#do we have the same disability? no but some things translate over and i can make an effort to be respectful about the other parts

[dragon-subway]

"hey crypt why do you have so many disabled characters?" because what are they for if not to sprinkle my own experiences, attitudes and points of view on?

[steampunk-raven]

why is mouth talking so hard rn

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

Hi. I read your post about being an "unreliable narrator" of your own life and I am having Feelings about it.

You said at the end to not respond with "relatable" if not friend/mutual etc. and so I am not doing that.

I am here to say Thank You, because you have given me a new way to describe an experience that I sometimes have.

Of course, my experience is very, very small compared to yours. I can pass as "normal" if I want to.

But still, you shared "Unreliable Narrator of Own Life", and so I would like to share "Executive Function Burnout" with you in return.

Thank you so much for sharing. Really. We are not the same, because no two people are really the same, but I see myself in you, and because I love myself and want myself to be happy, I also want the same things for you.

You are welcome to use "Executive Function Burnout" as a way to explain a thing.

I know words are hard sometimes (not always, but sometimes), so:

Executive = Decision Maker

Function = Capacity

Burnout = Used Up

I like finding connections between words, and translating complicated words into simple words.

I hope you have good rest, whatever that looks like for you. And I'm sorry I put so many words here.

Thank you for sharing. 💜

hey so. you nice about it so do appreciate, n think this problem caused by me not realize need elaborate what count as “say relate,” so that on me, n you tried respect that based on your interpretation, so am also gonna try be calm n nice about it

(tone tag is not mad. i think. well, if am mad it not your responsibility worry abt it)

by “don’t say relate” not just mean don’t say word “relate.” mean include saying anything that can be see as relating—say we similar, borrowing words, say see self in me, etc.

because often am describing level of severity that, unless you also go through, people don’t realize can affect that basic of thing. so people misunderstand to mean something milder. n that frustrate me because am try best to explain self as clear n work with communication disabilities. n history of be speak over by people…. for lack better term less severe in community.

now, don’t know how you (both actual you + general you for non mutuals) actually experience, don’t know how you actually understand. maybe you actually understand perfectly severity + actual experience. am have no way knowing unless know you more. and exact because have no way know unless that, n majority of people have met who do this don’t actually understand n experience, just ask people am not familiar with in general, not to tell me if they feel similar, if they relate.

to illustrate.

“burnout” very very. so very different from what am experiencing what am describe. have been very adamant in “do not call me burnout” because been repeat instances. if you not follow me for while, may not know that. n that okay not know! is why say “don’t say relate,” to prevent me see that.

& “executive function/dysfunction”, in way neurodivergent community typically think n talk about term, not describe what am experiencing.

n reason why say “don’t say relate” is, am can’t control how you feel. you (general you) can’t even control how you feel. can only ask you not do action. so ask you not do action. “relate all you want just don’t tell me.” kind of thing

again, do appreciate you be nice. n do appreciate you mean well, n want give me something in return. misunderstanding from miscommunication n that okay. hope you good day.

may borrow some of what wrote here into new post explain what meant by “not say relate if mutual / friend who experience this”, & why. please know it not target at you, you not only one, it something been thinking about do for while because it kinda unusual.

[ihopesocomic]

hi hello, been following the comic for quite a while now, decided to give it a read after discovering your MP review (i was still a MP fan when i first watched it LOL, pretty embarrassing.) and ive been in love with the comic ever since, i absolutely LOVE how everyone is written, but i really want to talk about the difference between vicious and powerstrike.

both showed the mothers being nice (to some degree) to their daughters, but powerstrike's sudden abusive behavior towards nothing never made sense because, frankly, theres no reason for her to be acting like this other than that shes an ableist turd, and she has a perfectly normal relationship with said person that hurt her daughter... vicious' relationship with jasper on the other hand has been shown to be abusive, and even though vicious is horrible, shes is a victim of jasper's abuse, and her repeating the abuse onto her children comes off as her trying to maintain control over things.

i hate powerstrike, its not even like a love hate thing, shes horribly written and doesnt deserve redemption. on the other hand, i love and hate vicious, she has so much more depths and UGHH the writing in IHS really tugs at my heart, its just so good.

apologies for the ramble, im really looking forward to see where this story goes <3

Thank you so so much, anon!

And yeah, even though Powerstrike was "nice" to Nothing for all but five seconds, we just had to have the insinuation that having a dead kid is better than having a disabled one.

And then there's a whole damned speech in Episode 5, which would absolutely be indefensible in any other circumstance but, for whatever reason, MP fans seem to somehow think Powerstrike's speech somehow translates to her being a victim as well, even though whatever victimhood she has is never explored. She's only shown being quite content with the so-called 'cult' she's stuck in, having positive interactions with Quickmane and so on.

She never defends her disabled daughter (because if she truly cared about Nothing, why didn't she defend her from Quickmane in Episode 5?) nor her remaining son. She also never mentions her dead mate and son once, even though she's shown mourning for her mother, who had not only lived a full life but treated her family as ruthlessly as she did by being a religious zealot.

While the show also portrays Sharptongue as being loving and supportive to the point it completely slips under the viewer's radar, including those who say they don't like the show. Honestly, fuck both Powerstrike and Sharptongue. I can't express that enough. lol

But I feel that's purely a consequence of My Pride trying to make its characters complex and two-dimensional but thinking that a way to do that is to have character motivations that cancel each other out be present at the same time. You can't have a character be an abusive parent and be portrayed as somebody automatically worthy of redemption and 'aww, she loves her punchbag really!'.

You can't have a religious zealot who was cool with a murderer strolling into the family home and kill several members of said family "bc Pride Law lol" while also being portrayed as supportive and kind. It's not only poor writing, it's just weird as all hell.

Instead of being insecure about having 'deep' characters and trying to cram so many things into a character so that your audience doesn't 'miss the memo' (which a lot of them won't because they're not unintelligent), a lot of things can just be left unsaid and the audience can figure it out from there. Like Vicious being an abuse victim. Abuse causes a lot of psychological issues and can warp a person over time. This is very well documented. Boom. We don't really need to say or show anymore.

So, thank you very much for taking a notice, anon. It's always appreciated when these methods we use in the writing pay off! c: - RJ

[itspronouncedtessa]

The "English or continental" debate is problematic and ultimately detrimental to the community.

Every time I see one of these "are you one or the other" posts, polls, tweets (Xcreets?), blogs, vlogs, whatevers, I get so annoyed. Undies fully twisted.

So indulge me and let's get into this.

First things first:

This is not an attack on pickers or throwers specifically. Any knitting style is valid. If the end result is even, non-twisted stitches that you enjoyed putting together, you're doing it right.

That said, I have 3 major gripes with the concept of "English vs continental" knitting:

1. The terminology. The terms "English" and "continental" were coined during WWII, as continental is actually German and the English were (rightly, at the time) uncomfortable doing anything the German way, or admitting that that way could be more efficient.

As we're about 80 years removed from the war, it might be time to accept that neither is objectively better and that German isn't a dirty word. We can, and should, use English and German, or throwing and picking respectively.

2. It's exclusionary to new knitters. The whole picking vs throwing discussion has made it so that new knitters don't know there are other options. If you're new to knitting, you get the impression that these are the only two options and if you can't do either, you can't knit.

Not to mention that the overwhelming majority of patterns and instructional videos are written or made exclusively for English or German methods. Which means if you want or need to use a different style, you need the additional step and skill of translating the pattern to fit your method. This requires a certain level of understanding of the underlying techniques that new knitters don't have. (Which is why I prefer charts, but that's a whole different rant.)

3. It's exclusionary to experienced knitters who don't pick or throw. The term continental for specifically German knitting dismisses all the other non-German European styles.

An incomplete list:

Eastern, or Russian, where you purl clockwise instead of counterclockwise, mounting the stitch backwards and knitting through the back loop on the right side. Creates the same stitch, but can be so much smoother to execute. Also very useful if you're doing rows of YO, ssk, as it eliminates the need to reorient the stitches before knitting them together.

Norwegian, where you purl without the need to bring the yarn fully forward. This is hard to describe in words, so I highly recommend googling for a video on Norwegian purls. It's a game changer for rib or seed stitch.

Portuguese, where you tension the yarn at the front of the work, looping it over your neck or through a pin. My personal preferred main method. Super helpful for those of us who lack finger strength to comfortably tension at the back. Makes purling a breeze.

Irish or lever knitting. Done with straight needles and (mostly) one-handed. Extremely helpful for people with disabilities. Also one of the fastest methods. You should check out videos on this, the speed is magical.

Flicking (not exactly regional), which is right handed but instead of throwing, you move the right needle to grab the yarn. Also difficult to explain, so check out some videos on this, too. Its a very quick method with minimal wrist movement. If you have the finger strength for tensioning it's worth practicing this, as it's so quick.

All of these are valid techniques, most of them are from continental Europe, none of them are included in the question "English or continental?".

And all of the above doesn't even get into the non-western, non-English, non-European styles there must be around the world, that I can't find through Google, because the English speaking world only uses the above mentioned methods.

Also, knitters that use other methods than picking or throwing are wildly underrepresented in the community, giving the knitting scene a culturally very white, western European image. Knitting could be a far more inclusive hobby if we'd embrace all styles.

In short, we need to change the question to "tell me about your technique" and learn from each other. Combining multiple methods (I use 3 or 4 interchangeably, depending on the pattern) can increase efficiency and enjoyment. And if you're struggling in any way, there might be a technique out there that better suits your needs. Asking about English vs continental isn't going to provide that information.

So tell me about your technique, especially if you use or know of any knitting methods that aren't western or European, I would LOVE to hear about that. Let's share and celebrate all the ways we knit.

[your-tutor-abacus]

The Color of the Sunspot's Milk

We don't drink milk on the Sunspot.

It's not really a thing for us.

