It's the Twins birthday so I made this to celebrate
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you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.
you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.
instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.
you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.
your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.
because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.
so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.
all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.
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There's just something so inherently beautiful about the way Luffy loves Sanji. Because his perception of Sanji, at the end of the day, is always "he's a good person". Plain. Simple. Easy like that. "You're just like that" is what Luffy tells him. He's just, basically, a kindhearted soul. And he could quite literally list all of his qualities, but he doesn't because he doesn't need to. Why would he do that when the best description for his cook is just saying he has a good heart? The way Luffy perceives Sanji is just so beautiful to me because, while Sanji sees himself as somebody unworthy of love and easily dispensable, Luffy sees him as the representation of kindness itself. For Luffy, food is the epitome of happiness and love. Hunger means wanting something. Eating means taking something you want. And food as a concept means being full. Hunger itself is a need your body asks for, and Luffy has never been shy about it and he takes and takes and enjoys himself until he's completely full. Sanji has been hungry his whole life but has never, not even once, thought about eating out of pleasure, but only need. His job is to cook and to serve and not to eat. And Luffy sees that as the most selfless act of kindness. To create and give food to the ones who need it and want it. Sanji makes others happy, and Luffy can't understand why he keeps depriving himself of the food (happiness) he makes. He does these things out of plain, simple kindness and without expecting anything in return, and Luffy sees that. Luffy sees Sanji's heart served on a silver platter because that's what Sanji offers him every time. And Luffy doesn't want Sanji's heart or selfless acts of kindness. He wants Sanji to be kind without harming himself in the process and actually take what he wants for once (eating). Luffy doesn't get why he keeps torturing himself and giving his everything to others when he could just share it. Sanji has so much frustration and rage and pain and sadness he won't let himself feel, and Luffy is quite literally the definition of "If you need to be mean, be mean to me" (from the song 'I don't smoke' by Mitski) and "If you gave me all the anger you can't swallow I would eat it gladly for you, just don't choke" (I just thought about this thing I'm such a poet).
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I jokingly thought before that reading Junie B. Jones as a kid turned me into a feminist, but unironically, it kind of did.
I honestly think it comes down to the fact that Junie B. was not only allowed to be "weird," but her character arc never concluded like other girl characters would. In other media featuring "weird girls," the girl always ended her arc tamed - by force or convince, she would be prettied up, she would smile and be polite, and she would never speak out of turn. She would be perfect then, and would shed her veneer of individuality with the freedom that is conformity. As a kid, I noticed that girls weren't permitted to be "weird" like boys were. So when I read Junie B. Jones, I loved that she was frankly just fucking weird. She said things out of turn, she was rambunctious and imaginative and she was a realistic portrayal of a little girl. I loved reading those books because the narrative taught her lessons without punishing her for being weird, if that makes sense. So often, narratives punished weird girls for the crime of being a socially unacceptable girl, not for any true wrongdoing like lying.
Anyway, I just think it's interesting, because I watched and read a ton of books and shows and movies featuring girls and women, but none of them truly empathized with (or even tried to empathize with) weird girls on their own merits and capabilities and terms, or embraced the idea of a "socially inept/unacceptable" girl without punishing her in some way for her supposed ineptitude.
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more misc gow stuff
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its so crazy that staff was like "yeah we're adding the grand exchange shop to fix the rampant issue of ancient gene clutter!" and we were all like "yay!" and then they just. didn't fix the issue of clutter in the marketplace. which was what we all actually cared about. And now it's to the point where i've been camping this mp with 5 min timers for (no joke) the last 9 fucking hours trying to find Secondary Gene: Striation (MODERN) while every ancient variation has stocked plentifully and often. and when the next ancient inevitably comes out next month it's going to get even worse. like. Man.
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He had a long day at school
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2023 Las Vegas Grand Prix - Qualifiying - Fernando Alonso
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AM's need for viscerality and human experience in the audio drama perplexes me due to the flawed experience a god-like machine could yearn for, while I, among fellow mysanthrophists, flesh and bone yearn to rid myself of my humanity and the heaviness of a human form. It's undoubtedly hard to be human, and submitting to a machine, abandoning ache and strain, age and blood, disease and anguish, it seems dream like, to not be held back by the fragility of being just a man. And yet - this omnipresent, immortal, everpowerful machine, cold, calculated, metal and pure logic, no routine, no confinement, yearns for this? THIS? Like yearing to be holy, a christians need is to become a saint, as machines are an atheists angels, have I found the same issue in a different form? Do we really all yearn to be more, than this? Than flesh and bone and veins and marrow? is this really all there is? Does a machine see more in a man, the way a man sees more in a machine?
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there are two thoughts inside my brain rn
first one, I need Nikolai to put on a clown/jester make up and let me ride his face stupid until it's all ruined
second one, he is the type to sneak up behind you and poke your ass w his cock and be like "guess who is it"
i lied, there are three thoughts
third one is pumpkin carving w him 😔😔 he would make them either adorable or fucking terrifying, no in between
jk, I had a fourth thought of him breaking up w you and then got an urge to write some awful angst, but luckily, I have requests to work on 🫡
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just bc im a lesbian doesnt mean tht i wont at times become deeply entranced with the beauty of male actor or character. it just means i wld rather be locked in a room with a man with a knife than do anything romantic or sexual with one
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Honestly, I do think it's kind of funny when cis people talk about how Big Trans is forcing them to date, bed, or be friends with trans people because, truly, most of us wouldn't have wanted to be around them, anyway.
If you don't want to be seen as transphobic, there are ways to state your desires without being seen as transphobic. However, you can't have it both ways: treating trans people as second-class people while also not being seen as a bigot while doing so. You need to make your peace with that if you are going to go about this in a transphobic way.
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Spoilers ahead, y'all!
Whilst I did make a post about timelines and possible magic and extension of life, somehow, the simple explanation escaped me completely. Especially as someone who lives in Norway, where Winter is half of the year.
When were Lila and Jaysohn born, if they knew their dad half their life? Early Winter. Geoffrey probably died sometime right before Spring, where the snow is still thick and the air still freezing. Let's say, if the plot of the story takes place in September-October, Geoffrey died in March-April, with the kids born around December-January. It would, actually, explain everything. We know, from Viola, that these stoats don't follow normal stoat mating patterns; Viola is having her kids in Autumn. Therefore, who's to say Tula couldn't have Lila and Jaysohn in Winter? They're sapient creatures, who can think and plan. We also get the small glimpse that Tula knows that they may have some control over when they get pregnant, but not always. Who's to say it didn't happen to her, too? What if, that Winter was where Tula gained so much, and nearly lost everything in one moment.
Although, I still believe Ava is overestimating her own age just so she can get away with more things.
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me after speding acutal time out of my night to write lore for this stupid ass emo ezekiel fuck i made in 10 minutes
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really enjoy seeing the comments whenever i post sopping yakumo
the reactions are immediate
like all the yakumo enjoyers wriggle out of the dirt and experience Emotion together , loudly
the chorus of AUUWWGHHHGHGHHH
we are one
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