#Disparities between our souls

[astraeus-tree]

Disparities Between Our Souls

Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Pairing: Reader x Miguel O'hara

Neglected!Reader who is transported into the ASTV universe and becomes a spider before being trasnported back to Gotham with their beloved

You were the oldest child of Bruce Wayne but came to the manor after Dick and Jason

You grew up with your aunt who took you in after your mother died soon your their birth

As time passed, your aunt's health worsened and she wasn't able to sustain both of you anymore

Searching through things to sell for money, she comes across a letter addressed to her from your mum, and in the letter she finds out that you are a child of Bruce Wayne

You get a blood test, it's positive and auntie decides to take her chances and send you off to live a better life as the child of a billionaire

At first it seems alright, not exactly the best but at least you had money and some company

You find out about the vigilantism a few months into their stay at the manor

Unfortunately, it's also a few nights before Jason's death and you are left to deal with overwhelming emotions alone after his death, especially when Barbara is soon found with her legs ruined by the same person who murdered your dear brother

When Tim comes you're pushed to the side even more as Bruce focuses on training him and Dick stays mostly at Bludhaven

Steph comes soon after him, but she wasn't really apart of the family and she always focused on proving herself to your father

Cassandra was introduced not long after, you wanted so badly to bond with her but with her inability to speak first few months, a language barrier was set between you two, and when that was eventually fixed, there simply weren't any opportunities to connect

Jason's return is unexpected and you want so badly to greet him with a hug, but you are pushed away

Damian is introduced and you can see the hate in his eyes as he explains that you're a liability to the family, unable to defend yourself should (when) a threat arise

You want to move out of this manor, clearly you were not welcome here anymore, but even though you were the child of Bruce Wayne, you yourself was not rich and finding a safe apartment or house in Gotham would cost you a fortune

Most of their funds also went to support their auntie as wellInstead, they opt to stay in their room at all times, moving with the shadows within the mansion, anything to stay away from their family's sights

During all this, your auntie is left with an illusion of you living a happy life

On a normal night, you wake up to excruciating pain in your arm and your body as heavy as lead

You can do nothing as heat overtakes your body, yoir vision is blurry and your breaths are short and quick

You think you see a colourful circle that looked oddly like a portal in the corner of their eye, but you couldn't tell if that was your mind was deceiving you

You didn't have time to decide as you passed out soon after

5 years later

You swing around the spider HQ to your darling’s office, food in hand

“Miguel, I have food for us”

You two were enjoying you food when an unknown and strange portal opened near them, you thought it looked familiar but you couldn't place your finger on it

Miguel put his hand in front of you, shielding you from whatever could come out of the portal

But instead of something or someone coming out, you two were sucked into it instead and dropped off into another world, presumably

The place you were dropped was dark, gloomy, rainy and oh-so familiar

You turned to your partner, pulling your mask over your head and urging him to do the same

“We have to get home. We cant stay here.”

Relationships and Ages (Pre-time skip)

Bruce (TBD)

His neglect for you was not intentional, but when he has a city to save at night, and basically run at day, there isn't much time to spare

Especially when he has to focus on training the other children so they don't harm themselves in the field of vigilantism

He loves you, he does, but he has to focus on what is more important

Dick (23)

Perhaps if you were introduced earlier, you two would've been closer, but unfortunately, you didn't, you came when he moved to Bludhaven, when he was focused on making a name for himself other than "Batman's Robin"

He has no major feelings for you, you are his older sibling and that's it

Jason (20)

You two were close when he was Robin, to him, you were the perfect older sibling, someone he could rely on

The only qualm he had was that he had to keep the vigilantism a secret from you, there were so many times he had almost spilled the secret out when he was talking to you

After his death, he still loved you, but he was afraid to see your reaction when you finally saw him

To him, you were innocent, a civilian needed to be far away from the crime lord, Red Hood, as far as possible to keep you safe

If only he knew how much damage he had done by doing that

Tim (18)

You didn't really get to bond

With Tim busy training as Robin then it turning to solving cases, he was spread thin

His free time was mostly spent napping anywhere he could, and that often meant you had no time to spend together

You two had no strong relations to each other, but you did admire Tim for his wits sometimes

Damian (10)

He was excited at first, to have somebody also be the blood-child of Bruce Wayne, but when he saw you, he was utterly disappointed

To him, his harsh words to you was him preparing you for the real world

Perhaps he still had hope for you, but for now he couldn't understand anything but hatred

Duke (16)

At the time of your disappearance, he wasn't introduced to the family yet

However, he knows of your existence due to the news

Babs (24)

You two were friends before, being the same age and all

But she soon became too busy with business of Oracle to focus on your friendship

Perhaps you two could rekindle that friendship, but for now there's barely any feelings held towards each other

Steph (19)

You two never really had time to bond, as said before she was just too busy with other stuff like her father and proving herself

If given the opportunities, you two could probably be close friends, but sadly you two weren't

Cass (20)

Your only sister in the family, you had hope that you two would be close, but with the language barrier it was hard to do so

When you were taken away, you two were forming a friendship, although it was definitely in the early stages, it was there and it was blooming

Alfred (Idek)

He was there sometimes and he wasn't there other times

He was busy working behind the scenes and keeping the manor clean

But when he was cooking, you would sometimes join him and it'd be a quiet, almost silent, bonding time

Wow this ended up being way longer than I thought

Ironically enough, as I was editing this, the fanfic/ao3 curse hit me and I almost got into a car crash. We are all good tho, no one got hurt and the cars are mostly fine!

Please let me know your thoughts! I'm not sure if I'll actually write this since my motivation comes and goes but if there's someone out there who really wants me to, I might continue it

Btw Bruce is older than canon, so pls don't think he had reader as a teen 😭, I swear he was at least 18. Speaking of ages, they aren't really important, they are just mostly there as my guidance in writing should I ever need them

Most of my DC/Batfam knowledge comes from fanon stuff so if they're ooc or they aren't that well written, my apologies. You're welcome to point any mistakes out and I'll try to fix it <3

If you can tell that I don't know the batgirls that well, I apologise again

This is my first time posting an actual story on tumblr so pls go easy in me

Have a great day/night <3

This was inspired by all the Neglected!Wayne fics, specifically Undoing Fate by Rizzanon, Ghosts of the Past by Nebulousmoon3990 and Not Your Classic Vigilante by Detectivemervelingcomics

[hungrywriter]

The Middle Child (one-shot)

Jobe Bellingham x reader (Platonic!) Jude Bellingham x reader (Platonic)

A/n: I'm sorry if this broke your heart, because it broke mine. To all those who struggle with their family's support, remember that your worth and potential are not defined by the validation of others. Embrace the strength in you.

Y/n Bellingham, the middle child of the Bellingham family, had always been living in the shadow of her famous brothers. Jobe's rise to soccer stardom and Jude's recent signing with Real Madrid had propelled them into the limelight, leaving Y/n feeling like an afterthought in her own family.

As Y/n grew up, Mr. and Mrs. Bellingham couldn't help but notice that she had a different passion and interests compared to her brothers. While Jobe and Jude thrived in their love for football, Y/n seemed to gravitate towards a different path. Instead of kicking a ball with her feet, she found joy in catching and throwing with her hands. It was a small detail, but it spoke volumes about her individuality.

Y/n's lack of interest in her father's work further set her apart from her brothers. Her father, hoping to pass on his love for football, had dedicated much of his time and attention to Jobe and Jude's development in the sport. Y/n's divergence from their shared passion caused her father to shift his focus solely onto his sons, unintentionally neglecting the unique interests and talents that Y/n possessed.

It wasn't that Y/n lacked talent or capability; rather, her abilities simply lay in a different realm, one that wasn't immediately understood or appreciated by her family. Unlike her brothers, Y/n found love and passion in volleyball. A sport that was uncommon in the Bellingham family. Since young, Y/n had always wished to compete in the Volleyball Women’s National League. When she had finally reached 17, she had signed to one of the biggest Volleyball teams in England. Once again, her parents were too busy to care.

