#I get why they don’t want to… but maybe provide resources on ways to help then

[subjectsix]

KIP'S BIG POST OF THINGS TO MAKE THE INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY SUCK A LITTLE LESS

Post last updated November 23, 2024. Will continue to update!

Here are my favorite things to use to navigate technology my own way:

A refurbished iPod loaded with Rockbox OS (Rockbox is free, iPods range in price. I linked the site I got mine from. Note that iPods get finicky about syncing and the kind of cord it has— it may still charge but might not recognize the device to sync. Getting an original Apple cord sometimes helps). Rockbox has ports for other MP3 players as well.

This Windows debloater program (there are viable alternatives out there, this one works for me). It has a powershell script that give you a little UI and buttons to press, which I appreciate, as I'm still a bit shy with tech.

Firefox with the following extensions: - Consent-O-Matic (set your responses to ALL privacy/cookie pop-ups in the extension, and it will answer all pop-ups for you. I can see reasons to not use it, but I appreciate it) - Facebook Container ("contains" Meta on Facebook and Instagram pages to keep it from tracking you or getting third party cookies, since Meta is fairly egregious about it) - Redirect Amp to HTML (AMP is designed for mobile phones, this forces pages to go to their HTML version) - A WebP/AVIF image converter - uBlock Origin and uBlacklist, with the AI blacklist loaded in to kill any generative AI results from appearing in search engines or anywhere.

Handbrake for ripping DVDs— I haven’t used this in awhile as I haven’t been making video edits. I used this back when I had a Mac OS

VLC Media Player (ol’ reliable)

Unsplash & Pexels for free-to-use images

A password manager (these often are paid. I use Dashlane. There are many options, feel free to search around and ask for recs!). There is a lot that goes into cybersecurity— find the option you feel is best for you.

Things I suggest:

Understanding Royalty Free and the Creative Commons licenses

Familiarity with boolean operators for searching

Investing in a backup drive and external drive

A few good USBs, including one that has a backup of your OS on it

Adapter cables

Avoiding Fandom “wikias” (as in the brand “Fandom”) and supporting other, fan-run or supported wikis. Consider contributing if its something you find yourself passionate or joyful about.

Finding Forums for the things you like, or creating your own*

Create an email specifically for ads/shopping— use it to receive all promotional emails to keep your inbox clean. Upkeep it.

Stop putting so much of your personal information online— be willing to separate your personal online identity from your “online identity”. You don’t owe people your name, location, pronouns, diagnoses, or any of that. It’s your choice, but be discerning in what you give and why. I recommend avoiding providing your phone number to sites as much as possible.

Be intentional

Ask questions

Talk to people

Remember that you can lurk all you want

Things that are fun to check out:

BBSes-- here's a portal to access them.

Neocities

*Forums-- find some to join, or maybe host your own? The system I was most familiar with was vbulletin.

MMM.page

Things that have worked well for me but might work for you, YMMV:

Limit your app usage time on your smartphone if you’re prone to going back to them— this is a tangible way to “practice mindfulness”, a term I find frustratingly vague ansjdbdj

Things I’m looking into:

The “Pi Hole”— a raspberry pi set up to block all ads on a specific internet connection

VPNs-- this is one that was recommended to me.

How to use computers (I mean it): Resources on how to understand your machine and what you’re doing, even if your skill and knowledge level is currently 0:

This section I'll come back an add to. I know that messing with computers can be intimidating, especially if you feel out of your depth. HTML and regedits and especially things like dualbooting or linux feel impossible. So I want to put things here that explain exactly how the internet and your computer functions, and how you can learn and work with that. Yippee!

[miriamladyvoid]

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Always an Angel, Never a God

"Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out".

✧I will no longer write something so ambitious again; it was so complicated to cohere all of this because I didn't want to discard any character from each dorm. So I hope the pace of the reading doesn't feel weird. The tone was supposed to be more hopeful, but I started to feel a little sad at the end.

✧Fem Prefect, the reader is the Ramshackle prefect.

The nights in Twisted Wonderland had always been a refuge; from the window of the Ramshackle Dorm, the prefect watched the firmament with a mixture of longing and melancholy. It was in those moments of stillness, under the immense night sky, that she could allow herself to breathe. The stars always seemed to offer her a companionship her friends could never fully provide. Not because they didn't love her, but because, at the end of the day, she was different. Twisted Wonderland, with all its magic and twisted wonders, was a fascinating place, but it was not her home. Her days passed in silent repetition.

First there was Ace, always quick with a joke, but his words sometimes hurt her more than he knew. "Prefect, what would we do without you?" he said half-jokingly and half-seriously. But those words, they hurt. What would they do without me? But what am I beyond solving their problems? Riddle, with his severe look and devotion to order, came to her when Heartslabyul fell apart under the weight of his own rules. "You're reasonable; I'd rather trust you," he said, like it was a compliment. However, in his eyes, she was only another piece in his perfect order, a resource to use when the rules were not enough to maintain the order.

Trey, always kind and calm, offered her small comforts in the form of candy and kind words. “Don’t worry so much,” he would say as he handed her a freshly baked cookie, as if sugar could sweeten the bitterness she felt. It was as if Trey treated her with the same kindness one gives to a stranger, someone you want to please but not let get too close to. Cater, always smiling and with the phone ready, seemed to see her in a brighter light, at least on the surface. “This is going straight to Magicam, but make sure you give your best smile, okay?” he exclaimed while making sure she was well framed in his selfies. But once the photo is taken, she becomes a memory that faded away among filters and irrelevant comments.

Deuce was different, and maybe that's why it hurt her more. "Prefect, I'll do better next time," he'd say after some disaster, his eyes filled with determination and guilt. In his clumsy way, he always wanted to prove to her that he could be better, that he could be up to it. But in those desperate attempts to prove himself, she couldn't help but feel responsible for the insecurity he carried. It was as if, instead of supporting each other, he was running after a difficult goal, looking for validation in a place where she herself couldn't find it.

The moments with Leona were like shooting stars: brief flashes of connection that illuminated the darkness, only to quickly fade away. He was a dying star, exhausted and unwilling to shine for anyone else. Sometimes, it seemed she managed to truly see him, glimpsing something beyond his usual indifference. His distant gaze made her feel like a powerless spectator, unable to stop his inevitable collapse. "Don't try so hard," he would tell her, yawning with squinted eyes. "You don't belong here anyway." His carefree words always cut deeper than intended. Jack, despite his loyal and protective nature, saw her as someone he always had to take care of. "You're strong, but sometimes you get into too dangerous situations," he would say, his tone full of concern. His protection was comforting, but also a chain that kept her anchored to a dependency she didn't want. By his side, she felt like a star whose shine depended on the protection of others, trapped in an orbit that eclipsed her independence.

Ruggie, on the other hand, viewed her through a more pragmatic lens. "If you ever need anything, you know, just ask," he would tell her with a mischievous grin. But there was always a transaction behind his words, as if she was just one more on his list of favors, something he could cash in when it was convenient. To him, she was like a distant star, useful insofar as she could offer something, but always interchangeable. "Don't take things so personally, Prefect. We're all looking out for ourselves here." That raw truth, stripped of sentimentality, was a brutal reminder that, in this world, no one shone without a price to pay.

Azul saw her as an opportunity. He always had a deal or contract at hand, waiting for her to fall. “You can always count on me for a fair price,” he would say, with that calculating smile that never revealed his true interest. Like the ocean that reflects the stars but never touches them, she never felt like more than a surface he turned to when he needed something. She was not an equal. And though she knew his words were double-edged, there was a strange comfort in being valued, even if it was for her usefulness.

Floyd was a fickle tide; he was unpredictable, and his light always seemed to flicker between whim and disdain. “Shrimpy, you’re fun! You don’t bore me as easily as the others!” he would say with a smile that failed to disguise his capricious nature. Sometimes he would smother her with his attention, with brusque hugs and laughter that lashed like a violent tide, but his effervescence had an edge; when he grew bored of her company, he would abandon her without hesitation.

Jade, always his brother’s elegant shadow, would approach with his serpentine calm and eyes that seemed to unravel secrets. “It’s always a pleasure having you around, Prefect,” he would comment with that polite smile that never reached his eyes. His tone was always wrapped in impeccable politeness; she felt like his words were more of an assessment than a compliment. At his side, she felt like a star trapped in a jar, admired only as long as it served to feed his curiosity.

Kalim, with his bright optimism, was perhaps the one who treated her with overflowing kindness, but even warmth could be blinding. "You're a great friend," he would say sincerely, but something in those words made her hesitate. He would seek her out when he wanted to share her joy, but he could never quite grasp her sadness. Sometimes, being by his side was like floating in a sky lit by fireworks, dazzling and joyful but a light that fades when the sun makes its appearance.

