#impact of the compass

[goodoldbandit]

The Revolutionary Impact of the Compass: Navigating the World with Precision and Vision

https://gob.stayingalive.in/revving-up-knowledge-unveil/the-revolutionary-impact-of.html Discover how the invention of the compass revolutionized navigation, enhancing global exploration, and trade, and connecting distant lands with precision. The Compass: The modern compass, as a navigational tool, has a long history and its development spans different cultures. The earliest known discovery…

[rhae-ali]

One thing about me is if I see an evil mother, she WILL be my favorite character.

Love it when moms are obsessively protective over their children and/or instill them with power.

[thesoftestmess]

Thinking about focalors saying furina's humanity is what made her perfect, but sending her on a 500 years long quest where she had to divorce herself from her humanness every single day anew.

Furina having to keep up a show of distance to humanity and having to put herself above her fellow humans, while encouraging Neuvillette, who has never been human, to mingle with them and learn to understand them.

Focalors inviting Neuvillette into the palais and knowing damn well something as strong as Furina's love and care for humans will inevitably rub off on him and there's nothing he could do about it.

Focalors loving and admiring humanity so much that she trusted herself, her human form, enough that not even a mighty ancient dragon could exist for centuries next to Furina's deeply kind and compassionate heart and be immune to it.

It wasn't only time that made Neuvillette unable to declare fontainians guilty after everything. It undoubtedly was also his Lady Furina meeting personally with her citizens, throwing big social banquets on her birthdays and visiting the sick and elderly in their homes.

Caring about the young and the old, remembering their names and bloodlines and their countless life stories.

There's something so special about the theme of humanness between Furina and Neuvillette and how it binds them together not just by fate, but by heart.

There's something special about him spending 500 years by the side of a human unknowingly, and it inevitably turning him into their ally, while Furina has no idea she's making it happen.

Loving humans comes naturally to her and this part of her could never be drowned out, not even by a painfully lonely and straining act of authority and godship.

There's something so heartbroken in Neuvillette's voice when he learns about her sacrifice and really, how could he ever declare humanity guilty for their mere existence when Furina was by his side sacrificing everything and then some for them for four centuries, regardless of how they treated or talked about her?

How could he ever leave her and her people to a doomed fate?

And a part of Furina telling him to get out and mingle with humans feels like she was saying "I know you don't like me much as an archon, but you would've loved me as a human" and she's right.

The moment she drops the act and moves out and goes on her very own healing journey, he falls hard.

Once the heavy presence of fate between them evaporates, he sees her clearly for the first time ever and what he sees is the very best of humanity. One of humanity's kindest and strongest and most determined.

So fragile and exhausted and half-ill from mental torment. Someone who certainly deserves the praises offered to a god, but who wears her human skin so much better.

Wears her heart on her sleeve, just like all her insecurities and flaws.

There's no act, no big secret, no impending doom hanging over their heads now, but she's further from Neuvillette's side than she's ever been and it makes him yearn for her in a way he doesn't know is utterly human.

And she's lying awake with the very same feeling.

[eternadreeblissa]

Ok but then a thought occurred to me

*SPOILERS FOR NUEVILLETTE'S STORY QUEST*

Yall remember the imposter SAGAU? Reader has been accused of impersonating creator of teyvat and everyone is after their head?

Imagine being in Fontaine and youre crying or grieving over your favorite characters or so persecuting and hunting you, being homesick and at the same time sick and beaten. Your tears reach the waters or lands of Fontaine. So when Nuevillette goes to find you through the water searching for your emotions and all...

Imagine how he'd react?

Ah, suddenly, the rain cries alongside you.

