#boli talks

[sca-rian]

random rpf survey, help a curious person!

rpf is my roman empire. i think a lot about what people inside fandom spaces think about it, so i've decided to make a google forms to ask people about it. this is very unserious, though i'll probably mention it in a presentation about fanfic i have to do on college lol

the survey is completely anonymous and has only 4 questions, one of them being for you to give your actual opinion, so you can write as much or as little as you want. THE RESPONSES ARE PUBLIC FOR EVERYONE TO SEE!! everything is anonymous, but a heads-up in case that makes you uncomfortable

please reblog if you can!!

https://forms.gle/ayJBta2StRs3uHQy7

[sca-rian]

me in 2018 watching haikyuu for fun volleyball shenanigans and yaoi, moving to the manga and leaving as an entirely new person who will never stop thinking about how profound this fucking shit is and how every single part of haikyuu was crafted with absolute love and consideration for the characters, their journeys and relationships

anyways don't hmu ill be crying

i burst into tears whenever i think about haikyuu and the importance of people.

[asbestos-11]

ratio bodysuit is real to me. same with haitham. bodysuit brothers

[bubaboos]

nie pomyślałabym, że tak się da, ale chyba wyszłam z wprawy pisania wniosków

[lizardho]

I think the worst day I had as a missionary is hard to pin down – for comedy bad day stories, I like to talk about my cute companion who ripped three pairs of pants in one day because his ass was so fat. Literally, two in the morning, we missed 3 appointments in the afternoon because people kept cancelling on us, and we ended up far away from home visiting “Less Actives” in the downtown area. We find a family who says we can come in once their dad get home, and we sit down to wait for the dad to get in and RIIIPPP goes the third pair of slacks this man wore that day. I hand him my suit jacket and he wraps it around his waist like a bashful adolescent who just started his period at an inconvenient time. We catch a ride home on a bus and ended up home an hour early. He cried for like 30 minutes while stitching up his pants, and I got to rest a lot more than expected that day. We ordered a 4-cheese pizza and went to bed early that night, having walked probably 5-6 miles that day knocking doors and getting turned away.

Another bad day was the day the Mexico City Temple was re-opening. It was a funny experience for me because the evening before I was contacted by the Mission President and told that an elder in our district had confessed some serious sins to him and that those sins precluded him from going to the temple. The MP told me that nobody in this elder’s ward could get time off to babysit him so he was begging one of us – I didn’t want to go to the temple, it was a crappy way to spend a P-Day in my opinion, so I told the MP I’d do it. I spent the day eating popsicles and napping with an elder who, in between Bolis and naps, would shakily and tearfully confess that no fewer than half of his companions had secret phones they used to watch porn, hire prostitutes, and buy drugs. This was bewildering to me since I had been Trying So Hard my whole mission and had always felt inadequate, and these elders who were doing better than me and more respected than me were somehow out here fucking, doing drugs, and jorkin’ it.

I was actually in a “Punishment Area” at the time because in my last area one of my life-threateningly attractive companions had gone into the homes of widows to repair their electrical wirings (he was a trained electrician prior to going on a mission.) Being alone in the home of an 80-year-old widow with failing lights was “against the rules” to the extent that me mandaron a la goma, and some handful of guys I’d been told to view as role models were out here breaking actual laws and shit. Of course, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was in this area because of the Deep Evil that Lay Within My Heart (wanting to kiss Elder Electrician on his stupid himbo lips) but my MP could not have known that, just like he didn’t know that the guys he was making Zone Leaders were getting their dicks sucked and snorting cocaine. That honestly felt outrageous to me.

I feel like the stereotypical “worst day” of a mission is the last day – they take you to the airport in a big van, all melancholy and nostalgic. We sang on our drive to the airport – elders and sisters tearfully sang or hummed hymns together. I was deadpan the whole time, it was such a relief to be going home. For me the worst part of the day was the relief – the release of pressure. The pressure to perform, to be “on,” to be at your best, is omnipresent for elders. I was the only person flying to Phoenix, so for the first time in two years I felt a release from that pressure. Nobody was scrutinizing me, I no longer felt that every thought, action, and feeling was being evaluated and judged as a sign of my true character. It was hard to realize, a the pressure let up, that I had been holding all that weight for two years without knowing when it had started. I remember getting confused in Customs and needing someone who spoke Spanish to talk to me because I kept forgetting words in English. I remember getting home and my family waiting for me and feeling like it was all finally done, finally over, I could finally breath. It didn’t feel bad, but it did feel heavy. And it definitely was not the worst day of my mission.

The actual worst day of my mission, though, was about 5 months in. At the 6-month mark I was expected to make a long trip down to an area of town near La Basilica de Guadalupe to submit my visa paperwork, and the mission office had sent me an extra $500 MX to use for transportation costs. When I withdrew the money they had sent for the month, I noticed it was higher than expected. My companion, a senior companion and district leader, had the cell phone. He was talking to another elder while he waited for me to withdraw my monthly deposit. I approached and asked if I could use the cell phone to call the mission office, as I had questions. He said “no,” and ignored me. I waited until the conversation ended and asked again, and again, angrily, he said, “No.” I said “Elder, relax, I just need to call the mission office to see why they sent me more this month than usual.” His face turned red as he realized other elders were watching the exchange occur. He handed me the phone, I called and was told the money was for transportation costs, and laughingly returned the phone to my companion. He took it, told the other elders he needed to tie his shoe but they could head on over to the District Meeting, and waited until they were out of eyesight. Once that was done, he grabbed me hard by the wrist, dragged me into a hidden corner out of earshot from others, and said, “If you ever disrespect me or my authority again I swear to God I will kill you.”