With Jamil, the connection was more complicated, a precarious balance like that of a star orbiting dangerously close to a black hole. Always trapped in Kalim's shadow, his own struggles overshadowed any support she might need. “It is better that you do not get too involved,” he warned her with his cold tone, his gaze fixed on a point beyond her, as if she weren't even there. Despite that, she sometimes lent him a hand in his duties with Kalim. But she knew that, for him, it was nothing more than a satellite, a secondary star without its own brightness, destined to revolve around something bigger and more important than itself.

Vil was a supernova, bright and blinding, consuming himself in his quest for perfection. “Beauty takes effort, Prefect,” he told her with brutal frankness, his critical eyes seeing each of her imperfections as something that needed to be corrected. His words, wrapped in the confidence of someone who had always been admired, only reminded her how imperfect she felt around him; his words, though well-intentioned, left her feeling more dulled than enlightened. Rook, the hunter whose love for beauty was as great as life itself, saw the prefect as a masterpiece. “You are so fascinating, my dear Trickster,” he exclaimed, his poetry as intoxicating as it was confusing. His words were a hymn to her uniqueness, but behind his admiration was a disturbing curiosity, as if he wanted to decipher her and reduce her to a simple piece of his endless collection of discoveries and beauties.

Epel, determined to prove his strength, kept her at a distance. “I don’t need you to babysit me like a child,” he insisted. She admired his determination, but she couldn’t ignore the pain his words left behind. His distance was a reminder that even among the lost, vulnerability was a burden few were willing to share.

Idia kept to himself, always hidden behind the screen of his tablet. “I like having you around,” he had once told her. They shared the strangeness of not fitting in, but even in that shared solitude, she felt a distance. “We’re like NPCs, you know? The ones on the outside, the ones who don’t count,” he had once joked. Despite his isolation, Idia shone, albeit in a dim, reserved way. He took refuge in his solitude; she desperately sought to be seen, to be understood.

Ortho, on the other hand, was always an unwavering warmth. His innocence and curiosity radiated a light reminiscent of a young star: bright, pure, and free of the shadows of a life that never came to be. “You’re my brother’s friend, so you’re my friend too!” he would say enthusiastically, in that tone that made his every word seem like a gift. She knew that, in Ortho’s eyes, she was someone special. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if her worth depended solely on the connection she shared with Idia. Would he still view her with the same affection if her bond with his brother disappeared? Would she still matter if that thread unraveled?

Lilia was like a dying star, its light still shining brightly, but hiding the imminence of its extinction. "Ah, Prefect, you still have much to learn," he would say with a soft smile, as if he knew something she could not understand. To him, she was a curious flicker in time, something to cherish while it lasted, but without the depth to leave a real mark on his long-lived existence. Like a reminder of what is fleeting, an echo of the lights he had seen go out countless times. Sebek, with his fiery passion, treated her as if she were a star that had strayed from its course, something that needed to be guided back into place. “Though you are a human without magic, you have some worth!” Though his words often carried reproach, beneath was a misplaced devotion that she could not ignore. To Sebek, she was a lesser star, one that existed only to reflect the greatness of his lord. Even his attempts to protect her felt like an extension of his own obsession, leaving her trapped in his shadow.

Silver was the stillness of a dawn before the sun rose, a soft glow that always seemed on the verge of fully awakening. “Prefect, your presence always brings peace,” he said in a sleepy tone, as if he saw her more as a whisper in the background of his reality than as a clear voice. Yet his perpetual drowsiness created a barrier between them, as if he were trapped in a dream from which he could not wake. To him, she was a star that illuminated his path, but whose light barely managed to penetrate his own lethargy.

Finally, on one of her darkest nights, when the weight of her isolation was almost unbearable, she found Malleus on the outskirts of Ramshackle. He was there, like a majestic shadow under the starry sky, the king of the firmament, an imposing force that always seemed on the verge of consuming everything.

“Why do you think the stars stay there, so distant, instead of falling and disappearing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the infinite. His voice was quiet, with an echo of melancholy that resonated in the cold night air.

She hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because… they have nowhere else to go.”

For an instant, he wanted to say something, anything, to fill the void her words had left. But he didn’t. Because, although Malleus would never say it directly, there was something in his voice that seemed like an invitation. As if, in the midst of that immensity that always separated them, he was telling her that her light was enough, too, even if she didn’t see it yet. But there was always a chasm between them, a constant reminder that her light would never be as eternal as his.

The weight of all those glances, of all those words, was building up in her chest as if an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. It had been a long journey, one filled with unforgettable moments, but also marked by a loneliness that no one seemed to notice. Memories of each interaction passed through her mind like a cruel parade. She forced herself to breathe deeply, her trembling hands touching the window glass as her eyes sought solace in the stars again. Yet her mind, treacherous, found one last wound to open. One sentence, cold and implacable, echoed in her memory like a definitive sentence:

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs. NONE.”

The words of the Mirror echoed in her mind, an irrevocable sentence that pierced her heart with the precision of a dagger. She had wanted to prove him wrong. She had tried to fit in, tried to find a place among the people she had come to love and admire, even as each interaction reinforced the truth she so feared. The thought cut through her like a knife, and with it came a single certainty: her presence here had never been wanted. She was no heroine, no savior. She was just a nobody who had fallen into this world at the whim of a mirror.

The sentence continued to echo in her head, stealing the air from her lungs. Her chest tightened, her throat closed, and before she could stop herself, tears began to flow from her eyes. The crying began as a silent tremor, a muffled gasp as she buried her face in her hands. She covered her mouth, desperate not to wake Grim, her little companion, who slept peacefully in the bed. Cruel irony that he, her faithful friend, was not there to notice the sadness of his henchman. The same sadness that she had always hidden behind a smile and an ill-timed joke. Her breathing was irregular, ragged by the effort to contain the sobs that threatened to break the silence of the night. The world seemed to have shrunk to that small corner of her bedroom, where only the stars were witnesses to her vulnerability.

Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out.

The crying continued, each tear falling in a desperate, muffled silence. For once, she couldn't even find solace in the stars. Only curses. She cursed her weakness, her loneliness, but most of all, she cursed the day that damn mirror had made her fall into Twisted Wonderland.

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

©Miriamladyvoid 2025. do not steal my work plz…☕︎

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Cyclamen: Resignation. Second Banner: Bramble, Rose: Envy. Third Banner: Lobelia: Splendid Misery.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hey, I'm feeling very awkward about this but I love love lovee your writing so here are the fics I'm looking forward to the most:

🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️

⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

(i know I've put too many of each but i kind of lost track)

Thank you so much! Take care.

Omg you DO NOT need to feel awkward! I love getting these and am so happy to receive them, so please! Also, THANK YOU! You are so kind!

48 for 🧜🏼‍♂️

---

“I’m Buck. Your dad’s friend from work.”

“Dad, you have friends?” Chris asks, not trying to be cutting, but just being blunt the way kids do. 

“Hey!” Eddie complains as Buck laughs. 

“Oh, yeah,” Buck says. “Your dad is super cool, Chris.”

Chris laughs. “Okay. I believe you.”

He believes him? Fine. Whatever. But then Eddie realizes, of course Chris is surprised. Eddie usually avoids bringing people around who aren’t family. Tries to keep his personal life separate from work. Yeah. It must seem to Chris like Eddie doesn’t have friends. And, honestly? Since leaving El Paso the way he did, he doesn’t. Except, now, for Buck. 

That friendship just sort of escalates after that night. Completely organically. Buck’s desire to help provides Eddie with a sort of relief he’s never really had before. Never really thought he could have. Someone trying to support him with no judgement, no ulterior motive. No suggestion he’s not cut out to raise Chris alone. He’s there with Eddie when Abuela breaks her hip. He’s there with Eddie when Eddie doesn’t have childcare for a shift, arranging with Bobby for Chris to come to the station. He helps connect Eddie with resources Eddie needs in the form of Carla, someone he met through an old friend, apparently. He’s kind of a godsend. And Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Eddie tries to give back as much as he’s getting, but it’s sort of hard. If there’s something Buck needs help with, he doesn’t seem to show it as much. With the exception of helping his sister move into a new apartment. Which seems like a small thing in comparison. Eddie is strong. He can lift some boxes and a couch no problem. It still doesn’t feel the same. 

What Eddie thinks he might be able to do, though, if he’s right about Buck, is maybe be someone who can uniquely understand him. That’s something valuable. Something special. Maybe even something Eddie himself craves pretty frequently. So over the course of those first few months of getting to know Buck, he tries to dig for information. Just subtly. He needs confirmation of his suspicions before he can reveal himself in turn. 

---

48 for ⛅

---

Christopher doesn’t look convinced. He takes a moment to think. Buck holds his breath. 

“What’s Nico’s birthday?” Chris asks after a beat. 

Fuck. 

Buck looks at Eddie for help. But why would Eddie know any better than him? Neither of them knows the answer to that. 

“Oh my god,” Chris accuses. “You don’t know.”

“Listen,” Eddie pleads. “Chris…”

“It’s June 15th,” Chris interrupts him. “Right before yours, Buck. How don’t you know that?”

All Buck can do is shoot Eddie a little frustrated glare. 

“I warned you this might happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie hisses back. “I didn’t think it through! You were right!”