We did not evolve from mammals, so we do not produce milk ourselves, typically. Actually, our life can't really be divided up into the same categories as Terran life, anyway, and the Evolutionary Engines that are used to create people now produce such a diversity of biological development that we can't use sweeping statements like that meaningfully. But, we strongly suspect based on evidence at hand that the Ktletaccete did not originally have anything like mammary glands.

And, on the Sunspot specifically, we do not consume anything produced by animals. It just never even occurred to the Founding Crew to set up the ship and our culture that way. The ecological balance of the Garden requires that we let the fauna live as naturally as possible without interference from people. So, we do not milk animals.

But it turns out that we drink something that is kinda of vaguely like milk. It often serves a similar culinary utility, particularly in baking.

We know this because we have been talking to our Earth custodians of the Terran Tunnel Apparatus, and they have tried a product they call Ryze that is an approximation of what we use on the Sunspot, and we've been trading notes.

So, in the search for accommodation, the ancestors of the Sunspot Ktletaccete developed a mixture of pureed fungus and algae that could provide a very young child or a disabled or elderly person with nutrients that might not otherwise be readily available to them. And we have been calling this something that our translators have decided to call "formula". We understand that this echoes the term many of you use for a fortified milk that you feed your infants, and that's acceptable.

But our formula comes in many varieties, customized for each person's needs and even each use they might have for it.

Fungal and algae farming has always been abundant and easy for us, so it is the least expensive food to create. It may not have been central to the diet of ancient Ktletaccete, but it has become pivotal to survival in space aboard our Exodus Ships. And now we use it in nearly everything.

We also eat a variety of nuts, fruits, grains, tubers, leaves, stalks, and other vegetable matter (or their Sunspot equivalents to what these words mean to you). And some of those things provide proteins and lipids that compliment what is provided by our various formulas, so depending on how we combine it we can create foods that sometimes resemble your breads, quiches, meat loafs, stews, etc.

But, also, Artisan crafted beverages is a huge thing here, which I understand some of your cultures might relate to. And our formula is central to that.

So, what are the main differences between our formula and milk? And what are the differences between our formula and something like Ryze?

Well, obvious, our formula is made entirely differently from milk, and does not share it's color. It's not white or even white-ish, typically.

Though some varieties of it can come close to white so that Artisans can add vibrant colors to it more easily without it turning brown, but the processing tends to remove a lot of nutrients from it, so it's not terribly popular outside of that visual utility.

It's also usually somewhat low on lipids, though those are definitely added for many baking purposes.

It's more of a suspension than an emulsion most of the time, as a result. But again, that varies on it's purpose.

And because of that, and the fact that it's made from fungus and algae, makes it very similar to things like Ryze, which is apparently currently available for something you call "a lot of money" by purchasing it over your Network (or Internet, as you say).

There are other drinks like Ryze, but it so happens that the girlfriend of our counterparts purchased Ryse specifically, so that is the one that they are trying. In particular, they are trying Ryze Matcha, as opposed to Ryse Coffee, since we don't have anything remotely like a coffee bean on the Sunspot, but we do have a green stimulant kind of vaguely like Matcha that can be added to our formula.

We can't really truly compare the sensations of drinking our various forumlas to drinking Ryze, because there is an enormous physical gulf between the Earth and the Sunspot, and we cannot transport either liquid nor taste buds and nervous systems across that distance. And translating words, even with in the same language, between two individuals' personal experiences is inherently inaccurate to begin with.

But we can make some conjectures.

As far as flavor is concerned, we can infer some things. Humans are omnivors with a variety of sensitivities to flavors, and apparently our counterparts are something called a supertaster. They are more highly sensitive to flavor than their typical peers.

They report that Ryze Matcha tastes "green". Not just that it is green in color and therefore the flavor it has can be described as green, but that it reminds them of other green things that they have eaten. There is a bit of a spinach flavor, they report, but its very faint. There is also a faint green tea flavor. We don't know what either of these things really mean, but we know that spinach is a leafy vegetable and that green tea is also made from leaves. But then, they also say that these flavors are not like either of these things, either. They're similar but different.

More specifically, they report that Ryze Matcha does not taste like most mushrooms they've eaten. In fact, it bears a closer resemblance to the flavors they get when they drink from an old jug of water that maybe has some green stuff growing on the inside of it.

"Why would you do that?" I asked them.

And they replied with, "Carelessness."

Anyway, this seems relatively in keeping with our experiences with formula. Usually, it tastes kind of like some other vegetable matter, but different. But, whether those ways are similar to how humans experience Ryse and vegetables on Earth, we really don't know.

What we do know for sure is color. That's something that can be measured quite precisely via the wavelengths of light.

Of course, we may perceive that color differently than you, but thanks to technological measuring devices and mathematics, we can use the same names for the same wavelengths of light. So, when I say that something is green on the Sunspot, you will be able to trust that if you somehow visited your neurology will interpret that thing as what you know of as green, adjusting for the difference in our ambient lighting, of course.

And, yes, some formulas we use are nearly as green as Ryze Matcha, and they are gorgeous.

But most formula ends up in a wide spectrum of color between what you call khaki and a deep vibrant purple, thanks to the dominant colors of most fungi and algae found on the Sunspot.

Our sun produces more ultraviolet light than yours does and there is less shielding between it and the surface of the Garden, so most of our plant life has developed its own shielding, which comes in varieties of purple. Mostly, it's the algae that carries the purple coloring. Most of our fungus isn't green, either, but even when it is, the purples of the algae shift the colors to brown when mixed with it.

But green mosses, ferns, and algae are found in the darkest, deepest parts of our forests, where the sun never reaches the ground directly, and we find that color to be captivating, so our ancestors bred a small variety of green food algae strains specifically for culinary variety.

And the flavor of that stuff is definitely what we could call green.

[puppy-phum]

i find it so ironic how after becoming blind or, simply, disabled, day also turns invisible. suddenly, he's just not there, like it's not he who cannot see but he who cannot be seen.

ppl don't really talk to him, don't address him, barely give him any choices of his own. they talk over him and past him and around him, about him, surely, but not to him. it's like he's not there. he's this huge responsibility, but he's no longer a person. he's left to places like a dog or an object to wait for others to do all the things for him, and then he's just expected to agree with their plans. the same plans that still affect him and his life and future.

no wonder he's so angry and fed up with everybody. he wants to speak for himself. he wants to be heard and seen again. he used to enjoy having eyes on him – as a national athlete, there obviously were many (admiring, evaluating, assessing) eyes on him, and he liked the spotlight. he's obviously very proud of his own accomplishments and it must be frustrating to be suddenly reduced into nothing. like what he did never mattered. like who he is never mattered.

he is just this now. his blindness. someone who can be overlooked bc he cannot see it anyway. he's not far from being dead, as he puts it himself.

-

meanwhile, mork experiences the brutality of being abandoned over and over again. that's his wound. when his sister leaves, the pain gets the loudest, but even outside of that, he's hearing the same thing over and over again.

from what we got to know, no one ever really learned why exactly rung decided to kill herself. i assume it was the guilt over feeling like she failed mork, like she brought him more peril than was worth living for (debt?). she obviously wanted mork to have a good future, but i guess none of her actions ever translated to mork in that way.

to him, rung left after deciding that mork just wasn't worth it. she took "the easy way out" after realizing that fighting beside mork and tolerating his behavior just weren't worth the effort. mork really wasn't making the best choices, but i don't think he was ever "beyond saving". mork just thinks this is how it all went.

and then he keeps hearing the same thing from others:

after being in jail, his friends abandon him even if he took part in that fight for them. he wasn't enough for them to stick around (not that they were actually that good company, but he knew them, spent time with them, relied on them on some level)

porjai broke up with him bc mork was prioritizing his friends over his girlfriend. which porjai points out humorously, as is part of their friendship as exes, but which lands as a stab anyway. "you weren't enough as you are," it says. "you should've done better to not have me leave you."

no one wants mork to work for them bc all they can see is his past mistakes and not him trying to presently correct them. his skills aren't enough to overshadow what he did. him trying to be better cannot erase those mistakes he already made. "you should've been better to begin with," it says. "there's nothing you can do to change that now."

-

ppl keep turning their backs on mork, leaving him behind, labeling him unworthy or simply not good enough. even day's family does this, looking at him once and going, "you obviously do not belong here."

day disagrees. on some level at least, he disagrees. bc mork actually sees him. after all this time, someone actually sees him again.

meanwhile, well. we had that whole montage at the end of the episode to tell us how badly mork wishes to believe that someone is finally giving him a chance to prove he isn't a lost cause, that he is worth something.

-

my expectations for the second ep are that these two are going to learn just how bad it actually feels when someone is able to see you and how hard you will have to work to prove yourself to those who barely wish to listen.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Not Like This | Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader

Note: A literal brain fart that I unexpectedly wrote in the afternoon after listening to girl in red today. Angst is seriously the only thing I can produce and feel good about somehow, like what the hell. I should bring this up in therapy next time. I didn't do much research for the fic so lots of stuff is just pulled out of my ass. Get ready for some typical cliché "dying-in-one's-arms" story. Feat. some random google translated Spanish sentences.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Character Death, Angst, Unrequited Love, Just Pain, Blood, Ghost made an oopsie

Summary: You wanted to touch and kiss her but not like this...

Word Count: 2,6k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

"You don't have to do this!"

You practically beg but she just looks at you with that gaze, the one which says that she won't change her mind, no matter what.

She had held the same gaze when she informed you about her decision to take over the cartel and abandon your brothers and sisters in arms.

She is already in too deep at this point. You both know.

You had known for years since the moment when she took Pascale's hand and danced with him in that god-forsaken club.

He enticed her with an idea and she created El Sin Nombre. And it's all your fault. When you dumped that barrel with the son of La Araña in the river, you thought you had done the right thing and you turned your back on Alejandro and the others.

You watch her, her face is full of determination; it's almost like she's looking through you instead of at you, too captivated by her thoughts.

"It's for us. That deal will make sure our families and the ones after us won't ever grow up and live like we did."

