Tumgik
#untangle
scriptedbutcreative · 30 days
Text
My Mind Is a Mess,
Chaos untamed.
Sometimes I find ease in puzzle books and piano screams.
I Let the puzzles mend my thoughts, piece by piece, and the piano.. Oh yeaa… it’s the monster that screams untangling the knots everytime I touch its teeth.
I call it Therapy . Iykyk💀
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
davidrossseville · 4 months
Text
“Merry Christmas, everyone!”
“And Happy Holidays!”
“And does anyone know how to untangle Christmas lights? I have been at this for 3 hours.”
4 notes · View notes
kitschtarot · 2 years
Text
🎭 Are you living your life in the here and now? 🎭
Yes or no answer tarot reading - choose 1, 2 or 3
Tumblr media
Answers :::
1. No, you are haunted by a fight in the past. You may have won the battle but you carry the damage that hinder your progress. It can also be said you haven't moved on, it lingers. Travel light in your journey just take the lessons and continue on 🥝
2. No, you are denying your individuality, your potential is hidden from you and cannot grow. Someone in authority sees this and will want to support you, because that's what he does and is good at it. You are asked to trust this person to help you live your life in truth 🎐
3. No, you have unfinished business in the past which you think attending to will fix your home but it is halting your journey. You may be well equipped but you are anchored and cannot move forward. There are many in your to-do list but never get them done, just scrap them and deal with what you have in front of you 🐄
🐮🥔
May we be sharp enough to see through our muddled realities, and get back on track. Thank you spirit
🧄🍌
5 notes · View notes
bshocommons · 4 months
Text
A small tug at a complicated knot that would take generations to unpick.
Celeste Ng, Our Missing Hearts
0 notes
Text
yea it's a show about nepo babies but Succession really said "20 billion dollars doesn't erase the persistent trauma of childhood abuse, or absolve the abuser" so like. remember that next time your parent tries to uno-reverse-guilt-card you with "but we gave you so much"
4K notes · View notes
doreensladle · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
you know you’re soulmates when the editors literally have to splice you together because you think the same thoughts
989 notes · View notes
bebestconsultants · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Your Abroad Dreams & Aspirations Without Guidance and With Our Guidance!!! #UNTANGLE Your Overseas Dreams With Us... Approach Us #BeBestConsultants #Vijayawada #Guntur Contact Us Now or Inbox! Call Us: +91 89856 64888 #studyabroad #bestIELTStraining #abroadeducation #foreigneducation #visaconsultants #careercounsellor #freeeducation #highereducation #studentvisa #studyvisa #studentvisa #internationalstudents #applyfor2023intake #usa #uk #australia #europe #canada #studyinusa #studyinuk #studyinaustralia #studyineurope #studyinCanada https://www.instagram.com/p/Ch1p1yOuVyJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
0 notes
sarahnichols · 2 years
Text
Process Journal: Implementation, Part 2
As our group continued deep into the implementation phase, we ebbed and flowed into both arenas of success and failure. Success came out on top eventually because we trusted the process... however failure snuck in several times because we got tangled up and didn't hear each other well enough at points, and felt confused and lost in the mess of all our ideas.
Through this lengthily stage, we didn't need to pivot from our main idea - but instead we needed to define it better through our personas. Things definitely came easier when we focused on how to tell the story of who & why we were solving for with our innovative app. I personally enjoyed developing each persona character and their individual needs and wants.
Visually I collected well over a hundred images on Pinterest, and built a catalogue of photos to help us see our personas and imagine their problems and how this new app would help them. For the group, I noticed that after seeing the characters brought to life in the images, everything moved into focus much faster, and we became unstuck, making leaps and bounds towards building out our concepts, and business canvas model, wireframes, and app renderings.
Tumblr media
0 notes
wavebf · 2 years
Text
earbud wire caught on door after user already angry, 15 injured 67 dead
15K notes · View notes
notllorstel · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
They were playing around and now waiting for the hair untangle experts (satin&chenille)
905 notes · View notes
xenalona · 2 years
Text
I had to untangle some string. On a completely unrelated note, I found my scissors again!
1 note · View note
novelconcepts · 11 months
Text
There’s a line from American Gods I keep coming back to in relation to Yellowjackets, an observation made early on by Shadow in prison: “The kind of behavior that works in a specialized environment, such as prison, can fail to work and in fact become harmful when used outside such an environment.” I keep rotating it in my head in thinking about the six survivors, the roles they occupy in the wilderness, and the way the show depicts them as adults in society.
Because in the wilderness, as in prison, they’re trapped—they’re suffering, they’re traumatized, they’re terrified—but they’re also able to construct very specific boxes to live in. And, in a way, that might make it easier. Cut away the fat, narrow the story down to its base arc. You are no longer the complex young woman who weighs a moral compass before acting. You no longer have the luxury of asking questions. You are a survivor. You have only to get to the next day.
Shauna: the scribe. Lottie: the prophet. Van: the acolyte. Taissa: the skeptic. Misty: the knight. Natalie: the queen. Neat, orderly, the bricks of a new kind of society. And it works in the woods; we know this because these six survive. (Add Travis: the hunter, while you’re at it, because he does make it to adulthood).
But then they’re rescued. And it’s not just lost purpose and PTSD they’re dealing with now, but a loss of that intrinsic identity each built in the woods. How do you go home again? How do you rejoin a so-called civilized world, where all the violence is restricted to a soccer field, to an argument, to your own nightmares?
