#Le☆S☆Ca

[officialromaniantranslatiuni]

Ca doar ce vorbeam cu cineva drag mie si am simtit nevoia sa zic asta si aici.

Faptul ca iti plac copiii, lucrezi cu copiii, ai studiat o gramada de chestii despre copiii si (in general) le ai cu copiii, nu inseamna ca ca scrie pe fruntea ta fraier si acum vine orice duduie din neam sau apropiati cu plozii luati din cusca maimutelor de la zoo si gata. Tu esti prostul care trebuie sa ii tolereze pe ei si istericalele lor. Nope. Daca nu le dau lor un dos de palma pentru ca arunca cu ciorba prin casa, pot sa iti dau tie ca adult. Macar sa fim pe plan egal.

[just-a-mod]

i have strong feelings for papa Ratau im gonna hunt that murderous fox down and beat him to death (|)W(|)

[ordalya]

J'ai trouvé pourquoi les images générée par IA me dérangent : c'est comme si ce que je vois en rêve (flou et précis à la fois) se serait retrouvé dans la vie réelle. Ce n'est pas une sensation agréable. Du tout, du tout.

[daltoncity]

Ils manquaient de femmes, au Far West...

C'est moi ou le cow-boy à l'air particulièrement enthousiaste?

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Audio: Deap Vally Shares a Ripper and Final Tour Dates

New Audio: Deap Vally Shares a Ripper and Final Tour Dates @DeapVally @clarioncallpr @imtherealcb

Acclaimed Los Angeles-based rock duo Deap Vally — Julie Edwards (drums, vocals) and Lindsey Troy (guitar, vocals) — can trace their origins to the duo’s chance meeting in a knitting class over a decade ago. The Los Angeles-based duo’s debut single, 2012’s “Gonna Make My Own Money,” was released through tiny British indie label Ark Recordings. Since then, Edwards and Troy went on to release three…

[cimicherrychanga]

yall need to learn romanian so you can understand my lux memes.

yall need to learn romanian just so you can understand how funny i really am

[vinceaddams]

Early 18th (and late 17th) century fashions are so under-utilized in vampire media and I think it's a damn shame.

I don't actually think I've ever seen a single image of a vampire character in an early 18th century suit. Hardly any movies set in that era either, and hardly any historical costumers who do it. (Even my beloved gay pirate show set in 1717 takes nearly all of its 18th century looks from the second half of the century. Not enough appreciation for baroque fashion!!)

Yes I love late 18th century fashion as much as anyone, and 19th century formal suits are all very well and good, but if you want something that says old, dead, wealthy, and slightly dishevelled, then the 1690's-1730's are where it's at.

(Retrato del Virrey Alencastre Noroña y Silva, Duque de Linares, ca. 1711-1723.)

There was so much dark velvet, and so many little metallic buttons & buttonholes. Blood red linings were VERY fashionable in this era, no matter what the colour of the rest of the suit was.

(Johann Christoph Freiherr von Bartenstein by Martin van Meytens the Younger, 1730's.)

The slits on the front of the shirts are super low, they button only at the collar, and it's fashionable to leave most of the waistcoat unbuttoned so the shirt sticks out, as seen in the above portraits.

(Portrait of Anne Louis Goislard de Montsabert, Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil, 1734.)

Waistcoats are very long, coats are very full, and the cuffs are huge. But the sleeves are on the shorter side to show off more of that shirt, and the ruffles if it has them! Creepy undead hands with long nails would sit so nicely under those ruffles.

(1720's-30's, LACMA)

Embroidery designs are huge and chunky and often full of metallic threads, and the brocade designs even bigger.

(1730's, V&A, metal and silk embroidery on silk satin.)

Sometimes they did this fun thing where the coat would have contrasting cuffs made from the same fabric as the waistcoat.

(Niklaus Sigmund Steiger by Johann Rudolf Huber, 1724.)

Tell me this look isn't positively made for vampires!