“Tell me the truth,” Chris says. “Seriously. What the hell is going on?”

Neither Buck or Eddie says anything for a second. 

“Alright,” Chris says lowly. “I’m calling Bobby.” 

“No!” Buck more or less yelps. “Don’t-don’t do that. Okay? It’s okay, alright. We just… We woke up here, and-and we don’t know what’s going on, but-”

“Buck!” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t need to worry about this!”

“He already is!” Buck protests. “He’s clearly already freaked out!”

Eddie looks betrayed. Like genuinely hurt that Buck would tell the truth. Buck doesn’t understand why. Why would he want Buck to lie to Christopher? Especially an adult Christopher who can presumably handle the truth. 

---

48 for 🔼

---

Jane is born nearly two weeks early, in the middle of the month. December 16th. Which is probably a more convenient birthday than her actual due date, but nevertheless, Shannon isn’t expecting it. 

She’s at Eddie’s house, with Maddie and Christopher. She and Eddie have been slowly moving her into his house in preparation for the baby. The plan is that she’ll stay there for a few months, so Eddie can be around to help. Her apartment is too small for the four of them, so this is the best solution. 

So Maddie is over, helping her set up some baby things while Eddie is at work. Not because Shannon and Eddie really need help with the baby stuff, but because Maddie sort of needs someone to talk to. She’s on suspension from work. Not ideal. And the situation is sort of wild, Shannon won’t lie. But she’s empathetic towards Maddie, understands why she did what she did. And she’s sure as hell going to be a listening ear. 

Or, at least, she’s going to try. Her water breaking mid-conversation was not on the agenda. 

This didn’t happen with Christopher. He was late and she had to be induced, and nothing felt sudden or spontaneous. It was slow and horrible and… Well, neither she nor Chris made it out of that without consequences. Shannon had sort of expected this time to go similarly. She’s honestly been dreading the whole thing. 

And now it’s, apparently, here.

“Fuck,” Shannon exhales when it happens, standing in the hallway outside Eddie’s - temporarily Shannon’s - bedroom. 

Maddie gives a tiny gasp. “Well, look at that.”

“Shit,” Shannon continues cursing. “Maddie, I’m not ready. I’m supposed to have more time.”

Maddie sort of transforms into nurse mode. Shannon knows this is in her career history, obviously. But she hasn’t actually seen it. Apparently she frequently uses this tone on Buck, though. 

“Well, you don’t have time. I’m sorry, but it’s okay. We’ll get you through this.”

“Damn it,” Shannon groans. She hasn’t felt any contractions yet, so this could still take a while. If it goes too long, they’ll induce her again… She can’t do that. Not again. She thinks she’d rather have a c-section. “My body… It’s not good at this. I’m… I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Maddie says firmly. 

[hoarding-niffler]

OKAY, FROM THE TOP BECAUSE I HAVE THOUGHTS! (And yes, I know a lot of this is simply “because it adds to the gameplay”, but I will still adapt my headcanons accordingly, that’s why they’re headcanons.)

1. Finally, the holy grail, the door to Aesop Sharp’s chambers. 

2. This man is very... reduced in his decor. Minimalistic. There are no unnecessary embellishments aside from the odd picture here and there, but I honestly think those came with the room and weren’t things Aesop brought with him when he took up his post as teacher. Instead, you can find a myriad of potion ingredients, flasks, cauldrons and research notes, showing how dedicated he is to find a cure for his injury (and to mark his students’ exams probably). Everything he owns serves a specific purpose. He also seems to enjoy the odd drink here and there, if the non-descript bottles next to his armchair and footstool in front of the fire are anything to go by. If you like it dark, imagine those are potions against pain (but looking at the sizes of those bottles I honestly doubt it).

3. This is basically just an easter egg that I wanted to mention; if you Glacius the fireplace in his first room, you can crawl through and follow some stairs to a hidden room filled to the brim with concept art of the castle. Because of this, some people headcanon that Aesop is a great artist. While that is a cute thought and you do you, I disagree. Firstly, he’d keep his art in his room, easily accessible. He doesn’t shy away from other people’s opinions, he would have no need to hide his hobby. Secondly, a child already has to crawl through the fireplace, a grown up man with a stiff leg, probably has quite the hard time accomplishing the same. And don’t get me started on the winding stairs afterwards. It just doesn’t add up.

4. We always see him limping through the castle, but he does own a walking cane. I assume he’s either to proud to use it in front of students and staff members alike, or he only needs it if he’s walking for longer periods of time. Though, considering how many fricking STAIRS there are in Hogwarts and what a hassle it is to get to your own bed EVERY DAY, I’d say it’s pride. He might also have bad days where his leg might bother him more.

5. Not only is there a walking cane in his quarters, there’s also a wheelchair. Maybe he needed it while his injury was still fresh. Maybe St. Mungo’s provided him with it when he was released. Maybe it’s for the *really* bad days... or maybe it’s a reminder for him to hurry up with his research because he is living (and moving) on borrowed time.

6. Speaking of research, this note you can find in his room is interesting not only because of what’s written in it, but because of the state it’s in. It’s been folded and unfolded numerous times, there are stains, there are tears, you can literally imagine what this piece of paper might feel like. It’s impossible to get a papercut from this already softened material. This note has been handled, stuffed in pockets, examined and studied countless of times and it’s still around. Does that mean his research is stagnating? Are the ingredients difficult to come by? The signs of wear feel like a contrast to what’s written. 

7. Kinda cheating because you don’t find this note in his quarters, but in Professor Hecat’s. He hasn’t been an Auror for quite some time but he still feels responsible. He itches to do his old job, he told us that much. If not for his injury he’d be back in the field within the blink of an eye. He’s not afraid, he’s resourceful and tries to help in whatever ways he can. Also, he seems to have a great deal of respect for Hecat, probably because she was once an Unspeakable. Maybe they even met during his time as an Auror, who knows...

8. More cauldrons, more potion ingredients, more research notes, more seating possibilities. Seriously, his rooms are filled with chairs, settees and footrests, and I don’t think it’s because he has a lot of visitors. The only chair that really invites another person in is the second armchair in front of his smaller fireplace. The others are for him. To either put clothes on them because bending down is probably difficult with a stiff leg or to rest wherever he stands (remember the first potion lesson? He leaned against a frame, taking weight off his left leg, before immediately limping towards his desk to sit down). I imagine there are spikes of pain throughout the day and he needs to be able to sit as often as possible. 

9.  Unlike Professor Ronen, Sharp has no shaving kit in his room. Considering his uneven scruff, nobody should be surprised. He’s not one to care for appearances too much (despite wearing nice clothing but that’s just “what people do”. It’s the miminum but he won’t go out of his way, especially not if it wastes time or puts a strain on his leg), being clean and well-dressed have to be enough. He also seems to live out of his luggage, clothes are strewn about instead of lying neatly folded in the wardrobe.

10. The pièce de résistance, his bed. Simple, two pillows but only really made for one person. Interesting however, how he put some cloth over the portrait right above it. This only supports my theory that he did not choose what the walls are lined with and isn’t exactly happy about so many pairs of eyes watching him from every angle. Especially not while he’s in bed, doing Merlin knows what (like sleeping, get your mind out of the gutter. ...Jk, I’m already living in the sewers, let’s be real). 

So, what do we take from these pictures? 

Aesop Sharp is clearly single and we are absolutely ready to mingle. 

[feminist-furby-freak]

about this post of yours:

https://www.tumblr.com/feminist-furby-freak/741545317484347392/even-from-the-same-sources-nhs-and-cdc-mens?source=share

why are TIMs not advocating for "people w prostates" and "ppl w testicles" language too? cuz isn't that also "misgendering"? (maybe im misunderstanding the point of ur post though. like I get that they call "ppl w cervixes" inclusivity, and by them not doing it w men too, it's a double standard. is it abt controlling women, and how we identify ourselves as a group? I don't fully understand what their goal is for this "inclusivity" to be one way?

again, maybe im j misunderstanding the point of your post but I don't get -- if its abt being inclusive of misgendering -- it doesn't apply to both?

or is it not directly TIMs and instead like cis-identified males only caring abt using "inclusive" language when it doesn't interfere w what they want to do (call themselves men too and not "ppl w prostates")?

it j feels weird being yelled at all day (I'm exaggerating ofc) abt girldick, so why would TIM be okay w other stuff being j called men? (I'm assuming they are not okay w it, but I see it doesn't matter practically as people are still saying men and then "ppl w cervixes")

sorry for the long ask!! thanks for your help!

Ding ding ding. Yes this is a lesser discussed point. The double standard is proof that it is not about being invalidated or inclusivity. TIMs know that they are men and know that “men should be screened for prostrate cancer” applies to them. They whine about everything from not being included in period campaigns to individual lesbians not letting them rape her. They don’t complain about being included in men’s health because they don’t actually care abt inclusivity they just want to insert themelsves into women’s spaces. Not to mention, they have never had barriers to healthcare because of their sex so they don’t care. Removing the word women from medical language is about further breaking down the category and meaning of “women” and making it harder for us to organize and talk about our issues. That’s it.

