#so many icelandic names...

[goldensunset]

this is what joy looks like to me

[heymrspatel]

⛰️ J 'n Ray's Great Icelandic Adventure ⛰️

yes please!!! lucky for you i've got this entire trip planned already, all you gotta do is hold my hand while we take a stroll on the black sanded beach and possibly make sure i don't drown at the blue lagoon. in reality the lagoon is not that deep, but you know... we hold on... just in case...

[astronicht]

Hi I hope this isn't presumptuous, but so, that post you made about Tolkien making the lads leave their weapons outside the hall and CS Lewis thinking the hall was gonna get burned down by a lady who also wanted to kill herself... what's the historical precedent for that? Is there a trope in medieval lit where people like... do that? I ask because uh. I am obsessed with Children of Hurin and there's a scene where that like, happens. And I'm obsessed with that scene, and would love to know if there's like, cultural/mythic context that would enrich my knowledge!

OH BOY, sorry I'm getting to this late, it's been uhhh a summer, but one, this is a very good question!! And two, yes there is absolutely precedent, particularly in early medieval literature, and high medieval literature set in the early medieval (circa 500-1100 AD) past. I'll let someone else debate how often people actually historically locked their enemies into a hall and burned them, but especially in Old Norse literature (and if Fellowship felt like it leaned a little more on Old English literature, Two Towers, where Eowyn appears, felt a little more Old Norse) this is common. Off the top of my head, you've got many Icelandic family feuds ending in burning the whole family in their hall, like Njal's Saga (Old Norse), Attila the Hun dramas (yeah he's a big guy in the burning halls circuit, but actually not in the way you might expect) like his cameos in Volsung Saga (Old Norse) and Nibelungelied (Middle High German), and my vague recollection of a few Irish and Welsh versions that no search engine is giving up for me right now.

This, predictably, got long and slightly off topic.

Disclaimer: As usual, I should say I come from an Old English-centric background, and Old English literature is actually notable among all its neighbors for not burning down too many halls. Second disclaimer, all links are not proper citations, they just go to wiki.

Hall-burning in literature is, to my understanding, part of the concerns of a few early medieval cultures in which revenge is not only expected but in many cases legally reinforced and codified, and one in which conflicts could spiral to engulf -- figuratively, or literally and in flames -- entire families. Many medieval Icelandic sagas are focused on this exact type of destruction of whole families or friendship/community units. Most relevant of these to Eowyn, Two Towers, and the vibes of Edoras (since alas I am only partway into RotK and can't speak to Children of Hurin yet!) is Volsung Saga, which is set on the Continent, not Iceland, and actually has to do with Attila the Hun. As mentioned before, an incredible amount of stuff turns out to have to do with Attila. We will come back to him!

So, on the particular post you're talking about, a few people iirc have replied pointing out that the hall in TT is clearly supposed to be based on a hall from Old English literature, namely the hall in Beowulf, which famously did not actually get burnt down. And that's all true! I was not posting with much nuance; I was mostly having a joke at the expense of CS Lewis. However, I was also referencing a very very common trope in Old Norse/early medieval stories, and I personally think JRR was as well (AND I think Beowulf was also very consciously referencing the exact same motif anyway) (no one has to agree with me, a tumblr blog, on any of these points).

The thing about the hall when our heroes approach is that the scariest damn thing in that hall is Eowyn. Certainly not every hall-burning story requires a woman with no other recourse to set the fire (in fact, the "warrior band approaches unknown hall which might have a grudge against them" is a trope that can get you killed in a pretty homosocial environment, as I guess Aragorn at least was aware, being a big reader). Still, the presence of a woman who is swiftly running out of options does fit what I'd consider one of the or perhaps The best known version of the early medieval burning hall trope: Gudrun, who shows up in at least a dozen different texts in both the Scandinavian and the German language traditions, including Volsung Saga, a text which itself often gets paraded around as the basis of lotr (which I'm sure it is, in that JRR appears to have simply and very fairly based lotr on every piece of early medieval vernacular literature I can think of).

In a portion of Gudrun's story (which of course changes a bit in each retelling), after her first marriage she is unhappily married to Atli, who is none other than our main man Attila the Hun. After Attila kills her brothers for reasons (in one version, her father), seeing no other way to take the necessary revenge and no other way out, she kills the two sons she had by him, serves them to Attila for dinner, has Attila killed, and then sets fire to the hall with everyone in it. After this, she attempts to drown herself.

The self-destruction of this act is a really important beat, and has only gotten more-so as a comparison to Eowyn the further I've read into RotK (currently, I'm at the houses of healing after merry and eowyn take on the witch king). It's a lot clearer in the book than the films, for me, that Eowyn going off to battle was not so a straightforward empowering and/or freeing move, despite allowing her some agency, but more the one path she saw as available to her with which to die with honor (which was pretty much exactly what Gudrun was facing as well). Like Gudrun, whose first husband was a great hero but has died, Eowyn's romantic choice is a hero who is presumed dead (sorry Aragorn they did Not believe in your ghost skills). In fact, in some versions Gudrun does put on armor and fight with her brothers before they're killed. She kills Attila with her own hand, with the help of another man who needs to avenge a blood feud against Attila.

So while Eowyn didn't get forced into marriage to Attila Wormtongue (with apologies to both historical Attila and that one historical skald also called Wormtongue who was reportedly hot) and burn the whole place down, she's still trapped, and like Gudrun chooses destruction alongside her household.

Reading her arc feels so much like watching Tolkien write a fix-it for Gudrun. What if she got this one little chance, and this one other little chance, and this one more -- tiny little shifts in the narrative that allow her to get out, and not through fire, and not through death.

Anyway, this got away from me. I hope it added some context to the Children of Hurin arson case! Thanks for the ask

[17unfinishedprojects]

Vintage Knitting/Crochet Patterns Masterlist

Recently, I’ve been getting really into more older styles of knit and crochet, and in my search for vintage patterns I’ve come across a ton of sites and articles that have been incredibly helpful to me, so I thought I’d share them all with you. The majority of these are free, and this post is still being updated as I find more. Hope you enjoy!

(p.s. most of the places you can get crochet patterns are in the ‘Misc.’ section bc most sites have both knit and crochet patterns)

Knitting:

vintageknittingpatternarchive.com

An archive featuring a variety of patterns from the 1920s-1980s

Pros:

Completely free

You can search by bust size, colorwork, yarn weight, decade, and clothing article

Also features some crochet patterns

Cons:

The site can be hard to navigate

vam.ac.uk

An article featuring a 15 clothing patterns from the 1940s

Pros:

Completely free

Cons:

Only has instructions for one size

sunnystitcher.gumroad.com

A collection of vintage knit clothing patterns from the 1930s-1970s

Pros:

A “name your own price” site, you can choose to pay $0 if you choose

Cons:

Not a lot of patterns

aranpatternarchive.com

A collection of vintage aran knitting patterns

Pros:

Completely free

Has a wide variety of patterns

Crochet:

antiquecrochetpatterns.com

An archive featuring a variety of vintage crochet patterns

Pros:

Completely free

A lot of home décor patterns

Cons:

Most of the clothing patterns are for babies and children

A lot of the patterns are currently unavailable due to the site being updated

Misc:

thevintagepatternfiles.blogspot.com

Pros:

Completely free

Has patterns in different languages, including Dutch, Finnish, French, German, Icelandic, and Russian

Has patterns dating back to the 1800s

You can search by size, clothing article, and decade

Cons:

The site can be a hard to navigate.

marymaxim.com

A collection of vintage knit/crochet patterns

Pros:

You can filter by pattern type and yarn weight

The patterns are relatively cheap, ranging from $0.99-$4.99

Cons:

No free patterns

You can’t filter by size

trove.nla.gov.au

A blog post featuring 2 vintage knit patterns and 1 vintage crochet pattern

Pros:

Completely free

Cons:

Patterns may be hard to read because they appear as old newspaper/magazine excerpts

antiquepatternlibrary.org

An archive featuring a variety of vintage knitting, crochet, embroidery, sewing, quilting, macrame, weaving, tapestry, and many more pattens.