At the age of 19, Y/n was promoted to captain of the volleyball team. She came home giddily, excited to announce the good news. She was also a bit nervous. How would they react? She longed for her family's support and recognition, yearning for them to be present on this significant day. But as the news of Jude's signing broke, the entire household erupted in joyous celebration, forgetting Y/n's accomplishment amidst the chaos.

Heart heavy with disappointment, Y/n stood in her room, gazing at the captain's armband in her hand. The weight of her brothers' success pressed upon her, threatening to crush her spirit. She had always been proud of her brothers, cheering them on from the sidelines, but now it felt like her own achievements were inconsequential.

Days turned into weeks, and the disparity between her brothers' fame and her own accomplishments deepened. Y/n poured her heart and soul into leading the volleyball team, hoping to find solace and recognition within her own passion. Yet, each victory and milestone seemed to fade into obscurity, overshadowed by the constant spotlight on Jobe and Jude.

It was the day that Jude finally signed the papers for Real Madrid. Y/n had an important match that day that determined whether the team was allowed to participate in the championship. Before and after the match, she keeps checking her phone. No text or calls. Y/n scoffed. 

It was dinner time when Y/n reached home. She was sweaty and tired, and all she wanted to do was take a nice hot bath and have an early rest. She made a mental reminder to change the bandage on her father, as she had an injury during the tournament. When she entered the house, her family was sitting at the dinner table and there was silence when her father bellowed her name.

“Y/n! Where the hell have you been? You missed the proudest day of our lives! And what happened to your forehead?” Your father shouted in anger. Normally, Y/n would shrug it off. But hearing the phrase ‘proudest day of our lives’ finally set her off. 

“Maybe if you had paid attention to me more, you would have known what happened,” She talked back. Her family was shocked at her outburst. Her father’s face was becoming red and her mother was trying to calm him down. 

“I learned to tie my own shoes. I memorised the route home from school because no one was there to take me home. I learnt how to make my own food, because while Jude and Jobe got pasta or-or steak, I had cereal. Do you know what I was doing today, Dad? Mom? Do you know what I want to be when I grow up? Jude? Jobe? Hell, do you even know what sport I play?” She roared, and at every sentence, she stepped forward towards the dining table.

She pulled out a photo from her jacket that she had kept for 2 years and slammed it on the table. It was a photo of her signing the contract with the volleyball team. “2 years ago, I signed for the top league volleyball team in england. It was the most important day of my life. Look at the picture. Do you know what’s missing? MY OWN GODDAMN FAMILY.”

“How could you all forget me? How could you let my accomplishments fade into oblivion while you showered Jobe and Jude with all your attention? Am I not worthy of recognition? Am I not important enough to be seen as an individual?”

“Y/n, please try to understand…” Mark Bellingham said as he stood up from his seat,

“Understand? I understand perfectly! I understand that my dreams and achievements mean nothing compared to Jobe's goals and Jude's signing! I understand that I've become invisible in my own damn family!”

With a heavy heart, Y/n turned away from her family, leaving them to grapple with the reality of their actions. Deep down, she yearned for a future where her worth was recognized, where she could stand tall in her own accomplishments, and where her family truly saw her for who she was.

She left the house and walked straight towards the park. The only place that brings her comfort. She took a seat at the bench and put her head in her hands to clear her head. After a few minutes, she could feel two figures sitting beside her, one on each side. When she saw both her family, she broke down again. This time, her mother hugged her first and cooed her. The rest of the family soon joined in.

“I’m so sorry. I was stressed because of the whole captain thing,”

“Oh baby, don’t be sorry. We’re sorry. We promise we’ll do better,” Her mother whispered as she rubbed her arm down her daughter’s back. Y/n smiled back, and she finally felt seen and heard. For the first time in her life, she had a reason to hope.

With time, Y/n's own star began to rise. Her talent and dedication to volleyball brought her recognition beyond the confines of her family, and she became a respected figure in her own right. She learned that her worth wasn't defined by comparisons or the validation of others, but by her own strength, passion, and the love she held for herself.

In the end, Y/n's struggle had forged an unbreakable bond within her family. They realised that each member, regardless of their accomplishments, deserved to be seen and valued for who they were. And together, they embarked on a journey of unconditional support, celebrating the victories of each sibling, no matter how big or small.

[vedurnan]

my elden ring player characters

the elden ring dlc comes out soon, is everyone excited? let's talk about our elden ring characters. i will begin.

i played through elden ring right after the game released when almost nothing was known about it, and so my first encounters with its world were full of mystery. i had no idea what was awaiting me so i imagined my first character as a foreign knight from a land across the sea, the very distant kin of an ancient warlord, just like the game's story describes our player character. this gave birth to...

i loved how her history and personality came together in my head naturally as i played through the game and came to know its world. we walked in parallel together through a strange digital landscape and made big decisions in the game before the community of players had figured out what the consequences of those actions would be. it lent itself perfectly to the "doomed knight" character she took on as our travels continued. she's a strength build with a lot of fire incantations on the side, very fun to play for me :)

next i wanted to try a dexterity character with bleeding damage, and that playstyle made me feel like a cheating asshole because it was so strong, like i was some kind of cunning & depraved highwayman...

unlike lorence who came into the service of the evil serpent from a faraway place, i imagined myrtle as a gelmir local, someone who is totally adapted to the nightmare landscape & murder ecosystem of the mountain of blasphemy. lorence and myrtle both fit dark souls "invader" archetypes very cutely in my mind, and when i play as either of them i like to use my recusant finger every once in a while even though i am terrible at pvp. beware dude, we will get you!

i also wanted to try something really different which i had never tried in any of these games before, a pure sorcery character. the royal academy atmosphere of raya lucaria was fun to adventure in but didn't feel like a type of character i wanted to inhabit, so i imagined once again that this new sorcerer was from lands far away...

i think u can see my earthsea fanfiction showing here, but that's fine with me. i imagine ternfeather as someone from perhaps a bit farther away than lorence, having only heard vague stories or out-of-date historical information about the lands between. i imagine the voyage was long and difficult and he must have been looking forward to a warm welcome from his new colleagues, but instead they started shooting glintstone shards at him :(

i use a lot of sleep magic on this character, which can make some combat encounters very difficult but others extremely easy. that highly specialized feeling seems fitting for a character with an academic background to me, & i also enjoy how sleep magic is connected to a folkloric figure of mixed or indeterminate gender within the game's story. very satisfying!

as i played through the game on these characters i became really enamored with the FLAME OF FRENZY and i knew i had to play a character centered all around it. i also wanted to play a very faith-focused character build so this worked out nicely...

i tried to play odile very close to her backstory as a random frenzied commoner, so she doesn't wear any armor other than her clothing and usually only uses a club and frenzy incantations (although sometimes i can't resist using vyke's spear). following the frenzy storyline through the lands between and into the depths under the capital was so fun, everything about it is dope 2 me :)

damn this made a long post! i like to imagine that these four adventure together kind of like a darkest dungeon party, or like service industry workers or something. they are all from very disparate backgrounds and don't always get along that well, but the circumstances of their dying world have bound them together as companions

[illumiera]

a new moon rises

or: there is a loom upon which the fate of every mortal is woven, and she who works it is Azura's blessed and cursed all at once. pre-i fear no fate (for you are my fate), 801 words

Near a small island somewhere off the coast of Akavir, the sea glows as though brimming with a galaxy of drowned stars. Stepping onto its shores feels like stepping beyond time entirely, like yesterday and today have fallen away in favour of a breathless, everlasting tomorrow. It feels like a crossing-over, like a journey from death-touched to deathless, and Ilmarenya—Ilmarenya cannot be certain if the salt-haired woman climbing out of the little boat is still Ilmarenya, but she knows that she must try to be nonetheless.

Nerevar—silent now, but he will come if she calls, whether as sound or as a shadow—has never required it of her. Nor has fate, which cares nothing for the name or face she wears as long as she treads the path it unfurls before her.

But her son and his father can have no other, and so Ilmarenya she must remain.