TIMs hate the idea that there are some (now, very few) spaces and resources that are not and will never be accessible to them. The last remaining one is gynecology and obstetrics. That is why they have this campaign against “Women’s Health” as a field. As someone pursuing graduate education in the field yeah my degree is still called Women’s Health and Midwifery but in most academic spaces we do this stupid dance around language. My undergraduate women’s health journal changed to “gender minority to health” and said I couldn’t use a picture of a uterus with my article about childbirth because it’s exclusive. This is actually why I left. In a country where more women die every year from complications of birth, “activists” are campaigning to make it harder to discuss and research women’s healthcare. Soon it will be practically impossible to talk about women’s health at all. A few years ago when the gender movement had a shred of common sense the rhetoric was include trans women in everything except for women’s health because obviously that doesn’t apply to them. Unless people start speaking up in a few years they will probably rename the discipline entirely. TIMs are now showing up to OBGYN offices/clinics expecting to have their “neos” treated because “it’s practically the same.” I can assure you they are not and regular women’s health providers do not have training to provide care for those surgical creations. Anyway that’s my rant.

[vizthedatum]

Another Hinduism/spiritual/philosophy post (based on my current understanding from my readings):

Krishna clearly disavows cults.

He says that the only way to him - for people/devotees to teach his lessons - are for the people who come to him on their own, on their path to moksha (liberation).

We cannot teach anyone who is unwilling to learn, even if they say they are willing - the willingness needs to be ingrained in every, single, part of you, down to your very subconscious.

You must embody it completely and even beyond that. Because to do so is the most powerful act of remembering who you are.

And Krishna purports that through this process, we will realize that this is the only way to break through maya (illusion/delusion).

—

So this is all to say: don’t trust gurus who persuade you via false promises of a happy life, if they are not willing to be honest with you about how you see yourself. I think most gurus are false. I think there are people who provide services that can be helpful, but we must all be careful of who we trust - what is their motivation for helping you?

People do find cults - and I think they’re meant to find them, maybe as a challenge in their own physical-spiritual journey to see that it is yet another mask of delusion. (Oh and Hindus definitely find themselves in cults all the time, lmao)

Much like how many of my past friendships and partnerships were - there were a delusion of what I needed or even wanted.

And as much as I hate to admit it (a weakness of my existence), I haven’t fully let go of many of my maya - I want to, that’s why I study, that’s why I pray, that’s why I seek to achieve enlightenment, that’s why I want to treat people the way I think I should be treated…

I have not mastered many of the elements that Krishna tells Arjun about in the Bhagavad Gita - but it’s not necessarily about mastery, it’s about the process of getting there.

I want to be better - I want to keep learning - I want to keep living.

(I’ve often said this, and I’m not quite sure what he told me, but when I was suicidal in high school, it was ultimately the Bhagavad Gita that saved me.

I picked it up and read it on my own, I stopped listening to my parents’ bullshit, I paused time and meditated on the song and what it was saying, and I came to a conclusion that I cannot remember -

but the spirit of it has always stayed in me, and it is that spirit that propels me to fight to stay strong, to find resources, to find comfort, to feel my emotions, to meltdown, to embrace my body, to worship my goddesses, to find Krishna, to come out as trans, to seek refuge with my friends, to make mistakes, to learn from my mistakes, to be who I am despite of all of life’s challenges.

I strayed away from religion after high school - it shook me to my core because I thought I wouldn’t be a good scientist and because I got caught up in finding love from outside myself -

and now after multiple traumatic life events, I find myself more spiritual and devoted than ever, and I cannot go back. I cannot go back even if I wanted to.)

And because of this want, this compulsion…. which I think is part of the plan anyway, the truth will come to me that it’s always been there.

I think God/Source/the truth is everywhere - it is in every single object/idea we can sense, it is what we experience, it is our inner guiding light, it is within us, it is outside of us, its bigger than us, and it is us. It shows us that no one is better than the other.

I am not perfect nor do I aim to be.

I just want to be me.

—

So this is all further to say that:

We all have it within us to find our own truth, regardless of religion or method.

I will cease to stop telling people who cannot listen (I’ll blog and express myself of course!! People don’t have to listen to me on here, lol!)

Some people need guidance but they will find each other eventually. Connections often tell you what you need to work on.

I hope I continue to find my people/community (and I already have - I’m immensely grateful for my friends from all walks of life).

This is my own truth and journey - it’s something that has brought me immense peace as I continue to navigate this life.

[noturvlentine]

im not someone to miss (pt2)

༺ ♰ ༻

Leon Kennedy x reader series

Summary [series]- after Chris Redfield has requested for your transfer from the BSAA, you’re tasked with uncovering a chain of bio-terrorist attacks alongside Leon Kennedy. Destruction, duty and your untold past brings you spiralling into an unlikely bond with your partner, as efforts are made and promises are broken.

im back! sorry I haven’t been as alive as the past two weeks, school has really caught wind of assignments but updates are coming!!!!! Bear with me while I write up the rest of my vague plans for this series and I apologise if these time skips make no sense at all!!

Please don’t copy my work anywhere else!! this will be up in ao3 too!!! -j

1.9k words

part 1

part 3

༺ ♰ ༻

Washington DC

A particular apartment block

21:00PM

2009

You arrived home to a small, tactical grade duffle bag sitting on your doormat. You half-expected them to provide you with nothing more than necessary, but seeing as STRATCOM was no BSAA, their gear had been rather sophisticated to say the least. They had given you 400 hours to gather any intel from a country in Eastern Europe, which meant you had a little over two weeks stuck with Leon in some dusty safe-house apartment with minimal contact with anyone else (not like you had anyone worth reaching out to outside of work anyway). 400 hours- thats only if things went smoothly, in which, they never do. You’d be there for a month at the minimum guarantee and you were meant to escort a contact to a private exchange of resources they managed to snatch off the black market. If the deal went smoothly then at least the government can put their pretentious, expensive lab research to use with their hands on a sample of some B.O.W strains.

You managed to drag yourself into your apartment, keys thrown onto the kitchen counter as your first thought was to pour yourself a drink and burn a cigarette. You weren’t a drinker- correction, you weren’t an alcoholic, nor were you a smoker. It’s just that there was no one here to monitor you and you easily and cowardly blamed it on your job, but instead you just seemed to have revolved around whatever harmless substance was at your disposal for the time being- amongst other things. You’d always kind of lived your domestic life on autopilot, barely putting in a second thought to whether you actually needed to change the way you lived, whether you needed other things in your existence- or someone else, but who were you kidding, a pet maybe?. You were never the type to give someone a call back either- to be fair you never really stayed, hence why a drink and a smoke followed by a warm shower was all you really desired. You slumped yourself down on the chair at your dining table, not bothered turning any overhead lights on in return, just letting the gracious moonlight escape into the room. Your fingers traced the yellow folder you’d brought home from work today, the other hand going numb from the cold condensation of a beer bottle. You sat there for a good two hours, an unwise decision seeing as you still wanted to waste away in the shower and needed to be organised for departure tomorrow. Not to say, sleep wasn’t ever on your side either.

Under the sting of your hot shower, you couldn’t help but think of how exactly you ended up here. Eight long years of anti-bioterrorist service just for Redfield to temporarily ‘discharge’ you from the BSAA for your little let down back in South America (to be fair, no one had ever decided you were discharged, but the leave and subsequent transfer had been the equivalent of that in your eyes). Was he even going to let you back in on the field with him? You weren’t about to become an office personnel in your line of work after this mission, to be honest you thought it would be the hands-on equivalent of death- to spend years in training in both the military and special operations only to end up in the chain of responsive command for an XO you didn’t quite get along with. Not to mention- having to filter through everyone’s field reports and paperwork after Redfield just hypothetically offed the industrial section of a city. Nonetheless, you were at least grateful to still be working field for the time being, it may not be alongside Chris Redfield and the BSAA, but it was still something of the equivalent. You were enjoying what might be the last comfortable shower for the next month or so (something small to deal with considering the various lengthy deployments you’d been on previously), taking time to let the sprays of water loosen your muscles. If you were completely honest, you would enjoy a permanently domestic, normal civilian life either. Something simple as a long, warm shower would become tedious once it becomes frequented and unthreatened as civilians are. Maybe the loss in commodity value was an excuse for you to work this job until death. Or maybe death came closer, and maybe you’d already accepted that.

Your mind skipped to Leon, or rather what he was doing, then to what he’d think of you once he knew you too well (or if he ever will). After all, two weeks is a long time to be stuck with someone on your tail, in the same safe house flat, going over the same shit and waiting for something life threatening to occur. You’d feared that when you’d first gravitated towards the BSAA, scared that you were going to let someone in (arguably, you’d always defended Chris as your bond came from the sentimental value of your jobs) and that they were going to come to the inevitable realisation that you were both fucked and would soon wound up dead on the field somewhere. That was definitely something harder for others to compute, as you’d accepted your death ages ago and were only ever waiting for people the catch up, hence why you’d think Leon would actually hate you.