[mueritos]

i hope we continue to see more protests within the US military. i see a lot of leftists and folks who are anti-military who have such an open disdain for the people who are in the military, yet neglect to considering the conditions this country makes to produce ideology, poverty, and the illusion of choice to make all kinds of people choose to enlist in the military. You ever see those videos of ROTC kids recording each other asking why they joined the military and everyone's like, "healthcare", "it helped me go to college", "I was bored" or "free ptsd lol". I hate to remind everyone but folks who are in the military are people, too, and they are the same victims and perpetrators of violence as the rest of you, we have all been shallowly conditioned to view each other as enemies just because one person is wearing army greens and the other is not.

some of the biggest anti-war advocates are those who engaged in war. Veterans who genuinely believed they were protecting the US against "terrorism" come back with blood on their hands, and they choose to realize that it was US imperialism that forced them to carry out violence, instead of doubling down and shielding themselves from the fact that they too are capable of atrocities... This is a class of people who are intentionally conditioned to be as poor and as ideologically aligned to US imperialism so that the military has a never-ending pool to send their youth to destroy other country's youth. The only people I have ever heard say "do not join the military" are those who ARE military.

This is in no way to ever excuse or explain away any of the atrocious war crimes and violence this industry and its people have committed against others. What I am saying is that we absolutely cannot cast aside the individuals who have been victimized within US imperialism, even if they are wearing army greens. I was speaking with my Palestinian classmate last week and another classmate--a member of the US air force-- walked up to me and struck up a conversation. My military classmate showed me her new bird, bid both of us goodbye, and left. My Palestinian classmate asked me if I was close with her, and I said we talked quite often, and she said, "I never met a person who's in the military. I still hate the military, but I never knew that they did, too. I didn't realize that they were also victims."

If my Palestinian classmate--one who is actively watching her own community die--can understand that it is not individuals who are the problem but it is in fact systems, US imperialism, white supremacy, capitalism...why can't we all? And she has EVERY reason to hate any individual military member. A lot of online activism just creates more barriers. if your optics look bad, complicated, or contradictory, you are cast aside. Everyone has got the be the perfect activist, you can never make a mistake or share a half-baked thought, you should always believe every word from a marginalized persons mouth (because being marginalized doesn't mean you're not entrenched in white supremacy too!) and you should never question what you see...Do you know what you sound like? The very imperialists who are convincing poor whites to vote against themselves. Perfectionism is white supremacy. Black & white thinking is white supremacy.

I'd rather have a military member who genuinely believed in the US imperialism machine but was disillusioned after being deployed as my comrade than some leftist who cherishes the performance of "being a good person". I don't want "good people" in our movements. I want humans who care. I want humans who make mistakes and who learn from them. I want humans who accept the messiness of a person. I want humans who hold others accountable and allow themselves to take responsibility for their actions. I want people who change for themselves and others.

fight systems, not individual people. we can change each other, but if we're too preoccupied looking like the World's Perfect Activists, we will only consume each other alive. Connect to your fellow humans, forever and always.

[leawesomesloth]

I love you in every universe

Redtham’s weakness is hydro eidolon Kaveh (he is everyone’s weakness)

[chrysoula]

i have got to get this mess out of my head:

The Sumeru plot of Genshin Impact can at least be interpreted as a story about the power and necessity of unreason. The early introduction to the starving artist district, where those shunned by rational society for their emotional pleasures congregate, serves to set up the conflict between emotions and reason, heart and mind, dream and knowledge. (Between them lies understanding, which is where the tree of Wisdom grows. The people of Sumeru do not dream, and shun the dark (which is not the same as shunning the night. in darkness, you do not see, you feel, smell, taste, remember. You are not a mind in a machine, but a dream in a body alert and alive.))

Nilou was declared to have the biggest dream in Sumeru. I didn't see this addressed much in a serious way, but at least once upon a time, I thought I understood. Everybody knows she's the current Goddess of Flowers, even if they don't know the words to express that. That's what all her stories tell us. She has the power to tap into something primal, bring it to the surface, and share it with everyone. She might even be the dark side's akasha-equivalent, wordlessly communicating with her whole body, taking, reflecting back. Now, this is mostly a symbolic, metaphorical thing. But in the Kingdom of Dreams, metaphors are monsters, and monsters can be tamed.