Pros:

Completely free

Wide variety of patterns across many crafts

Cons:

Website has an older layout and can be hard to navigate

(p.p.s I didn’t put cons on a few of them bc I honestly didn’t find any. If you encounter any problems with any of these sites let me know and I will add that to the con list.)

(p.p.p.s. if you have any other websites you use for vintage patterns please share them I’m always in need of more)

[bodhrancomedy]

The Bard Who Returned to Fairyland in Search of a Name by Bodhrán M.

It was the ferryman who met the bard first, a beardless lad in a ragged cloak, broadbrimmed hat, and carrying nothing save an iron knife and one small pack across his shoulders. He watched with mild interest as the bard picked his way down the grassy knoll and onto the black-wood of the small dock, coming to a halt directly before the little boat.

Neither of them moved for a long while. Somewhere in the distance, an eagle screamed. 

Finally, the bard spoke.

“I wish to cross the river,” he said.

The ferryman leant on his oar and regarded him with rheumy eyes, pushing a lank hunk of wire-grey hair from his face. “Is that so?” he replied. “Do you have payment, my boy?”

“Yes, I do.” The bard withdrew a coin purse from beneath the green cloak.

“Coin won’t do, boy. Not what I dabble in.”

“I know,” the bard said quietly. He had an odd voice, the ferryman noted, with no hint of fear or trepidation or awe. “I bring seashells from the coasts of Ireland,” he continued, “filled with the songs of the selkies. I bring spices from the borders of India and China with many healing powers beyond that which we can understand, and a trollish crystal gifted by the giantess-queen of Iceland. I deal as little in money as you do.”

The ferryman was impressed, even if he didn’t show it. He dug a filthy black pipe from a salt-encrusted pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He waited, but the bard made no move to light it for him. Finally, he took a tinderbox from another pouch (this one being an oilskin gifted many years ago by a Swedish princess) and struck a spark.

“So,” the ferryman said, his words curled about the billowing black smoke, “you know what is across this river?”

“I know.”

“And yet you wish to cross it.”

The bard shrugged, almost as if to say that the statement was obvious enough that it did not need to be said. “Have I brought enough to pay for passage?” he asked.

“Of course,” the ferryman said as he stepped aside to allow the man to board.

But the bard did not. Instead, he gripped the brim of his hat and pulled it further down over his eyes. His voice was as steady as before, but lower and intertwined with steel. “Both ways?”

The ferryman’s eyes narrowed.

The bard stood there, waiting for an answer, one small hand on his knife.

Hemming and hawing, the ferryman felt a sting of disappointment and suspicion in his gut. He had ferried more hopefuls across this river than he had ferried back and there was almost nothing which he liked more than the faces of those who had returned to his boat having not taken the first precaution. They had thought ahead enough – many of these wanderers and seekers of mysteries and gold – to have gotten his word not to throw them into the cold water or have their treasures taken before they reached human land again, but they had not thought about payment for the return journey.

But seashells and spices were twice the payment for a crossing – and he had never owned a troll-crystal before. He’d heard that they could outshine the sunrises even in the frozen northern plains, that they were rainbow stars from deep within the ground. It would be something to treasure in the dark.

It was through gritted teeth, therefore, which he gave his answer. “Yes,” the ferryman said.

The hat bobbed as the bard nodded. “And I will reach each shore in the same condition as I board your boat, sir? Each way.”

“Yes,” the ferryman agreed sullenly. Then he thought and tried to not brighten in anticipation.

The bard either did not notice or did not care, but he stepped aboard with the ease of one used to the pitch and swell of river boats. He sat in the prow, half-turned so he could look across the water and still see the ferryman.

Clever, that.

Carefully, the ferryman untied the mooring rope and then pushed off the knoll with his oar. He began to pull through the water with broad, powerful strokes and so it was a matter of minutes before they reached halfway.

It was then that the ferryman felt safe in speaking again. Too soon and sometimes the young fools would see the error of their ways and pitch themselves into the water. Once you reached halfway, you were falling into enchantments rather simple cold. It did make him laugh, sometimes, to see them flail and splash their way back to safety. He liked to wave at the ones who lived, standing sopping wet and humiliated on the dock, and sing mocking laments at those who did not.

But he did not think that this young man would do so. Still, he waited.

“You off to fairyland, boy?” he asked cheerfully, “Here to see for yourselves the wonders your bardic forefathers taught you? To see if they’re as real as they say?”

The bard tilted his head and the ferryman saw a flash of white teeth from beneath the hat brim, bared in a savage grin.

“No, sir,” the bard said, “I am not merely going to fairyland, sir ferryman. I am going back.”

“Well, that’s a thing!” the ferryman exclaimed. He rubbed his chin with his free hand and added, “Not many people wish to test their luck twice.”

The bard shrugged again.

“And why have you returned?”

The hat tilted back and suddenly the ferryman saw the bard’s face clearly for the first time. It was even younger-looking than he’d expected, suntanned and heavily freckled, but harsh and set in furious determination. “That is my business and my business alone, sir ferryman,” the bard replied in cold tones. “For I know what you are as we have met before, and you told me in the mistaken belief that we would never cross paths again. And I know that changelings would do what they can to gain favour in the eyes of fairyland’s mistress. I would not give up my slightest advantage to satisfy your curiosity.”

Knocked back a little by the intensity of this speech and suddenly slightly afraid of why he would not remember this young man, the ferryman opened and shut his mouth a few times and said nothing in reply. He rowed on in silence, feeling sweat prickling on his brow. Either this passenger was a grand sorcerer of some great power, or he was an overconfident boy with a head full of stories. But he could not place a finger on either option without some unease. Neither felt right.

“It was curiosity, nothing more,” the ferryman mumbled. “I meant no harm in asking.”

“But you did mean harm in knowing,” the bard replied lightly. “And you could make harm in telling. I am no child, sir ferryman, and I understand how this all works.”

[i-am-dulaman]

Okay I'm riled up about this rn so time for a history of economics lesson (rant) from me, a stranger on the internet

I'm a communist, I hate capitlism, so lemme just put that out there. But capitlism had its moments. Even marx had some praise for parts of capitlism.

And by far the most successful form of capitlism was Keynesian economics, as evident by the enormous increase in living standards in those countries which adopted it between the 1930s and 1970s.

What's Keynesian economics? The idea that capitlism can't survive on its own, and must be supported by government spending at the poorest ends of society and taxes at the richest ends of society (essentially the opposite of trickle down economics) as well as strong regulations on certain industries like banking.