South America

BSAA outstation

14:00PM

December 2008

‘Fuck! Goddamn it!’ Chris throws his fist into the crumbly stone pillar to his right. ‘We are sending in backup immediately-‘

‘Redfield that is not of your command, we’re not taking that risk-‘ petty, for anyone to want to argue with Chris Redfield. He’s always been full charged if not spewing out electricity by the second in the heat of the moment, head and heart. There was no negotiation. He knew first hand how shitty it was to go into a mission without support, albeit you did have ‘support’, yes- but it was a matter of if the goddamn CO would agree.

‘I’m not asking. That is one of our best agents tied up in there and you’re not gonna find another.’ To anyone else that tone alone would have them pissing their pants running under Redfield’s control, maybe this was why everyone was always cleaning up after him.

‘I’m going in.’ He mumbled, a stern one, signalling to his team to pack it forwards beyond their assigned parameters.

‘Patch me through.’ The next thing you know, your name is repeated frantically over the comms. Redfield’s voice is stern, searching, worrisome, but stern in his best I-am-your-captain commandment way. As his voice became more desperate you managed to free a hand for the radio.

‘Chris you better turn the fuck around.’ You groaned through your teeth, dropping down to your knees behind a collapsed brick wall. There was currently a wave of bioterrorist minions on your six and a massive B.O.W making its way through the maze of collapses infrastructure ready to pull you head off your neck the moment you’re seen in the line of fire. They had dogs two, all three parties together would be more than the current BSAA deployment had issued in the area and the next few surrounding countries. It amazes you how much terrorism groups can out number the fucking military, how many people are willing to sign themselves up to suicide compared to those who enlist in the army. They’re probably not cowards like the rest of the world that’s for sure.

‘I can get you my final intel order but if you fucking surpass that parameter-‘

‘I am not leaving you out there.’

‘I’m dead! I’m fucking dead Chris!’

The line goes silent, you can hear him thinking over the static of the radio. He had no purpose in sending rescue, you were a valuable asset, but the job was finished and there was enough evidence for the FBC to deploy troops to other locations and carry out necessary protocols to prevent whole countries from collapsing. The South American sun was starting to get its way with you, there was dust thickening through the air and you could hear firing in the near distance, which was enough for you to pull yourself up from you current location. Shots fired, straight your way and heard through the radio. You were scrambling for shelter around this abandonment of a city block, you shad two magazines left which you knew wouldn’t last for nearly enough time before an evac squad gets here.

Washington DC

Joint Base Andrews

12:30PM

2009

The pilot had just announced takeoff over the PA system. You watched the runway shrink into small grey veins over patchy land as the plane gained altitude. You could also see Leon’s impulsive leg tapping in your peripheral vision, his eyes settled in examining your body language as you pretended not to notice. His arms were crossed, disinterested by anything outside or in the cabin as his mind was purely focused on figuring you out. Out of annoyance, you turn your head, dropping your hand which was once propping your chin up, onto the armrest by the window.

‘What?’ You blinked at Leon.

‘Nothing, you look tired.’ He simply shrugs. Well that’s little to say for someone who’s been peeling your complexion apart for the past five minutes. You don’t respond, dropping your gaze to his bouncing leg, which stops upon your eyes settling on it. Your hand was now wrapped tightly around the bulge of the armrest, fingers slowly digging into the fabric and picking at the seams. Something about Leon’s all-too-understanding way of looking at you just didn’t sit right. He wasn’t one to remind you of your troubles but in every way, he did, and you can’t blame him for that. A faint rustling sound traveled towards you as he shifted in his seat, now more relaxed as his head hung back towards the headrest, still arms crossed and looking at you softly. Oh how you wished a little turbulence would break up this awkward exchange, you couldn’t argue that there was anything interesting other than fogs of cloud infecting your view.

Three hours into the flight and it was approaching night across the time zones. You’d irresponsibly gone through two glasses of rum and coke to ease your nerves, to which earned you a scoff and hum of amusement from Leon. Thought he was insistent on getting more than three words out of you, there was nothing he could do about your isolated bitterness and he figured that you’d melt along with time. You watched as the sky had lost its sunset, turning into an inevitable, cartoonish night.

‘Get some sleep will you?’

No answer, you pouted and went back to staring out the window. The emptiness plagued the entire sky and all that could be seen was the annoying red eye on the wing of the plane. Leon pushed his following words back into his throat, and left it at that for the rest of the evening before your subsequent arrival. You watched as he quietly dozed off for the next two hours, leaving you with a sense of peripheral comfort.

AN: this chapter is a little slow i know, it’s getting there. I’m also trying to keep my formatting consistent but I’m not sure how well that’s working atm 😂

[pr0udn3rd]

Ok wholesome rant time.

I love board games. Not like, Monopoly or Scrabble, no no. Nerd board games. Board games with intricately designed pieces and rulebooks thick enough to scare away the average person. And Wingspan designed by Elizabeth Hargrave is the best one.

Now, I am an autistic floof who would prefer conflict be avoided, so if you want to make kids cry with your capitalist greed and brutalist strategy go play Ticket to Ride. This game is not that. It is a chill beautiful refined game to put your pinkies out and enjoy a cup of tea with your friends. Imagine sunny days with poofy pretty clouds happy carefree vibes.

The game centers around birbs. You are a birb enthusiast and if that doesn’t hold true in your real life it will soon. Your goal is simple: score the most points. There are a myriad of ways to do this but they all revolve around hosting a sanctuary to birbs of all habitats, diet, size, etc. You play birbs by paying food and eggs. You get these resources by taking a turn to obtain them in a specific habitat. The more birbs you have in that habitat the more of that resource you get and you get to use those birbs powers, which are themed after the real life birb. It’s an engine building game but these rules aren’t really why this is the best game ever.

This game excels at providing a warm fuzzy feeling in your heart. Your competitors cannot impede your progress as everyone has their own sanctuary/board. They can only help you (ie birbs that let everyone get a resource.) Everyone can flourish, and in fact the more players the higher the average score.

But the piece de le resistance is the theming. The birbs are FUCKING GORGEOUS. I don’t mean they only picked birbs that look pretty, I mean the art on these cards makes me calm and happy. And each card has a fun fact at the bottom about that bird or it’s history. The whole game oozes charm and really just encapsulates the feeling when you see an animal and go “oh he’s just a silly little guy.”

The base game is North American birbs so pretty standard but the expansions really leaned into silly guy territory. Or maybe I’m just not educated enough to recognize foreign birbs as normal. The base game is very well constructed and a great stepping stone into slipping into the rabbit hole of expansions.

Because of this game, I have a new hobby. Birbs. I have a favorite birb. I watch birbs out my window. I know random birb facts. I can identify most birbs into a general category. It’s wonderful.

Look at this guy. This is a European Robin. My man does not have any worries. He is living under a rock. He doesn’t even know what a tax is! His entire existence is just round boi. Oh to be a birb like him on a snowy rock.

This guy, however. This is a Sri Lanka Frogmouth. He has committed at least 3 war crimes and he knows it and I love him anyways. He’s so ugly! I love him. He is also my favorite irl birb. So he gets 3 pictures.

This guy, the American Woodcock, is in base game and he gives “mom i frew up” vibes. He looks guilty and uncertain and HIS NAME IS A WOODCOCK.

I met these birbs through this game and I’m a happier person for it.

TL;DR if you like board games and want a good relaxing time and maybe a new birb obsession Wingspan is the game.

Below: card art

Also bonus the art is mostly male birbs for the foliage but they can lay eggs so this game is 95% trans birbs. Hell yeah.

[fruityfinch]

Okay here are my thoughts on the new dragon age game thus far! I love to talk about my opinions!! There’ll be some spoilers:

My main gripe thus far (and it’s possible this will be addressed somewhat later in the gameplay, but probably not to my satisfaction lmao) is that it does NOT feel like a sequel to dragon age: inquisition, which is what I personally wanted. I can understand why this is. It’s been like a decade since DAI came out, and making this game strictly sequential might alienate new players. I wanted it to be more like the original mass effect trilogy, whose games really do connect up, keep more or less the same cast, and lead into one another, but I guess that just isn’t dragon age’s style. I mean, in part this is probably because you’ve been able to make so MANY choices at this point that it would be nigh-on impossible to write voice lines and storylines that accommodate all of them. So I get it. But it’s FRUSTRATING.

Instead, there are SOME familiar characters, but they are bizarrely detached from previous events - they acknowledge they know each other from previous encounters, and have name-dropped the inquisition MAYBE one time, but that’s it. That’s IT. At one point the protagonist asks Varric if he knows anyone who can help in fighting evil ancient mages, and he’s like “no I can’t think of anyone, so you’ll have to recruit people yourself,” which is like, WHAT THE FUCK. Extremely fucking aggravating!!! What are you talking about!!!!! We were just IN Tevinter, contact Dorian! Contact Vivienne! Contact Leliana and Josephine!!! Hawke!!! Merrill!!!! You know SO MANY PEOPLE who could help, Varric, AT LEAST you could be like “yeh I do but they’re all busy fighting fires elsewhere… so you’ll have to recruit people yourself”.