How does the scribe, the one who wrote it all out in black and white to make sense of the horrors, cope with a world that would actively reject her story? She locks that story away. But she can’t stop turning it over in her head. She can’t forget the details. They’re waiting around every corner. In the husband beside her in bed. In the child she can’t connect with across the table. In the best friend whose parents draw her in, make her the object of their grief, the friend who lives on in every corner of their hometown. She can’t forget, so she tries so hard to write a different kind of story instead, to fool everyone into seeing the soft maternal mask and not the butcher beneath, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.
How does the prophet come back from the religion a desperate group made of her, a group that took her tortured visions, her slipping mental health, and built a hungry need around the very things whittling her down? She builds over the bones. She creates a place out of all that well-intended damage, and she tells herself she’s helping, she’s saving them, she has to save them, because the world is greedy and needs a leader, needs a martyr, needs someone to stand up tall and reassure everyone at the end of the day that they know what’s best. The world, any world, needs someone who will take those blows so the innocent don’t have to. She’s haunted by everyone she didn’t save, by the godhood assigned to her out of misplaced damage, and when the darkness comes knocking again, there is nothing else to do but repeat old rhymes until there is blood on her hands just the same.
How does the acolyte return to a world that cares nothing for the faith of the desperate, the faith that did nothing to save most of her friends, that indeed pushed her to destroy? She runs from it. She dives into things that are safe to believe in, things that rescue lonely girls from rough home lives, things that show a young queer kid there’s still sunshine out there somewhere. She delves into fiction, makes a home inside old stories to which she already knows the endings, coaxes herself away from the belief that damned her and into a cinemascope safety net where the real stuff never has to get in. She teaches herself surface-level interests, she avoids anything she might believe in too deeply, and still she’s dragged back to the place where blood winds up on her hands just the same.
How does the skeptic make peace with the things she knows happened, the things that she did even without meaning to, without realizing? She buries them. She leans hard into a refusal to believe those skeletons could ever crawl back out of the graves she stuffed them into, because belief is in some ways the opposite of control. She doesn’t talk to her wife. She doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not about what’s underneath the surface, because that’s just a mess, so instead she actively discounts the girl she became in the woods. She makes something new, something rational and orderly, someone who can’t fail. She polishes the picture to a shine, and she stands up straight, the model achievement. She goes about her original plan like it was always going to be that way, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.
How does the knight exist in a world with no one to serve, no one to protect, no reason propelling the devastating choices she had grown comfortable making? She rechannels it. She convinces herself she’s the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most observant. She convinces herself other people’s mysteries are hers to solve, that she is helping in every single action she takes. She makes a career out of assisting the most fragile, the most helpless souls she can find, and she makes a hobby out of patrolling for crimes to solve, and when a chance comes to strap her armor back on and ride into battle, she rejoices in the return to normalcy. She craves that station as someone needed, someone to rely upon in the darkest of hours, and she winds up with blood on her hands because, in a way, she never left the wilderness at all.
How does the queen keep going without a queendom, without a pack, without people to lead past the horrors of tomorrow? She doesn’t. She simply does not know how. She scrounges for something, anything, that will make her feel connected to the world the way that team did. She moves in and out of a world that rejects trauma, punishes the traumatized, heckles the grieving as a spectacle. She finds comfort in the cohesive ritual of rehabilitation, this place where she gets so close to finding herself again, only to stumble when she opens her eyes and sees she’s alone. All those months feeding and guiding and gripping fast to the fight of making it to another day, and she no longer knows how to rest. How to let go without falling. She no longer wears a crown, and she never wanted it in the first place, so how on earth does she survive a world that doesn’t understand the guilt and shame of being made the centerpiece of a specialized environment you can never explain to anyone else? How, how, how do you survive without winding up with blood on your hands just the same?
All six of these girls found, for better or worse, a place in the woods. All six of them found, for better or worse, a reason to get up the next day. For each other. And then they go home, and even if they all stayed close, stayed friends, it’d still be like stepping out of chains for the first time in years. Where do you go? How do you make small choices when every decision for months was life or death? How do you keep the part of yourself stitched so innately into your survival in a world that would scream to see it? How do you do away with the survivor and still keep going?
They brought it back with them. Of course they did. It was the only way.
1K notes · View notes
triviallytrue · 3 months
Text
One thing I like about bg3 is that about half the companions are bad people. Sympathetic bad people who were in many ways victims of circumstance who can become better if given the chance, but this is true of most bad people in real life as well
361 notes · View notes
jackfromthefairytale · 11 months
Text
torchwood be like: on a dark and horny night
1K notes · View notes
dreamdripdistance · 18 days
Text
Tumblr media
transfem joker . if you even care.
353 notes · View notes
stil-lindigo · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Source
While reading this interview with a West Bank settler, it's important to remember her views do not represent those of all Israelis just like Israel does not represent all Jews. There has been sizeable protest in Tel Aviv against the genocide (quickly squashed under Netanyahu’s police force just like all other pro-palestinian sentiment) but it’s worth reading to get insight into the minds of average people who cheer on Palestinian deaths, and draw up a chair to watch hellfire rain down on innocents. This is the impact of years of settler-colonial propaganda - a complete dehumanisation of a scapegoat population.
It also has to be said that ALL colonialist countries are complicit in encouraging this kind of extremism, by facilitating and stoking the fires of islamophobia post-9/11. Israel is not an outlier - this kind of sentiment is festering EVERYWHERE and attempting to detach yourself and your country's identity from it is like burying your head in the sand.
If you stand on the side of Palestinians in this crisis, you have to be prepared to recognise the signs of islamophobia and fascism everywhere, and stand against them.
423 notes · View notes