendation.

"QAnon groups on more fringe platforms like Telegram have grown since the inauguration, Rolling Stone reported Friday, raising concerns among extremism researchers that the community is being targeted by more dangerous far-right groups.

"QAnon has isolated thousands of Americans. On one subreddit, r/QAnonCasualties, family members have shared hundreds of painful stories about how the conspiracy theory has destroyed their relationships with those who have been sucked into it.

"Followers of the conspiracy frequently say it has cost them personal ties and emotional damage.

..."Remaining supporters appear to be leaning more heavily on the anti-democracy and anti-institutional elements of QAnon, especially since the poster after which the theory is named has been relatively quiet since the election.

..."It could also make it more likely to stick around, according to Zuckerman.

"'Even without [t]rump at the front of it, even without Q drops, [a] religion based on institutional mistrust has lots of room to run,' he said.

..."That emphasis could see the QAnon community shifting its focus away from [t]rump and toward things like coronavirus vaccines, which could pose a roadblock to reaching herd immunity.

..."Crushing QAnon and reuniting families will likely take more than interpersonal work though.

"Sources that amplified themes that QAnon latched onto, like mass vote fraud or the coronavirus pandemic being exaggerated, need to be held accountable, experts told The Hill.

"'I think what we're going to need to see are some real consequences for those platforms or media outlets that give voice to amplify these kinds of claims,' Young said.

"The hundreds of Republican officials who challenged Biden’s legitimate election win also represents a problem.

"'As long as you have a majority of elected Republicans supporting ‘Stop the Steal,’ you're legitimating this movement,' Zuckerman said.

..."The next few weeks could be a crucial time for pulling people out of QAnon as wide swathes of backers remain momentarily skeptical and social media deplatforming has left many adherents disconnected from the community.

"'We want to get back as many people as possible as quickly as possible because the information control lines have been cut,' Hassan said."

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colehasapen · 4 years

Text

Eternal - Star Wars (One Shot)

There's a Mandalorian in Anchorhead.

Ben Kenobi hears about it during a trip for supplies into Mos Eisley, slipping unnoticed through the crowds. Its when he passes two settlers that the whispers reach his ears as two women speak to each other in nervously quiet voices, talking about the Mandalorian in black and blue that lingers like a frightening phantom or a bomb primed to explode, asking around about 'the desert hermit', and Ben falters.

There's only one Mandalorian welcomed on Tatooine, employed by Jabba the Hutt and unwilling to share his coin pouch, and Ben knows that Boba would warn him if something changed about the Imperial bounty on his head. Boba was a good lad in need of guidance and advice - hardened by the world and tragedy far too early, and still so young in so many ways, despite his complaints that he wasn’t a child anymore. It hadn’t been easy to win the boy’s trust when he had come to his hut all those years ago, arrogant and angry and intent on collecting the massive bounty on his head himself, but Ben had worn him down - a part of him needing a young soul to guide and nurture to feel some sort of control in his life - and the child had been so desperate for a connection to his father’s culture that even Ben’s poor substitute was enough. Boba would have warned him, had he known, because as angry as he was at the world, the young man held tight to the things he considered as his, and as much as he complained and claimed that he didn’t like Ben, the youngster had yet to actually do anything to get his bounty. In fact, he actively kept other hunters away.

So when he hears the rumours of a Mandalorian bounty hunter that wasn’t Boba poking around looking for him, Ben adjusts the bags in his hands, carefully pulls his hood over his face, and calmly slips off the main market road and into the nearest alley. A simple mind trick has the youth gang gathered in the shadows splitting up and heading home to rethink their life choices, and Ben slides into their place, wedging himself between two dumpsters. It’s hard now, to slip into meditation and expand his senses, knowing that he’ll be met with the yawning Darkness in the Force and the lack of the Light of his fellow Jedi in the galaxy, it’s easy to find himself slipping endlessly without a tether until he doesn’t know who he is anymore, but little Luke Skywalker is a calming beacon of light, a sun among dead stars, and his presence in the Force chases off the clinging Darkness and makes it easier for Ben, as broken as he is, to focus.