It’s a bad sign that you do not have to connect this game to the events of previous ones. At the start of DAI you had the option to either connect the game to save files of the previous games, or to manually go through a website and choose what happened in those games, and these things had some influence on what happened in DAI. For this game, you create and name your inquisitor in a character creator so they’ll presumably show up at some point, but that is IT. (And they don’t look the same because I can’t remember exactly what they looked like lmao). I HAVE a save file on my console from DAI - I can’t import it or relate it in any way to DAV.

Events, both major world-reaching ones and smaller personal ones, are irrelevant, I guess. What happened to your warden? Who took the throne in ferelden? Did Anders live? Did you support the chantry? Did you recruit the mages or the templars? Who did you arrange to be the next divine? I bought the DLC for DAI (so I could finish the unfinished story) where I decided to dissolve or persist with the inquisition - did that matter? Nope. Did I tell Solas I was gonna persuade him, or that I was gonna fight him? Who cares?? Varric was viscount of Kirkwall last time I checked, but it hasn’t been mentioned ONCE - what’s up with that, has he resigned? Wouldn’t it be useful if he still was, and could provide resources and connections that way?? Or, like, doesn’t it matter that he’s sitting in the fade instead of running his city??? Nahhh, don’t worry about it, you don’t need to know aaaaaany of this stuff! Who did the inquisitor romance? Doesn’t matter. What if I romanced Solas, isn’t that sort of important? Apparently not!

Given all of that… it’s a little hard to get fully invested in this game. Because this Thedas is only very superficially the same one I’ve played in before, so how can I be that invested in it? And if I know my choices don’t really matter in the long-term narrative, why should I care that much about choices I’ll be making now??

You also can’t have a casual chat with anyone anymore. So far I have been unable to have a conversation with someone where I find out where they’re from, what their experiences are, what they think about uhhhh fuckin ANYTHING, etc. You can only converse with them when the game decides they have something to say, and these conversations last less than two minutes, and are ONLY about things that have JUST happened. This is making it hard to connect with them, and I do feel it’s another way the game is shielding itself from having to acknowledge the previous games in any meaningful way. Mage circles? Templars? The tevinter imperium? Dalish elves? Who the fuck is Varric and why was he in charge? Ehhhhh don’t WORRY about it!

AND FINALLY (and this is really driving me insane): so far, it appears that the writing direction for Solas has taken a sharp left turn, with no warning. It turns out that he WASN’T the bad guy trying to destroy the world, he was keeping some REALLY bad guys locked up, and YOU blew that for him, you IDIOT!!! Like, the game did SAY at the beginning that you all thought he was trying to tear down the veil and that’s why you were stopping him, but then it turned out that wasn’t what was happening, and after that point it hasn’t been acknowledged again. It isn’t explained so far why we thought that, or why it might have turned out not to be the case. You’d think Solas would have mentioned it to Varric during their off-screen conversation, but I guess he didn’t. Like. I thought this game was gonna be about opposing Solas and either persuading him to stop, or killing him, while making use of the inquisition’s reach. And, see, the reason I thought that is because that’s what the previous game SAID was happening. But actually that ISN’T what’s happening. And Solas smugly tells you off for thinking otherwise, and your protagonist is like, “yeah I guess I blew it :/“

So I was given information and facts and character arcs to act upon, and I acted upon them (and had no CHOICE but to act upon them, that is the GAMEPLAY), and then the game has pulled the rug out from under my feet, and while I’m lying stunned on the floor it’s turned around like, “oh that’s what you thought, huh? You fucking idiot? You god damn stupid son of a bitch?? WRONG!!!!”

Like, unless much later in the game Solas is gonna be like, “okay thanks for resolving all that. I was on a side mission before tearing down the veil, and you ruined my side mission, but now you fixed it, so back to my overall plan: tearing down the veil”… what is HAPPENING here. No one in-game is TALKING ABOUT IT. You talk to Solas occasionally and you can’t bring it up. You can’t talk about it to your companions (since you can’t really talk to them about Anything). Is Solas still going to be a problem? If he’s not… WHY THE FUCK NOT? What happened?? WHAT’S HAPPENING

And those are my main gripes. 😘

[vintage-bentley]

Which other sorts of people should be forbidden from accessing public spaces necessary for health and hygiene, just in case they commit a crime? Just that particular one? Why stop there? Maybe we should segregate these spaces by other demographics that have been shown to commit more crime, like class, or race. If we want to be really nice, I suppose we could create secondary spaces just for those sorts of people so they can leave decent people alone. And you're absolutely right, we must never allow resources meant only for the oppressed to be shared! Nobody should be allowed to use a cane unless they have a doctor's note proving they need it, and people who don't use wheelchairs should never go on ramps; they block real wheelchair users from using them! There are no possible consequences for someone who pretends convincingly to be a minority to then be oppressed in the same way the genuine minority is, so this is our biggest concern.

Trans identifying people are not being “forbidden” from using public spaces, stop with the dramatics. Trans identifying males can go use men’s spaces, and trans identifying females can go use women’s spaces. Trans identifying people can also use unisex spaces, which are becoming increasingly common.

Or, the trans community can do what they should have done from the very beginning and campaign for every establishment to have gender neutral spaces. “But going in there will out them!” No, there’s many reasons non-trans people could benefit from gender neutral spaces as well. Maybe a mother needs to bring her young son with her in the changing room, but he’s a little too old to be in the women’s changing room without making others uncomfortable. Maybe somebody prefers the increased privacy that these spaces usually provide (this was the case in my high school, some people preferred the unisex washroom because the stalls were more private). Maybe a man and woman want to go with each other to these spaces the same way same sex friends often do.

Other crime rates do not show a specific class that is particularly in danger. But we can safely say that men are often a danger to women, because men’s misogyny means that women will often be the targets of their violence. And because on average men are physically stronger than women, it is difficult for women to defend ourselves against violence. We do not want to risk this violence in spaces that were made to keep us safe from it.

And did I ever say that nobody should use things like canes if they need them? You’re purposely missing my point. My point was people pretending to need these things to gain advantages meant to help disabled people. For example, somebody pretending that their misbehaved dog is a service dog. This leads to establishments being much more strict towards actual service dogs, therefore negatively affecting the people who need them all because some people took advantage.

If somebody pretends convincingly enough to be an oppressed minority, yes, on the surface they will face discrimination. But they do not face the same oppression. A passing trans identified male might get catcalled, he might be called misogynistic slurs. But he will not be affected if women’s reproductive rights were taken away. In fact, his main complaint might be “why are you calling it women’s rights? I’m a woman and they don’t affect me! Focus on changing how you speak about your rights instead of focusing on winning them!”

He also did not experience female socialisation, so he has no idea what it actually is like to navigate the world as a woman. He has no idea what it’s like to grow up watching the men and boys around you receive better treatment, because he was one of those men/boys.

The only thing a trans identified male knows is the experience of a man pretending to be a woman. He does not and will never have the true experience of a woman. And this applies to anyone who pretends to be a member of an oppressed group. There are some things that you simply cannot identify into experiencing.

Anyways, the main point here is that women deserve to have our own spaces, because historically men have been a threat to us, and they continue to be. We should not have to give up our safety and comfort because some men demand they be included. Those men are not our problem. They can figure something out for themselves just like women had to.

[heartless-aro]

Heyo, i'm part of a queer organization irl. I'm trying to lead us to focus more on aromanticism, since even a lot of queer people know very little about it. I have two questions. Number One is about the term loveless, since I've seen it used (and explained) quite frequently but still don't understand it. I don't get it of it's an actual description of not wanting love of any kind or more of a hyperbole, a stance taken against the common practice of only talking about love in a romantic context. And also i wanted to know if you have any more general suggestions

Ok, so I’m actually gonna start with general suggestions since I know I’m going to ramble a lot about lovelessness when I get to that part (given how I am as a person).

Since aromanticism isn’t as well known as most other identities, it would probably be difficult to set up events or groups for aromantic people, so I’m going to assume that your main goal, at least to start with, is probably going to be providing information and resources, and I’m gonna do my best to give advice based on that.

So, first and foremost, I would recommend being very clear about the fact that you can be aromantic even if you are allosexual. Alloaros are a much more significant portion of the aromantic community than people tend to realize. I’ve been meaning to make a post about some research papers I’ve read that give a bit of insight into the exact statistics, but what’s important to know is that, based off what little research exists, it is likely although aromantic people are more likely to be asexual than alloromantic people, most aromantics are still allosexual, not asexual. There’s probably a lot of people who are aromantic and just don’t realize it, because unfortunately with the amount of alloaro erasure in our community, many allosexual people don’t realize that identifying as aromantic is even an option for them.