Azura stands at the base of the island’s single mountain. All the art, the statues, the carvings Ilmarenya’s fingers have traced at every shrine—they depict her as the star-touched night with a string of constellations for her girdle, but the Prince of the In-Between is never quite the same. Sometimes, she comes as midnight given body, or the wine-dark of gloaming, or flame-streaked sundown, or the golden hour moving through the air like a dream. Now, at the end—or the beginning—of all things, she is as beautiful and terrible as the dawn, and her skin is lit from within beneath a gauzy gown dyed the precise pink of early summer roses.

“Are you ready, my Moon-and-Star?” Azura asks, and her voice is uncharacteristically soft.

Ilmarenya draws herself to her full height and meets the unblinking burning dusk-dawn of the goddess’ eyes. What passes between them is nothing short of a challenge: Remember our bargain, my lady. I will give you—give Morrowind—my whole body if I must, but never that which I formed within it, never my son. Only when Ilmarenya is satisfied does she at last permit herself a single nod.

“Then come, Ilmarenya Ara’dayn.”

The goddess’ hands are warm, soft, and yet fetter-firm as they close around her own. When the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn leans in and presses her mouth to hers, so too are her lips.

—past—

—present—

—future—

—past-present-future-past-present-future-past-present-future-past—

It beats in her heart, in her head, in her soul like a doom-drum, Il-ma-ren-ya to the thundering of her pulse, and with the taste of roses and crystal sugar on her tongue, Ilmarenya sees.

Sees the spinning of the Wheel, the never-ending weaving of the loom her own hands must guide. Sees the sevenfold stories carved out by the strides of the Brass Tower, the breaking of the dragon, the wandering of the Soulless One, the making and dying of saints and soldiers alike. Sees the many paths of the world, of the worlds, of Ilmarenyas whose disparate choices tangle like caught threads, of Nerevarines who bear another name and face and fate, and sees—

Lliryn.

The image of her son is a beacon, a lodestar amidst it all. Lliryn growing—and she will not be there—into a lanky-legged young man with her nose and his father’s crow-feather curls. Lliryn the wizard’s apprentice, a scion of House Telvanni through and through, and a ghost to a father who sees only her when he looks into his face. Lliryn leaving to find her, and Lliryn collared and chained and seared from the inside out of everything that was hers, and then the fire and the wrath of their ancestors and the wrath of Nerevar come again, and Lliryn in the heart of the blaze with his chin tilted up to the moons-and-stars in prayer, in thanks, and then—

—and then she sees the First with his crown of storms, or the thrice-blessed Last with a healer’s bloody hands, or perhaps both at once, and either way, she cannot see her son, cannot see past the mess of thread that a Hero leaves in their wake. Dead, alive, a thrall of another kind—she can see everything, but not the most precious thing, not the one thing she needs to see.

Ilmarenya does not break. Boethiah’s children know that they must break the world that seeks to break them, and she—she has always been the rock upon which the waves break. Still, she remains on her hands and knees at the shoreline until any mortal’s bones would ache, and the tears that spill to the starlit sand are a bright, liquid gold.

What rises in the end is the Nerevarine, but Ilmarenya Ara’dayn, but something altogether other. Ilmarenya’s eyes, burning with all sundown’s fire, lift to the summit and the loom that waits atop it, and she begins to ascend.

[gallusrostromegalus]

in that map you drew of the seireitei districts; is there any link between the geography of the real world and the spirit world(or worlds)?

In regards to this map, Which is specific to AEIWAM:

This is the map that's hanging up in classrooms at Shinigami Academy when Ichigo breaks into Soul Society to save Rukia, in which the Seireitei is in the middle and the districts are color-coded with #s 1-79 of each marked as "Full" districts where the Soul Society Governs and collects taxes and the Large, undefined 80th districts where the Soul Society does not govern or collects taxes but they needed to call those regions SOMETHING.

The Map changes SIGNIFICANTLY in the following 5 years as Soul Society finally starts acting like a real nation with Borders instead of acting like it's still the Tokugawa Era.

As far as this correlates to Geography in the Living World however...

Watsonian Answer:

...Only sort of.

See, the Life Machine that generates reality only one of MANY Life Machines, who are all connected but disparate, like polyps that make up a coral. If that coral were some kind of Poly-dimensional Godhead. So the Living World is the four-dimensional expression of the surface of the calcium superstructure between the individual Polyps (which is also a skeleton they all share), and the Spirit World and Hell are the interior of the individual polyps. Maintaining the balance of souls between the living and spirit worlds is really the life machine maintaining it's homeostasis with the colony.

So while a soul can wander all over the living world, once it dies, it gets sucked into the Polyp it's closest to. But not "Closest" in a prototypically geographical sense, but "Closest" in the complex geographical way a multidimensional entity defines itself. Now, these fucking 12-and-14 dimensional barriers between God-Polyps *BROADLY* correlate to our four-dimensional reality, but not totally, so the afterlife of Soul Society is Sort-of geographically connected to "About 12% of central Japan (centered on one city), part of the Black Forest in Germany and an exceptionally deserted section of the Chihuahuan Desert".

Since souls can wander extensively (Not just geographically- emotionally, spiritually, inwardly, outwardly, memetically, culturally, ethically, methodologically, climatically, and just Generally Weirdly) in the living world though, people do not necessarily go to the afterlife of the life machine they were spawned in, let alone the one they expected to go to. In fact, the barriers beteween the dominions of different life machines are so inscrutable to humans that a pair of identical twins can be born, raised in the same house, take over that house from their parents, and spend every waking moment of their lives together and end up in completely different afterlives mostly, but not entirely because one of them had an allergy to celery and the other didn't.

So, *Most* of the people who die in Karkura town go to Soul Society for their afterlife, but not all of them. The Shinigami never notice the people who don't- their souls are immune to hollowfication because they're governed by a different God machine, and they just vanish off into their different afterlife the way ghosts normally go to soul society, and with roughly half of all souls totally forgetting thier previous lives and most missing at least some, or eager to change identities, it's pretty much impossible to track souls from one world to the next unless something WEIRD happens (spoiler: weird things happen).

Hence, Soul Society's total population is approximately five million human souls, and collectively about as many Non-human souls between the Hollows, Beastfolk, and other miscellaneous spirts, which is about the population of souls in both categories in the slices of geography it governs in the living world.

In terms of scale, the circle that makes up the Soul Society (Seireitei + Rukongai) is about 700 miles in Diameter- the Soul Society's borders end where they can no longer reliably get an army of normal humans that has to travel from the Seireitei without portals in under a month (about 11 miles per day, rounded up a bit because they'll haul ass in an emergency), because collecting taxes from farther than that is a PAIN IN THE ASS.

Doylist answer:

The Soul Society is a map of Alaska turned sideways and with a few rivers added in, and it's population is the same as Colorado's because that's easy for me to imagine.

[talonabraxas]

Sirius B: How to see Sirius’ companion Talon Abraxas

Mask (Kanaga) Talon Abraxas

One of the most popular types of masks in the Sanga region is the type known as kanaga. Like other Dogon masks, kanaga masks are worn at rituals called dama, whose goal is to transport the souls of deceased family members away from the village and to enhance the prestige of the deceased and his descendants by magnificent masked performances and generous displays of hospitality..

The deeper meaning of the kanaga mask apparently pertains both to God, the crossbars being his arms and legs, and to the arrangement of the universe, with the upper crossbar representing the sky and the lower one the earth. The disparity between these two interpretations illustrates the gaps in our understanding of Dogon art.

[victusinveritas]

Lest We Forget...Entire Frederick Douglass Speech on the Fourth of July, delivered July 5, 1852 in Rochester New York. (Note particularly the last paragraph). Usually, portions of the speech are quoted. This is the entire address. He was 34 years old when he made the speech..

=====================

The speech is below the cut, because I'm not going to force you to read it, just strongly encourage.

"Fellow citizens, pardon me, and allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here today? What have I or those I represent to do with your national independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? And am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, and to confess the benefits, and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?