"It wasn't that bad! And compared to how many people will suffer because of that man-"

"Not that bad? Y/N, we drank rainwater while my dead mother rotted in the bedroom! I had to stop Feliz from eating her! Your legs are like this because we didn't have access to proper medical care even in the military! We both suffered so much... But like this... With the authority I have now, these days are nothing but a bad dream! We have established schools and hospitals, and with this money, we'll help even more people!"

Your heart stings when she mentions your disability and the hand grasping your cane burns. She's right. You had suffered. But that was in the past. And compared to the suffering that this terrorist and his organization would bring upon the world...

You couldn't even look the people on the streets of Las Almas in the eyes anymore, how could you bear the weight of responsibility for the horrible crimes of that man?

Maybe you shouldn't have taken her hand when you were discharged from the military due to your increasing leg pain and weeks later she had shown up in front of your doorstep to take you into the hands of the cartel.

"He and those missiles will kill people, dozens of them! Innocent families, brothers, and sisters, little girls like Emilia... Valeria, please- Don't do this. The people hunting him will hunt you too. The Los Vaqueros, Alejandro-"

"We already made the deal. There are no takebacks, Y/N." There's no escape.

You stare at her. The ache in your chest that has been buried deep for years now, grows stronger.

You almost don't recognize her.

She's not the girl who took your first kiss at the age of 7. She's not the best friend you had since childhood. Not the teenager who made out with you when she was drunk at 17 and then didn't remember. Not the one who motivated you to follow your dream of joining the high school basketball team. Not the one who mesmerized you with her naturally glowing character who drew you in like a moth to a flame.

And yet...

You still love her.

And what could you do? You're already in too deep.

Years ago you decided to follow her until your feet couldn't carry you anymore.

You're a fool for her and if she decides to walk straight into hell, even then you will follow her.

You smile bitterly. She takes a step forward and grabs your right hand, her eyes staring straight into yours. Your heart flutters as always. The bitterness in your heart grows.

"You're my best friend Y/N, mi hermana. You know I'm doing this for us. Para tiempos más brillantes."

She doesn't see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes when she embraces you and you quietly sob into her arms. She holds you close and yet you've never felt farther away from her.

"para tiempos más brillantes" you whisper in her shoulder and for you these words are like a prayer, begging God or whoever to forgive you for your foolish heart and your foolish love.

-

A few days later you arrive in a black SUV for the cartel meeting.

The atmosphere in the house is already strange when you enter with Valeria. Diego greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand like always and once again you discreetly wipe your hand on your dress.

You hate participating in those meetings but to the cartel you're like a symbol, a symbol for the wealth and power that one can gain with the help of the cartel. So it's expected that you attend. And she likes it when you're with her.

You feel like a doll in that expensive dress Valeria gifted you. It's a light blue backless dress and compliments your shape.

She gave you this one with her typical words about wanting to make you feel good about yourself but you neither feel pretty nor good; the slit on the side shows off the scars on your leg and with your cane you give the image of a circus actor instead of a rich woman.

"You can rest upstairs", Valeria tells you and pats your shoulder and one of Diego's underlings wearing a black mask steps forward to accompany you.

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah", you mumble and follow the guy. He tries to be discreet but you notice him looking at your feet right away and you huff inwardly. Yeah, she couldn't gift me expensive high heels unfortunately.

You're wearing flats because anything with heels hurt not only your feet but your legs as well.

On the highest floor you pour yourself a drink and sit on one of the chairs at the long round table.

You stare at the ice cubes in your class and watch as they slowly melt. Time ticks by and Valeria is nowhere to be seen.

It's pathetic how you wait for her like a puppy. But it's always been like this. She goes somewhere, you follow. When she's away, you wait for her, the only company your anxiety and worries.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

The atmosphere has been weird before but when the guard tells you in a breathless voice that he will be right back, you know something is definitely off.

You're not on the comms and you don't have a weapon, you never bring one to these events because it "ruins your outfits".

But you don't have to worry much because right when you think about grabbing a kitchen knife just in case, Valeria and her lackeys storm through the door.

She's armed - unlike when you two entered the house. You immediately know something went wrong.

"Y/N", she says, her tone cold and you stand up quickly, "go on the terrace for a bit."

You blink perplexed. "What? Why?"

She gives you a look as she grabs the phone one of her men holds up for her.

"Solo hazlo!"

You continue to stare for a few seconds, but she turns away, not looking at you.

"Yes, El Sin Nombre" you sigh eventually. A guard offers you a gun and you take it silently.

You walk to the back of the room and leave through the door, the gazes of Valeria's guards burn on your naked back.

You sit on one of the loungers, letting your cane and gun rest by your side and you stare at the darkening sky. You know who she's calling in there and the guilt plagues your mind.

How did you two end up like this? This isn't the future you imagined for yourself.

Yes, you wanted to be by her side but not like this.

The 16-year old Y/N L/N didn't see herself as the closest confidant of a drug cartel boss. Your younger self didn't see herself involved with corruption and the distribution of narcotics. You didn't see yourself lying next to her, back to back, in a bed with a pistol under the pillow.

In your ideal future you would lay in her arms in a cozy bed in a house with room for you two and your family, her sister Emilia, your grandparents, maybe even a dog like Feliz. Just you, the love of your life and your family.

No guns, no drugs, just a happy life, satisfied with what you have.

But you know better. That dream will never come true. Valeria loves you, always has, but not like you love her. You'll never be more than her best friend.

And even if she saw you in a different light, your dream can never come true. The things you both have done in your past will haunt you.

You know it's only a matter of time until the USA will hunt you and the other drug cartels down. They'll purge everything they can get a sniff of. And then El Sin Nombre will pay the price. But you'll be right beside her.

"At least we can be together in prison", you say to no one in particular, a bitter smile on your lips.

You stroke the frayed strap of the bracelet Valeria had gifted you all those years ago in high school. Memories come up but they're interrupted by a low hum. Confused you turn your head, searching the sky when a loud bang and sudden gunshots ring out in the house.

In the blink of an eye you're on your feet, gun in hand with the safety off, your cane disregarded.

You hurry to the door right when it gets slammed open and Valeria runs into you. Shocked you lower your hands, mierda you almost shot her!

"Y/N!", she shouts, grabbing you by your arm. "We have to move!"

She pulls you with her but the low hum has turned into growling and the roar of spinning rotors accompanies the black helicopter who suddenly hovers over the house. You're trapped.

"Down! Get down, now!", someone in the helicopter shouts and god, you're so stupid but she's in danger and without a second thought you shoot at the man standing at the open in the helicopter, while trying to cover her with your body.

"Y/N!"

A lot happens in mere seconds. The man at the helicopter door ducks inside, the other soldiers scream and point their guns at you and you shoot once more when someone shoves you and the force sends you to your knees.

"Cease Fire, Immediately!!"

Shouts echo around you, two more men run on the terrace, rifle and gun pointing at you but you don't care.

You turn and stare at her and she looks you in the eyes. The brown is basically black in the dusk. The corners of her lips twitch as if she wants to smile. You notice the rapidly growing spot on her grey shirt, underneath her necklace on the left side.

You scream and she hugs you, forcing her whole body weight on you. You crumble completely to the ground, holding her close, one hand still clutching the gun.

"Target is hit- I repeat target is hit! Ghost what the fu-"

"Don't shoot! I know that woman!"

Y/N she whispers. She's not moving her lips but you know she called you. You stare into her eyes as she gasps for air.

"Ria, I got you- It's okay- I got you, I-"

You drop the gun and press onto the wound from the back. Your hands turn slippery from her blood.

One of the men walks up to you and kicks your gun away from your reach and as he hovered over you, you pull her closer, shielding her with your upper body.

No, no. This can't be happening!

Your heart beat resounds loudly in your ears, it drowns out the helicopter noise and the shouting soldiers. You feel naseous from the surging helplessness you feel. Until you hear a certain voice. It's familiar.

"Y/N, hey! It's me, Alejandro. Let me have a look at her, please."

Alejandro?

You lift your head, still holding eye contact with her. Her eyes are wide, shocked probably at the sudden development. You gulp but bile still rises in your throat.

Hands grab you, but they're not forceful and you straighten your upper body to give Alejandro the chance to look at her in your arms. You look at him, begging him to do something, to help- save her.

"...dro", she wheezes and he smiles but his raised eyebrows give his worry away.

"Valeria."

He reaches for her back where you hold her and when his hand finds yours, his face darkens. He stands up and turns towards the helicopter and waves at the blonde man inside, his red hand glistening.

"We need a medic now!"

The sentence flings you into the past.

"Necesito evacuación médica para Y/N!! Gómez, hijo de puta, call it in now!!"

Gunshots whizz past you two but Valeria doesn't care.

She puts more pressure on your legs and you just watch how her expression stirs from worry to determination.

You adore that face so much. Her sharp eyebrows, the straight bridge of her nose, her long eyelashes, the lines when she smiles. She's your own personal Aphrodite.

"...s beautiful..."

She looks at you scowling. "Shut up, Y/N! Don't go all woozy on me now! We'll get you out of here and you'll be just fine, okay?!"

You smile. Of course. You'll be just fine. After all, she's by your side.

"..can't do anything for her..."

You blink. The words pull you out of your distant memory. She's holding onto you, you realize belatedly. Her fingers dig into your skin but her grip is weak, too weak.

The two soldiers who got in front of you and checked her body retreat. You open your move to say something but she touches your face to get your attention.

"Y/N..."

She pulls you down, while moving her lips as if she wants to whisper something to you. Your chest painfully constricts.

Instead your lips meet. Someone says something but you don't hear them, too shocked by the sudden kiss.

It's more like a peck and it tastes like the alcohol you drank before but your chest almost explodes.

"D-Don't do that, Ria", you croak. The nickname is like poison on your lips.

She smiles. And kisses you again. Longer this time. You taste salt.