(Portrait of Jean-Baptiste de Roll-Montpellier, 1713.)

(Yeah I am cherry-picking mostly red and black examples for this post, and there are plenty of non-vampire-y looking images from this time, but you get the idea!)

And the wrappers (at-home robes) were also cut very large, and, if you could afford it, made with incredible brocades.

(Portrait of a nobleman by Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess maybe 1680's or 90's.)

(Circle of Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess very late 17th or very early 18th century.)

Now that looks like a child who's been stuck at the same age for a hundred years if I ever saw one!

I don't know as much about the women's fashion from this era, but they had many equally large and elabourate things.

(1730's, Museo del Traje.)

(Don't believe The Met's shitty dating, this is a robe volante from probably the 1720's.)

(Mantua, c. 1708, The Met. No idea why they had to be that specific when they get other things wrong by entire decades but ok.)

(Portrait of Duchess Colavit Piccolomini, 1690's.)

(Maria van Buttinga-van Berghuys by Hermannus Collenius, 1717.)

Sometimes they also had these cute little devil horn hair curls that came down on either side of the forehead.

(Viago in drag Portrait of a lady, Italian School, c. 1690.)

Enough suave Victorian vampires, I want to see Baroque ones! With huge wigs and brocade coat cuffs so big they go past the elbow!

[gacougnol]

Thérèse Le Prat

The Dancer Nina Vyroubova, ca 1950's

[vermont-writes-fanfic]

Hi I was wondering if you’d be okay with writing yandere Alucard (hellsing) with a human s/o. Maybe they try to escape?

You are mine~

Request: Yes

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blood, vampirism, typical hellsing stuff, unwilling relationship, yandere

Characters: Alucard

Franchise: Hellsing

A/N: Woo, sorry that took so incredibly long, hope this is a long the lines of what you were hoping for! Let me know if you would like a continuation or perhaps a mini series.

A dull thud beats in your head as your consciousness swims through your foggy mind, what had happened? The last thing you can remember is walking home from the store and hearing someone behind you…oh god. As you attempt to sit up you feel like you’re swimming through a thick pudding, every move makes that throbbing pain in your head a little sharper. Where are you? Heavy with a drug induced fatigue, your eye lids lazily open and close a few times as you fight to see where you are, whatever you had been dosed with it certainly worked as intended. After a few minutes, you manage to open your eyes and propr yourself up against some pillows behind you so you can look around. Deep red is the first thing you register, the silken texture had made the fight to sit up that much harder for you, and now that you can see what it is apart of clearly the panic worms its way in. A small voice in the back of your muddled mind that something isn’t quite right. A thick duvet had been over you before you moved and now it rests heavy on your lower half. Underneath you, dark red silken sheets cradle you in a luxurious hold that threatens to lull you back to sleep, but you can’t go to sleep again, you need to figure out where you are. Slowly, you move your legs, sliding them across the sheets towards the floor. The moment your feet hit the cold stone floor you recoil and hiss, the coolness waking you up a bit further. Now the room seems less bleary and you can see the grey stone walls stacked up like the bricks of a house, and the equally stone floor that is cold to the touch. As your eyes adjust to the dim candle light, you spot a staircase leading up, up, up, into the darkness where you can just barely hear faint sounds echoing down. Fueld by the need to escape, to get away from this dark place, you steel yourself and step back down onto the floor beneath you. Fighting through the shivers that wrack your body as the chill touches your bones. After somewhat getting used to the chill in the air all down in this, what you assume to be, cellar, you walk towards the steps and one by one climb up the staircase only to find a locked heavy oak door.