Also, this is a bit specific, but I would recommend that when providing resources on aromanticism, you also provide a bit of info on aro rings (i.e., what they are/how to wear one), since many aromantics have never met another aro irl and would likely benefit from having a way to find and connect with other aros.

AUREA’s website (aromanticism.org) has a lot of great resources too, so I would definitely suggest checking those out and maybe directing people to AUREA’s website for further information about aromanticism.

These are all somewhat simplistic suggestions since I’m not really an expert on organizing and I don’t know what sort of goals and resources you’re working with, but if you want to discuss further, feel free to dm/message me and I’ll help as best as I can (for real I have nothing better to do lol) ♠︎.

Lovelessness

Ok so now for your first question about whether the term “loveless” is literal or hyperbolic…the short answer is…yes. Yes it is. As for the long answer…

There are a number of reasons why someone might identify as loveless aromantic. For some people, their identity as loveless may be related to some intrinsic aspect of themselves while others may adopt the term for ideological reasons (i.e., as a political identity of sorts).

AUREA defines a loveless aromantic as “a person on the aromantic spectrum who feels disconnected from the concept of love, does not experience love, or rejects the idea of personally experiencing love” and clarifies that “loveless aros may experience other attractions, but do not equate these attractions to love.” This is a good start to understanding what loveless aromanticism is, but I’m going to try to discuss this in a bit more depth (at least, to the best of my ability).

At its core, lovelessness is simply the rejection of love as a descriptor for oneself and for one’s experiences — nothing more, nothing less. It only starts to become more complicated when you start delving into why someone might decide love is not a useful or applicable term for their experiences.

The most straightforward and obvious reason is that some people simply don’t feel anything that they can identify as love. This may be the case for people who lack the desire or ability to form close emotional bonds with others; this could be due to a personality disorder like szpd, aspd, npd, or ocpd, due to emotional detachment related to ptsd, due to negative symptoms of schizophrenia, and so on. Similarly, someone who struggles to identify their emotions may not know whether or not they feel love.

Some may also consider “love” to be inapplicable to themselves because love is often so loosely and inconsistently defined as to seem nonsensical or meaningless to them. After all, how can romance, friendship, family bonds, passion for hobbies, and general enjoyment of life all be categorized as forms of “love” when each one of these is a fundamentally different experience?

The word love can refer to a lot of things, but romantic love is, for better or for worse, central to its basic definition. So much of our society’s concept of love is characterized by traits associated with romantic love, with all other forms of love being treated as secondary at best. Although we can stretch the definition so the word love can be more broadly applied, that doesn’t change the fact that, unless we completely rethink how we conceptualize love (as many lovequeer aros do), love as a social construct is inextricably tied to romance.

People are quick to label virtually any positive human experience as love, and in doing so without actually deconstructing what love means, they implicitly draw a connection between romantic love and those other positive human experiences. Yet is my “love” of music really the same emotion as someone else’s love for their spouse? Or do we only call them both love because — with romantic love being seen as the pinnacle of human emotion — we have become convinced that the only way the enjoyment of music could be anywhere near as valuable an experience as romantic love is if the enjoyment of music is in and of itself a form of love? By calling labeling any and all sources of joy as forms of love without considering whether they actually meet the definition of the term, we risk elevating the pedestal upon which society places romantic love, to our own detriment.

So, part of why someone might identify as loveless is because, in rejecting the idea that our experiences should be labeled as love, we are seeking to challenge the notion that the value of our experiences lies in their similarities to romance. In doing so while continuing to assert that our experiences are equal in value to the experience of romantic love, we seek to combat the idea that romantic love is above all other things.

Furthermore, there are also many people who identify as loveless due to having had “love” weaponized against them in the past. When people say that love makes us human, some of them may mean love in that broad sense that includes platonic affection, familial bonds, care towards pets, passion for hobbies, and so on. But for most people, the first type of love that comes to mind is always going to be romantic love, and for many, love and romance are inherently synonymous.

Although attempts to expand the definition of love are valuable, many aromantics (like myself) are uncomfortable with labeling any of their feelings as love. Furthermore, many neurodivergent aros, autistic aros in particular, have the love they do experience delegitimized by others because they cannot express love in the way people expected them to. (This is something that K.A. Cook explains in much greater detail in hir essay where ze first coined the term loveless aromantic. I plan on posting a link to this essay in a separate post in a bit. I highly recommend reading over it if you have the time).

After a lifetime of being excluded from the category of “people who love,” many aromantics don’t want to be told that we’re allowed to “join the club” now. There are people who will never consider our experiences to be the same as “real love,” and those who do will often consider us only as an afterthought. When people reinforce the idea that “love makes us human” or that “love is the meaning of life,” they may be including things like platonic love in their definition of love, but at the end of the day, not everyone will interpret their statements that way, and so their statements will still contribute to the dehumanization of aromantic people. Thus, it is not enough to be placated by the notion that love can include us too; at best, this is an empty platitude, and at worst, it serves to silence us on the matter of our own dehumanization. We need to dismantle the notion that love is intrinsic to humanity and happiness. In rejecting inclusion into the category of “people who feel love,” loveless aros make it impossible to ignore how equating love with humanity and happiness dehumanizes us and devalues our lives.

Anyways, this is based pretty heavily on my own thoughts and experiences and it’s probably not super organized but I hope that it helps.

So uhh,

tldr; loveless can be a descriptor for someone who doesn’t want love in any form, or it can be used as a hyperbole to express a stance against equating love and romance, or some combination of the two.

[femmefatalevibe]

hi.

tw: abuse.

don’t hesitate to delete this. i understand the sensitivity of the topic.

so,

i’m still a minor and i’m sorry i didn’t know where i could get advice from. my dad and i had a fight because i jokingly told him he should quit smoking (i could remember telling him this statement since i was five but he never did) because he’s old and we are having financial difficulties. we can’t afford risking his health and his destructive habits won’t help. he got mad and thought i’m being a b*tch just because he didn’t gave my full allowance that week but he can buy a pack for his cigs (which is tbh partly the case of my frustration but most of all, piled up resentment why our family struggle because he coped through gambling and smoking but most of all was the fact that he keeps me in a situation of why must loving him had to be this hard)

now, in an asian household culture, they really held respect in eldest highest regard even if they don’t make any sense anymore (to me at the very least). it didn’t get better that i’ve always been strong-headed with my opinions, i will argue my point to bits to my parents as attempts to be the adults i needed them to be and they didn’t like my approach because i have the tendency to be blunt, i present the faults as instincts in hopes to figure the solution. they didn’t like that very much, maybe because of my unfiltered delivery as well. as a result, i’ve been told i’m too arrogant and a know-it-all, selfish and uncaring. i’m afraid that what if they are right? i value fairness and i believe respect should go both ways. he wanted to raise his hand and i dared him to hit me like he used to. all just to prove him that my outburst was beyond materialistic stuff such as my allowance he could barely provide. he couldn’t but he was screaming at my face, telling me to talk. telling me how ungrateful i was, telling me to speak up and i said no. i begged that we do it once he calm down. and i can’t do this any longer. i was drained. but he was shouting and telling me to speak up. even my mom back him up and how did I become so heartless.

i love my dad. he loves us in ways he knew best. i wanted to apologize but i don’t know what i should apologise for, not at least in the way he would like to. because i don’t think i’m wrong. i want to apologise, perhaps because i could have approach it better, i’ve tried. but should i even apologise? i would leave this house if i could. basically, how can i resolve the conflict if he thinks i’m attacking him? how can i say sorry when i don’t think i’m wrong. he won’t even apologise for what he did to me. i’m their daughter, not just their daughter. i’m a human first, and their kid second.

Hi love! I'm so incredibly sorry that you have to deal with this!! Please know that you deserve better and are dealing with people who do not have the capacity to support you in the ways you deserve.

"i’m their daughter, not just their daughter. i’m a human first, and their kid second." NEVER forget this!! You're absolutely correct.

I'm not a therapist by any means but have dealt with similar dynamics, so I'm linking a few resources below and a direct link to a great book on the topic, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents:

Hope some of this resonates and that you can leave this unhealthy environment soon, surround yourself with loving individuals, and get a therapist to help you build the fulfilling life you deserve.

Sending love xx

[inviziii]

FINALLY IT TIS FINISHED! So how they met starts like this:

In the beginning I thought over how I could realistically slip in Rosemary as an interest, and after reading Mass Effect: Revelation, I thought why not imagine this scenario: what if the consort he saved at The Sanctuary from Groto Ib-ba was instead a human?

If you haven’t read the book, there is a part where Saren interrogates and brutally gets info from this Blue Sun merc named Groto, preventing a Batarian consort from getting heavily abused by Groto.

After being saved from the altercation, albeit still having some slight bruises, Rosemary actually felt thankful to Saren. She had a feeling he was a Spectyre due to how casual, skilled, and unhesitant he was in the room, with that she suspected who he might be and knew he had a distaste for humans, but she couldn’t help but be curious about him and wanted to at least thank somehow. It would of been rude anyway to not thank a Spectyre.

