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#quotes about myself
alexandramalbb · 1 year
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" She was running in nature, searching for the silence and peace. She loved to feel the touch of the grass under his bare feet, to feel the breeze of the wind through her hair.
She loved how the sun's rays crept through the branches of the tree and warmed her body. She was happy, she felt full of life, she was finally at home for the first time in a long time. "
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lucidloving · 7 months
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@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks
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fairydrowning · 1 year
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"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood."
– George Orwell
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taxinealkaloids · 8 days
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kill your darling, it's just that easy!
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watchyourbuck · 6 months
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911 characters as tumblr posts | 4/20
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marblerose-rue · 1 year
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click for better quality!
hey, are you listening to me? / silverstream x graystripe
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ravennhearted · 8 months
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Sometimes I think about how Merlin took place over 10 years—a whole decade—and the thought of the show spanning that long feels entirely too long and like an infinite amount of time and that it can’t actually have been ten years
And then I think about how Merlin is 16-18 in the first season. And I just—
That means, at the oldest, Merlin was only 28. He wasn’t even 30
And then I just start losing my mind for a whole different reason
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super-marvel-dc · 1 year
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Dean: How do you connect with a fictional character?
Soap: What?
Ghost: What?
Bucky: What?
Y/N: *pulls up a 500 slide presentation* I'm glad you asked.
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psychidelias · 28 days
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There's something so beautiful about Red Dwarf just as a concept and as a series.
Comedy aside, it has one of the most meaningful messages I think I've ever seen. The whole idea of being hopelessly lost and alone in the infinity of space but still having hope and love is just unbelievable. Dave Lister is just the ultimate guy ever.
He's a loser, a nobody, a complete write-off in terms of his career, a depressed, lonely man who is the last of his species, the only one left, three million years away from home.
Yet he still has hope. He still appreciates beauty in the rockiest places. He still believes in justice and life above all else, so much so that his worst fear is losing his morality. He still goes on.
He's so far away from home that there's no realistic hope of getting back, but he doesn't care. He makes a home out of everything and everyone around him, eternally living in the only way -the best way- he can.
He's created his own Promised Land.
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estherax · 1 year
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Generating plasm and stacking matchboxes: how to build a better future through collective consciousness.
Alternatively - Steban and Ulixes were building Tatlin's Tower so I have to talk about the symbolism or I will explode!!
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While completing the communist vision quest you get an opportunity to build a model of "The Tower of History", depicted on the last page of "A Brief Look at Infra-Materialism": a leaning tower wrapped in a dramatic helix. The scale model you make is a mirror image of Tatlin's Tower - a design for a grand monumental building to the Third International: the government organization advocating for world communism.
The main idea of the monument was to produce a new type of structure, uniting a purely creative form with a utilitarian form. Meaning it would function as an office building while also serving as a symbol of cultural significance. And let me tell you, this bad boy can fit so much symbolism in it.
Tatlin was commissioned to develop a design in 1919, after the 1917 February Revolution - a parallel to Disco Elysium's Insulinde we're witnessing post-Antecentennial Revolution.
Tatlin's work was inspired by high revolutionary goals, which are evident in the visual direction of the tower as well, expressing the ideological strive for achieving something that has never been done before, overcoming the odds. The structure "oscillates like a steel snake, constrained and organized by the one general movement of all the parts, to raise itself above the earth. The form wants to overcome the material and the force of gravity..."
The tower has meaning packed even in the materials. For example, the glass structures (marked A, B, C on the architectural rendering) were meant to serve legislative, executive and informative initiatives while rotating around their axes at different speeds. The material signified the purity of initiatives, their liberation from material constraints and their ideal qualities.
But here's the best part. The spirals.
"The spiral is the movement of liberated humanity. The spiral is the ideal expression of liberation: with its base set in the earth, it flees from the ground and becomes a symbol of the suspension of all (...) earthy interests." They are "the most elastic and rapid lines which the world knows" that represent movement and aspiration, continuing the themes of progress and freedom, but they also refer to something else.
In the process of building the matchbox model Rhetoric points out: "It's almost exactly as Nilsen's sketch imagined, a physical manifestation of the dialectical spiral of history."
The shape of the tower is a representation of dialectical development of history, first visualized as a spiral by G. W. F. Hegel. He pictured transformational change as "both linear and circular in order to be short-term responsive, i.e. possibly negating itself, and long-term strategic, i.e. a process of development."
Hegel's dialectics would later be reinterpreted through the prism of materialism by Marx and Engels to create dialectical materialism - the basis for historical materialism.