You don’t give up, heading back down the stairs to look from some other way out. A lone window above the bed of your new eclosure catched your desperate eye and you quickly move over to it climbing on the bed. Your hands press against the window and it just barely has any give except for in one corner where the pane of glass seems to be looser. Looking out of it it seems to ground level if a little above it and you would be able to get out of it. You push, all of your weight leing on that one slightly less stable corner until the glass budges and a small piece of stone falls from under it. You quickly pick up this new tool and make use of it hitting the glass until that corner breaks apart from it. You curl your fingers around the open piece and take a deep inhale as you breathe in the crisp night air. It burns a little, the coolness of it, but you couldn’t be more grateful for such a feeling. pUshing and pulling against the window you finally make the glass come out in a few pieces. The rock serves as a tool for removing the sharper edges that were too stubborn to move by your hands alone, and finally you begin to shimmy through the window and onto the dew covered grass outside.

When you stand, you stretch and sigh, the feeling of the grass between your toes and up your ankles tickling your bare skin. The gentle midsummer night breeze that catches you and ruffles your hair, you hm’t even been in their for very long but this feeling felt as if you’d never felt it before. You don’t linger on this though, as the anxiety sets in and you pick a direction to start running in. North, this is the way your feet choose to take you as you run from what you ca now see to be a manor or estate of some kind. Dwelling on it isn’t within your line of thought as you run into some wood, the full moon shining bright over head. Branches and thorny vines catch at your clothes and skin, they create tears and light scratches on your clothes and skin and you close your eyes willing yourself to go faster and faster until the feeling beneath your feet changes to a hard unpleasant feeling. A light on the black of the road beneath you makes you snap your head to the left where two large headlights comes zooming at you., just as you are about to feel the harsh cold of metal and death a different kind of chill picks you up, and the feeling of gravity no longer weighs you down. You can hear the car swear nd crash and you an feel the breeze brush past your legs as the ground stays ever stationary below you. Much farther below you…you look up to see blood red eyes and a large grin staring at you their black ahired owner letting out a loud laugh,

“Where do you think you are going. Hm? You belong to me, little one, you are not going anywhere.” He says, his voice a deep velevty smooth as he speaks. It almost has you, until the sounds of panicked drivers bring you back. You kick and squirm only to grasp on to the stranger again when you nearly fall.

“Put me down!” You shout, trying to move barley doing so against his strong hold.. For a moment he does nothing but watch you squirm, predatorial eyes hidden behind his orange glasses before a wolfish grin spread across his face.

“Let you down? As you wish, little human,” 

You feel the wind rush past your ears as your heart plummets to the round much like yourself and as you close your eyes to wait for impact, it never comes. You are in the arms of your kidnapper once again. The feeling of your body shaking against his, the scent of your fear and the blood in your veins rushing everywhere as fast as it can is enough to make him chuckle as he looks down at your quivering form.. Despite the initial fear of being dropped from so high in the air, you manage to glare at him and through chattering teeth mutter.

“Asshole…”

His smirk level leaves his face and a feeling of nausea washes over your mind , feeling your stomach turn you close your eyes and try to will it away only to open your eyes to the same room you had woke up in. The window seems to be fixed and you doubt that you’ll be able to break it again, whatever he is, you bet he has some sort of magic that would prevent you from doing what you did the first time a second. As you look around you find that the sheets are perfectly tucked in around you again. In the corner of the room, sitting in an ornate chair like a king on his throne your capture sits watching you’re every move.

“Thinking about escaping again, little bride?”

[disguisedchaos]

Got inspired by @saruin 's 'Sakura Demon' Set💗

🌸 Tishi is cheerful, romantic and outgoing. He's a adorable little Incubus who really loves being one🌸

A big THANK YOU to all the amazing cc creators I used for this sim! (I tried my best to figure out what I used ♡)

@saruin (Sakura Demon Set & Body Preset) @pralinesims (Rings) @trillyke (Skirt) @simandy (Hair) @twisted-cat (Lipstick) @remussirion (Eyeshadow) @clumsyalienn (Earrings) @simbience (Ears & Skinblend) @madlensims (Boots) @auralixx (Gradient) @thepeachyfaerie (Blush & Eyeliner) @pyxiidis (Body Glitter) @obscurus-sims (Eyebrows) @crypticsim (Highlighter) @nell-le (Top & Fishnet) @wotunciba (CAS Poses)