I was actually shocked. This guy had spent the last month and a half being SUPER nice to me, so I thought he was kidding and I was just confused. I laughed and said “Haha, yeah, your authority over the cell phone is sacred,” and tried to walk away but he didn’t let go of my wrist. He pulled me back and said “I will literally slit your throat if you ever talk to me like that again. As senior companion my authority over YOU is sacred, and I will not let God be mocked by you.”

I realized that he was serious. Like, actually threatening-my-life serious. I could see it in his eyes, I could feel it in the way he squeezed tighter on my wrist. In actuality, the idea seems laughable now. The guy was absolutely chickenshit. He cried if his shits were too hard, he couldn’t end a human life, but I still didn’t let myself fall asleep first for the rest of our time together. And I still hid the two knives we had in a different area while he was showering the next morning.

If I’m being honest though, even that wasn’t the worst day of my mission. That was bad, and each subsequent time he told me he was going to cut my throat for minor infractions against his God-Given Authority Over Me (like not wearing a belt for morning scripture study, or not taking the path he thought was best to get to a lesson) was a bad day. Every P-Day where he read my emails over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t telling my parents about how he was treating me, every day he told me that the ward members would never believe me over him, every day he put me down in front of other elders and they laughed in agreement, every day he was in a bad mood and took it out on me was a bad day. But the worst day was the day I told the mission president about it. I told him about the threats to my life, his temper, his physical abuse, hiss manipulation and rule-breaking, and the mission president told me “The time to tell me this was 6 months ago. The time to forgive him and focus on your own failings is now.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as confused or betrayed as I did then. Like, man oh man, that was a rough thing to hear, but as the day went on I kept feeling more and more confused and scared – had I misinterpreted everything? Had I miscommunicated something in telling the story? Had I not been objective enough in recounting the threats against my life? Was it true that a senior companion actually had the authority to hurt me if I went against his authority? Was I wrong the whole time? I had no idea, to be honest, but it was bewildering.

Knowing now what I wish I had known then, I would have done things differently. But in the moment, on a mission, knowing that my biggest reason for going on a mission was the hope that the Spirit of God, which hymns told me burns like fire, would burn the faggot out of my heart. I think I felt like I deserved it. Like somehow that elder knew the evil I was hiding and felt compelled by God’s power to hurt me. I think that’s what made it so hard to defend myself in the moment – I did not have that problem with other elders. The companion who told me we were gonna wrestle to settle an argument lost three consecutive matches and pouted about it for like a week. The elder who threatened to punch me for making a joke at his expense got knocked on his ass just for raising his fist. But this elder got into my head first, and that made it hard to fight against it. Instead of fighting against it, I just silently lived with actual, verifiable, diagnosed, by-the-book, DSM-5-TR Posttraumatic Stress Disorder because I thought I deserved it. It took consistent supervision of my clinical work revealing countertransference with Male LDS clients (I consistently discussed addressing shame in a client’s presentation where no shame or discomfort had been reported), an awkward conversation with @inbabylontheywept after an even more awkward dinner with a cousin who vaguely reminds me of that companion, and a bad acid trip where I had visceral flashbacks to my mission, before I was able to realize that I was living with a pain that was as abnormal as it was unnecessary.

Even once I realized it, even once I got help, it was hard. I remember telling jokes about what happened to my therapist and seeing her jaw just…drop. She said she didn’t know it had been that dangerous for me. The session ended and he sent me the PCL-5 (a good, evidence-based, highly face-valid measure for PTSD) and some other measure for dissociative symptoms and I was like “Girl, I just took this class, I know what you’re trying to measure and this ain’t it.” I reported my symptoms accurately and was fully prepped to confront her the next session. She showed me my scores and the norms used, and I was like “Oh fuck, this looks really bad on paper,” and she was like “Yeah, I can’t imagine living like this” and I just sobbed for most of that session. We ended up doing 9 months of TF-CBT and ACT (largely because I am a terrible and uncooperative patient, realistically I think I could have been done in like 5-6 months if I wasn’t so stubborn) before I was discharged from treatment successfully.

The thing that was so weird about starting therapy for PTSD was that it made things feel worse for a while. I started taking edibles a lot more. I started behaving differently around family members and Mormons. I started being outright hostile to elders I could see. It took about 3 months before I could see the missionaries and not have an actual fight-or-flight response to their presence. I think the way I had made it a far as I did without getting treatment was by repressing the thoughts, feelings, and memories that made it all hurt, and a soon as I let them just be there it was like all the confusing aching hurt came back. The first few months of therapy were just spent expanding the amount of time I could feel that hurt before turning to other means (like dissociation, cannabis, repression, etc.) so I could actually address the experiences without crashing the rest of the day. It was hard. I know I ended several sessions sweating a LOT from the exertion it took to just let the feelings happen. By 6 months, however, I could go into a church building without blacking out from panic. By 9 months I could sit in the same room as elders without sweating and shaking like a chihuahua on Adderall. 3 months after therapy and me and my supervisors noticed that my work with Mormon men had improved substantially. 6 months after therapy and I was able to begin writing anonymous stories online. Now, about two years after completing therapy, I feel like I can talk about it without needing the cloak of anonymity, and that is empowering.