Mandalorians are surprisingly easy to find in the Force, if one knows what they’re looking for - an indistinct mass shielded by the beskar they wore - but they’re also as rare to stumble upon as a trained Force Sensitive, hunted and scattered almost as much as the Jedi are. They’re a threat, and the Empire made an example of them. A warning to any others of what would happen should they try to fight back against the Emperor. Anyone who could be outwardly identified as Mando’ade had at least a little beskar on their person, even Satine had weaved it into her headdresses, and it was a connection to their lost culture and home that they guarded jealously, even as the Empire collected any and all of the rare metal it came across, often through violent means.

Even the smallest amount of beskar worked to make a Force signature unidentifiable, and for people like Ben, who had worn and owned beskar, the imprints the alloy left on the galaxy around it is easy to locate.

He finds the headache-inducing Force signature in his hut. A fuzzy, staticy spot in the Force with only the faintest of traces of nostalgic emotions sparking among their mind, and the familiar signature of Ben’s lightsaber reaches out to them, an excited greeting like an old love had finally come home.

Alpha-17 comes out of the rise of the Empire with his sense of self intact through sheer dumb luck - apparently all those explosions Alpha had powered through came with some sort of perks, beyond the general sense of awe and fear his inability to die inspired among the brats. He stubbornly avoids the same fate his fellow Alpha-classers meet, staying too useful as a trainer for it to be worth putting down or in stasis as he bides his time and plans his escape.

There’s nothing he can do for the younger troopers, and he’s forced to come to terms with the fact quickly when he sees the blankness in the eyes of the men he had trained. It’s a punch to the guts, one he can’t show, when he passes Havoc and Blitz in the hall and they show no familiar recognition to him or each other - they’re silent, blank, and unrecognizable from the cadets Alpha had thrown around during training. It feels like he’s drowning when Cody shows up and there’s no personality, no burning fire, in his blank eyes as the tactical genius and determined field commander is assigned to a glorified desk job to give a natborn whelp the rank he had been so proud of. There’s none of Wolffe’s feral determination to protect, or Bly’s gentle kindness - and both of them disappear quickly, taken away quietly in the night for decommissioning when they break. So many empty faces and cold eyes, and sometimes it feels like Alpha is choking.

He had raised all of them, and it hurts to see them as walking corpses - it hurts more that he can’t help them.

So Alpha bides his time until he sees an opportunity and takes it. Fox is killed on a mission with Lord Vader, and a new Purge Trooper is needed to replace him - who better than the trooper that had trained him? Alpha adds the clever little cadet and broken man he had known to his remembrances as he puts on his new armour - black-painted beskar’gam, because Vader’s personal death squad were the best and thus needed the best - and marches to face his fate.

They’re hunting surviving Mandalorian commandos when Alpha sees his chance to shed the helmet of a clone and strip out of the ugly red pauldron of a purge trooper, to take up a buy’ce and a new identity. To the Empire, Alpha-17 dies on Concordia, one victim of many to fall in the mines, body buried by tonnes of rocks that would be his tomb. But Alpha lives, he survives, and he finally does the one thing he had always dreamed of doing, but never did because he had vod’e to protect and refused to be like Spar and leave them all behind.

He deserts.

His brothers and sisters are as good as dead now - in fact, death would probably be preferable to what had become of them - and Alpha lets himself disappear. He becomes nameless, faceless, but this time it’s a choice - he becomes ‘ Mando ’, a ruthless bounty hunter with a hatred for Imperials. Any stormtrooper he comes across is put down with a quick, efficient, shot through the head because Alpha doesn’t know anymore which are vod’e and which are the poorly trained natborns that replace them. The Empire only makes half-hearted attempts to kill him, at best, because he’s good at what he does and the Guild doesn’t want to lose him.

He uses his new contacts to listen for any possible Jedi sightings, because he knows that his jetii is still alive. The massive bounty on the General’s head isn’t just for show, afterall, and Alpha knows that the smug sheb is too dramatic to just roll over and die when he could continue living just to piss people off.

Alpha’s already lost everything else - his brothers and sisters, his rank, his purpose - he doesn’t want to lose the only man he’d ever loved too.