[goodevilgirlintentions-blog]

Reușisem! I am bossy girl now! Miss Independent ( Ne-Yo). Era o cina cu asociații și potențialii clienți. Trebuia sa strălucesc, sa fiu cea mai bună... ( cu ochii în tavan, zâmbesc, aproape ca îmi dau lacrimile de fericire când ma gândesc cât de mult am muncit, și în sfârșit îmi trăiesc visul ). Ma pregătesc pentru seara vieții mele. Imbrac o rochie lunga mulata cu spatele gol, îmi las parul lung și negru să-l acopere, ce-mi ajunge în dreptul coapselor, care dintr-o data devin fierbinți; oftez când starea de excitare ma cuprinde, nu aveam timp pentru asta, am și uitat cum se simte); un ruj roșu aprins, puțin sclipici, un lantisor finut, pantofi rosii, câteva pufuri de parfum și sunt pregătită.

Urc în mașina, eram agitată, nu înțelegeam de ce, emoții nu aveam, excitată puțin (corpul simțea ca o să fie o noapte de neuitat). Pornesc muzica și strabat străzile capitalei cu zâmbetul pe buze .Ajung la locatie. Sunt intampinata de colegii mei cu un pahar de șampanie, îmbrățișări calde și complimentele care m-au făcut ușor sa rosesc. Port conversații cu fiecare, pana când un parfum cunoscut se face simțit în încăpere. Ma blochez pentru o secunda, știam acel miros, îmi invadase mintea, ma cucerise.N u ma întorc, ma scuz și ma indrept către baie. Ma privesc în oglinda, nu se putea să fie el...cel care doar cu o privirea ma topea, îmi era dor de el, îmi era dor de buzele lui mari și carnoase, de mangaieri, de vocea lui groasa și perfectă. Am fost împreuna ceva timp, dar din cauza joburilor, a trebuit sa rupem legătura, plecând fiecare în alta țara pentru o mai buna formare profesională. Trecusera 5 ani de ani, dar încă țineam la el. Imi revin din șoc și ma întorc sa intampin invitații.

- Maia, te căutam, vino sa ți-l prezit pe Dl. R. Zâmbesc și îmi urmez colegul, la auzul numelui, simt un fior pe spate.

- Dl. R, ea este Domnișoara Maia, cea mai bună în domeniu.

(Dl. G) Rămân blocat când o văd. Nu ma așteptam să fie ea. Știam ca o să lucrez cu o domnișoara Maia, dar nu tocmai ea. O admir din cap pana în picioare, la fel de strălucitoare, cum sunt un iubitor al sexului, imediat îmi apar imaginile cu noi doi in așternuturi, iubindu-ne..si nostalgie, nu credeam ca o s-o mai revăd vreodată.

- Încântat de cunoștința Maia, eu sunt R.

- Asemenea. Imi ia mana și o saruta, privindu-ma în ochi. Simt cum obrajii îmi iau foc, palmele îmi transpira, iar vocea din capul meu îmi spunea să mă controlez, urmat de un "sex sălbatic în noaptea asta, iuhuu, puțina adrenalina".

Mai facem schimb de câteva cuvinte, ca și cum ne întâlnim pentru prima data. Mai cunosc câteva persoane și ne așezam la masa. Ii fac semn prietenei mele să ne aseze lângă mine, dar nu apuca, G i-o ia înainte.

- Se poate să mă așez eu aici? Aș vrea să-i arat Maiei câteva idei pentru proiect.

- Sigur ca da.

Ma uit la ea cum pleacă de lângă mine cu ochi de cățeluș, mai ca implorand-o să se întoarcă. Dar, fără speranțe.

- Mi-a fost dor de tine! Îmi șoptește la ureche.

Nu ma uit la el, nu-i răspund, doar zâmbesc...Ciocnim un pahar în cinstea noastră, a echipei, ma ridic pentru a spune câteva cuvinte și a le multumii pentru ca au acceptat invitația la cina.