Again, I am not sure why I’m typing these stories out – they’re not fun to write, I don’t love that my family can find these posts, but I guess I just like to remind myself and others that it can always get better. That mind numbing platitude, the old thought-terminating cliché that “it gets better, just power through it” doesn’t give enough credit to how much it hurts to get through it, but it does get better. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. The triggers can go away with time, great effort, significant expense, and a lot of discomfort. The world can feel safe again, the hurt can feel bearable, that nagging worry that I might have deserved this, or that I did something wrong, can eventually go away too. It’s not easy to do it, and I have an incredible respect for the patients of mine who can pull it off, but it is undeniably as doable a it is difficult. If this story resonates with anyone, if it feels close-to-home, if these experiences feel shared, just know that the relief I talked about can feel shared too. Know that it’s worth it to get the help, that you deserve the help, that you deserve to live a life that doesn’t hurt you, that you deserve to be a full person and not a living prison for the pain and memories. Know that healing yourself does not involve extending forgiveness to Them, whoever They are. That the pain you felt will not be made less important by making the pain less potent. Know that taking care of yourself now is, in a way, taking care of yourself then. And Please, with a capital P, take care of yourselves.

Thank you to my family, especially my immediate family (special shout outs to @flowerologists and @inbabylontheywept) for the support and patience with me as I dealt with this.

Thank you to my therapist, Jordin Borques, who I recommend highly to anyone seeking trauma therapy in Arizona.

Thank you to my wife, @cintailed, for being the push that got me into therapy, and for taking care of me at my worst and still being here with me.

Thanks to my mission president for being such a colossal disappointment to Christianity that my departure from the church was inevitable.

And a general thanks to the queers for being so cute and making life worth living, even on bad days.

[sleepyhutcherson]

summer with the schmidts.

paring: mike schmidt x gn!reader (briefly mentioned)

summary: mike dreads the summer but deals with being outdoors knowing how much abby loves it.

tags: random headcannons that i came up with, fluff, established relationship, but reader is briefly mentioned, use of y/n, abby being mentioned, not revised, don’t think there’s anything else but let me know!

author’s note: i literally hate summer and i just know mike would too but i’m really just trying to be positive about it so i came up with these.

mike schmidt isn’t a big summer guy, let’s be honest. he prefers literally any other season, but when he catches the excitement in abby’s eyes when you mention how much fun the three of you will have, he forces himself to remain positive about it.

mike schmidt who tries to act like he isn’t excited while you all go out shopping for summer stuff. and honestly, at first he really isn’t, but when you suggest water balloons he tries to hide his excitement.

mike schmidt who always urges for abby to wear sunscreen. he definitely takes that seriously, too. he always has to tell abby something like “if you don’t put sunscreen on then we’re not going out.” in order to get her to put it on. he lowkey gets strict about it.

mike schmidt who hates how hot it is because he loves loves loves wearing hoodies. this is another reason why he dreads summer. he just feels more comfortable wearing layers, long sleeves, hoodies, etc.

mike schmidt who surprises abby with a pool. it’s not those expensive huge ones but he manages to save up some extra money to buy her one that she can have fun in.

mike schmidt who sleeps with like so many fans on. he can’t deal with the heat especially when he’s trying to sleep.

mike schmidt who goes out to sit with you while you both watch abby drawing with chalk on the driveway. the entire time you both talk, watching her with awe. eventually, you both join abby after she practically begs both of you to draw with her.

mike schmidt who is a sucker for ice pops (i’m not sure if that’s what they’re called, i know them as bolis, sorry!) and has like 10 a day. he swears they keep him from dying in the heat.

mike schmidt who will insist to hold you during the night. yes, he hates how hot it gets, but that’s why he keeps so many fans in his bedroom. he needs to hold you during the night, doesn’t matter how hot it is.

mike schmidt who suggests for you to sleep naked when you complain about how hot it is during the night. honestly, he sleeps in literally just his boxers during the summer. sometimes he’ll wear a tshirt, sometimes he won’t.

mike schmidt who will get in a bad mood due to the heat. it happens occasionally. he just can’t take it and will get angry at any little thing if he’s been in the heat too long without any water or fruit.

mike schmidt will live off fruit during the summer. literally he doesn’t know why but he has such a crave for it. he’s always chopping some up and snacking on it while you’re both outside with abby.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @ploty-twist @st4r-b0ylover @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @sofiehutch @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka @jhutchissupercool

thank you for reading and for all your support <3

[marvelshifter111]

Incorrect quotes

- In my marvel dr

On a meeting:

Tony: so the next mission is in Vienna

Luna, sleep deprived: ...Vienna?

Tom, rolls eyes and sighs: Bech

Luna: ohhh

On training:

Pietro, trying to piss me off: c'mon, speed up Luna

Luna, alredy pissed off: Kako? Nemam raketu u guzici da letim tako brzo, idiote. (How? I don't have a rocket up my ass to fly that fast, idiot)

On night patrol:

Steve, over the phone: how's night patrol going?

Luna, tired: ja ću se upišat, povaraća mi se, puši mi se cig-.....Is that man stealing that car? (I'm gonna piss myself, I'm gonna throw up, I'm wanna smoke a cig-)

Luna, talking to a dog: Ó, kapsz egy puszit, olyan aranyos vagy (oh, I'm gonna kiss you, you're so cute)

Mattheo: why are you telling that dog about pussies?