Ahem. This is the stuff of dreams. But in Sumeru the dreams are everywhere. The world is thick with them. They cling to its people like spiderwebs and morning mist. Like the jungle, they have grown. In Sumeru, the dreams well up into the world. They find outlets. They find her. And the Sages are absolutely dependent on her for the samsara to work. She's basically the power source, the soul of the city.

[spacedlexi]

people dont talk enough about how heartbreaking the marlon betrayal mustve been for clem too,,

this dude saves the life of her and her kid. takes them in has them patched up gives them their first hot meal in who knows how long. gives them a safe place to stay. possibly permanently. confides in her that hes trying to be a good leader but feels like and fears that hes failing. asks her to help him take care of the rest of the group. helps her get over her fear of dogs by asking her to trust him. and things go well. she feels safe. like this place could really finally be the home shes been looking for

but as soon as she finds out what happened to the twins. that marlon planned on giving up her and aj too. she immediately becomes a liability to him and he attempts to kill her for it. locks her in the basement to die by walker. then tries to turn the group against her so he can shoot her instead when the first method fails. and he nearly succeeds

then a majority of the group turn against clem the minute aj kills marlon. ignoring marlons mistakes but condemning aj for his. like clem wasnt betrayed by marlon in the exact same way he betrayed the twins. like she literally wasnt almost killed twice? and how long had he been considering giving her up? was it always some contingency he planned? did he truly want to keep them around and things only changed when he feared the raiders had returned? she'll never know

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Alright, who did it?

Who told Wanderer he was allowed to be this cute in the Simulanka event?

((Spoilers in tags))

[yoimix]

「 from eden 」

if the rtawahist theory of parallel universes is true, you are certain that you would hate ALHAITHAM in every single one of them. 

it is an ambitious theory, however. alhaitham calls it fiction.

“that’s not what the algorithm does,” he grumbles, lowering his head to rest his forehead against his palm. he looks nearly as distressed as a pyro fungus on water.

“i did not draw the wrong chart.”

“you filled in incorrect values.”

“no way.”

“i can’t believe i’m here with you at 3am.” he heaves his deepest sigh yet, mingling into the cold air outside puspa cafe. you prefer the warm, coffee-scented interior, but to get your words across, you need them to ring inside his thick skull.

“well, what else were you gonna do? sleep?” you roll your eyes.

“yes.”

you pull a face at his expressionless response. 

“now, let’s go over the algorithm again,” he presses, eyes piercing enough to draw you closer, and bowlike lips sporting his regular frown. there is no need for him to be here. he just happened upon you at the cafe five hours ago, just to point out the mistake in your assignment. of course, that didn’t end well. you’d rather deep fry and eat a consecrated shell than let a man tell you how to solve your problems. so, he didn’t need to be here. he just never left.

the answer to that is simple: in every single universe, he will choose you over anyone else.

not that you’re aware. alhaitham makes sure you never will be. he’s unfamiliar with languages of the heart; and no amount of your biting remarks and teasing voice, your pensive smile and zaytun perfume, will get him to pronounce the syllables right.

he looks over at you, your full lips moving at rapid speed as you reiterate the contents of your lecture. the side of your neck is exposed, and the distance isn’t so wide that he can lean in comfortably. no, if he did, his shoulder would touch yours, and his hot breath would be against your skin. then maybe he’d get to hear your words die in your throat. these few inches are haphazard, bordering the lines between friends and a face you cannot stand. 

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy, he thinks.

“even if this language has the structure you claim, it’s nearly impossible to know. this poem could be dating to thousands of years ago!” you exclaim, growing frustrated, “are you sure about this? i’m starting to think it can’t be deciphered.”

you’re done with translating the first part. it is as abstruse as can be, and you’ve been scratching your head over it for the past three days. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to solve it like a riddle, or agonize through the steps of the translation algorithm to complete. though, the embodiment of agony is already seated beside you.

what is the difference between me and the sky? 

hell, if you know. you’re not even sure what’s happening anymore. the letters float across your vision, little taunts in their movement. teetering on the edge of dropping out, you groan again.

