Time to be fucking sad. Vash talks to God exactly once in Trimax (as of the end of vol 10 at least). Like he goes into church once, laments about how he thinks he is unforgivable, but that's musing to himself. He's not actually talking to God or praying.
No, Vash talks to God exactly once, to ask for the only thing he ever requests. The only thing he wants, and the possibly the only thing he allows himself to want. And of course by the time he allows it, it's entirely too late.
Vash talks to God to ask for exactly one thing. To save Wolfwood, to let him live. So they can share their tomorrows. And by the time Vash lets himself ask for this one thing, he already knows how futile it is. Sitting next to his best friend, probably the only person who can come close to understanding him, he talks to God for the first time. And God does not answer.
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It’s about the “Look, I didn’t want to be a Halfblood” and “Look, I know you didn’t want to be a Halfblood” and “I never meant to hurt anyone” and “I don’t care if I hurt anyone”
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honestly at this point i feel like i don’t even care if anden/lott becomes endgame in the sequel we’re never going to get i just want my boys to be comfortable with each other. i want them to talk. i want them to have just one candid conversation about what happened in the past, what’s happening in the present, and how they want to proceed in the future. whether that’s becoming friends, staying polite acquaintances, or maybe becoming something more. but they need to talk. anden mentions in one chapter that he’s not quite sure if they’re friends. and sometimes that’s ok! sometimes it’s ok not to define things. but when you’re two of the pillar’s closest advisors and are frequently in the same room together, that type of ambiguity is unsustainable. you need to draw boundaries. you need to know who you are to this other person and who that other person is to you.
clearly they’re drawn to each other. anden thinks about lott in like 75% of his pov chapters. we never really get a lott chapter so who knows what’s going on in his mind, but he keeps asking anden whether or not he regrets his choices. clearly anden occupies at least some brain space in lott’s mind. and they don’t know what to do about this. i’m not sure if they ever even acknowledge that they think about the other.
lott clearly holds himself at a distance, and anden’s too embarrassed to bring up their awkward teenage years, and so they’ve never had a conversation that’s run more than surface deep. they don’t know what they are, and so they’re always left wondering, not knowing how they should be acting around each other, or how to proceed into the future. but it’s so clear that they think about each other and i want them to acknowledge that. and i want them to be comfortable with each other, so that they can move on and be free of these burdens and questions. and they can’t be comfortable around each other until they talk about their relationship.
honestly, i want them to be friends.
but if not friends, then i want them to at least acknowledge that something between them existed -- that spark of interest in each other, even if it won’t continue in the future.
they are both such lonely people and i just want them to know that at some point the other thought of them, that someone out there thinks of them and cares about them.
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HE WAS SEVENTEEN. AGHHH ULDER WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU
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we need to destroy the idea that girls should wear makeup. normalize bare faces on prom queens and flower girls and cheerleaders. no products at all instead of '7 product simple makeup routine.' no more 10 step skincare and regular facials and dermablading and gua sha just to be comfortable with yr natural face. i want to see eye bags on the funny librarian and acne on the swim coach and wrinkles on all our adult role models. i want to see a 16 year old girl that has never tried putting on eyeshadow. i want to see a 7 year old girl who doesn't have to go out and buy powder for her dance recital. i want to see trans women and girls everywhere to never have to wear makeup, regardless of how well they 'pass.' no more 'contouring to look masc' either. a post-beauty industry world is possible
reblogs are on but if you bring up the stage makeup point that i have addressed three times yr blocked on sight ☹️
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me
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some good news!! the spanish state's ministry of equality has finally passed one of the most progressive trans laws on the planet, shielded free and universal access to abortion and banned conversion therapy and genital surgery for intersex babies, among a lot of other feminist policies. the minister of equality irene montero gave a speech thanking spain's lgtb and trans associations for helping her draft these legislations. couldn't be more proud!!
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I am
• worried
• depressed
• uncomfortable
• upset
• afraid
• uneasy
it does not feel good.
I'm going to drink some water, take a nap, and deal with these things later
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something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
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scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]
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homestuck was so perfect for autistic teenagers bc it took characters being sorted into categories and having Attributes to its absolute extreme. forget four hogwarts houses, every character has their associated colour their zodiac sign their associated animal their dream planet their god tier class and aspect their typing quirk their pesterchum handle their weapon their planet of x and y, as well as each of them having a handful of other very quantifiable Personality Traits and Interests (e.g. this one is a clown this one is angry this one likes fashion this one is just rufio from hook for some reason) and THEN they all also have their respective ancestors and dancestors(?)(plucked that word from my memory) who have all of those things as WELL
and god not to mention the fucking quadrant system
as a 13-15 year old autistic kid i didnt even need homestuck to have a plot i just happily made a big big spreadsheet of character attributes in my brain
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I don't wanna further hijack that poor poll, but the thing about Harrow's schizophrenia is that it's canon. The author has confirmed it, and shared that it's based on her own experience.
It's a pretty obscure bit of canon, so of course there's no shame in not already knowing, but that's why I'm so obnoxiously persistent about letting people know.
Whatever else is up with Harrow, autism or cptsd or any number of likely headcanons, she is also schizophrenic. I feel like that's too important to be handwaved away as a difference of opinion.
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But whose heart would not take flight?
Betray the moon as acolyte
On first and fierce affirming sight
Of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
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all I’ve ever known is how to hold my own
but now I wanna hold you
aka “oh, Link, I’m home”
aka GUYS TEARS OF THE KINGDOM IS SO GOOD
here’s a playlist because I’m mentally ill
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