Iar el, obraznic cum îl știu ‘din greșeala’, a prins momentul pentru a-mi atinge corpul, deja agitat, excitat, datorita lui..

((part 1))

[ringmaster-pixie]

pixie’s oc sheet! (Ooc post)

(Childhood pixie and normal pixie)

Ringmaster Pixie’s

Character bio

Name: Pixie [REDACTED]

Age: 13- but im mature!.. enough!!

Birthday: 1/24

Quote: “Everything’s fun! Even death, if you try hard enough!”

Job: PFC’s ringmaster, [REDACTED]

VC: Spinel (or me)

Theme Song: My ordinary life / Fine

Note: Her vision is… odd. (Ever played regretevator? The static mode on the spectator view is how she sees the world!)

Species: Human? Why is this even a question :p

Scent: popcorn and chocolate. Also somehow she smells like pure joy? Don’t question it.

Catchphrase: “Okily-Dokily!” or “HOWDY!”

Nicknames: Pix, pixie dustie, beaver, pixie dustie justin beaver, circus lady

[REDACTED]: Gina Dystru Morley (deceased)

Father: Archibald “Archie” Morley (deceased)

Little Brother: Joseph “Joey” Morley (deceased)

“Uncle” (not actually related): @priest-gabriel

Adoptive moms: @rosedawolf @themanedbish

Childhood BFF: Lola Perrlev (deceased)

“Therapist”: Dr. T. Christian (deceased)

Employees: @theunkindnature, Lorelei, @crossroadsguitarist, Elida, Harunii

BFF: @acrobat-harunii :3

Friends: EVERYONE!.. I hope!

???: @its-weird-el

From a young age, pixie was always… different. She had a wild imagination, much like any other child, but to her, imagination was reality. She believed this made up world in her head was true, and that she was ▉t▉▉d. 

Behavior like this OBVIOUSLY concerned her parents, so they hired a therapist. He prescribed an orange drink of medicine, which would get rid of her hallucinations and daydreams. But she wouldn’t let that happen. 

While Pixie was dealing with being forced to take the medication, her mom was seeing the therapist too… but in a different way. She had already hated the both of them enough, but this had done it. She told her dad, who didn’t know how to react. But her mom knew how. She filed for divorce against him, and won custody over Pixie and her little brother. The one adult pixie trusted, gone. 

Every day, despite the medicine, her visions and beliefs grew stronger. Her mother was enraged. She made sure Pixie would know what to truly believe in, one way or another. This wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t drink the medicine, she wouldn’t live without her dad, she wouldn’t believe what she was told, and she wouldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t. 

Something had changed within her. She felt different. Possessed by anger. Something was not the same. And it never would be again. (Please get the reference)

In a fit of rage, she ▉▉▉ the glass medicine jar on ▉▉▉▉s h▉d, knocking her unconscious. Then she m▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉e same way she did. Broken. But right as she was done, she was caught red-han▉▉▉▉▉▉▉oy in red. There cou▉▉▉▉▉▉nesses. Nor ▉▉▉ of her ▉▉. And no o▉▉▉▉▉d either bod▉ she made sure of it. 

Her the▉▉▉ was next. She sho▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉hroat by th▉▉▉le, around 42. By the e▉▉▉▉o no one’s avail, he didn’t ma▉▉▉▉▉▉▉t he got for taking away her ▉. 

▉▉▉▉▉. Why didn’t he ▉▉? Why di▉▉▉▉ry harder? Why w▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ixie’s memory? And even if he’s done no▉▉▉▉▉▉e deserves to be put out ▉▉▉▉isery. Or so she th▉ght. But finally. It w▉▉▉▉▉stice. 

As she wa▉p▉▉▉▉▉ody in a field behind her ▉▉▉, she jump▉▉▉▉▉▉nd of a ▉▉ barkin▉▉▉▉▉iliar voice telling▉▉▉er best friend.

