talking to preschoolers is awesome bc they have not fully differentiated stories into 'true stories' and 'imaginary stories' yet so you will tell them about something that happened you once (coyote came out of a bush right in front of you and got startled) and they will tell you about how one time their house was full of coyotes in every room 'including five in the garage' and they're not even like, aware i think of the idea that they are technically 'lying'. they are simply telling stories about coyotes bc its time to tell stories about coyotes.
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when people reblog donation posts and say "donate what you can", I really feel like people aren't actually internalising it. not all of us can afford to donate $50, $100, more than that. but i know for a fact that there are thousands of us that can spare $2 or $5, and that all adds up.
it hurts so much to sit here and feel the limits of our own ability. we're not millionaires. we can't instantly fund these escape attempts. but these are bids for life, by people who never asked for the hellfire being rained upon them by sadistic colonialists, greedy for oil and land. they committed no crime other than being born in palestine. and of course it's unfair, to have to shoulder the weight of people's lives when we're all struggling to get by as it is. but our governments relentlessly fail us, they fail to scrape at the bottom of their cold dead hearts for their last dregs of humanity. it is so, so unfair, but it is up to the common man to save each other.
please. look at this spreadsheet. find a fund that resonates with you. and DONATE WHAT YOU CAN.
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im annoyed and a little pedantic so can i just say as a blanket statement
queerbaiting is when the promotion for a FICTIONAL STORY intentionally hints towards two characters having a romantic relationship, without any intention to follow through in the show, in order to get queer people watching without discouraging the homophobic enjoyers of the show
queerbaiting is NOT:
a celebrity who you think is queer because theyre gnc or they have a 'vibe'. that is a real person and they cannot queerbait
two friends of the same gender pretending to flirt with each other for fun. those are real people and they cannot queerbait
a show with two characters of the same gender who are canonically friends that YOU PERSONALLY think would be better in a relationship. that's not bating, that's shipping, and subject to opinion
there are more but those are the main examples of people misunderstanding what queerbaiting is and being mad at something that isn't actually a problem
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i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me
3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.
Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.
Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—
Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.
Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.
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