"Not like this- I don't want it like this! I haven't even- me cago en la puta, Valeria Martina Garza, you-"

You cover her hands with yours, smearing her blood on them as you grip her fingers tight, holding on like she's your lifeline. Your foreheads touch. The pain in your chest is tearing you apart. You feel like dying.

"Para tiem...pos más brillantes...", she whispers breathlessly and you sob, showering her face with kisses while cradling her in your arms. She huffs as if she's protesting.

"Don't fucking say that! Yo no puedo vivir sin ti!! I love you, Ria, I-"

The smile is still on her lips when her body goes limp in your arms. Your chest constricts as you breathe in shakily.

Tears fall and you rock her in your arms, holding the only one who ever mattered in your life in your arms and you scream, the pain in your chest never stopping.

How can I wish for better times when you're not with me?!

-

"Y/N L/N, what do you know about El Sin Nombre?"

"Ella era mi alma gemela. I'll tell you everything."

[frayed-symphony]

A brief summary of Asteria - Recollections of Eden (Part Four)

So it’s been a couple of years since I did any translation work on this but with the news of Tales of Asteria shutting down I wanted to finally finish my summary of Recollections of Eden (aka the White Lions) arc.

You can start from Part One here

Let’s finish this! The final summary;

With all three barriers surrounding Shangrace now disabled the core group head into the city and fight to the top of the tower to reach Van and Lazaris.

As they climb the tower and break further barriers they can hear Lazaris’ voice.

The dragon monster from the shrine priestess trials appears and though they manage to injure one dragon, another shows up and blocks the path;

In their final appearance the White Lions show up to take over the fight which allows the others to move on and confront Van and Lazaris. Farewell to these amazing outfits!

Letting the White Lions do their thing the group continues on. At the top of the tower is a ball of light and Mikleo realises its’ the same as the one he saw in the ruins which helped him regain his memories of their original world.

Lazaris arrives and says that with the disappearance of that last ball of light this new world is complete.

Lazaris then attacks them but Colette still struggles to understand why they must fight and why she can feel Lazaris is hurting still. (As a side note anyone who has their original memory is referred to as a ‘sinner’ in this story. I didn’t know that when I was translating previously)

We finally get some backstory on Lazaris. Describing events in a previous Asteria arc (or possibly alluding to Radiant Mythology 3) Lazaris tells how the appearance of Kanonno (the descender) started everything. 

How they came into existence at that time and how since then they’ve became exhausted watching how humans fought and killed each other, living creatures and even the world itself.

We briefly fight Lazaris and it looks like the group will be overwhelmed when Colette awakens again to her power and uses it to stop everyone from becoming crystals.

But she doesn’t want to hurt Lazaris, Colette has finally worked out that Lazaris was born as a collection of human consciousness and is not their enemy.

She wants to work with Lazaris to return the world to its former state and make a better future. Lazaris repeatedly denies Colette’s help and that’s when the big cheese himself appears and to everyone’s surprise Van attacks Lazaris.

The group cannot believe Van is now trying to kill Lazaris but we get a little more backstory on why the two were working together in the first place.

Still in Van’s eyes Lazaris’ role is now over and he wants to destroy them to finally complete this new ‘perfect’ world.

The group step in to defend Lazaris and Van tries to reason and bring them round to his way of thinking.

Sorey and the others take responsibility as humans for how their world became and promise if things return to normal that they’ll make the world right again.

None of them want to live in this new fake perfect world and leave their old ones behind because Van’s ultimate wish is to destroy everything and start again.

As they prepare to fight Van, Colette once again offers Lazaris her protection and assurance that they will make the world a better place.

We push Van back once but he comes back stronger than ever.

However Lazaris will not be taken down and musters enough strength to fight back.

I had a very difficult boss fight with Van to get to this point and it didn’t seem like we would be able to defeat him when Lazaris finally steps in.

Lazaris crystallise both themself and Van, Colette and the rest of the group’s words seem to have finally won them over.

The world starts to return to normal, all the traces of crystals disappear.

A few of the group we haven’t seen for awhile show up and tell us the world outside is returning to normal. 

They are sad hearing what happened but Colette knows Lazaris is still with them and watching over to make sure they keep their promise to make a better world.

Raven asks Ludger and the others if they saw the White Lions on their way up but Ludger tells them no. It seems they have already disappeared from this world along with the crystals.

One by one they are engulfed by a bright light and start to disappear. Everyone is worried they won’t remember these events later on and all say their goodbyes now.

Still, despite everything they are finally returning home.

Epilogue!!

Back in the regular world the various groups discuss what happened. It seems like only a select few people remember what happened.

Raven explains it here but people who remembered the original world are the ones who now retain their memories of Lazaris and Van’s world.

I didn’t see this in my reading earlier but there were some stone mouments which also appeared with Lazaris’ world. I asked @sekaiki-honey​ about this as well as why Colette had ‘the will of the world’ inside her and they said;

Colette, Lloyd, Zelos vow to keep their promise to Lazaris and make a better world.

The end!

Thanks to everyone who read this far. I know I summarised it heavily and probably missed a lot of stuff but there’s still a couple of months til the game shuts down and I encourage you to read it yourself if you want info on a particular character’s journey or more backstory. 

I am also sorry for the poor quality of the photos and translations as well as how long this took to finish but I don’t speak Japanese or have much free time so this is the best I could do. I wanted to record the story somewhere for people who were as curious as me before the game shut down and I’m happy I could finally do that.

Thank you again!

[sandandlightning]

My work with Belial

Some art I did of them as they appear to me. Getting better at phone scan color process

A lot of people cite Belial as very strict. I don't disagree, but for me what is more prominent is just… intenseness? It's a bit hard to describe. Then again, a lot of my personal problems are rooted in perfectionism and overextending myself, so even Belial is out here telling me to sit the fuck down, that strictness manifesting instead in Work Things glitching to force me to take a damn break and take care of myself.

I think they are a very strong essence of discipline. They are good for working with if you are trying to build habits. They will kick your ass, but they will also kick everyone's ass and their own ass. They will also tell you to do this.

They present to me as aggressively gender neutral, and prefer I use the title ‘Sovereign’ instead of anything like king/queen or lord/lady. Other Gender entities I work with are more fluid than agender, so I find this fascinating.

The form they take with me is an androgynous humanoid fallen angel with short, slick dark brown hair and black wings that sometimes manifest from the lower back rather than shoulder blades. Their eyes have appeared green, brown, and red. Their clothes tend to be very minimalist and nondescript. When wanting to be spooky or intimidating they appear as something similar to a traditional grim reaper depiction or very decay oriented litch.

In my practice Belial is a primary consort of Lucifer (in addition to other common ones like Lilith, not instead of. Though I have never felt close to Lilith, likely due to her ruling a lot of femmeness that can be unfitting for my brand of transness.) I don't have the source for this, it is enforced by recent upg and such, but I originally had Belial on a list of Lucifer concerts from demonology research way back in like 2007, so I really have no concept of how common this is or isn't but it is something I had outside sources for at some point, lost to the aether as they are now.

Whatever the case I find them to be extremely protective of Lucifer. There's kinda a sworn knight vibe. They are honestly more likely to request I do something to venerate Luci than themself. I suppose it is reflective of their ‘dont do anything by halves’ energy in general- they are just as aggressive about their dedication to Lucifer as they are anything else.

Initially I was admittedly more apprehensive about approaching them than any other entity on my list of ‘people to check in with bc in hindsight I am 90% sure they reached out to me before’. From afar they seemed big and scary and intimidating and radiated that take no shit energy. I suppose if they don't have an interest in working with someone they would have no problem being blunt and telling them to fuck off, or their bluntness in general just being off-putting. (Due to my personal trauma cocktail I actually find it oddly soothing.) Approaching them was almost anticlimactic in a way- not that I'm complaining. They were curt, but very welcoming. After making contact I almost immediately stopped feeling nervous. It's sort of the same feeling as trying to approach the Scary Goth Kid in school expecting them to snap or cuss you out and instead they're just like ‘Sup. Your backpack is sick AF.’

I originally anticipated something more distant, but they are one of the entities I feel closest to. They have done a lot to help me find grounding and structure, which I suppose is why they are associated with earth. The name ‘Belial’ is rooted in a Hebrew word meaning ‘without worth', and the entity as they are known now evolved from the use of that word being personified over various translations and iterations of different texts. For me, this lends itself to their role as a patron to outcasts. I have seen others attribute to them a role as a protector to those society finds ‘worthless’, including the disabled, so maybe I shouldn't be so surprised we clicked.

Ave Belial!

[moodr1ng]

re last post while im being chatty (sleeping pills do that to me): i have a kinda strange relationship w my knuckle tattoos. when i was 17 i was in a pretty rough spot in life. though i wasnt in The Absolute Worst Years, things werent going great on pretty much any front. i was failing out of school at the time, i saw no future for myself, i felt like i had fucked up all my options beyond any redemption. i lived in a "bad neighborhood", in a social housing apartment where i shared the one bedroom with my sister and my mom slept in the living room. i had like, two irl friends and one of those friendships was quite toxic and codependent. my mental health was abysmal and my parents were at the end of their rope with what to do with me. nobody even believed id manage to graduate high school anymore. i had no money except what i could glean from art commissions on tumblr and whatnot. i was perpetually broke and so were my friends (we shoplifted quite a bit at that time). i always knew my mom and i didnt exactly have much money but i was really feeling it then, and more than that, i felt like this prophecy was hanging over my head, that i would too end up like my parents: an underpaid worker in a shit job with seemingly no upsides or ways to move forward.

yet i had an inkling that one day i might get out of this; that i might one day escape this and 'rise above my station', 'make it' in some way. i pictured myself as someone who did make it: an older version of me, who i pictured very clean-cut and acceptable-looking, maybe wearing a suit or something. i hated that version of me; the sellout. i looked at that future me and thought: dont you dare forget about me. dont you dare forget about all of us here - not just my family but everyone i loved, and the people in the same neighborhoods and the same situation. i guess it was a moment of class awareness and solidarity. i thought: ill never let myself become a clean-cut, law-abiding, middle class sycophant who looks down on people like me.