Luna: puszi means kiss you idiot

Luna: if you don't understand me then jebiga

Texting:

Luna: boli me kurac (literal translation: my dick hurts, meaning: i don't care)

Antonia, google translated the sentence: Luna you don't have a dick

Luna, at the enemy: mrš u pičku materinu (go back in your mother's pussy)

Thor: what does that mean?

Yelena, knowing what it means: it means "i love you"

Making paprikash with Wanda:

Luna: if you can't stand my paprika get out of my kitchen

On a meeting:

Steve: the guy we're looking for is in Budapest-

Natasha: Budapesht

Bruce: no, it's Budapest

Luna: It's Budapesht

Antonia: it's Budapest in English

Natasha, Yelena and Luna trying to pronounce Budapest

Clint, already knows this will take forever: okay, okay, it's Budapesht

Luna: thank you!

Clint, tired: let's just finish this meeting

Dunno, I'm bored

I wrote it in latinic because if i write it in Cyrillic everyone will think I'm Russian

[metamatar]

I was talking about this yday but Sanskrit revivalists in India quite openly admire the revival of Hebrew in Israel, viewing Hindustani and all khari boli languages as being infected by Persian and other undesirable Muslim languages that must be replaced by a Brahmanised Sanskrit.

One country, One race, One religion, One Language, in the Savarkar formulation.

This article is by someone uncritical of Sanskrit revival in general.

This is Sri Aurobindo Society's journal, one of the many movements that disseminate Hindu nationalist culture.

[psychicvoidtale]

BLOB OPERA!!!!!

(They are all something like orphans, they are fish and they spent most of their lives in a fish tank, they are mutants, I love them)

Bancy has always been interested in music, in he free time she is practicing how to improve her voice and be better every day! He likes to watch records related to music and podcasts, he is very shy with people, he is currently dating a computer girl

Baldo is not really that excited about the opera itself, the'y does it because the'y does not spend as much time with his brothers as the'y would like, the'm works too much, although the'y is very grumpy the'm has his good moments and loves his brothers unconditionally.

Since Bob joined the world of opera, he was nervous at first but then he got used to it. He always tries to be as friendly as possible and it doesn't bother him. He gets along very well with the other people in charge of the show. He likes to take photographs.

Barry always wanted to be appreciated by people, in fact, at first he liked the idea of being an actor, he could never do it well, Bob encouraged him to take him into this world of music, he is always happy to talk to his fans or part of the rest of the show

Boly has always been somewhat envious, he really likes to show off that he is very popular, this is his defense mechanism, he is afraid of being ridiculed, sometimes in his free time he likes to do crafts, apart from that he is the one who focuses the most on his work secondary

Bambi was very energetic, he once suffered an accident and almost died, thanks to several surgeries, he managed to survive, he is a bit dumb, since his brain underwent a couple of changes, but he is still excellent at singing, most of the time he is taken care of by one of his friends

Bam is the tallest of all, he is quite cold with people and his fans, he doesn't care what they say about him, he is the most responsible of all, he is the only one with a driver's license, he knows how to know very well, he has a car and he has a doctorate, he is quite affectionate with his brothers even though he is very cold

At the beginning, Babi was extremely important to everyone, that was quite stressful for him, and that affects him now, every time he suffers a lot of pressure he feels like crying, he has a second job in cartoons, he likes his jobs, his safe place is his bed and his brothers

Blob is just joining the opera, he feels very bad about his face, he had several accidents before mutating, all his brothers support him too much, his second job is taking care of pets

Bap Is new!

Thank you for reading

sammy, my characters (mark, daisy, doldy and joey) and any other characters will not be available for questions until further notice, they are the main ones now

[dreaminofu]

How do you think our boys are counting down the days until Ruisrock?

Do they have a specially calendar or a completely different approach? (Bonus points if you add JO boys and/or Kä crew)

Apparently, I’m unable to give a short answer to anything…

Jere isn’t one for calendars or anything concrete like that. Every morning he’s like ”only 11 gigs until Bojan❤️” or ”only 30 sleeps until Bojan❤️” and keeps counting down the days in his head like that. (But he gets really frustrated at least once when he gets the days wrong. Wdym it’s still 13 days to go and not 10??)

Bojan has one of those countdown apps on his phone. But the countdown (on his lockscreen) doesn’t say Ruisrock, oh no no no, it simply says ”Jerč ❤️” and has a picture of the two of them. One where Jere is licking him in Tavastia as Bojan keeps manifesting some more licking and groping action for when they’re going to perform their new collab. This is trululu until proven delulu

All the JO boys seem to really like Finland, so they’re all really looking forward to Ruisrock, but it’s Nace and Kris who keep gushing about it to each other. They talk about going to the sauna and experiencing the Finnish summer, but that’s just a front, because what they’re really looking forward to is their reunion with Jere. They’re among his biggest fans after all, but just more subtle about it compared to Bojan. Also, Jan is mostly just counting down the days until he gets his next fix of ananaslonkero…

But the truth is that neither the other JO boys nor the JO and Kä crews need to count down the days. They know that the closer they get to Ruisrock, the more hyper and insufferable Jere and Bojan will become. They have no need to look at the calendar, they don’t even bother to look at it, because they’ve experienced this before.