It basically started in 1936 with President Roosevelt who was a personal friend of John Keynes (who the theory is named after).

Roosevelt implemented Keynesian economics to great effect; he raised the top tax rate to 94% (he actually wanted a 100% tax rate on the highest incomes, essentially creating a maximum wage, but the senate negotiated down to 94%) and similarly high corporate tax rates, he created the first ever minimum wage, created the first ever unemployment benefit, created social security in America, pension funds, and increased public spending on things like public utilities and infrastructure, national parks, etc. Which created about 15 million public sector jobs.

This ended the great depression and eventually lead to America winning world War 2, after which many countries followed suit in implementing similar policies, including UK, Australia, and NZ (apologies for the anglosphere-centric list here but they're the countries I'm personally most familiar with so bare with me)

Over the next 40 years these countries had unprecedented growth in living standards and incomes, and either decreasing or stable wealth inequality, and housing prices increasing in line with inflation. Virtually every household bought a car and a TV, rates of higher education increased dramatically, america put a man on the moon, and so on.

Then it all abruptly ended in the 80s and the answer is plain and obvious. 1979 thatcher became UK prime minister. 1981 reagan became US president. 1983 the wage accords were signed in aus. 1984 was the start of rogernomics in NZ (Someone link that Twitter thread of the guy who posts graphs of economic trends and points out where reagan became president)

(Also worth noting those last two in NZ and Aus were both implemented by 'left' leaning governments, but they are both heavily associated with right wing policies.)

This marked the beginning of trickle down economics: tax cuts, privatization of publicly owned assets, reduction in public spending, and deregulation of the finance sector. The top tax rates are down to the low 30s in most of these countries, down from the 80s/90s it was prior. Now THATS a tax cut.

And what happened next?

Wages stagnated. Housing prices skyrocketed. Bankers got away with gambling on the economy. Public infrastruce and utilies degraded. And wealth inequality now exceeds France in 1791.

I don't know how anyone can deny the evidence if they see it, but there's so much propaganda and false information that a lot of people just don't see the evidence.

Literally all the evidence supports going back to Keynesian economics but now that the rich have accumulated so much wealth it's virtually impossible to democratically dethrone them when they have most of the politicians on both the right and the left in their pocket.

Unfortunately it was the great depression and ww2 that gave politicians the political power to implement these policies the first time around. Some thought the 2008 crash would spur movement back towards Keynesianism (which it actually did in Iceland, congrats to them), I hoped covid would force governments to now, but nope.

All these recent crises' seem to have just pushed politics further and further right, with more austerity and tax cuts.

I don't really have a message or statement to end on other than shits fucked yo.

[mr-jack-letterman]

HELLO HI

God I love the Submas fandom, all of you are so nice <3

In any case, I have a silly Au for y'all to munch on.

Allow me to introduce you all to Covalent Twins :]

Covalent

Adjective

- Relating to or denoting chemical bonds formed by the sharing of electrons between atoms.

Or in this case, the sharing of Emmet between 2 Ingos from different timelines NSNDNNDDD.

This Au is essentially the answer to the question: "doesn't being sent to the distant past inherently mean you are also now long dead in the future you just left?"

The answer is yes and no btw

The explanation for this involves a lot of time nonsense that I'm very bad at explaining but the Tldr is basically this:

When Ingo gets sent to the past, this creates a connection between the past and the future. This makes time get all fucky and split into two separate timelines (Timeline A and Timeline B)

Timeline A:

Time in this timeline runs parallel to the future as long as Ingo stays within it (essentially, if Ingo stays in the past for 2 years, then 2 years pass in the present).

Due to this connection, Akari (aka Dawn) gets sent to this timeline (But not Timeline B) and the game events of PLA play out (+ a lot more Ingo bonding because uncle Ingo supremacy)

Akari manages to get her and Ingo sent back home with the power of Arceus, causing both timelines to merge back together again into one cohesive line with only the events of Timeline B being remembered by history.

Ingo and Emmet get their happy ending.

This Ingo got sent to Hisui when he was 29, stayed there for 2 years, and went home when he was 31.

And Timeline B:

This timeline was created as a cannon fodder timeline so Akari and Ingo can keep doing time shenanigans in Timeline A without disturbing the space time continuum even more.

This timeline is therefore not connected to the future the same way Timeline A is.

The Ingo of this timeline (Nicknamed "War" or "Warden" for simplicity.) lives through the PLA game events but with Rei taking the place of Akari.

War doesn't bond with him the same way Ingo does with Akari because Rei isn't a faller.

The events of the game are the exact same (minus the Arc phone, Rei taking the place of Akari, and catching Arceus).

Despite Rei calming the nobles and catching Palkia and Dialga, he is still not the chosen hero. Warden is unable to go home or regain his memories.

Warden lives in Hisui and serves as a warden for the Pearl Clan for a total of 7 years before dying alongside his partner pokemon, Gliscor (nicknamed Nimbasa), while protecting Lady Sneasler from a Zoroark attack at the age of 36.

Warden drifts as a ghost for many years, with only Nimbasa the Gliscor as company. He watches his friends grow old, and eventually die. They pass on to the afterlife, but Warden stays on earth, wandering the Alabaster Icelands and Mount Coronet, searching for people from a life he can't remember even in death.

Warden watches as Hisui changes into Sinnoh. Jubilife Village becomes Jubilife City. Pokemon species die out and new ones are born.

As the world slowly becomes more and more familiar, the great Sinnohs, Palkia and Dialga, take pity on the lost warden, and decide together to lead him home.

It may take 150 years, and many miles of travel, but Warden is pulled by an unknown force towards the Unova region. Though he is unable to touch anything or speak to anyone, it's all so painfully familiar.

He is pulled towards Nimbasa city, (ah! That's where he got the name from!) and eventually to an apartment.

There, he is greeted by a young girl, barely 17. A man in black, who looks exactly like him, give or take a few years and a few scars.

And a smiling man in white. The man he has been searching for for over 150 years...

And they're staring at him, truly staring at him, not through him.

Why is the man in white crying?

*evil laughter.mp3*

So yeah! The twins have an older brother now :D

I mean he's dead and also Ingo just 5 years older and from a different timeline but still!!!

If you've made it this far I believe you deserve a gold star ⭐ and also some art for your troubles.

So here's War and Nimbasa ↓

And some fluffy interaction between War and Emmet as a bandaid.

If you guys have any questions regarding how this Au works, or are interested in seeing more of it, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask :D

I hope I enjoyed reading about my silly Au, even if it was a bit long lol.