In the morning, Rosemary would barely managed to catch him as he passed by the bar area, wanting to thank him with a drink. He only really accepts it and goes for a horask because he has a long night of… “Interrogating.” Nevertheless she is thrilled and orders some Asari wine for herself too, conversing with him while they would wait.

It’s obvious Saren wasn’t going to share a lot about himself, but he did confirm who he was, assured her she would be fine, and eventually found himself at least a little interested and amused by Rosemary, especially why she was in the consort business. Her dream is to be a famous consort like Sha’ira and provide resources to other species and help humans and alien species work together. In Rosemary’s opinion: Humans should eventually be on the council, but it is something that has to be earned since being on the council comes with a lot of responsibilities that humans are close but not quite ready yet. And the bad apples within humans don’t help with that. However she is faithful that they will have a spot there one day.

Of course Saren was still amused she was going to try to do such a thing through this line of work. Hell, he couldn’t imagine hiring a consort to drive away his loneliness, he had too much pride for that. Then again… She had quite lovely luscious hair, soft skin, and her eyes were.. Captivating. And it was when Rosemary asked how Saren managed his demons if it wasn’t any form of intimacy (meanwhile teasing his leg under the table with hers~), that’s when he would fluster blue on his face and try to answer quickly:

“I have work to do. That is more important than anyone’s emotions. The safety of the Citadel Space is my responsibility. I cannot allow myself to be distracted by… Emotions.”

Rosemary would tilt her head, letting her foot go higher up on his leg, making his mandibles twitch a bit and his face grow more blue, “That’s true, but this isn’t necessarily about emotions. Perhaps sometimes you just want to let go, have some temporary release.” She said and would then lean in a bit closer, letting him have more of a look at her, “You know, I do have other ways I can thank you, and no strings would be attached to this either~” Can you really help her? The woman’s favorite species was turians, he saved her, and she just couldn’t help but like the way she was getting under his skin.

Of course, Saren would decline but for the first time he felt awkward and not in control. He would get up from the table to make his leave but before he could even do so, she managed to give THE Saren Arterius a surprise.

Rosemary looked up at the tall Turian, slowly went down on his body, taking in his physique. “Well… That’s too bad. I’ll be getting back to work as well.” She then slipped him her business card, and dared to pay a kiss on his mandible, leaving a nice red lip mark. “Maybe I’ll see you some other time, Saren Arterius~” and with that she walked away, making sure to have a sway in her hips as she did so.

For a long stunned moment, Saren touched his mandible and looked at the card… Instead of throwing it away, he carefully slipped it somewhere before hurrying out of The Sanctuary. He would be getting to Khalee Grissom before Edan’s bounty hunter Skarr got there first. Until they would meet again though, Rosemary would continue to linger in the back of his head.

I will make a list of headcannons of these two soon since that will have to be a separate post :3

[another-whump-sideblog]

Masterlist

The social worker has been looking at Ema very strangely, and she does not like it. He’s provided her with lots of helpful resources, but they’re not going to be useful at all if some creep will know where she’s living and getting food and clothes.

The only reason she’s still here is that it’s not necessarily the way a creep would look at her. Just… weird. Off. Ema is not the kind of person to ignore it when things seem off.

“Is there anything else I can help you wi-“

“Why have you been looking at me like that?”

He blinks. “Li-Like what?”

The way he moves, the cadence of his voice… it’s familiar, but Ema can’t figure out why. “Don’t play dumb.”

In all honesty, she can’t put into words exactly why, but she knows he’s behaving oddly. She’s not going to let him convince her it’s all in her head.

He sighs and slumps a little bit. “I- I was just trying to figure out if I should tell you we’ve, uh, met before? We were close friends in- in high school.”

Ema scowls. “I would remember that.”

“Well, I’ve…. changed. A lot.”

Ema mentally goes through some of her friends in high school. None of them looked anything like the man sitting in front of her.

Or… none of the guys looked anything like the man sitting in front of her.

“D-“

“I go by Tom now.”

Ah. That explains what was off. Now he just looks sort of nervous.

“Are social workers allowed to work with people they know?”

“Generally it should be avoided, but… it’s been a while. And I’ve changed, and-and you’ve changed. If we were to become close friends again it wouldn’t be ethical. Does it make you uncomfortable that I know you? I can refer you to someone else.”

Tom’s demeanor shifts as he begins to talk more like a social worker. He seems much more confident.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Do you… think it’s likely? That we could be close friends again?”

Tom smiles gently, rips a page out of a notepad on his desk, and starts writing something. “I’d like to reconnect if you would. I’m going to give you my number, my email, and the details for a few other social workers.”

He gives Ema the paper. His handwriting is hard to read, but Ema thinks she’ll be able to figure it out.

Ema…desperately needs a friend. She’s been alone since she escaped. She had friends before she was abducted, but none so close that they would still consider her a friend after years of radio silence.

Tom was a good friend, and while he’s clearly changed a lot, she thinks maybe he could be one again.

“Thank you. I… don’t have a phone, but I can email you using computers at the library. We can… catch up. Or set up a time and place to catch up.”

“That sounds great.”

—

Ema sits at a table near the center of the cafe. More escape routes if something goes wrong, more people to see and maybe stop something from going wrong. She got here early so that she could pick the table.

Tom walks into the cafe, smiling when he sees Ema and coming to talk to her. “Hey, do you still like cinnamon hot chocolate? I’ll order some for you.”

“Don’t.”

Tom’s smile wavers. “…Okay, I’ll just get something for myself, then. So they don’t kick us out.”

He leaves and comes back with a single glazed donut. He sits down across from Ema, but not before awkwardly fumbling with the chair, which resists being pulled out from the table.

“So… how have things been? You wanted to teach music, did you end up following that plan? I guess I already know the answer to that. I tried to keep in touch after high school, but things got pretty hectic.”

Ema taps her foot three times on the floor for good luck. “I was abducted soon after I started college. I only escaped my captor about a month ago.”

Tom studies Ema’s face. Looking for a sign tjst she’s joking, no doubt. “…Really?”

Tap, tap, tap. “Yes.” She could show the scars to prove it, but she’d rather not.

Ema can see in Tom’s eyes the moment it clicks and he realizes she’s being completely sincere.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Are you safe? Is this guy still out there? Or girl or whatever.”

“He’s not going to hurt anyone ever again.” Probably not the best idea to confess to murder, even if she knows Tom.

“Holy shit. I mean, I knew something bad must’ve happened, you needed help getting shelter and food and stuff, but I didn’t expect… holy shit.”

Ema lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, then asks “What about you? How have you been, since we last saw each other?”

“Wh- Fine? I guess? I became a social worker, obviously. I transitioned. But like- are you okay? No, that’s a stupid question. I just… I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do? You don’t have to answer that, I just…”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Tap, tap, tap. “I’d like a friend, though.”

“Yeah, of course. Holy shit.”

Tom’s reaction makes Ema feel… weird. She wishes he would just act like things were normal, she doesn’t want to talk more about what happened right now. But also… it’s nice. Because yeah, it’s pretty fucked up. She knows that, but to have someone else validate it… it’s nice.

“Can we talk about something else? Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um… I’ve been playing this cool video game, do you want to hear about it?”

“Yes.”

Tom spends a while telling Ema about his video game, and slowly, slowly, she begins to relax. There’s someone on her side. A friend. Things might be okay.

[friendzoned61]

Do you have any specific hc that you imagine for the convict ?

Idk if it’s like a Headcannon but the convict, i see as like a scientist. I think all of the Eden members that participated in the attack were all mostly scientists. Because it was a colony! If you send people up to space to establish a new civilization, you want to not send some random Joe, you wanna send Jeff the bioengineer or bob the ME. and members of the COI aren’t a colony, they’re what’s left of humanity after the rapture. More scientists. I’m kinda rusty on lore but all these stations for the COI I think were gathering data and materials and more for earth so they probably had a ton of supplies both food and resource wise and in comparison to Eden, a colony that may have had more limited communication with earth due to distance and shit and, again I’m rusty, we don’t know how long that colony was established. Looking up the wiki I got there’s 480 people up there, so they’re probably either just getting established and they sent a shit ton of scientists to start priming mars for a larger population or they’re maybe a generation in. And if your home planet goes no contact and you try to reach out to the only space stations that might have a reason why-and like I watched the Martian what if there was some disaster that meant a food scarcity, or maybe they just needed more materials to keep expanding and providing for life there- AND THEY JUST GO DUDE IDK? EARTHS GONE? I’d get a little pissed and I’d say hey dude can you help us out then? We have like no way to like consistently gain building materials without earth and maybe the station was greedy! Like no! We’re our own governing system now and our first rule is FUCK YOU! I’d raid them if I was desperate! But hey we’re a fuck ton of scientists and yeah we’re got enough to withstand space travel and to adapt to the gravitational pull of mars and to keep expanding, but we’re not on our turf and shit I’m captured ahhhh.

Um. So all this to say, yeah I think both the convict and the player are scientists and uhhhh their punishment for their desperation is forced exploration of the unknown. :)