so i got commission money for the cheapest tattoo machine i could get, some $50 crappy machine i got off ebay that came with needles and inks, and i sat at my kitchen table one afternoon with an internet friend on a skype call and tattooed my own knuckles - right hand tattooed with the left hand and all. i chose "DIRT POOR". i thought: there. not only can i see it, everyone can. i can rise up as much as i can in the world. but there will always be this neon sign on my hand that says: i came from here.

and i stuck with that for a very long time. i loved those tattoos. when i stopped loving them (because theyre kinda ugly, and i dont like explaining them to people, etc) i still loved the meaning behind them.

but then i actually 'made it'. i mean, not really. i didnt truly make it. i dont have a job, my main income is disability benefits, but im blessed that i also have my etsy shop and a roommate who helps with rent and a very cheap apartment, all of which means i have an income thats almost minimum wage and benefit from a lot of government aid, and through that ive set aside sizeable savings. i dont have to worry about paying for my food or home or clothes or other necessities, and i can go for drinks with friends or order takeout or buy myself little eccentricities just because i want to. i certainly didnt turn out clean-cut and proper in a suit, but i got to a place that 17 year old tattooing himself on a dirty kitchen table thought hed never get to.

and now that im here the tattoos feel.. silly. shameful. the people who ask me about them are most often panhandlers - and when i translate what it means to them i feel like such a poser. like, dirt poor? really? but im not dirt poor. im doing fine. if i dont get into the extensive backstory of the tattoos every time, i just.. look like someone trying to look rougher than i am. i feel like im appropriating a struggle that is no longer mine. and i dont even like the tattoos anymore and havent for a long time, and now the message itself doesnt feel worth having them.

like id forget where i come from if i didnt have it etched in my hands? like i even needed that reminder anyway? in the end, i got these because i didnt trust myself - because i thought my class solidarity was disingenuous, opportunistic, based only in my current circumstances. but ill never forget how i grew up. the message is already in me. i never needed a reminder. my past will always be a part of me.

so, anyway, ive been thinking of getting the tattoos lasered off. im far from being sure i wanna do it, though almost only because of the price, but ive been considering it often. i still feel a bit like its a betrayal of my 17 yo self. but then again, i think if he saw me now, 10 years older and in the position im in now, hed probably get it. hed see i havent really changed, not in the important ways. i think in the same way i need to forgive my past selves, maybe they too need to forgive me for moving on from them. so i really might get the laser, if not soon, then someday.

if i do, ill still have other hand and finger tattoos, so it wouldnt change much if i get new knuckle ones. if that does come to pass - im thinking "GOOD LUCK" this time.

[jennawynn]

Chronotrek TNG Part 3

Season 2 Episode 2 to 9

2- ugh I am really not liking Pulaski.

3- I love that Geordi's Data's ride-or-die.

4- Was this comic supposed to be actually funny?

Recently I went to a 'neurospicy' meetup where we discussed neurodivergent identity, common behaviors, and media representation. Data is often lauded as one of the first, most recognizable, and most relatable of this representation, even if (and maybe because) he wasn't meant to be. This episode features a few things that we specifically spoke about, even though it wasn't about him: he studies humanity as though he is not part of it. (Several of us, myself included, were scholars of history, psychology, anthropology, sociology.) he over-analyzes his own behavior compared to that of others to try to fit in and act in a manner that aligns with what is expected or what makes others comfortable. (masking) he does not understand many types of humor, though he does tend to understand wordplay and logical humor.

One of the most pertinent topics we covered in this hour or two long conversation was how often what we say is mistaken for a joke. That we accidentally perform observational humor by stating something that we notice and someone else finds that funny. We might even become known as funny people... and that being mistaken for funny is the best possible outcome of the situation since the alternative is being labelled rude, out of touch, ignorant, etc. At the end of the episode, it is suggested that Data's timing is off, to which he replies "My timing is digital," and everyone chuckles. He then realizes the connection to the origin of that humor and tries to capture the same lightning in a bottle immediately turning everyone off. It was one of the most relatable things I've seen in all of Trek.

5- I really do like how they portrayed disability in TNG. Geordi's the most obvious example, but here they also have a Deaf character who speaks through his chorus. I have some concerns about how his translators are treated as extensions of himself rather than individuals with jobs (do they have rights? do they have time off? do they get to have relationships of their own?)

and unlike many recent shows where people with similar or parallel identities never actually get to discuss their similarities or differences, Riva immediately discusses his disability with Geordi. Do you resent being blind or being dependent on your visor? No, because they're part of me and I'm happy with myself. There is a little bit of a wish that they also showed someone who maybe had a different mindset, but I suppose in this universe at this time, anyone who didn't see their disability as part of themselves and instead as something that happened to them could have had it fixed. As always, it's nice to get a wider variety of experiences rather than only focusing on one... but if we can only have one, the one that adds to acceptance is preferred.

The way he was coming onto Troi was squicking me out, though I think it was because she seemed to be uncomfortable with it... and later I think it was more because there was an 'audience'. Once his chorus was dismissed, she became more comfortable with it and therefore so did I.

And there's Pulaski being a dick again. Twenty percent loss is NOT almost as good. That's an incredible margin of error when you're talking about sight! It is interesting to know that Geordi has chronic pain associated with his sight, but I think she was being insensitive to how he might feel about it, just assuming he'd want 'normal' sight.

6- Well this one's dated from the title alone. They've definitely been doing a lot of work to humanize Data and set up the arguments I know are coming in The Measure of a Man. This whole season seems to be reinforcing the idea that Data is both machine and something more.

"He is different, yes, but that does not make him expendable or any less significant. No being is so important that he can usurp the rights of another."

Beyond the obvious allusion to disability, neurodivergence, and race here, I'd like to point out the second sentence coupled with the fact that in 2x1 when Troi was discovered to be pregnant, almost everyone immediately suggested termination of the pregnancy means that the Federations is pro-abortion rights.

7- a force field? Have those words ever been used on Trek before? it sounds out of place.

Pulaski told Data to pilot the shuttle without telling him why. He should have been given the courtesy of informed consent. She just assumes he can't be affected, but she doesn't actually _know_ this for a fact, just as she didn't know the children were infected/carriers/the cause of the problem. Then, when she is stricken, he has to go with her, and honestly? should probably have been left there with her. To let him come back before they'd figured out the cause could have been dangerous. So she effectively sentenced him to quarantine on a planet FOREVER without telling him what he was getting into... because she doesn't consider him a person.

She has Bones's fear of the transporter. From @jbk405's replies earlier, the Doylist take I understand is more trying to make a New Bones for TNG, but the in-universe Watsonian explanation implies that medical professionals might know something about transporters we don't... and that could be interesting (Dr. M'Benga aside, I suppose, since he's keeping his daughter in there forever)

8- Riker on a Klingon ship. I almost wish it had lasted longer.

9- I think I've said pretty much all I need to say about this in the leadup. I do think the "why don't Starfleet officers all have to replace their eyes with cybernetic implants" is an excellent point, and I definitely saw the things he was packing as being foreshadowing for the trial later. I was expecting to see the same kind of uno reverse gotcha that we saw in Strange New Worlds with Una's trial. It was interesting to see it take the direction it did, spurred by a real life Black woman equating a fleet of Datas with disposable people and slavery. It was a nice touch to have her prompt that discussion instead of it being someone whitesplaining slavery to a Black woman. And I think Picard's reasoning is entirely in keeping with the Federation's goals.

To strip Data of his personhood would be a step backwards for the Federation, and I'm glad they went the other way, though I think that's how they should have phrased the actual question. Whether he is alive, sapient, sentient, etc. is not actually what they were after. They were trying to decide if he should be given the rights of being a person, which especially when you have several non-human races is a more important question than whether you are human.

[rosy-fox-art]

i def agree with what you said about how the fandom handles heart's blindness so thank you for calling it out before it got worse. i feel that it would make more sense if he put the blindfold on himself, like how other ppl in the tags on your post said.

another thing that ive noticed is how heart is sometimes infantilized and seen as someone who can "do no harm" which is... strange to say the least. i think ppl forget that he is a personification of a grown man's emotions and depression (sorry for wording it like that lol i didn't know how else to say it)

Hi! Thank you . I was honestly really worried to post about it, so I’m glad to see people so receptive to it so far in a positive light. I’ve been reading the tags very diligently ^^~

As for victimizing heart or ‘ saying he can do no wrong’ and infantilization… yeah I can see this as another issue that’s starting to sprout up, and some people in the tags of that previous post have mentioned it as well. And while I know that’s not everybody and I figure that is also another case where people don’t really intend to do it and just aren’t thinking about it, that doesn’t really erase the problem. This applies mostly to people depicting heart as childish, not being able to handle himself, being idiotic, victimizing and woobifying him etc. So, I really hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to talk about that a bit, too.

Being over emotional does not, at all, translate to any of the traits I just listed out in the slightest. Sure, heart may be a little naive and impulsive as per his nature, but that is not the same. You are absolutely right to point out that heart an adult here, too. And at the end of the day the album seems to make it very clear that Heart and Mind are not all that unlike each other, but are unwilling to admit their similarities and highlight and judge their differences heavily. Heart is just as harmful and violent as mind, just in a different way. He has the propensity to be just as cunning or manipulative as Mind, too. Even his tactic of victimizing himself is a show of this, and Mind points this out several times in the album. They are two sides of the same coin. There is a large difference between Heart victimizing himself and actually being the victim, which he is not. Or at least, he is not completely blameless for the hole that he has dug for himself. When people show heart as being the victim or as doing no wrong, a lot of the nuance is completely lost.