*fades back into the void of Submas fics.*

[hyperfixatedhells]

hyperspecific sso nostalgia

"you have taken a dangerous fall" or falling off of a cliff so many times that you get taken back to your stable. also the screen turning red when this happened.

magic horses only turning magic if theyre away from civilization.

having to spam W or else your horse will slow down.

waiting for the bus and using the bus ticket.

using the circus ticket.

having to drag and drop items from your inventory.

jojo siwa at the disco.

spirit around jorvik.

collecting the stars and being so excited upon finding one.

certain horses being cold tolerant, [fjord, icelandic, etc] the others slowing down upon entering the valley of the hidden dinosaur.

finding gary goldtooth in the middle of nowhere.

low quality saddle bag pets and that stupid torn saddle bag.

not being able to stack items.

having to build reputation to progress.

the saving nightdust quest.

april fools updates, especially the 2016 supershire.

the summer bonfire event, the birthday event, the st. patricks day event, all of the holiday and seasonal events.

how the areas would be decorated for valentines day, easter, etc.

those things that would temporarily change your starter horses coat into all sorts of wacky things.

the barrel race in moorland.

the old filter.

the trailers being star rider only.

the closets being star rider only.

jumping being star rider only, and justin teaching you how to jump.

no jumping in towns/cities.

the original home stable.

waiting for the fairies and just BARELY missing it.

the baronesses racetrack being under construction for SO LONG.

jorvik not having any snow during christmas.

the 2017 character update and the ORIGINAL original character, plus the original weird looking starter horse.

horse island.

unnamed stable girl, the one that came before maya.

all of the old npcs.

when you enter a new area, the name of it would flash in the middle of your screen.

speed boosts on roads.

star stable news with ylva and matilda.

the loading screen stable cat who gave you tips.

the kallters.

having to build your reputation with the hermit to buy his horses and having to build your reputation with the kallters to buy fjord horses.

the iceberg and the seals.

the clothing and tack being basically unidentifiable until you hovered over them, because the items just had a gray or gold icon with what the item actually classified as. [aka what it looks like on mobile]

the fort pinta shark.

the global store not being around and having to buy things directly from the shops or the mall.

the infamous purple car and bulldozer that would run you over.

having to fill your houses needs multiple times a day plus the little smiley face mood thingy.

only being able to care for your horse near stables.

only having three uses for your water bucket.

unused furniture.

starshine roaming around greendale.

the "glue man" and the little girl in your stable singing during halloween.

wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

the chat filter being called phil.

stacy place oh god stacy place. also archie fails

all of the star stable commercials and ads, especially that one fucking disney channel commercial.

please add your own nostalgias onto this post i would love to hear them

[thepagansun]

Respect Neo-Pagans and Our Gods!

Although they probably will never see it (or care), this post is meant for Hollywood, Netflix, Marvel and all other industries and streaming platforms that are hosting shows based on but twisting pagan or polytheist "mythology" or ancient religions such as Gods of Egypt, Immortals, Clash of the Titans, Thor: Love and Thunder, DT17, Supernatural, Kaos, Twilight of the Gods, Blood of Zeus, Percy Jackson, Xena: Warrior Princess, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Record of Ragnarok, American Gods, The Ritual, The Wicker Man, Lore Olympus, etc.

The trend of creating content that demonizes, humiliates, or insults our Gods is upsetting and unfair. Creative and artistic license is one thing, but it's a double-standard for content about the monotheistic god or religions to be treated with respect even when under academic criticism while are ours are depicted as one-dimensional, villainized and humiliated. We are asking for that same respect.

Yes, content about any kind of "mythology" is fun, but the modern world needs to please remember that these were and still are RELIGIONS to many people around the world, myself included.

People worshipped these Gods, listened to their stories around the fire, married under their vows, raised their children, went to war, and but also built magnificent structures, wrote literature, prayed in their temples, and many more!

In fact, we still have vestiges of their worship! The names of the months and days of the week in the Western world come from Roman or Norse/Germanic Gods, the Olympic Games were originally dedicated to Zeus, the Hippocratic Oath was originally a prayer offered to Apollo, people from all over the ancient world visited the shrine and oracle at Apollo's Delphi, and many more examples.

And while yes, sometimes people were sacrificed to some pagan Gods (not so much the Greeks or Romans), but are we really going to pretend that many more people haven't died in the name of Christianity or Islam??

Lord Zeus wasn't just some womanizer, he was also King of the Gods, Father of Gods and Humans, the God of Hospitality, Oaths, Lightning, Law, Order, Authority, Monarchy, etc.

This was also Lord Zeus of the ancient Greeks:

This was also Lord Odin of the ancient Norse:

This was also Lady Hera of the ancient Greeks:

This was also Lord Ra of the ancient Egyptians:

This was also Lord Huracan of the ancient Maya:

Even if you personally don't worship these Gods, at least respect the fact that your ancestors did. Imagine if 100-200 years from now your descendants start making movies and shows that demonize or humiliate Yahweh, Jesus, Allah and Mohammed, etc.!

In fact, neo-paganism is the fastest growing religion in the United States: https://commonwealthpolicycenter.org/paganism-is-americas-fastest-growing-religion/#:~:text=Paganism%20is%20one%20of%20the,a%20broader%20form%20of%20paganism.

Members of Ásatrù, heathen religion of Iceland, honoring the Norse Gods:

Members of Hellenism, honoring the ancient Greek Gods:

Members of my religion, Nova Roma, honoring the ancient Roman Gods:

Traditional African religion:

Traditional Maya religion:

Members of Wicca at Stonehenge, the biggest Neo-Pagan religion in the world with 3-5 million practioners worldwide!

Our Gods are our RELIGION, not just your "mythology!" And both They and we, their followers, deserve the same respect you expect for your religions.

And they at least would never condemn you to an eternal fiery pit simply for not believing in them, unlike some other god I could mention.

They are here. We are here. They exist. We exist. And we are not going anywhere.

[pretentiousgayguyidk]

Hey Hi Hello!

I saw your requests are open so here I am!

I was thinking about Ran, Rindou, Hakkai and Mitsuya with an slavic reader? Male preferably could be gn!

Also could I be the 🥟 anon If your making a list?

Feel free to ignore this!

Pre writing thoughts - Yes!! I absolutely can, I've studied a small amount of Russian and Icelandic - but it probably won't be accurate as I'll have to use Google translate to fill the gaps. I hope you enjoy this 🥟 Anon!

Post writing thoughts- Okay... Well, I wasn't expecting to write so much, so I'll have to make other parts for the other characters 😭 but I hope this is good enough considering how long it took. (Also sorry it wasn't gender neutral, I completely blanked on it)

(Name) stuck out like a sore thumb, having moved to Japan half way into the school year; it wasn't often that foreigners moved to the area. The peculiar student had certainly caught Mitsuya's attention, piquing Takashi's curiosity... Well, (Name)'s caught the eyes of everyone not just Mitsuya.

One thing that stood out was (Name)'s accent, the mix of Japanese words with the addition of deep and throaty annociations strange yet amusing; the rolling of his r's and the emphasis of the ch's and k's pointed towards Slavic origins. That note inspired Mitsuya, and in an attempt to make (Name) more comfortable he started researching traditional Slavic clothing.

"What is that?" Yasuda questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion and slight judgement - as the current piece Mitsuya was working on was out of character for him. The red, black, white, and blue fabric stood out against his usual more casual colour choices - and the sketches of geometric embroidery patterns weren't at all like the usual Kanji he used.

Mitsuya sticks his pencil behind his ear, leaning back in his chair earning satisfying pops from his spine; he had honestly been expecting this question and was expecting it to be asked sooner. He gives Yasuda a tired smile, his arms lax as they hang by his sides.

"It's a uh..." He trails off, unsure how to properly pronounce the word - as it was either Russian or Ukrainian, he couldn't tell the difference even with the little research he did - all he knew was that it was a more traditional Slavic outfit. "Byshibanka?"