She coul▉▉▉▉▉uldn’t! Sh▉ shouldn’t… 

But she had to.

▉▉▉one. Her whole li▉▉▉▉▉der, and now miles away. After she took ca▉▉▉▉ so-called ”▉▉▉”, she ra▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉r and further an▉▉▉er into the woods. Setti▉▉▉▉▉▉blaze, with fire ma▉▉▉▉▉ure rage. They m▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉nothing, so sh▉▉de them becom▉▉▉▉. The smoke ▉▉▉▉▉▉▉p to her, but i▉▉sn’t long befor▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉p▉▉andoned c▉us. 

A circus she’d claim as her own.

It was right out of her imagination. It was perfect. It’s almost like her dreams were coming true.

OOC: Thank you for reading! Her lore will be made into games soon once I get a computer!… and learn how to code. I already have the basic ideas down and I kinda know how to code so it won’t be THAT hard… right? Haha. Ha. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! If you have any questions feel free to ask me and let me know! My main blog is @p1x13p1x13p1x13

fun fact! Most things have double/deeper meanings ;]

also there’s a hidden message woah

updated 1/17/25

MORE CHARACTERS INFO:

OTHER IMPORTANT STUFF:

[ekman]

Delon nous a quitté dimanche dernier. Fin de bobine. 

La salle s’éclaire, les yeux piquent, les assises se rabattent sèchement sur les dossiers, les gens piétinent vers la sortie. Le bel Alain s’en est allé pour de bon, lui qui – semble-t-il – avait déjà quitté le monde sensé, laissant ses glorieux enfants se déchirer autour d’un terril d’or.

Journalistes, politiques, pipoles et piplettes : ils n’ont tous que des superlatifs à la bouche. Machin y va de son “c’était le dernier monstre sacré”, Bidule nous rappelle que “c’était un vrai prince”. La presse idiote rivalise en putasserie unière, à qui la plus belle photo, à qui le plus pathétique titre en guimauve pur sucre.

Mais moi je me souviens, bande de hyènes. J’ai rien oublié du tout. Je me rappelle bien de la ringardisation à marche forcée du ci-devant Delon Alain, coupable de choix politiques impardonnables. Fallait les voir se pincer le nez, les tenanciers de ce merdique show-biz gavé de thunes. Tu citais Delon et voilà qu’ils avaient grave la gerbe, ces gauchistes gueulards et ces soixante-huitards pédos. Beuark ! Macho réac ! Machine à cash ! Vieux beau qui s’accroche ! Tout le catalogue des amabilités en travers de sa belle gueule, le Delon. Ah ça oui, fallait les voir tortiller du cul quand on leur faisait remarquer que son fric, lui, il allait le chercher à Caracas et à Kyoto en vendant des clopes et du cognac pendant qu’eux tapinaient sous les lambris des ministères comme des putes de chantier pour se gaver d’argent public. Et pour quoi faire ? Des films de merde labellisés gauche-xanax où des couples idiots s’engueulent à la cuisine pour des histoires d’adultère foireux tristes à mourir. 

Je n’ai jamais pris Delon très au sérieux. Ça n’était pas un vrai soldat, pas complètement un tapin, plutôt un assez mauvais comédien... mais quel acteur ! Quel talent, le félin ! Au-delà de sa belle gueule, il y avait son charme infini de scorpion astralement pur : intransigeant, égocentré, jaloux, lumineux, charmeur, menteur. Elles ont été quelques-unes à y laisser des larmes. Et pas qu’un peu : par bonbonnes entières ! Mais lui s’en foutait. Il aimait, il vivait, il partait. C’est comme ça qu’il les a tous et toutes bluffé(e)s pendant plus de quatre-vingt ans. Au final, c’est la caméra qui l’a le mieux aimé. Cinégénique à en crever, le bonhomme. Pas un angle, pas une ombre pour nuire à sa beauté solaire – ce qui est le comble pour un aussi ténébreux Narcisse. 