Secondly, the internet and fan spaces have a bad habit of infantilizing people with mental illness, in general. Depression does not make someone soft and cute because they’re sad all the time. Depression does not make someone an uwu bean. Depression makes someone — as we can very clearly see by how Heart is within the cannon itself— a wreckage of rage and disdain that struggles to crawl out of a spiral of misery and apathy. It’s not pretty. When you boil it down to all of the things I’ve mentioned as being a problem here— that’s infantilization. This is also a big problem when it comes to disabled characters (Because people jump to the conclusion that the character cannot do much for themselves because of the disability, do not understand how disabled people actually advocate for themselves and function day to day from lack of experience or exposure to disabled people, want to depict them as incapable, etc). So, the fact that Heart is both of these things creates a ripe mess. This is kind of why I’m hoping to make some less angry, more informational post about some of the things blind people use to function just like other people here, sometime. Because the lack of these things in itself may lend into the infantilization problem. Being able to do things— having agency and independence over oneself— is a large part of breaking away from that. And I think it says a Lot that you rarely see this happen with Mind or Soul, as well.

So sorry if this came off at all angry, but I’m very passionate about it as someone whose experienced infantilization in my life from other people assuming things about me solely based on my disability. So, if I can say something to stop people from perpetuating it in fan content then I will. 👉🏻👈🏻. At any rate, thank you for the ask! I’m sure there’s a typo or two in here. So so sorry for that!

[louiskechi]

alright let’s get this over with

here is a basic summary of all you could possibly need to know about me before you go starting something with me (this will be updated as i see fit)

-trans rights are human rights. this is not up for debate and is a block on sight if you disagree. same goes for black lives matter, and any other basic human rights that people somehow take offense to.

-xenogenders, lesboys/girl gays, mspec lesbians/gays, and all other non traditional or contradictory labels are valid. you can continue being angry that you aren’t allowed to fit queer people into strictly confined boxes all you want, but the long term goal of the queer movement should always be to break down restrictive labels and emphasize being who you are. this applies to neopronouns as well, obviously. all good faith identities are valid. full stop.

-transandrophobia is real. to deny that transmasculine people experience a unique type of transphobia tailored by bigots to specifically target our experiences is complacency. if you engage in hierarchical structures to organize the oppression marginalized people experience (i.e. saying things like “tme people need to shut up for once” when discussing transphobia) is reductive and only divides the community.

-self diagnosing is valid. not everyone has access to psychiatrists, let alone ones who will give a proper assessment. it’s also worth mentioning that both the medical field and the government have a lot of ingrained ableism, which can bar you from access to jobs, and can cause you to lose legal rights and bodily autonomy. (did you know getting an autism diagnosis can prevent you from getting a visa to most countries? it can even get you placed on a mandatory DNR!) accompanying this, i do not care what a system’s origin is. as a plural person, i couldn’t give less of a shit. if you say what you’re experiencing is plurality, i will believe you. trying to determine who “is and isn’t actually plural” does nothing but give fuel to those who will fake-claim us no matter how much proof we provide. you are helping divide our community and prevent mentally ill people from getting support that could save their lives.

-proshippers are annoying as fuck and i hate you all. no, you are not “just anti harassment,” in fact it’s a favorite hobby for quite a few of you. i do not identify as “anti ship” but having an integral part of your identity being that you think shipping a grown man with a child is fine tells me something about you that you somehow haven’t realized about yourselves. and no, you being a trauma survivor does not absolve you of abhorrent behavior. at this point it’s not even the content itself that worries me, it’s the relationship you people have with it. you can’t even handle the most mild criticism or discomfort about it. quit bragging about how uncomfortable you make everyone and really evaluate yourself.

-lolicon/shotacon is pedophilia. if you have some sort of objection to that you should really be looking up direct translations of the words you choose to identify yourselves with. terminology aside, no matter how much you try to insist “fiction doesn’t always effect reality,” that fictitious drawing of child rape is certainly effecting the reality of your now-erect cock. consider checking yourself before you get checked into a correctional facility.

-paraphiles deserve understanding and recovery. you are not going to eliminate things like pedophilia and zoophilia by arresting them, or worse, killing them, for feelings they can’t control. the solution to these things is easy access to therapy so they can work through those feelings and hopefully be rid of them one day, or at least no longer be a threat. most paraphiles do not want their paraphilia much less to act on them, and even those who do will not benefit from incarceration.

-the way some of you engage with fictional characters is disgusting. no, vriska serket was not a “girlboss” for telling the person she physically disabled to “apologize for being cr*ppled.” no, you do not think valentino is “just a really interesting villain” when i can see you talking about how sexy he is in the scene where he rapes the protag, followed by woobifying him and never addressing his actions at all. please get off the internet. it is genuinely disturbing the way you talk about these characters and it makes me deeply concerned about how you would act if you ever learned to shut off your computer. and yes, it is that deep.

[razorsadness]

In the grand tradition of me, I started this journal entry ages ago, but then more stuff kept happening before I could finish it. Let’s see if I can get it all down—

I’ll start with the hard things.

There's my perpetual broke-ness; trying to prepare for the impending holidays while not having a lot of money to buy gifts. And that's fine for my friends and most of my family members—they appreciate handmade gifts. But for my kids? Well, I'm hustling every day to have enough money to buy them some gifts. (It's especially difficult because C.’s birthday is four days before Xmas, so we have to buy gifts for that, too.)

There's a struggle I'm having in regards to my mom; I've written about that extensively in my private journal and don't feel like rehashing it here right now, because it makes me too upset.

And D.'s been struggling again, with anger, and with (lack of) focus. I’m not sure if we need to increase the dosage of his meds or what. I hope that he gets into equine therapy soon (he’s on a waitlist), because my cousin S.’s daughter M. tried years of different meds and talk therapy for her depression and anxiety and PTSD, and none of that has helped her as much as equine therapy has. In the meantime, we’re trying to limit his video game time, because even though gaming is his favorite thing, it also brings out his rage like nothing else.

There are my own mental illnesses and disabilities, which can make even good days turn pretty shit.

And there have been some writing rejections, which have sucked on two levels. One being that these were paying publications, and I fucking need the money. The other being that getting rejected just fucking sucks. (At least rejections no longer send me into a I'm never writing again spiral like they used to; though they do occasionally send me into an I’m never submitting again, fuck traditional publishing, I’ll self-publish everything from now on spiral.)

But then there’s so much good (or at least happysad) stuff, too. I’ve been writing a lot; mostly poetry but also some prose. I’ve been working on my Rimbaud translations again, and now I finally know what I’m going to do with them. I’ve been reading a lot—new and new-to-me stuff, plus rereading some of my perennial favorites. Same with music and television/movies—I’m spending about equal amounts of time on discovering new things and rediscovering old favorites. I’ve been doing as much as I can both dayjob-wise and side hustle-wise and activism-wise, but also trying to take it easy on myself when I need to rest. Speaking of rest and self-care, I’ve been drinking less coffee and more tea. (Even caffeinated tea is better for me than coffee; too much coffee makes me jittery and anxious, whereas caffeinated tea does not do that, no matter how much I drink. Also, I’ve been having a lot of stomachaches lately, and coffee makes them worse whereas tea actually helps.) And speaking of dayjobs, P. has started actively applying for work again. I’ve been spending a lot of time in my favorite places here in Racine, and thinking about how much I love it. It’s funny, for a lot of years I thought I’d rather live anywhere other than here. Even when I did move back, I thought it was only temporary. But sometime in the past eight years (around the time I became Poet Laureate) it started to feel like home, and I will be sad when I do leave it.

On the 9th, I drove down to DeKoven (a place I have written about a lot over the years, including in one of the pieces in my most recent zine), to the art gallery there, to set up for our art and poetry event. It was a perfect fall day; leaves wet from recent rain, a chill wind off the lake. I helped hang the art and set up the sculptures; I also hung my poems on the wall next to the pieces which inspired them, and added relevant decorative embellishments with oil pastels. I remembered how much I like being involved in the actual set-up of an art show. And I got to see some folks I hadn’t seen in a while, and also met a few new people, including a gorgeous woman named K. It was her birthday; she was wearing a gold glitter jacket, shedding sparkles everywhere, and she brought cupcakes and sparkling grape juice to share with everyone. By the time I left, it was full dark, and there, over the lake to the south, was the skyline of Kenosha, glittering gold in the blue-black.

Two nights later was the art and poetry event, so it was back to DeKoven, hat on my head and boots on my feet, jazz on the radio. It turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a few months. I drank a La Fin du Monde; one of my favorite beers since I first tried it in Montreal twenty goddamn years ago. All the art was amazing; all the poets writing in response to it wrote amazing stuff. I love poetry readings like that, where everyone has very different styles but they are all so fucking good.

I got to see two more old friends for the first time in quite a while—J.E. and N.R. N.R. is one of my favorite people ever, like he is just the type of person who makes friends with everyone and is chill with everything. We were both drinking beer, and laughing about how back in the day we would’ve been smoking weed, too, but how now we can’t do both at the same time anymore or we just get sleepy. During the intermission, J.E. and I stood outside smoking cigarettes, and we talked about everything. I asked how he was, and he said, “Well, I don’t want to die most days anymore, so I’d say I’m doing alright.” And then he said: “I hope that’s okay to say, it’s just, you’re this person I trust that when you ask me how I’m doing, I can be honest about it, no bullshit.” And I said: “You’re absolutely right.” And then I went on to talk about how sometimes I still think ‘I wanna die,’ but it’s not really that I want to die, it’s that I want my life and/or the world to be completely different, and he totally understood what I was saying. Then we talked about parenting, the great parts and the hard parts, and we talked about living in poverty, and I just. I know I’ve mentioned it before but I’m so glad that we are friends now. As fucked up as we both were when we first met back in 2008, I’m so glad that after years of not talking to one another, over the past almost four years we’ve become close and now I consider him not just a casual acquaintance but a good goddamn friend.