He felt a tad guilty, even though the certain Slavic student was nowhere near to hear his horrendous mispronunciation; it felt like a dishonor of sorts. Yasuda raises a brow, her hands on her hips as she looks down at her club captain.

"A what?" She asks, knowing for a fact that - one: Mitsuya mispronounced it - and that two: she would never remember to look it up later when she got home.

Mitsuya sits up, running a hand over his short silver hair; his expression filled with exasperation, not at Yasuda but himself.

"It's this like- traditional Russian or... Whatever... Outfit? I wanted to give it to the new guy." He explains, earning a knowing nod from Yasuda - who knew from her first meeting with Mitsuya that he liked guys... Even if Mitsuya didn't know it himself yet.

"Oh... So you like him?"

Mitsuya shrugs, not getting the implication - as it wasn't exactly the norm for guys to date other guys. He had no idea if he liked the new kid, he just wanted to do something nice... It wasn't like he found (Name) interesting or cute.

"I don't know, he seems like a chill guy - I've never talked to him." The teens nonchalant answer only furthered Yasuda's suspicions, she wasn't going to spell it out for Mitsuya just yet; but she was certainly coming up with a scheme.

"Well, I hope he likes it... And hopefully he's actually Russian... You do know there's other countries like that, right?" She narrows her eyes, doubting that Mitsuya actually did enough research; not surprising, many teenagers weren't all that informed of nations outside of Japan and the major powers.

Takashi's eyes widen, shifting away nervously as he realizes that he completely glossed over the fact that there are other Slavic countries; he didn't bother looking at a map or anything, just looked up some traditional clothing.

"I mean- I..." He trails off, glancing down towards the pile of cloth in front of him; he didn't consider looking beyond Russia, and he didn't even know for a fact that the Vyshyvanka was Russian or not. He shrugs, attempting to wash away his own mild concern over what could be a massive mishap. "I'm sure it'll be fine... Right? Maybe he'll appreciate the sentiment?"

"I'm sure he will... Whatever, I'll leave you to finish your little gift." She states, turning to pay attention to some of the other club members.

Mitsuya felt strangely nervous, holding a box in his lap as he waited for (Name) to enter the school gardens, a place where (Name) often stayed for lunch - since he didn't exactly have many people to talk to. Soon enough, the Slavic man rounded the corner; entering the school gardens, taking his place in the corner with his lunch. (Name) didn't even notice Mitsuya, far too focused on his hunger to realize he wasn't alone like usual.

The Japanese teen finally gains his confidence, standing from his spot on one of the benches. His steps were steady, and his expression showed a lack of interest - or rather calm despite his slight anxiety.

"Hey." Mitsuya calls out casually, causing (Name) to jump as he looks up from his food. It probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt someone in the middle of their lunch, but Mitsuya's mind was oddly scrambled when it came to (Name); his usual calm and collected self thrown out the window.

"Eh? Hi?" (Name) replies, glancing away as he rubs his throat; conscious of how he spoke. His accent has always been a problem, especially with the Japanese language; it's earned more than a few strange looks from locals - as if him being visibly not Japanese wasn't enough to earn strange looks on occasion. Yet, Mitsuya didn't seem to mind his accent, in fact - Mitsuya found it endearing.

"So uh... I just wanted to give this to you." Mitsuya states awkwardly, gesturing down to the thin box in his hands; which had his name written on it, which helped (Name) - as he didn't know Mitsuya's name till reading it on the box.

"Yeah? What's the reason?" The Slavic teen questions, shifting in his seat as he sets aside his lunch box; pulling one leg up in an attempt to seem casual - even though he was very confused and suspicious. Mitsuya glances away nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels; a nervous habit he rarely ever felt the need to do.

"It... It's just a little something I made- I just uh... Wanted to... I don't know-" Mitsuya chokes on his words, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his cheeks warm; he felt strangely embarrassed by his reasoning. "I just wanted to help you feel more welcome."

"Ah... Makes sense... I guess." (Name) mumbles, glancing down to the box as he accepts it; his mind racing for any sort of clue as to what this gift could be.

The silence that falls between them grows more and more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, neither of them knowing what to say in the moment. Finally, Mitsuya mumbles a small goodbye before turning on his heel to leave the garden.

Once Mitsuya was gone, (Name) hesitantly opened the box - his eyes widening at the sight of familiar clothing. He can't help but smile, setting the lid aside as he runs his hand over the embroidered fabric; he wasn't Ukrainian, but he had childhood friends who were - they always leaned towards traditionalism. They often wore vyshyvankas, and some other clothing that (Name) couldn't remember for the life of him... But either way, the sight of the clothes brought back fond memories.

Lifting the clothing from the box (Name) notices something, there wasn't any sort of tag or label printed onto the fabric... Did Mitsuya make this just for him? There was a note at the bottom of the box, which (Name) quickly turned his attention to.

Hey, I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and welcome here - we Japanese aren't always the nicest to foreigners or whatever. So I did some research and made you this, I hope you like it.

It was such a simple note, but it made (Name)'s heart skip a beat. It wasn't as if Mitsuya had bought him a gift, which would have been greatly appreciated as well... But the fact that Mitsuya made it - well that was a whole other level.

"I'll have to thank him later..."

[just-some-random-blogger]

You Were Meant To Be Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.

A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T

also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?

psa: i did some edits on this since posting it

"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.

She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"

I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."

Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"

"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"

Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.

I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."

I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.

"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.

I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.

I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."

I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."

Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"

He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."

"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.

Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.

"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."

Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"

I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."

Ari is visibly troubled by this.

I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."

Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.

"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"

"Conspiring again, are we?"

The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.

Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."

"But you don't-"

"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"

My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."

Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."

I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.

"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."

I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"

I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.

I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."

The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.

I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"

Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.

I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.

My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.

I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?

Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"

"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.

I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.

"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.

"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.

Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."

I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.

The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.

"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."

I do not waste my breath with a response.

"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."

Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."

I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."

He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."

"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."

Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.

"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."

For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.

My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."

I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.

"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."

The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."

I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"

"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.

"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.

Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.

This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"

My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"

I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.

I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.

I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.

Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."

Daemon watches as I walk away.

Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.

I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.

I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.

It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.

The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.

"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.

Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.

I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"

He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."

I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.

I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"

I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.

The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.

The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.

My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.

I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.

The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.

Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.

"ARI!"

Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"

The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.

I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.

Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."

I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.

Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."

I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"

A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.

I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.

"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.

"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."

I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"

My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."

I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"

Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"

I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"

She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."

There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.

"The winner is house Targaryen!"

I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.

I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"

Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."

My father watches the rider come closer.

The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."

Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."

I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.

My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."

"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."

Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"

"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.

My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."

"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."

My father's face hardens.

Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."

The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.

"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"

"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."

Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.

That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.

[svenskjavel]

För er som vill protestera mot Israels deltagande i ESC

Mejl: press@eurovision.tv

Exempeltext:

“Hello

My name is Namn Namnsson and I am contacting you regarding Israel’s participation in Eurovision Song Contest this year.

There is a crisis in Gaza. Innocent civilians are being murdered. People die from treatable causes. Hospitals are bombed. Infrastructure destroyed. Help is denied access to the region. A generation of Palestinians traumatised if they’re lucky enough to survive.