"Still, this idea, as formulated by Marx and Engels on the basis of Hegels’ philosophy, is far more comprehensive and far richer in content than the current idea of evolution is. A development that repeats, as it were, stages that have already been passed, but repeats them in a different way, on a higher basis, (...) a development, so to speak, that proceeds in spirals, not in a straight line; a development by leaps, catastrophes, and revolutions; (...) the interdependence and the closest and indissoluble connection between all aspects of any phenomenon (history constantly revealing ever new aspects), a connection that provides a uniform, and universal process of motion, one that follows definite laws - these are some of the features of dialectics as a doctrine of development that is richer than the conventional one."
The tower embodies progress in materialist understanding of history while also indicating the connection to ideological plasm, a manifestation of "the proletariat's embrace of historical materialism", necessary to create a better future.
According to Nilsen, the proletariat of a revolutionary state can generate enough plasm to create extra-physical architecture that "disregards the laws of 'bourgeois physics' and instead relies on the revolutionary faith of the people for structural integrity."
This function of plasm implies that The Tower of History can be created only under revolutionary circumstances - without a sufficient amount of plasm even the matchbox model didn't stay up. The exact same sentiment is expressed about Tatlin's Tower: "We maintain that only the full power of the multimillion strong proletarian consciousness could bring into the world the idea of this monument and its forms. The monument must be realized by the muscles of this power, because we have an ideal, living and classical expression the pure and creative form of the international union of the workers of the whole world."
Nilsen called it "the highest expression of Communist principles, a society whose literal foundation is the faith of its people."
Tatlin's Tower was a symbol of faith in the revolutionary future, the global triumph of Marxist socialism. A monument "made of iron, glass and revolution."
It was never built in real life, and neither was The Tower of History in the world of Elysium.
But you can try to see if there's enough plasm between the three of you. And the matchbox tower stays up for a long moment, quivering with an improbable energy. You believe it can say up - and it does.
So you have to believe; whether it's for collective action or generating ideological plasm. Then, together, maybe you'll be able to build as much as 0.0002% of communism.
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whitestnoise · 6 months
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thepoisonroom · 11 days
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'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.
I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.
About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'
-Casey Plett, Consciousness
#this quote always moves me almost to tears when i remember it#i'm not a trans woman and i don't share the author's specific experiences with transition#but it really moves me that she frame transition as joyfully giving yourself permission to approach your body#not as something that has to be disciplined and deprived and made small in all these various ways#but as a means for experiencing pleasure and joy and delight and for insisting that our feelings and desires are worth#valuing and exploring and treasuring#i always used to think of prioritizing those things for myself as selfish and irresponsible#but who does it harm to want to experience pleasure in your own body?#it's such a beautifully simple and powerful switch to have flip in your head#and equally why are we forced to deny our own pleasure in transition and anything else related to our bodies in the name of moral rectitude#this is why i get so confused and pissed off when other trans people are fatphobic for example#like why are you so invested in politics of shame and disgust that never had any purpose other than#violently disciplining people as if they've violated moral codes by existing in a body#to say nothing of white people being racist in gay and trans communities#like again this system of violence is foundational to homophobia and transphobia#so why are you acting like it has nothing to do with you#even if you are unmoved by the urgency of other people's suffering which btw you should be moved by#what do you hope to gain by acting a collaborator and handmaiden to those systems#Casey Plett#she really is one of my favorite authors i wish more non-canadians read her#this quote is from a series of columns she did ont transition and every single one is a banger#i love when she talks about the people-pleasing elements of dysphoria and transition denial#she's so sharp about noting how many of us deny our own dysphoria on the grounds that others like and validate our bodies#that's how i always felt during my cis conventionally feminine era#it pleased other people so much and also that reception felt so hollow and joyless to me because i hated it#i get less of that positive feedback but that feels so unimportant next to the joy and pleasure i get to experience#said with the understanding that i'm very privileged in being able to prioritize those things without fear. but it was a switch flip#personal nonsense
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floofyboi57 · 6 months
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I had a vision-
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vampykween · 5 months
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Second Chances - we'll be alright
summary: your entire life changed the day Poppy Riley came into it, and all these years later you were still immensely grateful for how everything worked out. a/n: please please forgive me i know i haven't written part three yet but i swear it will come eventually. anyway enjoy this little glimpse into the future of this series! i promise this doesn't spoil the original timeline (second chances was always going to be a HEA) also this is barely edited I'm sorry oops! wc: 2.1K second chances masterlist
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You remember what it was like being a teenager; you remember not wanting to hear anything your parents had to say, unfortunately, it never occurred to you what it would be like on the other side.
Poppy had come home furious, over what you’re not even sure about. She storms straight past you ignoring your ‘hello’ and stomps aggressively up the stairs rounding it all off by slamming her door. Your husband trails into the arms full of the groceries he was sent out to get, huffing loudly while dumping the bags onto the kitchen island.