As the day approaches, no matter what his crew says, Jere starts blurting out more random shit to them. Like when someone says they need to use the bathroom, Jere just goes ”we go to toilet with Bojan” or when someone says they’re knackered, Jere comments ”I put in bed for Bojan and wrap him in formulalakanat”. He does all this in English, of course, as he’s already in his Bojan-mode <3

Bojan, in turn, is often heard singing ”Vse kar vem in kar znam, je, da ne boli, ko me tvoj objem zakriva” under his breath with a stupid grin on his face <3

Their crews know that the day has arrived once Jere and Bojan have reached a certain level of giggles and heart-eyes and when they won’t shut up about each other. A month before Ruisrock, both Jere and Bojan mention each other to their crews a few times a day. Around the fifteen day mark, it already happens every hour and on they big day, it’s non-stop babbling until they’re in each other’s arms again <3

[charmwasjess]

ill gladly help you procrastinate u know that

23 & 17 👀

Boli, you are simply magnificent. I've spent upwards of thirty minutes not working while I was writing this up. 17. there should be more of this type of fic/art This isn't a problem so much as a good sign of the thriving fandom economy where people are writing big, rich, interesting stories - AUs, fix-it, time travels, what ifs - and I read those fics avidly. But I've been really craving the old "slice of life" one shot recently. Let me hang out with your dudes (gn) just doing their thing for a couple thousand words. Small moments, ordinary daily things. I love it. Same for art. Little domestic snapshots just get me. This is also a chance to say something I like about your writing specifically, Boli, because you incorporate a lot of this kind of scene into Mud fic while balancing the bigger plot elements. Thinking of that great bar scene. <3 23. ship I've come around to Syku is probably the big obvious one here since I spent so long (decade) waffling on writing Dooku in any kind of romantic thing. Then, reason slipped from my nerveless fingers and shattered. I dissolved About Them. But you poor people watched that happen to me in real time so I won't go on and on about it. No description can match the experience of watching me daily embarrass myself on here over them.

You know what one I weirdly have come to love? Obimaul. At first I was like "oh sw fandom, you'll ship anything lolol" and then I watched the Maul Clone Wars episodes and I was like... okay... okay... yeah, so, I get you want to specifically murder him and everything, but the way you're keening "Kenobi" right now...

It's kind of really fucking sad? Like Maul is this person who had been literally broken in half, and that's before you get to the metaphorical damage of being essentially enslaved by Sidious his whole life. I mean Maul's origin story makes Dooku's kid trauma look like a trip to Disney World. This person who fundamentally does not know about love, having been fed a diet of pain and hate all his life, getting into the murderous jealous one-sided sexual obsession with Obi-Wan, which is part inability to distinguish hate from lust, and part a pure desire to be Obi-Wan because he's representative of everything that was taken from Maul. He embodies every chance Maul never got. The (loving) Master. The community of people like him. The family. It's so dark and doomed and fucked up, but also so sad.

But I realize I'm not here to talk about shipping normal things, since my problematic main ship somehow manages to be both a Fridging and a Kill Your Gays trope...

[sca-rian]

currently thinking of rebranding this blog to post translations of the brazilian streamers on qsmp. i NEED everyone to experience the absolute joy im feeling rn.

[sparkles-oflight]

Vse Kar Vem

"Vse kar vem in kar znam, je, da ne boli, ko me tvoj objem zakriva. Kaj je prav me ne bremeni, ker s tabo svet ne izpodriva me."

Synopsis: It's one of the last nights of JO in Slovenia before moving to London and Bojan is in the midst of an anxiety attack with a recently awakened Kris by his side.

(Originally this was going to be in London, but then Maks dropped the "oh yeah, they are living together" confirmation bomb)

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Sensible topics: Homophobia

- You aren’t asleep. – Kris reached for Bojan’s hand which was on his heart.

- Uh? – Bojan looked at the guy next to him who was opening his eyes slowly – Oh sorry...Did I wake you up? I’ll be quiet.

- That’s not necessary. – He yawned, which Bojan found adorable – I’ve been awake for a while. I saw you scrolling...

- Sorry, I was trying to get distracted.

- You should really try to sleep though.

- I will, don’t worry.

Kris tried to close his eyes again... but his hand made him realize Bojan’s heartrate was skyrocketing.

- Wanna talk about it? – he finally opened his eyes.

- No, no, go back to sleep.

- Do you want me to turn on the lights? – he rubbed his eyes.

- No, no...

- What do you need?

- I just...

Bojan stopped for a moment to hear his heartbeat... It wasn’t good. His hands were numb and so was the area around his mouth... He was in pain. He felt like dying.

- Could you please distract me?

Kris looked around.

- Okay, what’s 5 things you can-

- No, I’ve already done all of that. I can spot the light of the phone, the light of the television, your ass, the light of the alarm clock, and the sheets.

- What was that?

- I need something different. – he avoided that conversation – Tell me about your day.

- Bojan, we spent the day together.

- Recap it for me.

- Aaah. – Kris sighed.

He decided to change his position to face the ceiling as Bojan was doing.

- It all started during the morning-

- Kris, you and I both know that you wake up at 13 because you hate mornings.

- I woke up at 13, the perfect time for a... – he tried to find the word. It wasn’t a lunch or breakfast it was a...

- A brunch.

- Exactly. – he smiled – I washed the dishes from last night since your lazy ass couldn’t do it.