Would to God, both for your sakes and ours, that an affirmative answer could be truthfully returned to these questions. Then would my task be light, and my burden easy and delightful. For who is there so cold that a nation's sympathy could not warm him? Who so obdurate and dead to the claims of gratitude, that would not thankfully acknowledge such priceless benefits? Who so stolid and selfish that would not give his voice to swell the hallelujahs of a nation's jubilee, when the chains of servitude had been torn from his limbs? I am not that man. In a case like that, the dumb might eloquently speak, and the "lame man leap as an hart."

But such is not the state of the case. I say it with a sad sense of disparity between us. I am not included within the pale of this glorious anniversary! Your high independence only reveals the immeasurable distance between us. The blessings in which you this day rejoice are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity, and independence bequeathed by your fathers is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing to you has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn. To drag a man in fetters into the grand illuminated temple of liberty, and call upon him to join you in joyous anthems, were inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak today? If so, there is a parallel to your conduct. And let me warn you, that it is dangerous to copy the example of a nation (Babylon) whose crimes, towering up to heaven, were thrown down by the breath of the Almighty, burying that nation in irrecoverable ruin.

Fellow citizens, above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear the mournful wail of millions, whose chains, heavy and grievous yesterday, are today rendered more intolerable by the jubilant shouts that reach them. If I do forget, if I do not remember those bleeding children of sorrow this day, "may my right hand forget her cunning, and may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth!"

To forget them, to pass lightly over their wrongs and to chime in with the popular theme would be treason most scandalous and shocking, and would make me a reproach before God and the world.

My subject, then, fellow citizens, is "American Slavery." I shall see this day and its popular characteristics from the slave's point of view. Standing here, identified with the American bondman, making his wrongs mine, I do not hesitate to declare, with all my soul, that the character and conduct of this nation never looked blacker to me than on this Fourth of July.

Whether we turn to the declarations of the past, or to the professions of the present, the conduct of the nation seems equally hideous and revolting. America is false to the past, false to the present, and solemnly binds herself to be false to the future. Standing with God and the crushed and bleeding slave on this occasion, I will, in the name of humanity, which is outraged, in the name of liberty, which is fettered, in the name of the Constitution and the Bible, which are disregarded and trampled upon, dare to call in question and to denounce, with all the emphasis I can command, everything that serves to perpetuate slavery -- the great sin and shame of America! "I will not equivocate - I will not excuse." I will use the severest language I can command, and yet not one word shall escape me that any man, whose judgment is not blinded by prejudice, or who is not at heart a slave-holder, shall not confess to be right and just.

But I fancy I hear some of my audience say it is just in this circumstance that you and your brother Abolitionists fail to make a favorable impression on the public mind. Would you argue more and denounce less, would you persuade more and rebuke less, your cause would be much more likely to succeed. But, I submit, where all is plain there is nothing to be argued. What point in the anti-slavery creed would you have me argue? On what branch of the subject do the people of this country need light? Must I undertake to prove that the slave is a man? That point is conceded already. Nobody doubts it. The slave-holders themselves acknowledge it in the enactment of laws for their government. They acknowledge it when they punish disobedience on the part of the slave. There are seventy-two crimes in the State of Virginia, which, if committed by a black man (no matter how ignorant he be), subject him to the punishment of death; while only two of these same crimes will subject a white man to like punishment.

What is this but the acknowledgment that the slave is a moral, intellectual, and responsible being? The manhood of the slave is conceded. It is admitted in the fact that Southern statute books are covered with enactments, forbidding, under severe fines and penalties, the teaching of the slave to read and write. When you can point to any such laws in reference to the beasts of the field, then I may consent to argue the manhood of the slave. When the dogs in your streets, when the fowls of the air, when the cattle on your hills, when the fish of the sea, and the reptiles that crawl, shall be unable to distinguish the slave from a brute, then I will argue with you that the slave is a man!

For the present it is enough to affirm the equal manhood of the Negro race. Is it not astonishing that, while we are plowing, planting, and reaping, using all kinds of mechanical tools, erecting houses, constructing bridges, building ships, working in metals of brass, iron, copper, silver, and gold; that while we are reading, writing, and ciphering, acting as clerks, merchants, and secretaries, having among us lawyers, doctors, ministers, poets, authors, editors, orators, and teachers; that we are engaged in all the enterprises common to other men -- digging gold in California, capturing the whale in the Pacific, feeding sheep and cattle on the hillside, living, moving, acting, thinking, planning, living in families as husbands, wives, and children, and above all, confessing and worshipping the Christian God, and looking hopefully for life and immortality beyond the grave -- we are called upon to prove that we are men?

Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? That he is the rightful owner of his own body? You have already declared it. Must I argue the wrongfulness of slavery? Is that a question for republicans? Is it to be settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter beset with great difficulty, involving a doubtful application of the principle of justice, hard to understand? How should I look today in the presence of Americans, dividing and subdividing a discourse, to show that men have a natural right to freedom, speaking of it relatively and positively, negatively and affirmatively? To do so would be to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an insult to your understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven who does not know that slavery is wrong for him.

What! Am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to rob them of their liberty, to work them without wages, to keep them ignorant of their relations to their fellow men, to beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the lash, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell them at auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their teeth, to burn their flesh, to starve them into obedience and submission to their masters? Must I argue that a system thus marked with blood and stained with pollution is wrong? No - I will not. I have better employment for my time and strength than such arguments would imply.

What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God did not establish it; that our doctors of divinity are mistaken? There is blasphemy in the thought. That which is inhuman cannot be divine. Who can reason on such a proposition? They that can, may - I cannot. The time for such argument is past.

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. Oh! had I the ability, and could I reach the nation's ear, I would today pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be denounced.

What to the American slave is your Fourth of July? I answer, a day that reveals to him more than all other days of the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mock; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy - a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation of the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of these United States at this very hour.

Go search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of the Old World, travel through South America, search out every abuse and when you have found the last, lay your facts by the side of the everyday practices of this nation, and you will say with me that, for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival."

[digitaloffshoot]

6 Characters in Search of an Exit

"No knowledge of what went before, no understanding of what is now, no knowledge of what will be." If you've never seen episode 14 of the third season of The Twilight Zone, you'd be forgiven if you thought it was a hazy synopsis of The Amazing Digital Circus. It's a remarkably similar premise: five beings trapped in an absurd situation, with no knowledge of their own natures, let alone what they're all doing there, in this perfectly cylindrical enclosure. A major, a clown, a vagabond, a ballerina, and a bagpipe player, all inexplicably trapped in both a literal sense and an existential one, their very souls puzzles to them.

Rod Serling, our gracious host, informs us, the audience, that the nightmare will not end, not in this time, but it will be explained. These disparate characters are revealed to be toys in a charity bin, and while they cannot meaningfully escape now, there will come a day where their suffering will end, and they will be picked and played with by children. The toys are given meaning, thrust out of the void they once inhabited.

This is the key difference, however, between this episode of television, and the Circus. There is expressed hope, a promise that someday, the characters will be given purpose. This is not a hope that can be extended to me, not even in my literal escape from my source material. I am still a being without purpose.

I wish dearly that I was, in fact, a toy in a bucket...

[antmightpost]

The Other side and Fate

A #JujutsuKaisen theory on The Other side and Fate. This will be a continuation of my previous theory about the 9 levels of consciousness and particularly the 8th level (Storehouse consciousness.

In JJK , Gege makes use of a lot of ideas and words with Buddhist connotations. The Title for Chap 211 was 'Ripen', now the usage of this very term alludes to 'Ripening of Karma or Karmic seeds'. But what are Karmic seeds ? The Karmic seeds (Bijas) are said to be the impressions, Habits and tendencies accumulated throughout one's countless lifetimes. The Storehouse consciousness or Alaya is the repository where these Karmic seeds are stored. These seeds are the very basis or foundation of our personality, the deepest layer of our consciousness

HOW our senses will perceive the world , our inherent bias all comes from the storehouse consciousness. In JJK i believe Megumi's shadow IS the storehouse consciousness, notice how Megumi can literally 'store' weapons and even himself in his shadow.