Many organisations are calling for ceasefire, Doctors without Borders among them.

When Russia invaded Ukraine they were excluded the following day, 25 February 2022. You showed them that their behaviour is unacceptable.

When Belarus showed their disregard for Freedom of Speech they were excluded. You showed them that their behaviour is unacceptable.

Bold and political moves. Bold and political, just like peace. Peace which is the foundation which we created Eurovision Song Contest.

Now I am asking you to do it again. You need to show Israel that their behaviour is unacceptable. Exclude Israel.

Survivors of the Holocaust is condemning Israel’s behaviour, some even comparing it to their personal experience of the holocaust (http://www.ijan.org/projects-campaigns/nafa/survivors-and-descendants-letter/).

There is so much to Love about Eurovision. Costumes. Performances. The voices. The community. My favourite part is the cultural exchange. Italy showing us their hand movements and Iceland singing in their native. Sadly, if you still support Israel in this I can’t with good conscience watch Eurovision Song Contest this year.

Thank you for your time.

Kind regards

Namn Namnsson”

OBS! Använd exempeltexten hur ni vill för att underlätta för er själva; var medveten om att unika mejl tas på större allvar.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Hi, I’m not sure if you’ve talked about it before but if you know anything, could you tell us about Alexia and Jenni dating and why they broke up? Thank you!

so i've talked about jenni and alexia's relationship generally before here, here, and here.

now to the end of their relationship, well they don't call it the 7 year itch for nothing (sorry, bad joke!)

all we know is that they broke up in fall 2021, may or may not have reconciled in early 2022, and were officially done for good by spring 2022. i don't think there was anything dramatic like infidelity or anything untoward. but personally, i have witnessed firsthand so many relationships fall apart during covid times, including some divorces. it was just a crazy, stressful time for everyone and lots of relationships may have run their course.

jenni was on the adventure show planet calleja with jesus calleja that premiered earlier this year. if you have vpn and can watch, it's a really cool experience and they went to iceland. anyway, jenni opened up to him about a whole lot of topics including addressing her sexuality and her past relationships. jenni obviously doesn't mention alexia by name but we know she's talking about it when jenni says this:

"I was a person who did not separate my personal life from football. If something happened to me outside the pitch, in football it was a disaster. I have reached a point of stability, of finding myself."

jenni also talked about how she was a girl who depended a lot on her partners emotionally and was very intense. and now she's learning to be happy and at peace with herself.

if that quote doesn't sum up the end of jenni's career at barça and her departure to mexico, then i don't know what does. the break up definitely affected jenni on the pitch and she was really poor for barça then. she and alexia even got into it during some matches late into the 2022 season. it just wasn't a good scene and jenni acknowledges so much. she's spoken about how mexico has basically given her a new lease on life and a new outlook as to herself too. and i think that's a healthy reflection that you can't be so emotionally dependent on your partner that you lose yourself. it's difficult for both people in the relationship.

again, we don't know 100% what happened but both jenni and alexia seem to be in really healthy places right now with flourishing careers, their families are still supportive of each other (alexia's mom often posts tweets and pics of support for jenni), and that's what matters!

[llama-named-pizza]

Anyone talking yet about how Elon fired someone right after publicly mocking him, and for what? Asking Elon for some contact after being ignored for days?

Meet Haraldur Ingi Þorleifsson. Born in 1977 with a genetic congenital muscle disease that forced him to use a wheelchair since age 24. That didn't stop him, though. In 2014 he founded the company Ueno. Ueno was a company that designed digital brands for various companies. The company was pretty successful, since it won various awards and Haraldur was named Icelandic businessman of the year in 2019. You can see more things he's done on his website - http://haraldurthorleifsson.com/

In 2021, Haraldur sold his company to Twitter. Not just that! He sold it as a salary so that he could pay higher taxes. He ended up paying the second highest tax in Iceland for that year (for an individual).

Outside of his company, he also aided in a project called Ramp Up Reykjavík, the intention of which is to help in installing wheelchair ramps around the city for better wheelchair access everywhere. After the success of the first project, a second one called Ramp Up Iceland was launched, with the intentions of building 1000 ramps around the country. This seems to be the site for the project - https://www.rampur.is/ - it would be great if someone who knows Icelandic can help with explaining how to donate to it?

He also created Bueno, a project that, by his own words, "a non-profit that donates money to good people doing good things". He was given The Order of the Falcon by the president of Iceland, the Icelandic medal of chivalry for contributions to social issues. He was Person of the Year in Iceland in 2022. Honestly, there's probably even more.

And this is the person Elon Musk decided to take the mick out of.

Queue March 6th, 2023. Haraldur tweets out to Musk.

[id: Dear elonmusk,

9 days ago the access to my work computer was cut, along with about 200 other Twitter employees.

However your head of HR is not able to confirm if I am an employee or not. You've not answered my emails.

Maybe if enough people retweet you'll answer me here?]

[id: Elon Musk: What work have you been doing?

Haraldur: I would need to break confidentiality to answer this question here.

If you have your lawyers share in writing that I can do that then I'd be happy to discuss that openly!

Elon Musk: It's approved, you go ahead.]

[id: Two consecutive tweets by Haraldur: Among others:

- led the effort to save about $500k on one SaaS contract. Supported closing down many others

- led prioritization of design projects across the company to make sure we were able to deliver with a small team

- led design crits to help level up design across the company

- was hiring manager for all design roles

- worked on efforts to steer the company away from focusing on power users and on to younger users (because our user base is aging)]

[id: Elon Musk:

- Level up from what design to what? Pics or it didn’t happen.

- We haven’t hired design roles in 4 months

- What changes did you make to help with the youths?

Elon Musk: Would you say that you're a people person?

Attachment to the second tweet: A YouTube video named "What would you say...you do here?". The video depicts a conversation between two men, presumably higher ups, and a third man, presumably someone who works at the company. The conversation is condescending towards the third man, implying his job (a type of customer service) is useless. The video ends with the third man outbursting "What the hell is wrong with you people!" before he leaves the room - based on his body language (looking down when he almost bumps into a colleague), it is implied that he was fired.]

There are other threads with the two conversing, this one is the most notable though as this seems to be when Haraldur learns he is fired. Musk later attempts to imply that Haraldur didn't work, saying that Haraldur "claimed he had a disability that prevented him from typing". As I mentioned above, Haraldur has a disability that forced him into a wheelchair. This same disability is slowly forcing Haraldur to lose strength in his upper body and arms. Not to mention, you don't need to type to work, mister "Lines of code matters". Newsflash, people can do work without typing. Musk thinks he's the only one who can do work without typing, I believe.

It's unknown (to me) if Haraldur was fired during this exchange or before it. At any rate, don't forget that Haraldur was on a "Don't Fire" list, yet Musk still laid him off.

And definitely don't forget that Musk seems to be avoiding paying him.

[id: Tweet by Haraldur: But ok, fair enough, I've been laid off and I'm ok with that.

Next up though is finding out if Twitter will pay me what they owe me per my contract.

Or, will elonmusk, one of the richest people in the world, try to avoid paying?

Stay tuned!!]