Their relationship hadn’t been the steadiest - Kenobi had been his superior, a Jedi that he served because he had to, but then Rattatak and Ventress had happened, and a professional respect had turned into something more through their captivity and recovery. After that, Alpha had been promoted and reassigned to Kamino as a trainer, and he had been answering to a different Jedi General instead. They had taken any moment together that they could, because their duties had led them on different paths, and it hadn’t been easy, because Alpha was a cold bastard at the best of times and Obi-Wan’s inability to properly express himself had come between them, but they had always tried to do better by each other - but it was all gone now.

And maybe Alpha wants more. He wants the stability and support Obi-Wan had always offered him after the loss of everything he had ever known, and he wants to offer it in turn - to have a purpose again. But Alpha is a realist, he knows that it’s not likely that he’ll actually find his lover out there in the galaxy if he doesn’t want to be found as much as Alpha wants to find him, so he keeps his goals a little more realistic. He passes his information anonymously onto the fledgling Rebellion, throwing them what he knows on the postings of vod’e , hoping that what little he can do will help, so he keeps his ear to the ground and continues to give the information onto the Rebellion.

It’s the news about Boba working for Jabba the Hutt that has Alpha flying to Tatooine, intent on hunting his brother down. He hadn’t seen Boba since before Geonosis, before everything had gone to shit and Aurra Sing had gotten her claws into the boy. He’d be nineteen now, Alpha knows - an adult, but still young in the way the other clones aren’t, despite being the first, and alone. He knows his little-big brother can take care of himself, that he’s talented and deadly, but he’s also one of the few free clones that exist, and Alpha wants to at least check in on him.

It’s on Tatooine that Alpha first hears the name Ben Kenobi, and hears the legends of the crazy hermit living in the Dune Sea. The native Sand People of the planet call him a mournful god and they leave offerings so that misfortune isn’t brought upon them. The settlers call him either a crazy old man or the wizard of the wastes. There’s only one thing everyone agrees on - don’t anger the man who lives in the desert. More than one story about thugs trying to shake him down for money includes coming back not fully the same, and Alpha recognizes the description of a mind trick when he hears it.

He’s one of the few people who knows Obi-Wan’s connection to the name Ben, the story behind it, and it’s in meeting young Luke Skywalker and his aunt that Alpha knows that he found him.

The Force holds no warnings as Ben approaches his hut, just the opposite in fact, as it tugs on his robes like an excited child and urges him forwards, but Ben still palms his blaster as he pushes the door open and steps inside. There’s a man sitting at his table, helmetless, and he looks up when Ben closes the door behind him - in his hands, Ben’s lightsaber sings in greeting for the first time in a long time, since it had gone quiet all those years ago, love and the feeling of home chasing away the silence of blood and tragedy.

His bag slips from numb fingers.

Bottomless brown eyes so dark they’re closer to black meet his gaze. They’re fathomless and deep, drawing him in and drowning him in their depths, holding so many emotions that he feels like he’s choking even as he breathes. The handsome bronze face is older than Ben remembers, with more lines and scars than before, and tight black curls are splashed with gray - he’s a decade older than he was, but his face is still familiar and comforting - frightening too, because it brings back the memories of bodies young and old killed in their home by those they trusted, and makes the thousands of broken bonds in his soul ache with the weight of emptiness.

He stares, hand falling away from the blaster at his hip, and the man stands. The armour is different, but Ben recognizes the pattern painted on the black beskar, now accompanied by splashes of gold stating his desire for vengeance for everyone to see, pauldron missing and a shorter kama swinging around his knees.

“General.” The man states, voice gruff and Concord Dawn accent strong, though it’s so much more hesitant than Ben ever has a memory of hearing. His lover was never hesitant, not even when they had first started their secret little rendezvous; he was always assured, confident, and strong - even when chained and brutalized. “ Cyare. ”

Ben shudders, blinking but unable to tear his gaze away from those dark eyes, and his voice breaks when he speaks. “I haven’t heard that in a long time.”

He tries for humorous, and it falls short, but even then the other man smiles, a sad, quiet little thing that spoke of grief and heartbreak and exhaustion.

He’s real.

He’s here .

“Haven’t said it either.” Alpha-17 flips the lightsaber in his hands, stepping closer and closer still until they’re chest-to-chest and in each other’s space for the first time in years, and Ben shivers. “Thought you were always telling those brats of yours that their weapons were their lives.” The man says gruffly, and with a click the weight of his lightsaber is added to his belt, but even then Ben can’t look away from Alpha’s gaze. The other man doesn’t seem intent on looking away either, and large, warm hands linger on his hips, making heat travel from the touch and circulate through his body.