“i think you should get some rest,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

your shoulders sag, and alhaitham wonders if he said something wrong. 

“don’t patronize me.”

“i am not.”

“i never know what you mean, and what you don’t,” you mutter, picking up your pen again to scribble notes on the corners of the paper. it contains alhaitham’s neat explanations, arrows indicating grammar and some numbers signifying the presumed utilization years of this lost language. yours looks like a little kid’s next to his.

but i say what i mean, he thinks. is there a point to saying it out loud? his chest constricts at the idea of you curling your lips, dismissing his chest laid bare for your predefined ideas. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. but something in your voice betrays this thought of his. 

his aventurine eyes settle over you. but you bear no distaste, only mild annoyance from this wall you’ve hit. he must say, you’re a commendable scholar. the relentless pursuit of knowledge has far more meaning than simply possessing it, and he’s seen your weary form in the house of daena at too many midnights. you are self-sufficient and he’s certain you’ll arrive at the answer anyway.

“i’ll be leaving then,” he says, standing up. “i hope your darshan doesn’t find you groveling by a stack of papers in the morning. it’s rather unbecoming of their paragon.”

a shout of exasperation leaves you, your shoulders tense.

“it’s because of you the haravatat are known as snobs!” you shoot, crossing your arms.

“it is your choice to believe in rumors,” he responds, idly gazing at your form. “it reflects you more than me.”

“do you always have to be so robotic?”

“i’m more well off than most, so i doubt changing my mannerisms will be of benefit to me.”

you exhale, on the verge of exasperation. “do you ever hear yourself? i can’t imagine the agony your poor roommate goes through.”

“kaveh has nothing to do with this.” he grits his teeth. 

“no one has anything to do with you, alhaitham.” you stand up, glaring at him. “to you, people are no different from cats, or dogs, or- or flies—you don’t seem to understand that our languages were made to bring us closer.”

“they were invented for communication. a group that understands each other survives longer.” 

that is true. but you’re not wrong either, even if you’ve chosen more romantic phrasing. 

“i think—”

“archons,” you fume. “what about poetry? and literature, and dedication pages at the start of novels? we do it for each other.”

“your own perception adds substance to sentimental texts. i cannot agree with the poets. they led far different lives than i do.”

you scoff. “your little bubble of comfort is all you care about, don’t you? pray tell why you bothered with this anyway. was it to stroke your own ego? i... i genuinely believed you wanted to help.”

that one stung a little.

“you seem to have an entire image of me already. do i have to be present here?”

you heat up in the face, nearing a boiling point. you’ll have to apologize to enteka for causing a commotion; but your mind is heavy and you cannot quite think clearly. 

“i understand that you don’t bother with what people think of you. but you could at least be honest with me- without- without your damn glaring, or sarcasm or—”

“i don’t look at you with the intention to glare.” he raises his voice for once. “i cannot let you see what i’m experiencing because i don’t know what it is yet—and it is imperative you don’t poke your nose into this.”

his chest heaves as he steadies his breathing. there is nothing you can say, not when you’re taken aback by his quiet outburst.

“and i’m not frowning like you think i am. i am simply not wearing an expression at all. my collection is unordered but i mark my books alphabetically when i lend them to you. i say i bring an extra cup of coffee to have a second fill even though i know you will ask to have it. i despise the conditioning in people that they must pair up in meaningful ways for a good life. and despite that...”

he catches his breath, not realizing he was holding it in.

your eyes have softened by now, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“...if i were to end my speculations and call this love, i would be satisfied.”

you part your lips and close them again. to expect an answer, perhaps, is a grave overestimation on his part. some things are better left unsaid. it’s how languages die.

alhaitham sighs. “right. it’s too strong a word. i mean to say i feel comfortable around you. and content. though i never thought there was anything amiss in my life. as for affection, i am not familiar with this kind. and—”

you cup his face, still at a loss for words. “you talk so much. i never realized.”