[lasagras]

All right, so we've seen this post by @fuckyeahcoffeeandequality

And they're absolutely correct. Some people actually say that Lofn and other goddesses are just different names or aspects of Frigg and/or Freyja, but I am wary of these claims since there are very few sources for norse mythology and there could be many reasons why there is much less written about the goddesses than the gods. But that's just me, and I am by no means an expert in the field. Snorri's Edda does say that Lofn unites those for whom marrige is forbidden, though, and that sounds pretty gay.

A little digression, bear with me I promise I have a point. Lavender has been used as a symbol for homosexuality and queerness for quite some time, and the colour purple even longer. "The Lavender Scare", "Lavender Menace" and "lavender marrige" are all terms and names from queer history, and the colour and the flower came to be empowering for queer people.

WELL

In Icelandic, the name for lavender is 'lofnarblóm', literally translated as 'the flower of Lofn'. The plant is not native to the island and the word seems to be quite recent (the first written example of it I can find is from 1986), in all the other nordic languages they call it some sort of variation of lavendel, except for Faroese, where it appears to be called 'bath plant' (I'm so sorry, I don't speak Faroese). There are a few other words that start with lofnar-, most likely as a reference to the goddess, but most of them seem to be rather old and/or uncommon. I have no idea why 'lofnarblóm' was chosen as a translation for lavender. Knowing icelandic history, the queer connotation was probably not on purpose, but I can't help but get excited about the connection.

TL;DR: Lavender (aka the gay flower) is named after Lofn (aka the gay goddess in norse mythology) in icelandic

[red-moon-at-night]

An Analysis of Haruka’s MVs: Distance and Disability

Hello! I’ve recently fallen down the rabbit hole that is Milgram and I have been itching to make some completely normal and sane analysis posts. My silly alternate title for this was gonna be “Things About Haruka’s MVs That Just Make Sense: A Hyperfixation-fuelled Analysis”, because honestly my autistic brain has been having a field day over here.

I am in awe with just about every single music video in this project; the animation is incredible and each one packs so much carefully laid out information. But I have been rotating Haruka’s in my head constantly since I first watched them, and I have a lot of Thoughts. Not about whether he’s guilty or innocent/forgiven or unforgiven. Not about whether or not I can justify his murders. Just some straight up imagery and symbolism analysis, through the lens of disability.

Haruka’s disability has not been specified, but I am confident we can at least say he is neurodivergent. I feel like the cultural differences in names for several things e.g. ‘learning disability’ vs ‘learning difficulty’ will just invite unnecessary drama, and is a little pedantic. What does matter here is that Haruka's experience as a disabled person is heavily intertwined within his story and his motives. 

So, without further ado... let’s get into this!

Trigger warnings/TW: I will be discussing ableism, eugenics and harm towards disabled people. Everything else will be related to the music videos ‘Weakness’ and ‘All Knowing and All Agony’, so any triggering content within them may also be mentioned. Read at your own discretion and stay safe!

Disability: some brief (important) historical context

It is only within the last few decades that those who are disabled have been ‘seen’ for the first time. A modern society is (ideally) expected to be built to include and accommodate for disability, and to acknowledge disabled people’s existence. But for many countries (even the ones making steps outlined above) this is still not the case. For a very, very long time, globally, that has not been the case.

For most disabled people, society makes it very clear that they are a burden to it and are better off not existing. 

I’m going to make this section as succinct as possible because...it’s heavy stuff. But it’s important, and I want you all to get the gist of what I’m saying. The weight of it.

Let’s highlight a piece of history regarding IQ and eugenics, surrounding the publication and subsequent worldwide reception of ‘The Kallikak Family: A Study in the Heredity of Feeble-mindedness’ by Henry Herbert Goddard in 1913:

“In 1927, it was used as evidence in the case of Buck v. Bell, which culminated in a Supreme Court ruling that the involuntary sterilization of ‘mentally defective’ persons was not unconstitutional in the United States. By 1938, thirty-three US states had passed laws allowing for the forced sterilization of women with learning disabilities and twenty-nine had made sterilization  compulsory for people who were thought to have genetic conditions. Many European countries followed suit: Denmark in 1929, then Norway in 1934, and after that Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Iceland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Latvia, Hungary and Turkey.”

— Limburg, J. (2021) Letters To My Weird Sisters: On Autism and Feminism, p. 126

This history of a ‘sterilization law’ includes Japan, who between 1948 and 1996 enacted the Eugenics Protection Law which “authorised the sterilization of people with intellectual disabilities, mental illnesses or hereditary disorders.” According to the government, about 25,000 were sterilized.

SO. It’s important to bring this up. To establish how much disabled people are not wanted, just from their governments. Let alone society. To this day, disabled people are hidden away from the public by families that are ashamed of their existence.

Japanese culture values collectivism, and maintaining the harmony of a group...to the extent of excluding those that don’t fit into the mould. That are different.

The question is: where do they go? The ones that are publicly rejected?

Haruka and The Curious Case of Distant Waters

Okay that’s enough of the heavy real-world stuff! Time to delve into some...*checks notes*...heavy fictional stuff. Fun!

Haruka’s MVs prominently display themes of distance and separation through the motif of water, specifically being submerged underwater. 

The name Haruka reinforces this concept as the specific kanji used (遥) translates to ‘distant’, ‘remote’ or ‘far away’. As there are many, many kanji choices for the name (including but not limited to: ocean/sea, eternity/permeance, clear/distinct/obvious, and spring/growth/cherry blossom) it feels like a particularly cruel and intentional choice to go with that one.

Through the exploration of this motif, we can see the extent in which Otherness/the state of being ‘Other’ drives Haruka to great lengths to close the distance and escape it.

What I noticed throughout both MVs (particularly AK&AA but note the beginning scene of Weakness), is that whenever Haruka looks at himself in a reflective surface (e.g. the vanity mirror, the fish tank), water either begins to rise and overwhelms him, or is already there and he appears submerged:

I think this is the “All-Knowing” part of AK&AA. He knows he’s different, and he knows there’s a huge ocean between him and his peers, his family, everyone. A disconnect when trying to listen and understand, but also when trying to be understood by others and listened to himself.

You know when you submerge your head in water, and your hearing gets all muffled and incomprehensible? And have you ever tried speaking underwater? You can’t, because if you open your mouth you’ll drown. It’ll just come out as bubbles rising to the surface.

I also think the bubbles symbolise rising tension, between what he wants and what he currently has. Bubbles are everywhere in these MVs, even in places where they shouldn’t logically be? Such as this scene, following the line “don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out”:

Immediately pans up to Haruka gasping for breath, droplets of water rising from...somewhere. For about a split second, and they’re gone. 

This boy is really going through it. I’m getting an ‘emerging from the ocean before I drown’ vibe from this one folks. When the line that follows this scene is “I can’t stop, I can’t stop”, what I’m REALLY hearing is “I can’t stop (killing) or I’ll drown”. This is his lifeboat, pulling him out from the depths of being neglected and hidden away, into the spotlight.

Some interesting images from Weakness in relation to that (of spotlights):

Anyways, onto the next point:

Blue to Orange: Water to...Nectar?

So, the orange liquid. It’s clearly representing blood, but I don’t think this is just a “danganronpa pink blood” situation of censoring/getting this video onto youtube without restrictions.

I think it’s most likely honey, specifically nectar.