“Hello Alpha.” Ben whispers, reaching between them to grip the edges of his armour, to press his fingers around them to seek out the warmth of another living being for the first time in a long time. He can’t make his voice louder than a shaky sigh, throat tight and heart pounding in his chest.

Alpha continues to stare like a dying man who had seen the other side and wanted more, leaning into his touch until there was no space left between them. “ Su cuy’gar .” He says, awed, like he couldn’t fully believe it, and his fingers spasm, drawing the former Jedi even closer to him, as if he would vanish if he let go. The armour presses uncomfortably against him, but Ben can’t bring himself to care as Alpha presses their foreheads together, noses touching, and every breath mingling. “You’re here.” Alpha says, “I found you.”

“Yes.” Against all the odds, he had.

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum .” His voice is hushed, reverent, and Ben chuckles wetly for lack of what else to do.

“I haven’t heard that for some time either.” He says, instead of what his head is telling him, that he’s undeserving of such sentiment, as he leans into the pressure on his brow and closes his eyes. He can’t cry, not anymore - he has no tears left to shed.

“You’ll hear it for as long as I breathe.” Alpha vows, and Ben shudders again at the truth of that statement that rings in the Force like a bell. “As long as you’ll have me.”

“You’ve become awfully sentimental, my dear.” Ben chokes, and Alpha huffs, breath fanning against his lips.

“After everything - I think we’ve both earned a little sentimentality.” The man murmurs, and Ben laughs wetly. “ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum , cyare .”

Ben doesn’t want to let go.

“Stay?” Ben asks, clinging to his lover just as tightly as Alpha clings to him.

“Of course.” Alpha promises, hands sliding away from his hips to cradle his face instead, thumbs brushing oh so gently under his eyes - hands that could destroy droids without issue and kill without hesitation, but had only ever been soft when they touch him. “I said darasuum , didn’t I, ner cyare ?” Ben’s eyes flutter open, meeting Alpha’s deep gaze once more, seeing the love and truth in those dark pools, and -

Oh .

Wet, burning tears drip from his aching eyes, sliding down sunburnt cheeks and over Alpha’s strong fingers, a dark contrast against his pale skin, and his lover tilts his head, gently capturing his chapped lips in a silent promise.

Darasuum .

#cole writes #alpha 17 #alpha 17/obi wan kenobi #obi17 #one shot #star wars the clone wars #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #post order 66 #obi wan kenobi/alpha 17 #obi wan kenobi #alpha-17

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slimysnaildaddy · 4 years

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Hi! Do you mind explain some more about Tourettes? I got kinda shocked that the percentage of people with coprolalia is so low, I've always herd that it was one of the main symptoms

Sure thing! I actually love talking about it, the more people are informed the less stigma there will be and the better people with Tourette’s Syndrome and other tic disorders will be treated.

The most visible symptom of Tourette’s is what’s known as “tics”. You’ve probably heard of tics as in like a “nervous tic” such as someone tapping their foot. There are many kinds of tics, but they’re usually divided into two categories, and then within those categories, they’re divided again.

A motor tic is a tic based in movement of some sort. Snapping fingers, tapping feet, scrunching one’s face, sticking out one’s tongue, or blinking rapidly are examples of motor tics.

A vocal tic has to do with making noise. Saying something, coughing, whistling, and making a humming noise are good examples.

You can divide both of those into simple tics and complex tics. A simple tic is usually a single basic movement or sound, such as a clap or a single sharp whistle. A complex tic usually involves more than one movement or sound (speaking counts as a complex vocal tic).

Complex tics can also be a combination of motor and vocal. For example, I often jerk my head to the side or throw my head back and make a loud honk that sounds a lot like a goose.

Tourette’s syndrome is one of many tic disorders, but has one of the most specific and complex diagnostic criteria of all of them. When I was diagnosed at 15 (about 6-7 years ago) the criteria were:

Patient must have at least 5 motor tics and at least one vocal tic, consistently over a period of at least one year.