Tous les plans qui éclairent Delon sont une ode à la masculinité. Même avec un imper trop grand et un bitos rivé sur le crâne, il est crédible. Je veux bien croire qu’il y en a quelques-uns que ça a vraiment du faire bisquer, dans le métier.

Avez-vous remarqué que “masculinité” lui va bien mieux que “virilité” ? Je dis cela parce que Delon n’inspirait pas le cul – il n’y avait rien chez lui de léger en bagatelle ou d’ostentatoire en braguette. C’était un dominateur silencieux, une emprise, un orage. Les femmes – et surtout les plus inaccessibles d’entre elles ��� ne s’y trompaient pas. Elles cédaient et lui, tranquillement, disposait. Avec tact et élégance sans doute, en tout cas jusqu’à son départ.

Et le voilà parti pour de bon. Un de plus, un de moins, peut-être le dernier. En tout cas, c’est bien raccord avec cette époque qu’il vomissait, à juste titre.

J.-M. M.

[fishyfishyfish0258]

[tl;dr vent despre politică, experiența mea ca persoană queer și toate cele, sorry :[ ]

e un chin sa trăiești ca persoană queer acu' când sunt alegerile că numai chestii homofobe aud și parcă nu mai scap. mă simt ca o oaie neagră pentru ceva ce n-am ales și n-am cu cine vorbi că aparent toți oamenii cu care intru în contact sunt homofobi într-un fel sau altul.

în țara asta încă se mai folosește gay ca insultă (cel puțin aia a fost experiența mea de gimnaziu și liceu) până la ăia care se plâng de lgbt pe facebook (că ai mei dau BLANĂ PE TELEFONUL LOR) că hĂĂ hĂĂ bărBAȚi îN fUStE hĂĂ hĂă.

nici nu-s impresionat, că educația cam... scârțâie aici. dacă nu ești violent și/sau nu ești vreo fițoasă, ești mâncat de viu și ești bătaia de joc al clasei (zic din experiență). nu te învață empatia, cum e să fii minoritate, toate cele. oricine-i diferit trebuie să prioriteze să iasă cu cât mai puține sechele posibil.

cam aproape toți din viața mea sunt homofobi și trebuie să înghit toate mizeriile doar ca să nu mă dau de gol. (nu mi-am făcut coming-out-ul și nici nu vreau pentru siguranța mea considerând cum e totul și sunt 100% sigură că nu voi fi acceptată). aud tot timpul de la cunoscuți cum existența persoanelor queer (și, indirect, existența mea) e anormală, păcat, ș.a.

și aia doare, ști? să fii țapul ispășitor și în școală, și-n societate pentru ceva ce n-ai ales. că societatea asta urăște oamenii ca mine atât de mult încât votează cu un dus-cu-pluta doar ca să scape de noi. singura oară când pot fi eu, așa autentic, e când sunt singur. nu cunosc alți oameni queer români cu care să le pot spune of-ul meu și începe încet-încet să mă apese.

încerc să mă țin tare că poate va fi ceva și pentru mine într-o zi. încă doare. dar e ceva.

[ethaku]

înnebunesc când o aud pe mama spunându-mi că s-a săturat de politică, că mă consum degeaba atunci când îi plâng în telefon pentru că mi-e frică pentru viitorul meu, că n-are rost să mă cert cu tata care vrea să voteze cu un fascist. oare crede că eu nu m-am săturat? oare crede că mie nu mi-a ajuns să văd politică și știri și oameni stresați (pe bun drept) de fiecare dată când îmi deschid telefonul? oare nu m-am săturat să mă simt datoare să țin de mânuță extremiștii spălați pe creier din familia mea și să le explic de ce un vot pentru georgescu e un vot direct împotriva mea ca ființă umană? de mai bine de o săptămână nu fac nimic în afară de a mă panica zilnic și a-mi plânge de milă când văd cum starea țării se înrăutățește de la o zi la alta. poate vreau și eu să simt că merit să trăiesc în țara asta, fără să trebuiască să le demonstrez acelorlași politicieni bășiți care distrug țara de ani de zile că sunt demnă de a avea 3 drepturi în propria țară. trăim într-o realitate în care demonizăm iubirea „neconvențională” dintre 2 oameni, în timp ce îl invităm pe Dracu la noi în casă și îi dăm 22.94% din voturi la alegeri.