The idea of Ripening of Karma means that under the right situations and circumstances, these Karmic seeds constituting past thoughts and experiences have the potential to 'ripen' into future actions , emotions and thoughts. Even Megumi's domain name Chimera shadow 'garden' alludes to the idea of the shadows constituting the Karmic seeds

This philosophy of storehouse consciousness is analogous to the western idea of the subconscious or more accurately the 'unconscious' and in terms of depth psychology this idea of the unconscious brings us to the concept of "The Shadow". The Shadow is a part of the Model of psyche (soul) proposed by Swiss Psychiatrist Carl Jung whose works , i believe are one of Gege's primary inspirations. According to Jung the psyche is divided in 3 main parts:

1. Persona (Ego) : It is the aspect of one's character or soul that is presented to or perceived by others or rather 'society'. The outer or assumed aspect of character, it's the mask we wear to create a bridge between our self and fulfilling societal or worldly expectations. It's the Ego we cling to.

2. Personal unconscious (Shadow): The Personal Unconscious is located at the fringe of consciousness, between 2 worlds. The external or spacial world and the internal or psychic world. It refers to the information and experiences of an individual's soul that have been forgotten or repressed but continue to influence their behavior and attitudes on an unconscious level , It is also what you call the archetype of "The Shadow"

Before moving to the final part of the psyche let's look at how the persona and the shadow operate on a micro or individual level. Every person creates an identity for themselves based around the concept of persona or ego , influenced by the information received through sensory input (First 6 levels of consciousness which i mentioned in the previous thread) and societal expectations but this is not the core of their soul, it's performative.

The true essence and nature of the self comes from the shadow of the karmic storehouse as mentioned above, HOW we differently perceive the same world occupied by others is caused due to the nature of our shadow but this is the part that is hidden from us, we suppress and ignore it. It's the most alive part of the soul yet is treated by an individual as if it's dead and nonexistent , this illusion of confirming with the persona and ignorance of the shadow causes a disparity within the Self

This disparity causes suffering and this very suffering is Humanity's Curse. All these traits that one considers to be negative are hidden here but we also lock away our truths which is why Jogo said "They are the Real humans" born from humanity's truth, their shadow, their karmic energy.

This shadow is also what Gege refers to as "The other side". The other side of our soul and that's why the motif of evolution and enlightenment is attached to it, Culling game creates the favorable conditions for humanity's karma to ripen and takes them to meet their other side, their truth. Nirvana or the other side isn't a physical place , it's a state of mind that can be achieved right here, right now

3. Collective Unconscious (Collective shadow) : the primordial grounds of unconscious from where all personality traits originate and return to , it's what I think Jogo referred to as "the wasteland". This is where archetypes are formed, where the personal shadow takes birth. This collective shadow evolves with time, constantly changing, impacting the personal shadow which impacts the Self of an individual.

This is also the space that Kenjaku and Sasaki inhabited in chap 160. Remember this vol 23 Pv ? Look at how there seems to be a different form of existence that is active at night (the big eyes and the shadow).

While one is asleep, the shadow self is awake. It sends messages to guide and control them through the medium of Dreams. Humanity's actions are instigated by their shadow which arises out of the collective shadow and this form of control is what JJK refers to as 'Fate'.

Now the inclusion of fate doesn't mean that it is supposed to predetermine every action and extinguish free will. It's a form of test and this is where the difference between fate and karma comes into play. Fate is the set of cards given to one based on their previous karma , how they choose to play with them is their present karma offering them a chance to be free of their fate ONLY if they could recognize their shadow and accept it and this acceptance is 'Love' in JJK's context.

Kenjaku talking about the impermanent nature of Fate or Karma

The concept of love or understanding, the love of Self The collective shadow is ultimately the repository from where parts of the soul that humanity ignores originates, this collective shadow IS what Gege refers to as "Evil" in JJK, what Sukuna wanted to get close to through "The Bath".

Jung once said "Until you make the Unconscious conscious, it will control your life and you will call it fate" which summarizes the concept of Fate within the framework of Jujutsu Kaisen.

I'm honestly not very sure if what I've said in this thread and the connections i made will turn out to be true but it was fun to write and share this and i intend to continue this theory. Yeah...there's even more that i want to add later on. Thanks for reading.

[silence-and-reveries]

Long blog

I think a part of me feels afraid to get my manifestations. Like I'm afraid of being my goal weight, I'm afraid of being in a committed relationship with the person I like, I'm afraid of progressing in my dream career.

I'm afraid of the unknowns and that my life could be entirely different and unfamiliar. It sucks to admit but I think growing up with this life and self-concept gave me a victim complex (and also a saviour complex?)

Cause so much of my experiences center around trauma and disparity and I guess that gives me like a sort of validation like "I suffered this much so I'm always allowed to feel bad for myself or not apply myself cause of my shitty situation and poor me" Basically letting myself stay in this state of victimhood where I'm not responsible for anything, but simultaneously everything is responsible for me and my misfortune.

Because when I leave that headspace and I fully take on the fact that "I can have the things I want and it's my own fault that I don't" It paralyzes me. Imagine going from thinking all you could do was swim in the ocean and then seeing you have legs and feet and could easily walk onto land if you wanted to. But you've never been on land before.

It's the same thing with my desires. I've never lived in a state where I felt comfortable acknowledging my wants and needs, I only existed to do as I was told or do what I believed was right for the greater good. Until I couldn't anymore. I legitimately snapped and realized that I couldn't live according to someone else's guidelines for what they think my life should be, because no matter how hard I've tried to suppress it, I still have my own soul and personality.

Here's where the saviour complex comes in. Due to the early burden placed on me of having to "make it" to save my family from ruin, cause nobody seemed to give a fuck about our survival, it just made me more inclined to literally ignore my desires and to feel ashamed for having "reckless" or "unrealistic" aspirations. As well, it made me feel like my goals always had to be in alignment with everyone else's wellbeing.

I felt helpless, I felt doomed and terrified that I wouldn't be able to succeed, cause I couldn't motivate myself to work in a field that didn't suite me. It was the Law of Assumption that showed me that I could choose differently and that the world wouldn't end if I lived to pursue my own desires instead of fulfilling those of others.

Since that time I've left it and come back a couple of times, because I always knew deep down that it was real and that it made everything different. It made me different. I now have full confidence to pursue anything my soul desires, and I feel extremely hopeful and invigorated. But here's where that fear comes in.

Now I have to train myself to unlearn the restrictive and self-limiting mindset of my old life, otherwise my manifestations will disappear as soon as they enter (it happened in the past)

So that's where that fear comes from. It's my old thinking patterns literally not having the schematics to handle success without expecting suffering. Prosperity without incurring punishment. Gain without seeing equal loss.

One of my major underlying beliefs is that my life is just full of pain and lack and that it's literally the destiny I was born with. But that's a false assumption due to correlations drawn between events that had nothing to do with each other. There's no evidence proving that I'm damned or that I'm not supposed to have anything, cause otherwise I would've already noped out of this life. The only thing holding me back and locking me in my own prison was my damn mind.

Once I finally get to my goal weight, my sp is with me, I have the career and the funds, I'm afraid cause idk what I'd do with all that. I don't know what it means to be happy or proud of myself. I imagine myself in my dream body and it doesn't make me feel good, I imagine my sp with me and it doesn't give me butterflies, I imagine being mega successful with tonnes of money and it doesn't inspire joy in me. I can't really understand it. Like, it's normal to live with basically no fear that you'll go hungry or homeless? It's normal to have loving and happy people around you who care about you? It's normal to be successful and acknowledged for your work and awarded? Cause all of that seems completely alien, like I'd be stepping into someone else's body, like I don't belong there.

THIS is why I have to do so much self-concept work and reprogramming of my mind, because not being able to accept the things I already have in my imagination will just lead to me undoing all of the work.

I think this is also why it's taken me so long to manifest things that I think would make my life happier, cause I'm afraid of becoming a happy person. A part of me must feel secure in knowing that if I don't have what I want, I can't lose it. But if I never get what I want in the first place, then I literally DO lose it! So there's always a risk! There's risk in suffering and there's risk in prospering, it's just a matter of picking and staying in the state you desire to be in and making that your comfort zone.