- Hey! Don’t call me lazy. – he pointed with his finger – I was busy going for an early morning jog.

- 10 in the mourning is not “early morning”.

- I hate mornings. – that made Kris smile a bit – Besides, I took the trash out!

- Our shores distribution is imbalanced.

Kris looked at Bojan for a while before proceeding.

- I made us a quiche with stuff I found lying around and updated our grocery list.

- It was delicious, though you ate the most part.

- I made it, I eat what I want. – Bojan gripped Kris’ hand that was trying to find his – After a shower, we went to the studio...to revise some stuff before moving to London.

- I took my nap at 17.

- I would know that. I took a picture of you drooling.

- What!? Tell me more about it.

- Tell me more about you watching my ass.

- Fair enough. – he shut up.

- Then we decided to have dinner together, the five of us, in Ljubljana one last time before departure.

- I can’t believe we are moving to London!

- I can’t believe you won’t let me finish a story.

Kris decided to lay sideways, to face Bojan properly who did the same.

- We went out to party, to drink, to smoke... – he looked at Bojan who pushed his hair away from his face – To look at people under the neon lights.

If the lights were on, Bojan would have seen Kris blush. He didn’t need to, though. The light coming from the television was just enough to make out his silhouette in the dark. He could piece together on his own how Kris’ face looked.

- Did anyone catch your attention in particular?

- A brunette.

- Oh, really?

- Beautiful singer, actually.

- Tell me more about it.

- They also have big brown eyes.

- Any cons?

- A bit annoying...

- Ah, that can be hard to handle.

- I don’t think that person is any singer honestly.

- Why is that? – Bojan smiled.

- They are *my* singer.

Bojan couldn’t help but smile from one ear to another.

- Can I snuggle with you? – Bojan asked but he was already scooting closer to Kris.

- You are unbelievable... – Kris enveloped Bojan in his arms – You are cold.

- Yeah, I little bit.

After a while of hugging each other - Bojan smelling Kris’ clothes, Kris petting his hair - the smaller one decided to break the silence.

- Do you think London is going to be this cold?

- Of course, not. It’s colder.

- That’s not what I meant. – Bojan decided to dig his face out of Kris’ sweater – Are the people going to be this cold?

- I don’t think I understand what you are talking about. Are you implying that-

- No, I love my country and its people. That’s not what I mean. – Bojan sighed – You know this? Is this going to be better?

Kris was way too tired to understand fully what he was talking about.

- Be more specific.

- Kris, we are living together, sharing a bed, and hugging each other in the middle of the night.

- And?

- Kris, we are guys.

Then a light bulb hit Kris. Sometimes even he forgets that’s not considered “normal” for countries in the Balkans. Hell, in most countries around the world.

- I forgot.

- You forgot!? – Bojan was wondering what exactly he forgot, and how?

- I don’t know if London is going to be better. Maybe not.

- Kris, you are supposed to say, “It’s going to get better”.

- But why would I lie?

- You are bad at this “reassuring” thing.

- Well.... – he hugged Bojan tighter, back into his sweater – I can’t guarantee that is going to get better. But I can at least guarantee you I’ll be there to hug you.

Bojan really really wanted to see Kris’ face. Sometimes Kris just says stuff so bluntly and he finds it so adorable. He loves teasing Kris over it. He loves to see him being so sincere. He loves when Kris just says...stuff. He loves-

His pain was gone... He hadn’t even realized it.

Because all he knows is that he doesn’t feel pain in Kris’ arms... Because is not worried about what is right, because with him the world is not displacing him.

- Can I get a good night kiss?

- No.

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

No, I didn't have this idea last night when I was feeling cold, shut up.

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Official Visualizer

[xentropiax]

No. 36

I started talking to the stars in the sky instead. I said, "Tell me about the big bang." The stars said, "It hurts to become."

Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

Przeczytałam to gdzieś, mignęło mi, poezja, której mniej ostatnio w moim życiu. Z jakiegoś powodu, nie mam za bardzo skąd jej brać, niewiele osób się ze mną nią dzieli, czasem gdzieś natrafiam na jakieś okruchy. A przecież wszystko jest poezją, kiedyś sama trochę pisałam, kiedyś zatapiałam się w słowach, grubych tomach wierszy, chcąc odnaleźć coś, co otuliłoby kocem słów moje wnętrze.

Boli się stawać...

Jakoś uderzyło mnie to niezmiernie, bo wydaje mi się, że przez ostatnie niemal trzydzieści lat głównie tym byłam pochłonięta. Stawaniem się. Niesamowicie skupiona na swoim wnętrzu, nie na świecie. Ale nic dziwnego, jeśli ma się w środku tyle ran, kiedy próbujesz je sobie wylizać, a to sprawia, że jest tylko gorzej. Niektóre powracają po latach. Z opisu mogłoby wydawać się, że są okropne, ale czasem nawet nie robią już wrażenia. Trauma, która w wyparciu zrobiła mało szkód, ale może tłumaczy niejako to, co wydarzyło się potem.