“What’s going with the two of you today?” you question your husband while putting away the food for the week. Simon takes a deep, long breath and releases it slowly before responding, “She’s pissed at me because I caught her fuckin’ neckin’ some dodgy lad when I went to pick her up,” You can see it clear as day your husband is pissed – Poppy is fifteen years old, but sometimes he treats her like she’s still just a little girl. Suddenly you hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet barreling into the kitchen – your youngest, Iris, is beelining straight for her father.
“Hi daddy!” your toddler makes grabby hands at Simon, and he scoops her up immediately and smothers her with kisses. All these years later, and still seeing Simon fall into the role of loving father so easily turns your heart to mush.
 “Maybe let me go talk to her? I remember what it was like being fifteen, no girl wants her dad to talk to her about dating and boys.” Your husband sighs and pulls Iris tighter against his chest but nods reluctantly.
You knock softly on your teenager’s bedroom door - you’re hoping you can smooth the situation over – as much as Simon is upset about seeing his little girl growing up, he’s suffering even more knowing she’s upset at him.
“Go away!”
You disregard Poppy’s request, probably your first mistake, because you couldn't possibly fathom the conversation that would ensue.
You stick your head through the gap in the door, slowly pushing it all the way open. Making your way over to sit at the end of the bed, Poppy turns over and rolls her eyes at you. Okay, so that’s how this was going to be.
“Poppy, love, I just want to talk to you, your dad told me what happened earlier,” you try a gentle approach, mostly because you’re not even sure what you should say; you’re not mad at her, you just want her to be able to talk to you about these kinds of things.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she mumbles, then adds on “ya know you’re not even my real mum, I don’t want to talk to you about this.”
If your heart wasn’t pounding so ferociously in your ears, you would’ve been sure it stopped completely. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the walls seem to be closing in on you and so in the most composed manner you can manage you bolt out of her room and to the primary bedroom.
Simon is finishing putting away laundry when he sees you shoot straight through the door and dive under the covers, sobbing loudly.
“Love, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
You can’t seem to get a coherent thought out as you choke around sobs. Simon rubs your back soothingly until you’ve calmed down enough to speak.
“She hates me Simon, I- I don’t know what I did wrong, but she hates me!”
“Sweetheart I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, aren’t you always telling me that she's a teenager and that I shouldn’t take everything she says so personally,” Simon says hoping to ease your fears and heartache.
“Well, maybe I was wrong. Baby, she looked me in my eyes and said that ‘I’m not her real mom and that she doesn’t want to talk to me about things.”
The fingers running through your hair cease movement, and he looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.
“She said what?! You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, she can’t just say that to you.” Simon is seething, absolutely boiling over with anger. He loves his firstborn immensely - she’s his entire world, but sometimes she drove him up the fucking wall. It’s moments like these that make him wish he could turn back the clock, and shrink her back down into his baby girl - one that doesn't brush him off and snap at her mother and father all the time. On the short walk to her bedroom, Simon does his best to quell the frustration he has with her after making you cry. He doesn't care how upset he is with her, he never has and never will spew that anger onto her, or any of his girls. 
He knocks softly on Poppy’s door, although it’s performative really because he twists the knob and enters anyway. The teenage girl is balled up in a heap on her bed, back facing him, and if the situation was different he’d be laughing at how adorable she looked. He pauses his steps momentarily, seeing if she’ll tell him off too. When he’s met with continued silence, he strides over and parks himself on the edge of her bed. Simon takes in the sight of his daughter’s bedroom; there’s makeup littering her vanity, homework strewn across her desk, band posters and polaroids of her friends tacked up on the walls, and her bed holds a mountain of stuffed animals she’s accumulated over the years. Something akin to guilt stirs in him, maybe he was a little too hard on her. It’s not like one kiss makes her any different than the girl he knows she is. Poppy breaks him from his reverie when she sits up, still bundled in her blanket with tears in her eyes, and turns towards him.
“Are ya gonna sit there and stare at me all day or what?” Okay, maybe she was a little different than he remembered. She’s unfortunately caught his bad mouth and short temper. He brushes off her little quip and dives right into what he wants to say in the first place. 
“Ya want to be mad at me go ahead, but what you said to mum? That was cruel Poppy.” he serves her with a stern look and she knows she’s really in for it this time; no amount of puppy eyes would get her out of this. Poppy fidgets with the skin of her fingers, sighing loudly as she contemplates how to respond. She knows what she said was harsh, and if she could take it back she would. 
Sometimes she looks back on her life and is lucky her dad found someone who loved him and her wholly, but then sometimes she’s angry because why couldn't it have just been them two forever? Her dad was a lot more forgiving about things when she was his only little girl and now she’s got to be a good example for her two younger sisters thanks to you. The teenager doesn't even realize she’s crying until Simon is reaching across the bed to pull her into his arms, wiping at her tears like he always did when she was little. 