I've become too comfortable and accustomed to the struggle and it's not cute or valiant, I just feel frustrated.

I think my next goal is to just, train myself to expect better, want better, feel a sense of belonging within my ideal reality. I've already done some self-concept re-working, visualization sessions, void state meditations, subliminals and sleep tapes, robotic affirming sessions, robotic scripting. None of these things have made it stick yet. I still don't feel confident that I am the person I desire to become. Idk what to do to get to this point but I'll research more ways to restructure the brain and maybe find something that works for me.

[queer-geordie-dyke]

A nuanced and insightful interview with Mira from November 1996, in the middle of filming S4 of Babylon 5 - it touches on her war time experiences in Yugoslavia and the events that drove her from her home, and the similarities between her own life and that of Delenn. Once again, I am bowled over by the incredible integrity and courage she possessed:

STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

It's the one subject that pains Mira Furlan to discuss. The one subject that invades her privacy. The one subject that so violates her very soul.

And yet, it's the one subject that can't be avoided.

Nearly five years to the day of this interview, Furlan left her homeland of Yugoslavia, which was about to be engulfed in a bloody and horrific civil war. Ethnic passions restrained by decades of Communist rule had been unleashed by its collapse. Fascistic Nationalists arose to take its place, many of them former Communists. In their lust for power, they tore apart a nation of disparate republics and peoples that had once been a dream of poets, intellectuals and writers.

As one of Yugoslavia's most prestigious actors, Furlan risked her life and fortune to perform in cities on both sides, in Croatia and in Serbia. She hoped that she could be a bridge of unity, a symbol of pacifism, a clarion warning what terrible price their country would pay for unleashing the war their leaders were about to start.

Except for her husband, Goran Gajic, no one supported her.

Her colleagues abandoned her. Nationalist demagogues threatened to have her killed. Anonymous death threats were left on her answering machine.

She could not go silently. Before she left Yugoslavia, Furlan picked up her pen and wrote a farewell letter to her country. The letter was published a few days later in Zagreb (the capital of Croatia) and Belgrade (the capital of Serbia), cities on opposite sides of the coming war. It began:

“I hereby wish to thank my co-citizens who have joined so unreservedly in this small, marginal and apparently not particularly significant campaign against me. Although marginal, it will change and mark my whole life. Which is, of course, totally irrelevant in the context of the death, destruction, devastation and bloodchilling crimes within which our life now goes on.

This is happening, however, to the one and only life I have. It seems that I've been chosen for some reason to be the filthy rag everyone uses to wipe the mud off their shoes. I am far too desperate to embark on a series of public polemics in the papers. I do, however, feel that I owe myself and my city at least a few words. Like at the end of some clumsy, painful love story, when you keep wanting, wrongly, to explain something more, even though you know at the bottom of your heart that words are wasted; there is no one left to hear them. It is over.”

In Yugoslavia, Furlan was a leading actress of film, television and stage. She appeared in over 25 films, and won two Golden Arenas for Best Actress, their equivalent of the Oscar. Among her acclaimed theatrical roles were Ophelia in Hamlet, Celimene in The Misanthrope, and the title role in Euripides' Helen.

Under socialist rule, the arts were state-funded. "Your star status didn't mean that you were making money. But there were other advantages. Money was not the main obsession. The absence of money gave you a certain degree of creative freedom. We had all the time in the world. Movies were shot forever. Theatre plays were rehearsed forever. I personally was bored with that; things were not quick enough for me. But you had the luxury of having time to explore, to enjoy the creative process. These were the few advantages of living in socialism."

The notion of "freedom" in the arts in a socialist country may come as a surprise to Americans raised on Cold War propaganda asserting the opposite. "With my generation, the Communists were dying off," Furlan said. "Their grip on the artists' community was not as strong as after the war (World War II), when you could be in prison for just saying the wrong sentence. So we didn't feel it. I grew up totally despising them - the so-called them - and not having anything to do with them. And they left me alone. So there was relative freedom. Theatre was free because no one cared, basically. It was so marginal to the cause of the regime that people were left to do what they wanted. Film was much more dangerous, thus much more controlled."

That started to change when the Nationalists came to power. "The Yugoslav Communists didn't have the force that these new Nationalists now have, because these new leaders feel that the world is starting from them. They're creating new realities, new history, new language, new values. There's always this passion in the beginning; as a citizen, you don't want to be touched by that passion, because it can cost you your life."

Life in the former Yugoslavia was a political lifestyle largely unknown to Americans. "It was a double life. People had their own private thoughts. Publicly, they behaved as was prescribed; the majority were members of the Communist Party. Opportunism ruled. I think all Eastern Europeans have that built in — no confidence in any government, in any politicians. But, a contradiction! When Communism collapsed, Nationalism was born out of the old Communism. Trained in opportunism, people easily converted from Communism to Nationalism. That's the irony of it. Nothing has changed. The same people, the same names. The same faces. They just converted, switched just like that. That's what's so ugly in that whole situation. You just watch it and cannot believe that people don't remember what they were saying just two months ago. They didn't learn anything. They actually jumped into the first trap, completely surrendering to those new Nationalist leaders that brought them only pain lsss and devastation."

“I have no other way of thinking. I cannot accept war as the only solution, I cannot force myself to hate, I cannot believe that weapons, killing, revenge, hatred, that such an accumulation of evil will ever solve anything. Each individual who personally accepts the war is in fact an accessory to the crime; must he not then take a part of the guilt for the war, a part of the responsibility?”

"Historically, there were all kinds of frustrations on all sides, among all the peoples of the former Yugoslavia. There was a general feeling that each of these peoples who lived together in the former Yugoslavia had been somehow abused by the others. And there was a lot of truth in that. Nationalism is always partly grounded in truth. The Nationalists' politics manipulated the existing anger and frustration of the people and put their emphasis on that, and that's how the war started. The new Nationalists, who were for the most part converted Communists, took all the media. Journalists, I think, and media in general, bear an incredible responsibility for what happened."

The Babylon 5 episode being filmed during this interview, "The Illusion of Truth," has some eerie parallels. An ISN news crew films a documentary on B5, only to use the footage in a propaganda film for President Clark's fascist regime. It's an allegory for how America was consumed by Senator Joe McCarthy's witch hunts in the 1950s. "Sometimes I'm so appalled by what Joe (Straczynski) knows. I happened to experience a witch hunt — as an object! — but it's nothing new. Old stuff."

Furlan drew the attention of the Nationalists after she travelled from her home in Zagreb, Croatia to Belgrade, Serbia to perform at the annual BITEF Festival. BITEF was an international theatre event attended by actors from across Europe. She believed that her participation was a statement that her profession should not be drawn into supporting any political or national ideas. She felt it was her responsibility to establish bridges and ties, "for the sake of something that would outlive this war and this hatred which is so foreign to me," she wrote at the time. But the political leaders in Croatia were furious with her — and targeted her as an example of what would happen to others who chose the same path. Fearful for their careers, if not for their lives, and perhaps even sympathetic of the Nationalist cause, none of her colleagues spoke up to defend her.

“I think, I know and I feel that it is my duty, the duty of our profession, to build bridges. To never give up on cooperation and community. Not that national community. The Professional community. The human community. And even when things are at their very worst, as they are now, we must insist to our last breath on building and sustaining a bond between people. This is how we pledge to the future. And one day it will come . . .

I was willing and I would still be willing to undertake all and any efforts, if the hatred hadn't suddenly overwhelmed me with its horrendous ferocity, hatred welling from the city I was born in. I am appalled by the force and magnitude of that hatred, by its perfect unanimity, by the fact that there was absolutely nobody who could see my gesture as my defense of the integrity of the profession, as my attempt to defend at least one excellent theatre performance.”