Jak spojrzę tak z boku zupełnie, to mój mózg w środku zawsze miał jakąś grubą mgłę. Uświadomiłam sobie niedawno, że siedemnaście lat żyję z depresją. Ponad pół życia. Z tym wiązały się też inne rzeczy, przeżywanie trudnych chwil. Dorastałam w domu na poły alkoholowym, na poły przemocowym w sensie psychicznym. Chociaż kiedyś kilka razy dostałam przez plecy od matki, to jej werbalna przemoc była dużo gorsza, jej brak dojrzałości emocjonalnej, nerwica, karanie ciszą, zmuszanie do przepraszania, chociaż nic złego się nie zrobiło, złośliwość, wyśmiewanie, wieczne zakazy i nakazy, chorobliwa próba trzymania pod kloszem, brak wiary w samodzielność i dojrzałość dziecka. To podcina skrzydła.

Kilka lat temu uruchomiły się inne wspomnienia, związane zupełnie z inną częścią mojego dzieciństwa, skrzętnie ukrywane gdzieś w fałdach świadomości. Byłam molestowana, przynajmniej raz, wspomnienie, którego nie potrafię składnie opisać, które napełniło mnie zgrozą, gdy sobie to wszystko uświadomiłam i przez dłuższy czas próbowałam zrozumieć, jak właściwie w dorosłym życiu mam to przetrawić. Wspomnienie, którego się wstydzę. Ale też wspomnienie, które mnie nie definiuje, jest jedynie jakąś informacją, która dotarła do mnie, gdy moja psychika uznała: jesteś dorosła, poradzisz sobie, zniesiesz to, możemy ci ten obraz odblokować.

Przez więc długie trzydzieści lata stawałam się (choć proces ten może nigdy nie jest skończony, zawsze będzie trwał). I w dużej mierze bolało. Myślę sobie, że chyba w końcu jestem w stanie odpuścić bolesny rodzaj stawania się, przeobrażania, może już nie muszę być wielkim wybuchem swoich traum, a powolnym rozszerzaniem galaktyki, niczym oddech Buddy.

Wydaje mi się, że wiele już doświadczyłam. Sporo z ludzkich przyjemności, małych cudów. Podróże, o których kiedyś mogłam tylko marzyć, dziś stają się możliwościami, rzeczami do spełnienia. Poznawanie ludzi, pięknych ludzi z ciekawymi historiami, z katalogiem przeżyć. Myślałam sobie ostatnio, wracając z Pragi, z delegacji, w jak cudnym zespole mam okazję pracować. Z ludźmi aktywnymi, z werwą, z zainteresowaniami, z pewną czułością, ale i ciekawością świata, z doskonałym poczuciem humoru. Z katalogiem również trudnych przeżyć, z których wyszli obronną ręką. To widać.

Patrzę na moją koleżankę, która ponad rok temu przeszła operację usunięcia guza mózgu. Na jej białą bliznę ciągnącą się od ucha do szyi, pozostałość po tym koszmarnym czasie. Straciła słuch w jednym uchu, ale jej szeroki uśmiech wypełnia przestrzenie, jej praktyczny i zorganizowany umysł jest wiecznie aktywny, żwawy. Pali towarzysko papierosa, żyje pełnią życia, jest matką, przyjaciółką, szaloną działkowiczką. Piękna.

Patrzę na mojego kolegę, który niedawno się rozwiódł. Wygląda młodziej niż rok temu, zdrowiej, silniej. Mówi, że chodzi spać o 21.30, słucha dużo podcastów, biega, ćwiczy i czuje się dużo szczęśliwszy. Widać w nim nową energię, energię skupienia na sobie, optymizm w tym, co może przynieść przyszłość. Jest piękny.

Patrzę na moją inną, nową koleżankę, mądrą, kochającą swoje ciało w każdym rozmiarze, inspirującą do kochania siebie mocniej. Czułą, zabawną, zakochaną w swoim mężu, pełną wiedzy i interesujących anegdot. Piękna.

I tyle piękna wokół jeszcze do odkrycia. Jak wyjdę z siebie choć na chwilę, choć własne macki czasem mnie wciągają pod powierzchnię, ale jeśli im się nie dam, to się okazuje, że krajobraz nie jest jak po burzy, a jak po ożywczym deszczu.

Nie wiem, czy ktokolwiek, kto mnie spotkał, pomyślał o mnie w ten sposób, w jaki ja myślę o innych. To nie ma znaczenia. Myślę sobie o tym, ile jeszcze przede mną do odkrycia. Książek do przeczytania, wiedzy do przyswojenia, ludzi do poznania i relacji do zbudowania.

Bo przecież wszystko jest możliwością, okazją do zobaczenia piękna. Tak jak wtedy, gdy w małej lacjańskiej mieścince we Włoszech spaliśmy w starym klasztorze, wieczorami śpiewaliśmy piosenki w dawnym kościele, jedliśmy pyszne jedzenie ugotowane nam przez nie mówiące po angielsku mamy Włoszki. Piliśmy wino, paliliśmy papierosy i rozmawialiśmy o wszystkim, o życiu. Albo gdy w Rzymie piliśmy aperole za 4 euro.

Albo gdy na jednej z chorwackich wysp tańczyłam z koleżankami do piosenek rodem z dancingu lat 80-tych, patrząc na wody Adriatyku, gdy spokojnie liżą brzeg kamiennej plaży.

Albo gdy z przyjaciółką spałam pod bieszczadzkim niebem, widząc setki wyraźnych gwiazd, otulona polarem, popijając zupkę instant z metalowego kubka.

Wszystko to, co przytrafiło się w górach na różnych szlakach, od Pienin do Kaukazu, dzikiego, pięknego, pełnego historii, ciepła i bogatego w przyprawy jedzenia. Każda mała kawa, wypita o późnym poranku, każdy spacer w słońcu.