The etymology of the word nectar shows its compounds translate to “death” and “overcoming”. Nectar is also called the drink of the gods, so it would make sense for it to be a ‘death-defeating’, immortalizing liquid.

For Haruka’s victims to contain nectar is very interesting. It reinforces that necessity to kill, to take the life of another, to sustain himself. To overcome the ‘living death’ he is experiencing by being hidden away from society. 

This is his means of escape from drowning.

However, as we all know, things don’t turn out great for him. By the end of AK&AA Haruka is rejected once again by his mother, after which the door is shut (the light with it is gone too) and we’re met with this imagery:

The nectar floods the room, engulfing him much like the water from earlier. 

There are many things we could take from this. One being that the nectar-gathering/killing-spree has clouded his vision; it’s so sweet, so sickly sweet and he’s addicted to the taste of attention, even if it’s very bad attention. 

Who else has honey imagery in their MV again?

Oh, right. 

Anyway, the nectar/honey situation could also be representing submerging into an even further level of distance. All that murder is gonna push people away, despite his motive being to close the gap between him and normal people. The 'ocean’ has lost clarity and become a maddening, delusional substance. After all, there is a type of honey literally called ‘mad honey’ known for its medicinal and hallucinogenic properties.

That’s enough about honey, though. Let’s move onto less unfortunate... oh, sorry, what was that? *checks notes*...Ah, yes. I meant to say, let’s move onto even more unfortunate symbolism:

The Necklace

So, this necklace. Haruka steals it from his mother’s belongings, and is his only material, physical connection to her. It is taken on the declaration of “making (her) love me again” and getting her attention once more, now he is no longer a child but a teenager closer to adulthood (at least, that’s what I consider the ‘shirt with a vest sweater and tie’ to represent. child him = the blue polo, teenager him = this one, adult him = an amalgamation of his teenager clothes).

I wasn’t sure if this was an opal or pearl/mother of pearl, but I’m leaning towards opal from the other depiction of it in Weakness:

Opals are fun because they can symbolise both good luck and bad luck, usually to do with whether it’s your birthstone. There’s something to be said of Haruka’s belief in his ‘misfortune’ and the superstition surrounding these gemstones.

But they are even more interesting for the powers they supposedly have; in medieval times the opal was considered the ‘patron of thieves’ for their ability to grant the wearer invisibility.

There is a deliciously sad irony to Haruka’s theft with that titbit of information.

Now, if this isn’t an opal, and it’s a pearl/mother of pearl there’s still some fun interpretation to be had! A little less sad, even. Pearls invoke strong imagery of the sea, of purity, and of a connection to the maternal. If this is the last thing he has relating to his mother, I can see this necklace representing a lifeline when he’s deep in the ocean. A reminder of why he’s doing all of this killing, and who it’s for.

His mother’s attention (or the idea of having a mother at all, any mother) is his driving force in life.

Speaking of that...

So We Really Need To Talk About That Fish Tank: AKA, Why Haruka’s Mom Wins ‘The Worst Parent of The Year’ Award

This fucking fish tank.

Okay, I’m gonna start by saying: I don’t think this is reading too far into things. When it takes an animation team months, sometimes years to create a 3-5 minute music video, and one as detailed as this...you don’t just wing it. There are storyboards, there are key frames and there are choices made down to the smallest of details.

From the sheer volume of animal/insect/fish décor that resides in the Sakurai household, you bet I’m gonna pay attention to what type of fish are in that fish tank.

For one thing, they live in saltwater. This is a marine tank, aka the harder choice of aquarium to have. I mean, way, WAY harder. For the experienced only.

These fish right here? One is a clownfish, and the other is a yellow boxfish.

Boxfish are a nightmare to keep alive. This article goes into more detail than I will, but all you need to know is: if there was ever a fish out of all the fish you could possibly want in your tank, this is the one to avoid like the plague.

They release deadly toxins when stressed, as a survival instinct. Boom. All your fish are dead. They need to eat a shit ton of food, but are notoriously clumsy swimmers and slow eaters. Boom. Starving, stressed out boxfish. Boxfish either dies from starvation or dies from stress and toxins.

For Haruka’s mom to have not just one of these fuckers, but a tank consisting ONLY OF MULTIPLE BOXFISH AND CLOWNFISH...

This is a high-maintenance tank. And it shows how much time and effort, how much care she puts into the things she loves.

How neglectful she is as a parent of a disabled child in contrast.

There’s something about the last scene between Haruka and his mother that reinforces this for me:

Haruka’s relationship with animals and himself: AKA, “why don’t I just become the damn fish tank?”

Let me backpedal a little bit. This subheading will make sense in a minute.

So, like I said earlier we have a lot of décor in this house relating to insects and fish. We also have a lot of pets. Both living and dead, taxidermized creatures in one household, proudly on display.

I think this may have created some confusion for Haruka regarding the value of animals being alive or dead, as in his perspective his mother values both equally. The fish in a tank may be full of alive creatures, but they’re still on display as if it’s artwork. Isn’t breaking the glass of a framed picture of a fish equal to breaking the glass of a tank with a ‘picture of living fish’?

(This isn’t to say Haruka is clueless to the impact of his actions, nor to justify any harm to animals. I just find the train of thought to be intriguing.)

So when considering these ‘objects’ are proud trophies of his work:

This is a carefully arranged display, which by the way, doesn’t contain a single fish. In fact the only piece of that moment visible here is the...large piece of driftwood? Okay. Keep that in mind.

We proceed into Haruka’s mother opening the door and seeing her son, for the first time in any of the MVs. Note the way they composed this shot:

I’m obsessed with this scene. The blue eye framing Haruka, with a literal fishbowl effect on him...

He is the goddamn fish in the aquarium now. His mother’s full attention is on him and him alone, with only the dead animals, the books, the lamp and the driftwood as window dressing to this wonderful display.

Doesn’t it just scream “Look at me! Look at what I did, mom!” to you?

That blue spotlight is on him once more. He is not just drifting deeper into an endless ocean, but contained in a vessel to be stared at.

One Last Observation

I didn’t know where to fit this in but I think the end feels appropriate.

His clothing here:

Is a frankenstein-esque mash up of clothes from his younger years. He wears this throughout AK&AA, and as I mentioned before it signifies him as an adult. However, I should clarify what I mean here as Haruka says “he thinks he’s 17″ and “doesn’t care about his age”. So... not an adult, but on the cusp of adulthood.

But I think he actually does care about his age, and quite a lot too.

This outfit feels symbolic of refusing to let go of the past, and of himself as a child. He’s literally grown out of his clothing, but he still clings onto it. He’s attached to the past because it not only contains his happiest moments, but the change from being loved to becoming neglected.

As a disabled person, you’re often treated with a lot more forgiveness when you’re younger. That is to say, some people don’t realise that children with disabilities grow up into adults with disabilities. There is a point where even support from medical and social services drops off like a cliff edge once you turn 18.

The ill-fitting clothing in this context becomes more than a reflection on Haruka’s feelings, and extends to reflecting society’s feelings on disabled adults ‘refusing to grow up’.

I don’t blame Haruka for holding onto his childhood like this. He’ll be even less publicly visible and seen once he is no longer a pitiful child, but a ‘weird’ adult in ill-fitting, children’s clothes.