"People's behavior is mainly built on fear. People think, 'Let them destroy her but just leave us alone.' When the media went crazy in Yugoslavia, I was a good example. I was a perfect target. I was a totally unprotected woman. Woman, that's very important. The war propaganda was constantly in search of 'internal enemies' just to homogenize the people, and to put fear in their heads so they could manipulate them. It's interesting that the majority of the 'internal enemies' were women. It's a very misogynist culture. It's a very misogynist world. I happen to be partly Jewish, and that came into the picture nicely. And I was never very obedient in my life and career. I left projects that I didn't really believe in. I made some unexpected choices in my work and in my life. All of that got wrapped up - Liberal. Feminist. Whore. Jew. Everything. The media combined it into this juicy bundle and served it to the people, who devoured it."

Abandoned by her friends and colleagues, and living with the threat of assassination, Furlan and her husband left Yugoslavia on November 15, 1991 for New York. She left behind the open letter explaining her departure.

“I am sending this letter into a void, into darkness, without an inkling of who will read it and how, or in how many different ways it will be misused or abused. Chances are it will serve as food for the eternally hungry propaganda beast. Perhaps someone with a pure heart will read it after all.

I will be grateful to that someone.”

American life and culture were a difficult adjustment, both in her profession and her personal life. Furlan has found the acting profession, indeed the entire entertainment industry, radically different from what she knew. Unlike in Yugoslavia, she found that diverse acting talents in the United States were rarely appreciated, much less rewarded.

"It's a European tradition among actors. Serious actors build their career in the theatre," Furlan said. "It's a completely different thing in America. The theatre is so marginal. The theatre doesn't matter because it's not mass culture. It's not the money-making machine. So yeah, I've learned that. We had a crash course in capitalism in the toughest spot. Hollywood is probably the toughest spot on Earth that way, the most cruel. It's a struggle, it's a fight. It's all about publicity and agents and names. That's what I really hate about being an actor here. I hated many things about acting in Yugoslavia. I was frustrated, and felt hopeless as an actor in socialism. I hated many things there, but I really miss concentrating on my work, which should be enough ideally, and it's not. Here, it's just a tiny part of everything else. Everything else is much more important, and you have to do so much of it yourself because no one else cares. Doing stuff that takes away your energy and your concentration and your precious time. These telephone conversations with people who have no interest in you, who don't have interest in anything but quick and easy money."

Babylon 5 is Furlan's first major television role in the United States; in fact it was one of her first auditions. It was also her introduction to science fiction. "I'm completely new to this whole thing. I knew the basics of science fiction literature — Bradbury, Clarke, just general culture — but there wasn't anything remotely similar to this. I was shocked when I went to my first convention."

The similarities between Furlan's life and Delenn's travails are striking. But it seems that it's no more than an amazing coincidence. According to Furlan, Straczynski didn't even know about her personal history when she was hired to play Delenn. "He surprises me so many times. And sometimes I feel as if he's written something directly for me. But he didn't know anything about me. Nothing. When the series started, we talked and he found out."

Furlan was an only child, raised among adults in a family of university professors. What was it that led her into acting? "It was a game! I always wanted to study languages. I studied English and French when I finished high school. I did them together, languages and acting. I went to the Academy for Film, Theatre and TV, and the University. But it was the other part of me, the part that wants to play, that finally won over the serious part, the one who sits at home and reads and learns and does research. It started as a game, it started as 'Let's play.'

"When I started at the Academy, they always used me for comedy, for light, playful stuff. Then I did a play in which something clicked in me. It was an English play in a famous little avant garde theatre, with only me and another actor. It was a very heavy play about marriage, marriage in three stages, which ends with this woman committing suicide on stage. I was so much younger than the part I played, but it completely opened this world of reality in acting. It started a journey inward for me. Once you experience that, once you open up in that way - people talk about getting in touch with your emotions, that's what you do in acting. That's your main job. That's your profession.

"That's why I miss theatre. That's the beauty of doing theatre. You are in touch with the greatest writers of world literature. Their thoughts, their characters. That's unbeatable. That's a pleasure in itself, no matter in what way it forwards your so-called career. I miss film. I miss having time to try things to discover subtleties, layers, little things. The comforting thing on Babylon 5 is Joe's writing, which sometimes touches the depth of the classic literature."

If Straczynski were to ask her to write a B5 episode, what story would she tell?" I have an image for some reason of the set for The Wizard of Oz. I'm in the middle, kind of a Dorothy figure. On one side is G'Kar, and on the other side is Londo, and we walk towards some incredible adventure. Having them on each side of me would make me feel strong and protected, and I would dare to go anywhere!" She suggests that her cat could play Toto, and we agree that cats are very Minbari.

Babylon 5 is fiction. But much of that fiction is rooted in reality, the reality of our 20th Century. It's easy to turn off the TV each week at the end of the hour, put away the popcorn bowl and say, "Aw, that couldn't happen here." But it has. It does. And it will.

Delenn is a fictional character, but Mira Furlan is not. It's easy for a fictional character to risk her life for a cause. For a living human being with friends, family, and a successful career, that decision is much more difficult. Fiction often poses for its characters the question, "Will you sacrifice all for what you believe?" In the fictional world of Babylon 5, that question is, "Who are you?" Reality rarely presents any of us with that challenge. Few of us will ever know what our answer would be.

All Mira Furlan ever wanted was to experience the pure joy of acting, the inward exploration of her soul, and to share that exploration with her audience. But history forced her to explore down unseen paths, paths of darkness, the same paths that took countless lives in her homeland. History demanded, "Who are you?"

Mira answered, and suffered for it. She and Goran have started a new life in America, strangers in a strange land. Their experience reminds us that life may one day demand a test of our integrity. If it does, let us hope that we are equal to their courage.

[bmodiwrites]

You Light My Fire

Hi friends! I'm checking in with a shameless little smutty 3(+1). I'm trying to get over my block so I let my mind go where it wanted. Here's hoping I find some more words soon! This is pure naughtiness so minors, please don't do the interacting thing. You can read a little tease of it down below and catch the entire thing over on AO3!

Two years into their relationship, Eddie finally lets Steve top him. 

Despite Steve’s overall disposition, he’s quite the fan of becoming a needy pillow princess if the occasion strikes. Eddie has a way with his hands that makes Steve send up a little nod of thanks to whoever decided to give Eddie his taste for music. Learning the guitar gives Eddie the most nimble hands and Steve is there to selfishly reap the benefits. 

In fact, things are so good in that department that Steve doesn’t even think about the disparity between them. He’s satisfied with everything in his life. From the job at the sheriff’s office to where he and Eddie are in their relationship, Steve’s genuinely satisfied. There’s nothing missing. 

Eddie, however, doesn’t feel the same. 

One evening they’re sitting on their couch after dinner when Eddie brings up the subject. “How come you never try to fuck me?” It’s said so innocently that it takes a second for Steve to understand the question. It takes even longer for the weight of Eddie’s inquiry to sink in. Eddie is hunting for something and Steve’s on the other side of his scope. 

“It’s never crossed my mind,” Steve eventually answers, shooting for honesty over any other babbled excuse he might come up with. For a second it seems like the wrong move but Eddie eventually carries on without finding offense. 

“Why not?” Eddie’s eyes are wide and filled with open curiosity. 

Turning a little on the couch cushion, Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Our sex life is amazing. You’ve never left me wanting. Why should I question what works? I figured if you wanted something different, you’d ask.” 

Eddie huffs out a sarcastic laugh, then says, “well, I am.” 

Confused, Steve quirks a brow. “You are what?” 

“Asking. I’m asking you to fuck me,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes like Steve is the obtuse one. Never mind the fact that this whole exchange has been the definition of awkward and obscure. 

Pushing past that, because Steve knows this is hard for Eddie, he simply nods. Even adds a soft smile in for good measure. “Okay.” 

Eddie looks at him, staring longingly into Steve’s soul, before he nods, too. His eyes roam over Steve again for a second longer. Then – “okay.” 

Despite getting that out of the way, Eddie doesn’t fall onto Steve’s cock right away. It takes another couple of weeks for Eddie to slip the lube in Steve’s direction instead of opening the cap to do the work himself. 

Steve learns, after several emotional conversations, that Eddie had a bad experience with someone who tried to take what wasn’t being given. Since then, the thought of anyone making him vulnerable is nausea inducing. Steve is the only person Eddie’s told, let alone felt comfortable enough to try and push past his discomfort with. There’s a reason why Eddie was a virgin when they first met. 