I got a bunch of compliments on my poems/performance, including people saying my stuff reminded them of the Beats but that I’d surpassed them, and the poet who was set to perform after me saying “how am I supposed to follow that?!” I met a bunch of new amazing people that night, too. Like P.W., a Romanian man who was one of the artists that had work as part of the event; he had the sexiest accent and looked super sexy, too. I’m pretty sure he’s a bit younger than I am, but he’s fully silver-haired, and gorgeous. Like T., who was one of the artists and one of the poets, and he was wearing an amazing shirt—a button-down with a print of ink pots, fountain pens, and notebooks. And K. was there, too, because she was one of the poets, and her words were fire, and she was gorgeous in a tight dress and tall boots and a beret. After the performance part of the night was over, I hung out for a while, finishing my beer, talking with people. T. and I talked about God, and the mycellium network, and mycellium-as-God; we talked about Beat poets and bisexuality. He has such an interesting story. He’s in his 60s. He married a woman in his early 20s, and always knew he was also into men, but they were monogamous and he loved his wife very much. She died about five years ago, and he still loves her (I could tell just by the way he talked about her), but now he’s dating a man for the first time ever in his life, and loves his current partner very much, too. He also told me he found me fascinating, and wanted to write a poem about me. I talked with P.W. again for a bit, he said he’d like to paint me sometime if I’d be interested in modeling for him, and uh, well. I didn’t commit to anything, because I felt a spark of attraction and though I wasn’t sure if he felt one, too, I knew if he did it could turn into a complicated situation.

Then I went outside to have a cigarette. J.E. was already outside smoking, and P.W. and K. joined us, as well as K.’s friend that had come with her to the event. K. was out of cigarettes, so I rolled one for her. J.E. said: “I’m not gonna lie, your ‘Blue’ poem was kinda long, and I started getting a little sleepy while you read it.” P.W. said: “I didn’t think it was too long. I liked listening to you read it. If it did make me feel sleepy, it was in a good way. Like a beautiful lullaby.” Which, well, wow. We all stood quiet for a minute, smoking; smelling the shit smell wafting from the wastewater treatment plant. K. and her friend left.

Then this very drunk young woman walked up to us. She was swaying slightly on her feet, holding a plastic cup of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Turned out she was there for her sister’s wedding reception, which was being held in the great hall part of DeKoven. “Most of the people there other than my girlfriend are super boring and straight, but I didn’t want to stand alone while I smoked, and I saw your hat,” she pointed at me, “and decided to come over here. You’re not straight, are you?” she asked me. “No, no I’m not,” I said. “I knew it!” she said. “No straight person could pull a hat like that off so well!” Then: “Anyway. I’m L., I’m gay, and I have a useless English degree.” J.E. and I laughed, and said: “Join the club! We have useless English degrees too!” She said: “No, you don’t understand, mine is with a concentration in creative writing, so it’s extra useless.” “Us too!” we said. She went on to talk about how she’d tried to write fiction but her stories sucked so she gave up and now just worked in customer service. J.E. said: “Have you tried writing poetry?” But he said it in this sort of creepy, Waits-y growl, like he was some criminal or pervert in a trenchcoat, lurking in a dark alley, like: “Hey, kid, you wanna try poetry?” So I just fucking lost it at that. When I’d stopped laughing, J.E. and I both tried telling her in all seriousness that well, of course most writers, including ourselves, do non-creative writing work to pay the bills, but that we still write. We told her that, in fact, that’s why we were there that night; we’d just done a poetry reading. Then the topic moved on to where we were from/lived. L. said she was from San Diego originally but now lived with her girlfriend in Brooklyn: “But not the cool part. The part that sucks.” Soon after, a very dapper, short butch woman came running over: “There you are!” she said to L. “Oh, hey everyone,” L. said, “this is my girlfriend.” Then, to her girlfriend: “I came over here because of her hat,” she said, pointing to me again. “It is a great hat,” said her girlfriend. “Thank you for taking care of my lost puppy,” she said. “I was in the bathroom when she disappeared and I got worried.” “We should probably get back to the reception,” L. said, rolling her eyes. “You guys should come crash it! There’s plenty of free beer and wine!” And they walked away. I considered it for a split second; that’s the kind of thing I would’ve done in a heartbeat in my younger days, and it has been a very long time since I’ve done anything that spontaneous and wild—but it was already 9:30 and I had to get home to put C. to bed.

“I should probably get going,” I told J.E. and P.W. “Yeah, we’re gonna leave soon, too,” J.E. said. “I’m crashing at P.W.’s place because he only lives a few blocks from here, and I’m too drunk to drive all the way back to Kenosha.” “You could stay there, too,” P.W. said to me, “I mean, if you don’t feel safe driving far.” The smile on his face told me everything I needed to know: Yep, he felt something, too, and may not have been offering his house as a crashpad for wholly gentlemanly reasons. Again, I considered it for a split second. Again, something I would have done in a heartbeat in my younger days… “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. I’ve only had one beer and I don’t live that far away.” I waved goodbye and walked to my car. A little sad that I wasn’t crashing a wedding or crashing at a relative stranger’s house, but mostly just buzzed from the great night, the art and poetry and all the beautiful people I met. I remembered, for the one millionth time, how much happier I am when I can get out in the world and be among other people.

Two days later, C. and I went to the library. Everything was beautiful, the lake and the wind and the golden light. They were having craft day in the kids’ department, doing a Diwali craft, so we stayed for that. They showed a short video about Diwali and then had the kids do a modified version of Diwali sand art—glued onto plates, rather than just free-form. C. had a lot of fun with it. That day was also D.’s birthday, my first baby is twelve now, which is wild to me. We celebrated at my parents’ house. D. really loved his disco ball piñata; I’m so glad we were able to make that happen. Two days after that, C. and I met my mom downtown. It was another gorgeous day, sunny, warm for the time of year; we walked around, went into some shops, I took photos of jukeboxes and cigarette machines sitting in the window of a closed-down store. And another two days after that, P. and I took the kids to Mound Cemetery, to visit the Native American burial mounds, as well as to see some of the old graves. The next week and a bit was work, activism, the dailinesses of life, taking food to my favorite neighbor. Then Thanksgiving, which was less stressful than holidays with my parents often are, though not without some hiccups because I don’t think there can be a holiday without some kind of stress.

Two days after that, I drove to DeKoven again; I was meeting some of my poetry friends there so we could record our videos for next year’s Woodland Pattern Poetry Marathon. I had to run a couple errands first, and on my drive through downtown, I saw a group of young (late-teen or early-20s, I couldn’t tell) punks, and they reminded me so much of myself and my friends at that age, and it made me so happy that there are still punk kids stalking the streets of midsized midwest cities, looking simultaneously tough and awkward. N.R. and J.E. were at DeKoven for the recording session, along with S.K. and J.P. N.R. had brought a small cooler full of beer, and so he and J.E. and I each drank one. In between recording, the five of us talked about relationships and food and publishing and poetry and various other topics. After I’d recorded my poems, both of which mentioned ghosts, we talked about ghosts. J.E. asked me if I believed in ghosts. He said he’d had weird experiences that could’ve been ghostly, but he wasn’t sure if he wholly believed or not. I said I’m kind of the same way—I’ve had experiences that I can’t explain away with a more ‘rational’ explanation, but I can’t say with 100% certainty that they were paranormal experiences, either. “I guess you could say I’m a ghost agnostic,” I said. Then I mentioned that DeKoven and the area surrounding it is supposedly one of the most haunted places in Racine; I said I’d had weird experiences on the grounds in the past but never any in that particular building. Less than thirty seconds after I said that, we all heard a noise in the room above us, like footsteps walking across the room, and then a door opening and shutting, softly. There was no one else in the building at the time. It was really as though a ghost heard our conversation and was like: “Oh, you’ve never had an experience in this building before? Oh, you’re not sure you believe in ghosts? How about now???” After we’d finished recording, we all hung out for a bit, and then I got ready to leave. N.R. said: “I’d like to hug you, if that’s okay,” and it was, and I was pleased because I love hugging my friends, but there are times when I’m not in the mood, and it’s nice when people check. When I left, it was dark, and I saw the waxing moon and Saturn, both rising over the lake. My parents were watching the kids for the afternoon/evening, so P. and I got to have an at-home date night. We had good sex and then cooked a great dinner.

The next day it got a lot colder, and snowed, and we had a cozy-at-home day; I spent most of the day drinking tea and reading, and also made some cookies. The day after that I felt under the weather—not an illness, just a flare-up of my recurrent issues—but I took it easy, with more tea and reading. The day after that, my period started, much earlier than I was expecting it. Over the past couple years, when my cycle changes due to stress or illness, my period now starts early; when I was younger, stress or illness always made it late. I don’t miss the pregnancy scares, but I do hate that I have to bleed even more frequently now. But it wasn’t so bad, no cramps this time. And that evening, P. and I got to have a delicious holiday stout at the pub where we went to pick up dinner for us, the kids, and my parents. The night after that, I got the news of Henry Kissinger’s death, and said good fucking riddance, it was nice to hear about a death that in no way made me sad.

And then, within five minutes of waking up on Thursday morning, I saw the news that Shane MacGowan had died. And I just…I don’t know how to explain all the things this has brought up for me. I’m working on a longer piece for my newsletter, about Shane and The Pogues, but in the meantime, I’ll just say… I mean, I already had a bunch of Pogues songs saved as drafts on my blog, and I’d already been listening to them a lot, starting in mid-November. November and December are Pogues months for me. Because of the weather, but also because of certain November/December memories which are attached to Pogues songs. And Filia and I were texting about it, because she gets it, understands why this is so devastating, was just as devastated, and I miss her, I will always miss her. And of course it got me thinking about Joe Strummer’s death, twenty-one fucking years ago, how she was the one that broke the news to me, over the phone, after I’d just gotten home from visiting her, and somehow Shane’s death feels close to Joe’s death. I don’t mean time-wise, obviously; I mean, in terms of how sad it makes me. Or something. Fuck. And I said on my main blog that Filia is the only person I know IRL who gets it, but of course that’s a lie. Because there’s also fucking Derry. He fucking knew Shane, like, personally (not super well, but still), and the night he first kissed me is one of the November nights attached to a Pogues song (see: A Foggy Night in Lakeview, the lyric essay/mini-zine I wrote about that night and “A Rainy Night in Soho.”), and. Well. We’ve already opened up the lines of communication between us again in the past year and a bit and I knew that if I didn’t email him he was going to email me anyway, so I sent him a message. He responded later that day, and I miss him, I will always miss him.