Wszystkie wybiegane kilometry, wszystkie asany wykonane kiedykolwiek na macie, książki, które odżywiły mój umysł, samotne spacery zimą i jesienią, filmy, na których uroniłam łzy, przypadkowy uśmiech przechodnia, ten raz, kiedy stojąc na przystanku podjechał do mnie koleś na rowerze i zaprosił na koncert, tak po prostu. Gdy siedziałam na krawężniku innego razu i starsza pani powiedziała mi, że mam piękne włosy. Nie pamiętam jej twarzy, ale pamiętam to uczucie, które mi po sobie pozostawiła. Sąsiad przytrzymujący mi furtkę, gdy idę z zakupami, przyjaciółka przywożąca mi wegańskie żelki po rozstaniu. Okruchy dobroci, które, jeśli je zsumować, dają całkiem sporo chleba, pokarmu dla duszy.

Nie można przestawać kochać, nigdy, nigdy. Mimo zranienia, mimo skrzywdzenia, mimo szans pozornie straconych. Tyle smaków, kolorów, dusz jeszcze do poznania. Niech sobie będę z tą moją naiwnością, dziwną wiarą w dobroć, w piękno, w miłość. To jest, nawet w bólu, nawet w cierpieniu. Wiem, że w świecie jest dużo zła, nie przymykam na nie oczu. Wiem, że wiele osób zranionych, rani jak zwierzę w bólu, gryząc siebie samego. Chcesz mu pomóc, a on kłapie zębami. Ale kiedy tam w środku jest spokój, rodzi się dźwięk, kojący i czuły. Nie chcę ranić, nie chcę sprawiać nikomu przykrości, jedynie ogrzewać swoim ciepłem. Wierzę gorąco, że tak da się przerwać ten cykl.

Stawanie się nie musi boleć. Choć pięknie brzmi to w wierszu. Wielki wybuch może zalać wnętrze światłem. Wybieram nie dłubać już w sobie, jestem gotowa odpuścić. Wybuchłam dawno temu, teraz tylko się rozszerzam. Ból topnieje i rodzi się światłość.

[sirghostheart]

8 e 9 pro ask game das mulheres

Valeu, Alison! Let's go!

8-Honestly, Gertrude Robinson in the tma fandom. I hate the fact that people tend to put her down to elevate Jon cause "At least Jon didn't sacrifice his assistants to stop the rituals, therefore he kept his humanity despite becoming an avatar, unlike Gertrude", which is just a really shallow way to read both Jon and Gertrude's character arcs.

Like, you have this amazing morally grey female character, driven by such strong principles that she's ruthless and detached from others for the sake of her goals, but as we see with her relationship to Gerry, she isn't an unfeeling robot. She's just trying her best to save the world, even if she's utilitarian about it.

I don't know in which season you are so I hope I didn't give away to many spoilers, but yeah. Gertrude is awesome and tragic and deserves more love and sorry to sound bitter but if she was a man, she'd be more well received and not bolied down to "inhuman bitch" or "#GirlBoss"

9- In my opinion, Annabelle Cane from tma.

(Spoilers for s5 below:)

Even if you think her statement in 147- Weaver is bullshit, her journey into avatarhood in 069 - Thought for the Day mirrors Jon in such a fascinating way - being tricked by an authority figure in academia to unknowingly absorb people's fear, get weird nightmares and slowly lose their humanity and participate on the same system that destroyed them - that I hoped that maybe she could be a foil in avatarhood to Jon like Helen and Daisy.

But then ep. 197 happened and she turned out to be just a mouthpiece to the Web with no goals outside from it, plus the whole "transform into a giant monster spider" thing with a garbled voice effect so bad I had to rely on the transcript to understand what she was talking about.

I more or less accepted that no, Annabelle wasn't going to get a redemptio arc or something like that and that it was ok, but I do think she was WASTED.

[goji-pilled]

they shouldve let me reason with bosses and npcs so i can invite them to the wedding smh

like nooo rykard no need to devour me, we'll be family anyways because i'm marrying your sister!! bring your wife and kid along too!

instead of killing radahn we should've tackled him and forced a bunch of the boli that heal scarlet rot into his mouth, like no time for cannibalism and all that! you gotta let the stars take their course again and come to your sisters wedding big guy!!

i didn't wanna fight rennala anyway, she's so nice :( let's just chill and talk about the wedding plans!

morgott! ...yeah idk i got nothing i feel like the guy would rather kill himself than reason with me, and not that he seems particularly fond of ranni or anyone else either.

but mohg! bro! buddy! i'm your honoured guest? you're MY honoured guest! here's your wedding invite!

not you miquella.

millicent! we're friends! please don't die or fight your sisters you're invited to your aunt's wedding...

malenia! no need to fight i just want you to come to your sisters wedding that's it, please don't do the waterfowl dance in my face :(

melina! my number one, my queen hoe, thats my... bridesmaid? groomsmaid? spousemaid??? well she'll be there anyway, so will torrent idc he's part of the family to ME.

maliketh! we can fight to the death later, now it's wedding time so be a good uncle!

marika! radagon! i dont know but your daughter is getting married! get your ass out of that tree girl smh.

messmer is like. in the same boat as morgott. though i guess marika could convince him to come along.

and rellana? yeah she's invited too idc idc.