[rollinginthedeep-swan]

RPG et anxiété.

Tw : Anxiété généralisée.

Encore un sujet qui va me stresser une fois publié, dont j'avais envie de parler sans trop savoir comment et, ce soir, je tente le coup. Parlons "relations" sur les réseaux/rpg et anxiété ! C'est quelque chose dont je souffre et contre lequel je lutte à peu-près chaque jour. Les pensées intrusives sont terribles, la crainte qu'un quiproquo débile plus encore suite à des évènements passés qui, j'en suis certaine, auraient pu être évités. Je peux me prendre la tête et réfléchir trop vite, trop longuement, sur des petits riens un peu insignifiants tout en craignant que certaines situations passées se reproduisent. Quand c'est comme ça, j'ai tendance à serrer les dents, attendre que mes craintes soient indirectement contredites et respirer de soulagement après en silence, et hop ni vu ni connu ! (Appelez moi la houdini du stress. Bon par contre, les maux de ventre sont un peu moins fun. ) L'objectif n'étant pas de me flageller mais ne pas empiéter sur l'espace des autres. Oui, c'est contraignant, mais mes troubles ne doivent jamais empiéter sur le loisir des autres. C'est mon problème, je suis suivie pour ça.

Néanmoins, tout ce que je peux dire c'est qu'il est plus qu'essentiel de :

Tenter de communiquer en cas de doutes. Et surtout, ne pas faire de suppositions qu'on valide par le biais de nos propres certitudes et rejeter une personne sous prétexte qu'elle n'a pas su communiquer une information selon vos propres critères. (on le rappel, les troubles dys, la neuAtypie, la fatigue etc... existent.) En discutant, on se rend très souvent compte qu'en réalité, ce n'est pas du tout ce qu'on pensait. On s'épargne ainsi un drame inutile - a-t-on vraiment le temps pour ça, btw ? (NON.) - et l’opportunité de, peut-être, renforcer des liens entre Rpgistes tout en mettant à la porte des comportements problématiques qu'on a trop longtemps laissé passer par le passé. (En évitant de mettre de côté des personnes sous prétexte qu'elles sont un peu différentes, au passage.)

Ne pas oublier qu'on ne sait pas tous forcément parler de nos doutes ou qu'on a pas toujours envie de le faire par crainte d'agacer l'autre, qu'on est des êtres humains avec une vie en dehors du RPG, de tumblr, de discord, et qu'on est désormais nombreux-ses à être plus qu'adulte avec une vie IRL franchement déjà assez compliquée. (Et puis bon, les étudiant-es et/ou les plus jeunes aussi ont le droit d'être crevé-e-s, et on connaît ni la vie des autres, ni leurs contraintes ou l'état de leur santé.)

On va pas le répéter - si - mais la bienveillance, vraiment, c'est un banger. À consommer sans modérations.

Pour ma part, je ne peux que conseiller aux personnes de venir me parler si quelque chose a été mal perçu. Et sentir sans avoir de confirmations, tourner en rond sur 'ce truc qui ne va pas mais impossible de savoir quoi', c'est quelque chose de profondément déstabilisant ?

En ce qui concerne la gestion de ma propre anxiété, je ne sais toujours pas totalement comment vraiment vivre avec, mais je le fais au quotidien et je suppose que je chaque jour, je me débrouille un peu mieux. C'est pas mes seules contraintes, néanmoins, les autres sont bien plus privées.

Bref, je sais pas trop si ce poste est bien utile ou sera bien perçu mais voilà.

Des bises sur vous,

Swan qui ne sait pas si elle va laisser ce poste ?