Tics are often somewhat random, but only in that they can happen at seemingly random times (more on that later). Most people have a “set” of tics that they have, unique to them. For example, I jerk my head or clap or slap my chest, sometimes I stomp and I also say things like “I eat worms” and “hot dogs”. Two of my most well known tics that are meme’d to hell and back by my close friends are “I fuck gargoyles” and “Hit or miss, I guess I’m drinkin’ piss”. Both of which are examples of coprolalia.

Coprolalia is a very common stereotype, but as I said in my post only 10% of people with Tourette’s present coprolalia. I think the reason it became so famous is because it’s very shocking and visible, similar to how a lot of blind people in media use white canes or wear an eye covering all the time, while only a relatively small percentage of blind people in real life do those things. I happen to be one of those people with coprolalia, and I do sometimes feel like I’m playing into a stereotype, and it can genuinely be a struggle to be in public spaces or around people who don’t know I have TS when I suddenly bust out saying “I FUCK GARGOYLES” or “EAT SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER”.

Speaking of struggling with tics, there are quite a few tics that can be very painful or otherwise harmful. Like I said, I have a tic where I slap my chest and I usually do it with a lot of force. I also stomp (also with a lot of force) and slap or hit walls (do i need to repeat myself here? anyway my hand is in agony 99% of the time). And I don’t need to tell you that shouting about fucking gargoyles in a King Soopers gets you some weird looks. As a result, a lot of people are ashamed of their tics or feel very negatively towards them, which is one of the main reasons why triggering someone’s tics intentionally is considered a very bad thing to do.

And in regards to triggering tics, this is actually an interesting topic. For a lot of people, it seems that one of the most common ways to trigger a tic is to be reminded of it. Not necessarily directly, but seeing or hearing someone clap on TV will trigger my clapping tic. Yesterday there was a scene on TV where someone was describing how to bait a fishing hook with worms, and I couldn’t stop saying “I eat worms” over and over again until we had to pause the TV until I finished what I was doing and left the room. They can also be triggered/made worse by things like stress or excitement, though I find that doing something very distracting will often leave no room for my brain to tic.

I’ve seen a lot of people describe the feeling of needing to tic (called a premonitory urge) similar to the feeling you get in your sinuses when you need to sneeze or yawn, but in the place the tic will be. I experience that, but I also experience a more mental urge to do my tics (eg “I need to slap this wall exactly 15 times RIGHT NOW OR I WILL ACTUALLY DIE”) As a result, it is often (but not always) possible to tell when a tic is coming and sometimes you can worn people or attempt to hold it in, but...

Holding in tics is comparable to holding in a cough. The longer you hold it in, the more painful it will be, and the worse it will be when you actually let it out. Once a tic starts, you have to sort of... satisfy the tic. If you don’t do it just right or just enough times, you have to do it again. And again. And again. It’s almost impossible to stop until it’s run its course. This leads me to the topic of tic attacks, which I mentioned in my other post.

A tic attack is when someone starts ticcing (yes, that’s the verb, though I do see “ticking” as well) a lot uncontrollably. In my case (bc I have so many tics that involve jerking my body around or holding myself in weird positions), this usually leads to me falling to the floor in a writhing mass while trying not to accidentally bite off my own tongue and maybe screeching a little bit, and usually I’m too occupied with trying to relax to be able to talk. People have told me that it looks like I’m having a seizure, but that’s not the case. For some people, it’s simply a lot of tics at once. Tic attacks are usually (but not always) caused by stress or overstimulation.

Tics aren’t the only symptom of Tourette’s. There’s also attention issues and impulse control issues and emotional control issues as well, and some of the side effects of Tourette’s can be a bit debilitating. I lose energy pretty quickly, but caffeine and lots of sugar can just send me into an attack. I also get a compulsive urge to do shit that’s usually very stupid (”hmmm a stove burner. TIME TO PUT MY FACE ON IT”) but it’s a lot easier to resist than a tic. Stimming is also very common, though this may be partially attributed to the fact that TS is very likely to be seen in people who also are Autistic or have conditions like ADHD.

I hope this is enough information! Let me know if I need to tag stuff.

#serious time #tourettes #actually tourettic #cw mentions of involuntary self-harm #asks

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