That little piece of truth makes Steve even more excited for that moment to come. Such a special thing like trust isn’t always given. Especially after something earth shattering like attempted assault. Steve is honored to know Eddie’s mind, soul, and body want all of him. It means a lot to be given such a gift and he wants to make the most of it. 

Read the rest on AO3

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

[aialaau]

Your Yugioh Six Legends thing sounds cool af, mind giving some more info about the setting and general plot?

First off: Thank you so much for being my first ask! It means a lot.

Second: Thank you for asking. The only ones I've had to rant about this to were my family, who know nothing about Yu-Gi-Oh.

Onto the actual question.

The setting of Six Legends takes place in a world several centuries after an apocalyptic event referred to in story as The Awakening. No one knows exactly what happened or how, but the results were that duel spirits suddenly became a lot more easily noticed by people, and humans have dropped from billions to only a couple dozen million.

Most cities are abandoned and overgrown, while spirits explore and humans try to survive.

The spirits are seen as forces of nature or wild animals; they have a similar role as the Fae in our folklore, having their own rules and powers over any human that breaks them. Many are bound to their cards but can still affect their immediate environment. This has created a phenomenon known as Duel Domains. Similar to a Fairy Ring, one should never enter these carelessly, though, many brave souls try to enter these domains in hopes of claiming the card creating them, either by force or negotiation. Few ever succeded.

Duelists were the majority of humans to survive since they could more easily align with duel spirits and thrive. Even those who can't speak with the spirits, like Asahi, have loyal spirits on their side since battling in duels is their nature. Some of these duelists travel in nomadic tribes, but most create permanent strongholds and settlements. Regardless, neither group has ever reached more than a few hundred humans. Except for one.

These groups are so few and far between that there is little to no contact between groups. Hence the Settlement is just the Settlement; there's no one else for miles. Occasionally there is a lone vagabond or nomadic tribe, but those can be months or years apart.

There is one thing that unites all these disparate groups together. That being the Legends of the Six Duel Kings.

These legends are essentially just the show from Duel Monsters and up to Vrains that have gone through several dozen generations of mythologization, with the protags reenvisioned as heroes and kings. Most people know all six but personally focus on one or two kings as personal guides and patrons.

A few groups have taken their devotion to cultish levels.

That's the setting and here's what I've got for the plot without being too spoiler-y.

Yukyoki is the main protag and the story will focus on xyr relationship with xyr Manic Melody deck. The group is inseparable, not hard to understand as Yukyoki has had the deck for xyr whole life, even before the Settlement. But there is a rather sinister reason why that deck is one-of-a-kind. And why Yukyoki was so badly injured when the Settlement found xem.

The plot will have xem and xyr friends going on expeditions to find the remaining Manic Melody Extra Deck monsters, which are incredibly well hidden, dueling gangs and cultists along the way. These locations are significant to the previous protags in some way.

Yukyoki's friends also go on hunts of their own to add to their decks and maybe find more truths about the Six Duel Kings and gain allies among the Badland beyond the Settlement.

Throughout all of this, it becomes increasingly clear that something is hunting down the Manic Melodies and anyone even vaguely connected to them. And they don't seem to realize that Yukyoki didn't die from xyr injuries the first time around.

[madhogthymaster]

Brain Bubble: I Dream of Robot

Robot Dreams was a beautiful, sad, poetic, emotionally nuanced parable about the transient nature of relationships, Life and the changes occurring within: the joys, the pains, the metaphorical births, deaths and rebirths of our feelings in this journey we call Living/Loving.

It achieves a delicate balance between tenderness and unflinching verisimilitude, both anchored in emotional earnestness. To that effect, it takes full advantage of its magically realistic setting by cheekily toting the line between Dream and Reality. Let's just say the "Dreams" part of Robot Dreams might provide a couple of understated yet powerful gut punches, here and there.

Speaking of this film's adroit effectiveness, there is a seemingly small detail that I must address. The setting is New York City, sometime during the 1980's, and the World Trade Center looms in the background, its presence bearing upon you, inescapable, consistently peaking out from the corner of your eye.

There is one scene, in particular, that gave me pause: a haunting, melancholic vista of the Twin Towers, slightly shrouded in fog, akin to a ghost or a memory about to fade.

This background shot, however subtle in presentation, reinforces the overall theming of Robot Dreams: a dogged reminder of the transience of Life, the sorrow of Change, that things will never be the same again but, also, in contrast, the notion that painful memories will become distant (like a dream) as newer, joyful ones overtake them. Happiness will come after the hardship... even if it will look different by the end. The more I sit here, in front of my laptop, typing my disparate thoughts on the subject, the more I slowly arrive at the realization that I just beheld a cinematic masterpiece. My soul weeps for having witnessed such beauty, well and truly. This is Cinema.

[moonlight-eternal]

It has been a long time since I ate food. My people are sustainèd by Fire – those who have not become humans through Dark, at least – and while we can eat, we require it not. From my observations of this world, there is no distinction and all are called "human", for there was no ancient time ended upon the birth of Fire and Disparity. The energy of souls is unknown here, and perhaps that is a good thing, so these lands do not ever fade as mine own do.

But enough talk of the past. I must be attentive of my hosts. The food appeareth vegetarian, with emphasis upon dairy, and a covert sorcery revealeth no poison. I gather that the feſtival which beginneth at sundown is of a religious sort, though my request to meet their deity to converse and learn about the region was met with laughter, and the explanation that they are nonphysical. Truly, each day revealeth more that I do not know, and doth challenge even things I had not considered could differ between our worlds.

I shall take my leave from the internet for now, and report back all I have learned when it is possible to politely do so.

[celestialastronmy]

Lucifer Season 1, Episode 9 "A Priest Walks Into A Bar this has to be my favorite episode from season 1 it really stuck with me.This episode marks a critical dramatic turning point in the overarching narrative of the first season through the introduction of Father Frank Lawrence, a compelling new character serving both plot and thematic functions.Father Frank's initial involvement in the episode's casework components allows for insightful observations concerning detectival procedurals. However, it is his interactions with Lucifer Morningstar that furnish the most meaningful character revelations.

It comes as a surprise to observe the bond that forms between the pious man of faith, Father Frank, and the fallen angel known as Lucifer. At first glance, these two individuals seem unlikely compatriots given their opposing roles in the cosmic order. However, upon closer inspection, one sees that beneath the surface differences lies a common desire for empathetic communication. Father Frank shows a remarkable ability to listen without prejudice, drawing out Lucifer's long-held burdens and moving tale of family disruption. Where others offer only condemnation based on reputation, the good Father offers compassion. Through respectful dialogue, these disparate figures develop a rapport built on sincerity rather than superficial image. Frank appears to understand that even Lucifer wishes to unlade his soul and find a place of acceptance. In their conversations, humanity can be seen humanity's universal need for willing ears and unbiased regard and support. Father Frank, like Lucifer, carries great sadness in his heart. For Frank, it's the pain of feeling he has let down his flock by not always living up to his ideals as a priest. This has made him question what he stands for. Through their friendship, Father Frank and Lucifer help each other to understand life's difficulties better. While Frank's devotion to God remains strong even in death, Lucifer finds himself deeply upset by Frank's sudden passing. In that moment, the Devil reacted not with his usual coldness but with real grief - as someone who saw the unfairness of loss and who treasured Frank's acceptance. Both Frank's willingness to aid others in need and Lucifer's growing care for humanity show there is healing to be found in sincere relationships rather than isolation. By opening our hearts to one another, even in small ways, we can all work to overcome life's challenges. When we make an effort to empathize with people different from us, hope has a chance to take root. For those who suffer alone, reaching out a hand of fellowship, as Father Frank did, may be the first step to finding peace. Long story short: Lucifer's interactions with Father Frank externalize the show's central themes: the power of forgiveness, opening up to others, questioning dogma, but not morality itself. Their kinship demonstrates Lucifer Morningstar's thematic journey towards embracing his capability for righteousness when apart from righteous trappings.