The rest of the day wasn’t terrible. I made that Saint MacGowan art piece. It was a warmer day, so C. and I took a long walk around the neighborhood. We picked up nature treasures, and saw the silliest doggo, who barked at us and then kept bringing toys up to the window and shaking them, as though it wanted us to come inside and play—and when we of course did not, he’d go get another toy and bring it over, as though it was the toy that was the problem and not the fact that he was inside and we were out. Later, I made a delicious tikka masala for dinner. Then, I rearranged my altar, lit some candles, turned on The Pogues, and said a slainté for Shane. I was having this conflicting feeling about drinking that night, given Shane’s lifelong struggles with addiction, and my own past struggles with it. Part of me thought about never touching a drop of alcohol again; part of me wanted to get shitfaced. Ultimately, I did neither. I drank one Guinness, and the shot of Jameson I’d been saving for some unspecified occasion—Thursday night was that occasion.

The next day, I got double-vaxxed. CoViD and flu. The pharmacist that administered the vaccines was cute and kinda punky looking, and the vaccines themselves didn’t feel too bad. But I started feeling woozy within in an hour of receiving the vaccines, and felt like death warmed over for about 48 hours afterward. Sweats, chills, body aches, fatigue, brain fog, painful swollen lymph node in my armpit, the whole bit. I took it super easy Saturday; just laid around in bed drinking tea, reading, watching documentaries, and crying a lot. P. made stir fry for dinner. Yesterday I still took it pretty easy, and I felt mostly better by late afternoon. We roasted a chicken and some potatoes and asparagus for dinner; a simple comfort meal that was perfect for a chill-damp Sunday night.

I have jury duty this week (which is the reason I got double-vaxxed), and I’m hoping I don’t have to go in. I called in last night about today, and there are no new cases going to trial, so I’m off the hook for today at least. Today is National Cookie Day, and the kids want to make gingerbread cookies, so that’s my main plan for the day. Next Saturday is the last BONK! ever, and I’m so fucking sad about that, you have no idea. It has been going on for fifteen years. I have been a performer and an attendee so many times. I have given some of my best performances there, and seen so many other amazing poets and musicians. It makes me want to start my own performance series, just to keep something like that going in this town, but I have no idea how to go about it.

Other things from these past weeks: Intense, vivid dreams. Some hot ones—I’ve recently had sex dreams about both [redacted] and [redacted]. Others that wreck me when I wake up and realize they’re just dreams—like the one I had last week, in which Jack Terricloth was still alive, and Maggie and I were still friends. Memories of old friends and lovers—those gone from the world or just gone from my life, and those still alive and in my life (but the memories of how we were, back when). Moments of intense, unbidden nostalgia; of slipping in and out of times past. A certain hat or pair of boots, a certain smell or taste, a certain song, and suddenly it’s 1999, 2003, 2004, 2007, 2008, 2010, 2015, 2019. Moments of the DJs on my favorite radio station playing songs that are deeply relevant to either my mood or what I’m thinking about, as though they’re reading my mind. Watching possums in the yard. Melancholy weather—when it got colder and snowed, everything was beautiful for a few days, but then it warmed up slightly, and now it’s that late November/early December season. “Locking,” Kurt Vonnegut called it. Or, to misquote Sylvia Plath: the best of autumn gone, the new winter not yet born. Cold, but not cold enough to snow. Mist and fog and rising damp.

And my heart breaks every goddamn day. From the pain of life and the world, but also from the beauty.

[kyuhyawn]

[REPOST] KARA - another side to the story

*//OneHallyu will be closing end of 2023 so I just need to archive this here. Original OneHallyu date of post September 8, 2013 by ultraman88: https://onehallyu.com/topic/21763-kara-another-side-to-the-story/

This is a translation of a post done by a K-Kamilia. Her Naver Blog is called "Infinite-dol and Growth-dol (Kara)"

She is a fan of both Infinite and Kara. She knows a lot about fandom stuff.   Here is the link to the post:  http://blog.naver.co...12345/194687267   Here is the screen shot of the post (the blog is right-click disabled).  (she posted on 9/7/2013)   My translation is below the image.   She is mostly talking to the Elves, who are going bat nut over this Kyuhun thing.

You can believe this or not. It's up to you. But, this is from a person who knows more and better than most of all you foreign fans out there.

And I don't work for DSP.

Translation begins: I’ve been feeling really awful since last night. I am writing this because I was just going to ignore it at first but felt I had to clear the misunderstanding.   Please watch the video clip that is causing the problem.

Some people are saying that at the 4 minute mark Seungyeon is saying let’s got out, how unlucky, and how annoying and such. (In Korea, to say they are unlucky and how annoying in front of the senior is reallllly rude. Although, to say unlucky is the same [same words] in Korean, it’s the connotation and situation that matters and to say it in front of them in this situation would be like a total rudeness, including ‘how annoying’.) I’ve listened to it over and over but I don’t hear it.  I don’t hear her saying ‘unlucky’ but I hear let’s go out and clean your face. And I can’t understand where you are hearing ‘how annoying’. I agree that KARA may have made a mistake on RS but the way people are accusing them as if Kara committed a murder or something is totally out of line. It is absolutely unbecoming.   And they even issued an apology but you guys keep at it. They are sorry but I think the Elves with no right mind are much worse. I was not going to say this, but I’ve decided to write this after a much thought.   I have an acquaintance who works as a staff on the show Radio Star. When I was talking to the staff, subject of Kara incident came up. Per the staff, this is not Kyuhyun’s fault and much of this incident’s fault lies with the show staffs.   The staff stated, DSP refused many times when we were trying to get them on the show RS because they knew that the obvious dating issue of Hara would be brought up.   However, RS promised that they would not bring up the dating rumors, and DSP said that they will have KARA on the show but you must promise not to bring up the dating issue.   And during the pre-taping interviews, the Kara member insisted many times NOT to talk about the dating rumors. The staffs indicated that they understood but during the actual taping, they talked about the dating story/rumor for almost 40 minutes.   The members just acted cool about it when it first came up, but the members became much more flustered and panicked when the dating rumor talks got more intense and pointed, and it lasted and lasted.   Therefore, the emotions of all came at once and they started crying. And, Hara did not throw the water bottle but it was rolled.   What Seungyeon said about ‘we hear the stories as well’ is NOT what that they hear stories of SuJu dating rumors at all, but that Kara members also hear the mean comments and dating rumor related stories about Hara.   Furthermore, about Jiyoung, Jiyoung cried due to many other reasons.   After sudden breakdown of Hara, it was an extremely awkward moment considering the atmosphere when they asked her to do Aegyo. Plus Jiyoung got flustered when they all of sudden asked her to do aegyo when they were talking Hara’s rumors.   And, it seems to be edited out but Kim, Gura pressured Jiyoung with scary and harsher speech.  Jiyoung got upset and emotional because she got flustered at the moment. It was first for her to see him act angry way (somewhat). But, most important thing is that after that incident, she apologize on the show and even after the show she apologized again to all the MC’s. I don’t understand why people are all after Jiyoung when she even apologized on the show.   Furthermore, I was told by my staff friend that after the taping and once the show was broadcasted, one of the staffs of RS and Kyuhyun were exchanging some texts. That is, my friend’s colleague was sending texts to Kyuhyun and while exchanging some words, the issue of Kara’s attitude on the show.

Kyuhyun said that he watched the broadcast as well. He also felt that the viewers may have felt somewhat disappointed and annoyed; however, from his point of view, Kara is one of the most respecting and polite idols out there. And he also accepted the incident as a joke and all but he is feeling quite frustrated and concerned that the hoobaes that he cares about are getting this kind of hate for just one incident. He said that he felt multiple instances to write about (on SNS) how KARA girls are the most polite and nice girls but felt that that might cause more problems for the girls. So, he decided not to write it.   The girls are so polite that they would bring drinks to their seniors in waiting rooms, concerned that they might be thirsty, so even all of SuJu members are flustered with this situation.   Plus, on the day when this whole issue blew up, Sungyeon and Jiyoung called him again to apologize; however, when he sees this situation, he is quite worried that KARA might become afraid of variety shows in the future.   *My acquaintance staff asked the other colleagues what did Seungyeon say when she was comforting Hara after she cried. They indicated Seungyoen said, “let’s go out, go clean up your face”. And she was going to turn around and ask the show staffs nearby to ask if it was okay to go to the restroom but one of the staffs brought some tissue papers. So, they didn’t go to the restroom.   This is all I heard from the staff.   I admit that KARA made some mistakes on the show. They will have to reflect on it. However, I think it is totally wrong to criticize the girls as if they committed a murder or something. People make mistakes. Idols are people so they also make mistakes. Didn’t Shindong even praise Jiyoung the last time? No, when you see how KARA treats their fans, they did not forget their early days. Why would an idol group that forgets their early days hand out a pack of Dunkin Donuts to each of several hundred people, buy ice cream, give lunch packs?   It could be that their conditions were not the most optimal that day. But most of all, I don’t feel that they deserve to be getting so much hate like this when they all apologized toward the end of the show.   As I stated above, Seungyeon apologized to Kyuhyun, and even Nicole and Gyuri took up responsibility and apologized as well. As a fan of Kara, I feel awful to be witnessing them this kind treatment as if they are impolite girls when they are the nicest ones.   It is appreciative to point out someone’s mistake; however, if too much, it can become poison. If you all act so emotional wouldn’t the SuJu members feel worse when all of SuJu members think of Kara as very good hoobaes? Both Yoon, Jong-shin and Kim, Tae-hee PD said the taping was finished well. It is totally unnecessary to send this kind of overwhelming criticisms like this.

Thank you for hearing what I had to say.