“I- I just wish i could do normal teenage things without you getting upset at me,” she choked out between cries. Her father’s heart breaks at her referring to him as ‘daddy’ because he couldn't remember the last time she did that, and it splits even further when he realizes he’s letting his fear of her growing up hinder their relationship. “You let Lily and Iris get away with so much, cause they’re little and I get it, but-” Poppy inhales shakily knowing her next words would cut him like a knife “-when it was just you, me, and mum you let me get away with things too.” 
The older man’s heart feels decimated. Has he been so much harder on Poppy recently? He’s embarrassed to admit he couldn't even recall because he’s been so busy wrangling toddlers all day. As much as he wants to tell her he doesn't want her snogging wannabe bad boys at school, he knows apologizing is the better course of action. 
“Petal, I know I was hard on you today, I can admit that. Do i like the idea of you kissing and dating and all that, absolutely fuckin’ not, but im sure you’ll do it anyway, so ill get over it.” Simon can see his daughter’s eyes light up at his words. “Aye I'm not saying come home with a boyfriend tomorrow, im saying im sorry, and i'll try to let you grow up even if i hate it.” The last word in Simon’s apology comes out airy as Poppy wraps her arms around him and squeezes tightly. 
“Thank you dad. I promise I won't do anything  crazy, at least not yet,” she teases him cheekily. He gives her a pointed look of ‘don't push it’ and plants a kiss on the top of her head. 
“I hate to ruin the good mood we’ve got, but you still need to apologize to your mum. She’s really torn up over what you said to her.” He hates that he’s dampening the mood, but as much as he loves his daughter, he’s not going to let her disrespect you. Poppy sighs sadly, untangles herself from her blankets, and makes way for your bedroom. When she turns back to gauge her father’s reaction, he motions for her to go on. 
Your head is pounding after the long cry session you’ve just finished having. You feel foolish for letting Poppy’s words get to you, she’s only a teenager after all. But having her pierce you right in your most sensitive spot hurt like hell. No matter how many years have passed, and how many hurdles you’ve jumped, there were always days when you remembered that you weren't Poppy’s biological mom. None of that made your family any less real, you knew that, but hearing her remind you of that truth was like a punch to the gut. You’re startled by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, and your breath catches at the sight of your daughter peeking her head in. 
“Can I  come in please,” she questions with a slightly pleading tone. Poppy wasn't sure what she’d do if you said no.  It would be fair, but despite her words, every girl still needs their mom, chosen or not. You nod your head and motion for her to join you on the bed. Raising your arm, she slides into your side, head on your shoulder just like she used to always do growing up. Your heart clenched wistfully at the thought. You couldn't stay mad at her even if you tried, no matter how things came to be, Poppy would always be your little girl. After a pregnant moment of silence, she finally speaks in the quiet room. 
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, that wasn’t kind of me. You always have and will be my real mum, no matter what. You dont think I’m a bad person do you?” Your eyes are shining with tears as you look down at the teenager, how did you manage to raise such a wonderful fifteen-year-old? When you were fifteen you spent every waking moment walking on eggshells around your mother trying with all your might to not misstep in her minefield.  Fifteen year old you, laid awake and cried when you realized you were just like your mother and you were doomed to always bite the hands that fed you, that loved you. But here Poppy was, cuddled up in your bed, tear-stained face apologizing because she hurt you, and now you’re crying too because if only you were held like this by your mother growing up. 
“My little petal, of course, I don't think you’re a bad person. Even the kindest of people lash out at people when they’re hurt. There are going to be days when you probably can't even stand the sight of my face, but please know I will love you endlessly even then.” Poppy buries her face deeper into the crook of your neck and hugs you tightly, you can feel her tears staining your shirt, but you couldn't care less as yours fall freely down your face. She mumbles a soft “i love you” and you chuckle faintly and press a kiss to the crown of her head. There was never going to be a time when you didn't love Poppy Riley with everything in you, not when meeting that little girl all those years ago changed the course of your entire life for the better.
taglist: @darkravenqueen98 @jupiternighties @lunamoonbby @happy-mushrooms @yyiikes @liliumbosniacum @fluffymaxsworld @rockcollector3000
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When I feed the hungry, they call me a saint. When I ask why people are hungry, they call me a Communist.
- Hélder Câmara, Brazilian archbishop and Servant of God, as quoted in Peace Behind Bars: A Peacemaking Priest's Journal from Jail (1995) by John Dear.
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putonyourbathingsuits · 9 months
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I am in love with David Byrne in a way that cannot be quantified
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