“last time, you said i don’t talk enough.”

“i just like the sound of your voice.”

he purses his lips, and swallows his words. once more, you have decided to speak in a language he has no expertise in. the drumming in his heart says he cannot wait to read poetry in it.

“no more sighing, haitham. and no more glaring. no sarcasm. and no irony.”

he furrows his brows, but he makes no attempt to release himself from your touch.

“say it again. your conclusion.”

his lips part, a sharp breath running through his lungs.

“i believe this is the notion of love. every gesture points to it.”

“is your head clouded?”

“no. it’s never been clearer.”

and he lets you lean in closer, closer till your lips are brushing against his.

“so?” you whisper.

it takes him a moment. he closes the distance, and though he has rarely felt devotion, he moves his mouth against yours in a fervent prayer. carefully, he rests his hand against the small of your back, more to steady himself than you.

this makes sense to him. you’re so familiar. like dragging his fingers on his mirror from ages ago, he finds you a perfect image of what could’ve been. you and him are pages of the same incoherent book, dancing between the same two sentences.

“for clarity’s sake,” he whispers, pulling away. “i say what i mean. i’ve lived long enough to know misunderstandings are beyond my control, and truth is something to be actively pursued to gain. but i cannot stand the screen between my words and your ears.”

his gaze is focused, unwavering. it’s the way he’s always looked at you.

“i know,” you respond, after a moment. “i know what you mean. and if it is your words that you want me to actively pursue—”

he clears his throat. “that- that is not what i said.”

“—then i will do so.”

you smile, and he can feel his lips twitch.

“well, i’m no genius...”

“neither am i,” he interjects softly. “but i’m persistent. i will keep trying, over and over. and if i’m not wrong, you’re the same.”

“you’re not wrong.”

have you always looked at him this way? he thought he’s seen all of your faces before. a new language blossoms in his mind. for once, literary devices are more than just devices.

“the poets are wrong,” you state, laughing bashfully, “it’s not so earth-shattering as i thought. maybe... maybe you were right on that part.”

a small smile forms on his face, and your breath hitches in your throat. “that’s ironic. i thought i finally understood them.”

“really? then do you know the answer to this ancient poem from the sands of hadravameth?” your eyes are curious as ever. “what is the difference between me and the sky?”

he recalls the lines from a long-buried poem, and they click in his head. the sands cannot swallow words as well as it swallows life.

“the difference, my love, is that when you laugh, i forget about the sky.”

[songsofwaterandnight]

Does, fictional character, Iorek Byrnison understand how much he inspired, real life person, me when he told Lyra that he wasn't afraid but that when he was afraid he would master his fear?

[swordsonnet]

sorry but saying that the accessibility needs of mentally disabled people are just preferences or about "comfort" is blatantly incorrect. if i can't enter a building because the bright lights and loud noises would send me into a meltdown, then i can't enter the building, and that's not less important than me not being able to enter a building because it's not wheelchair accessible. if you genuinely think that mentally disabled people aren't really struggling, and that it's okay to mock their very real concerns, then that just shows that you've been refusing to listen to their experiences. do better or shut the fuck up.

[yaoi-instigator]

my nonbinary fearfriend who hates me

[thesoftestmess]

you ever think about how fontaine would have been utterly doomed if it hadn't been for Furina's and Neuvillette's hearts being every bit as kind and compassionate as focalors forsaw?

[andersdotters]

What's really interesting as a concept is how different Rex Lapis is from Zhongli. Like they're practically two separate people. It's fun examining the differences. Like it's said more than once that he was more brawn than brain. But the Zhongli of today is seen as a very intelligent person. He has apparently destroyed a whole nation as Rex Lapis, but is more avoidant and passive as Zhongli. Is it aging that has caused him to change so much?

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset