#this is not a hate post and more like a 'cry for help because i don't understand why' post

[softness-and-shattering]

I think the OP message is for people who can only conceive of disabled people as burdens who givw nothing. Theyre wrong, but they also need to know they cant leave us behind, and if to reach them that needs to be phrased as "some people will never contribute and still deserve help" then so be it, meet people where they are.

Theyre still wrong. EVERYONE contributes just by being. Because you still interact with people, smile at people, thank people, provide company and companionship and friendship and partnership and perspective and experience. You even Contribute To The Economy by buying things, paying bills and rent, groceries. If all anyone values is the economy youre still contributing to it!

But most of all youre alive and thats what matters. Youre a person who has relationships that changes you and changes the people you know. and you.make things even if you never publish even if youre never famous for it, youre creating things that now exist in the world because of you. Every post you make impacts other people, interests them, makes them snort or laugh or cry or think.

Youre worth *everything* because you are human and you are alive. That worth is inherent, it doesnt need to be earned and cant be lost or taken away. You are worthy. You are valuable. Your presence makes things better for everyone - most of all yourself, but not at all exclusively.

You ran into your limits, and thats difficult and disappointing and worth mourning. And worth seeing what version of your dreams you can reform into something that might be achievable for you now.

Idk some days I feel like Ive whittled my dreams down too small and somedays theyre down to nothing. The big dreams dont go away though, just the achievable steps. Like Im not going to be a published author or well known well selling artist next week, but more days than not I can practise some technique some creativity for a few hours, a few minutes, sometimes not at all but often I can still do *something*. And yeah it hurts, my issue isnt hubris its that my ambition always wants mw to push so much harder than Im capable of and I have to reign it in so I dont overextend and then seriously crash.

However. Its a gazillion times better than giving up on my hopes and dreams entirely, I couldnt live that way at all. I have to something Im dreaming of and working towards even if Im taking tiny little steps while others with similar dreams get a vehicle and theyre stepping on the gas. I hate that I dont get a vehicle but I cant change that. I can only do what I can do, and hold onto feelings of self worth and feeling like myself when I do get to create, and connect with people, and do what makes me feel like me.

I hope this helps. Youre allowed to mourn alternate psths you didnt take or werent able to take. Grief is not only for human death. Its for all kinds of loss.

[toto-the-cactus]

Here is the crap I was creating. New Perturabo angst drop, so enjoy! Also, tagging those that helped me with the question I posted before so this thing could be written for ur entertainment. I hope you don't mind that I took your boy Maximus for this story, Throne. He deserves more stories and I wanted to include him here too uwu

@beckyninja @moodymisty @thethronezone @kit-williams

@justanothermemestrider @copitix @fulgrims-big-naturals

@yurihasurunbara @jaghatai-khock

Summary: The memories of a Primarch who had lost more than his humanity.

Pairing: Implied Perturabo x Reader (female)

CW: Murder attempt, general chaos bullshit, implied child death but no actual death.

Music Box

The memory had been seared over his mind the same way fire does over skin. The place where he let his mind wander against his will to bring back the pain he had become so accustomed to.

The birth went with the expected complications that the Apothecary had warned when one took into account your baseline anatomy but by the Throne, you endured, you screamed and even dared to curse his name once or twice only to be rewarded by the shrill cry of the baby that you had been carrying for 7 months (your body had been unable to complete the 9 months. Too risky, too taxing).

If Perturabo had been a possessive menace when around you, suddenly becoming the father of a small little girl had made him worse.

He had been the one to choose the name Klionike. Such a sweet child, always well-mannered and soft spoken wherever she went but with quite a terrifying intelligence that made his chest swell with pride, already showing great skills as a diplomatic and strategist.

She had been the first one to be gifted a music box handcrafted by Perturabo himself, with a melody that the Primarch knew had been the lullabies you sang to her when she had been still inside the womb.

What had been the words she had told him back then?

It has become hard to properly acknowledge those small details nowadays.

Ah, right!

“It’s beautiful, father” she said with propriety, opening the box and letting the soft tune engulf the growing family. Back then you had already birthed his other two precious girls, Melitta and Charis, only to be heavily pregnant again that same year again. The Apothecary hadn’t been amused at all.

After that, the rest of his daughters had wanted music boxes too and he had been too indulgent to deny them. Melitta, sweet and shy, got hers a bit earlier and the tune had been one personally chosen by Calliphone at the time.

Charis on the other hand, with a unique fierceness paired with the temperament of her father, had wanted a Bolter without hesitation. Of course he had refused the request of his youngest, but offered to give her a beautiful sword only when she would be ready to wield it (you hadn’t been happy by that decision but it was hard to impose your will on a stubborn child of a Primarch). His precious child had pouted and huffed in annoyance at that and, in consequence, refused the music box out of misplaced pride since she didn’t want a ‘useless snooty toy’.

Perturabo remembers scolding her too harshly since said toys were crafted with his own hands and he wasn’t about to allow any of his children to insult him like that.

As the hardened and morose Primarch that he was, he had refused to apologize for screaming at his daughter. They needed to learn obedience.

That never changed the fact that Perturabo had felt a pang of… something sting at his hearts when he saw the tears on Charis' eyes.

Insolence wasn’t about to be tolerated even by his own blood.

‘I need another cogwheel for this part’ he thought idly while hunched over his workshop.

Nowadays it was hard to tie most of those memories with any discernible emotion.

Ah, yes… After Charis, you had birthed his first and only son.

Perturabo wonders what he had hated the most about his son; the ever present disappointment or simply because the boy had been a carbon copy of himself.

Maximus had been the source of more than one fight between him and you. The kid constantly clinging to your dress and too close to bawling each time the Primarch even dared to look at him.

“He’s still my baby! Please don’t do this, Perturabo!” you had begged him that time. The stress of having Maximus taken away from you now that he was old enough to become an astartes wasn’t doing any favors to your (once again) pregnant body. Never in his life the demigod had dared to lay a hand on you against any logic. He had always been brutal when needed but his own mind and body had defied him more than once regarding you when he had felt the edge of his temper arise.

You couldn’t do anything to stop him when he had grabbed roughly the arm of his son and took him away.

The silence that had followed lasted for days and it quickly turned into weeks.

Perturabo had been sure that you would eventually get over the matter, letting you be and regarding your cold anger as a mere temper tantrum that will eventually be left forgotten.

But then you moved your pillow and blanket inside Charis’ room. The Lord of Iron was starting to suspect that he had crossed a line that he had no way to back away from.

‘I need to cut the galvanized sheet to cover it’ he went on internally. Perturabo supposed that the isolation during that period had been a good thing, for it allowed him some introspection.

He couldn’t fault you for acting as a mother trying to protect and coddle her children. He would have been furious if that hadn’t been the case but you have always been a woman of infinite patience and kind by a fault. Being a loving parent was a role you had taken so naturally like a fish does to water.

The silent treatment lasted a whole year and, in consequence, he had missed the birth of his fifth child.

Another girl… and for what he had been informed by the Apothecary, there had been a complication with the umbilical cord and her underdeveloped second lungs. Little Timo’s welcome to the world had been a noose around her chubby neck and the obvious absence of her father.

You had refused to sleep and even more to let go of Timo; obsessively watching her breath to make sure that she was okay and safe between your arms in a weak attempt to protect her from the unforgiving universe.

That has been exactly how he had found you that day. Your tired and sore body curled around the baby and something inside Perturabo had felt horribly bitter when he saw you trying to curl even tighter when his presence was noticed.

“What do you want?” you asked with a hoarse voice and not looking him in the eyes. The Primarch was surprised at how long it had been since he had heard your voice and suddenly was reminded how lonely he had felt during the year.

“I will not apologize for sending Maximus away… he needs to grow and learn to fight” he doesn’t add more. Perturabo can see how you frown in both anger and concentration. Timo had almost died when she was just barely out of your womb and the comparison of losing a child to war felt just as terrible… but you suddenly understood that giving Maximus a chance to fight back in this hostile universe helped to sooth the hole his absence had left.

Doesn’t change that Perturabo hardly ever acknowledged anything noteworthy from his only son.

It took months to be able to sleep in the same bed and even longer for you to hold his hand when he finished any designs inside his workshop.

It wasn’t the normality you two were used to, but it was a start.

‘What happened after that?’ he wondered once again, a welding pen on his massive hand at the wait of closing one side of the box.

Oh… Horus Heresy.

That was when his most unpleasant memories started.

He had been so sure that following Horus was the right thing. He could finally be recognized by his talents and efforts and bring a better world for his children.

But things got out of control so horribly… Olympia… Calliphone. Perturabo had been already a strung up rope only needing a little push to snap completely. Then he arrived at his vessel only to find you and Kleonike carrying a few belongings in a hurry, your face pale and full of tears only to freeze in terror when you saw him at the door frame looking like a shadow of the man you loved.

He had looked like a monster into your eyes in those brief seconds and something possessive inside the Iron Lord snapped. You will not leave him.

He refused… and he was ready to force his will on you. It didn’t matter that you were carrying Timo in your arms and his precious girl was already crying by watching him. His hand was already close and looming over your head to snap your neck.

“Dad, stop! Please, stop!” Kleonike screamed with the most jarring cry, so out of character from her, that Perturabo was able to look down at what he had been ready to do.

Those seconds were all you needed to sprint in a run. Any belongings left behind and just brusquely taking your oldest daughter by the arm to escape without second thoughts. Kleonike may have been way taller than you, but even she knew that right now second guessing wasn’t an option.

The room was still the same despite all the millenia that had passed. He needed to keep it clean and ready for when you and his daughters would come back. Maximus too; he can forgive the boy for taking you all away from him since his son did it out of concern to protect his mother and sisters.

He may be a disappointment as a soldier but at least he did good as a son and brother.

“Done” Perturabo said without an ounce of emotion in his voice while admiring his handiwork. The carefully designed vines and flowers over the lid and corners of the box gave it a precious and beautiful presentation, but the real gem rested within the inside of the box itself.

With a slow movement, the Iron Lord lifted the lid and a soft tune immediately welcomed his ears.

So he closed his eyes… and tried to remember once again what it had been to have his family here.

“Happy birthday, Timo” he muttered absently. He wasn’t sure which would be the age of his youngest daughter now, but he kept creating the music boxes he had wished to give to all his girls every few decades.

One music box added to the thousands he still kept in a closet.

And so… Perturabo sat down back to his workshop.

Memories always came and went anyways.

There ya go! Hope yall liked it!

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7260:

I hate how people get so upset when authors remove their fics rather than orphaning them and acting like the author was soooo selfish and that orphaning is the only right and justice choice for them to make, especially when the fic in question had a handful or even no comments.

Like, people share their fics for community and connection. I share my fics for community and connection. I will always write for myself, but I share them for the human connection. If there's no connection? Well, I'm not going to share then, and I sure as hell am not going to orphan because that's MY fic, MY hard work, why would I want to remove myself from it, to not be able to show it to others and say "hey look at this thing I made, what do you think?" just because a stranger who doesn't even have the guts to tell me they like it, likes it? And there's no such thing as an individual, so many other fic authors likely do/think the same.

"Oh, but you aren't entitled to comments!" You're right, but you also aren't entitled to millions of stories at the wonderful cost of $0.00 either. It isn't selfish for people to choose to not comment, but it also isn't selfish for authors to delete and/or abandon their fics when they get no comments.

"But what if that fic helped someone through a hard time? Saved their life?" Should've told the author that, can't blame the author for prioritizing their own mental health when they weren't even aware they were carrying the burden of a stranger's mental health too.

Writing is already so hard even if you're doing it for yourself. Sharing it is terrifying. Letting people, strangers even, know the things you like, your traumas, your mistakes? The only thing that makes sharing worth it is knowing that there are other people out there who like the same things, share your traumas, and won't judge you by your mistakes and that by sharing your stories, you can find them and even if it's just for a moment, just a single small interaction.

But if you can't find them? They don't let you know that—yes, we're alike! I like this too! I understand this character! I don't mind that you're imperfect, we're human!—Why keep sharing? Why leave all these painful pieces of yourself scattered about if you gain NOTHING from it? Why leave something that was meant to be a bridge of connection up, when it goes unwalked? It's an abandoned house, an unused lot, a corpse. Community interaction is the lifeblood of fic, and if the blood doesn't flow, it will be buried.

Yes, fandom may not cost money, but there needs to be an exchange if you want it to continue because fandom is and always will be a community, not just fics and art.

"But I'm scared to comment!" "I just want to lurk!" etc.

That's valid, but you can't complain when authors delete their fics, stop posting, and fandom begins to dwindle because all they received for their efforts and nakedness is silence. Kudos and likes will always be appreciated, but that's not connected, that is not community, and that's not what authors share and bare their hearts for. Of course, you can be upset when fics disappear and authors leave, but don't bitch if you know the reason why and could have helped prevent it. If you don't play your part in the community keep your mouth shut when it dies. Don't cry at the funeral a fandom you did nothing more but look at.

Let authors delete their fics and disappear in peace. They were shown how little the community valued them when they were left in silence, and no amount of complaints and cutesy positive posts are going to change that.

Deleting fic isn't evil. It's the acceptance that no matter how much you share, how much effort you give, the community doesn't care enough to even give you a single thumbs up and it's the action of parting ways with that community.

And asking those people who just want to leave and be left alone because the community was neglectful to keep sharing AND walk away if they don't like the silence by orphaning their fics instead of deleting them is so selfish. It's cruel to pressure them to keep their work up when they're ready to leave because YOU want to just take, take, take, and give not even a thanks in return.

I'm so sick of being treated like a monster when I post a fic, work it for months upon months, see the hit could rise higher and higher, and get not even a single person interacting but being treated like a selfish monster for deleting it when continuing to share it eventually became too painful.

"Oh, but write for yourself! You shouldn't write for the comments!" I write for myself, my Google Docs are full of dozens upon dozens of fics that I read and reread, laugh and cry at. But I only share for the comments/community, and well, the community decided that it doesn't want me and so I'm done sharing. I'm never sharing again when I'll just be fucking ignored. I'm done letting people call me and anyone else who has also decided they're done sharing selfish entitled pricks for just wanting to connect with others when they didn't give a damn dollar or even just a fucking smile emoji in return

[mochinon-yah]

STOP ITTTTTT BDNSJWKSJS WHY JUST WHY — no i'm not angry or anything of the like, but it's just so wth and also funny at the same time — LIKE WHY IS THERE SO MANY FILIPINOS HERE AND THERE????

[thebreakfastgenie]

#honestly it might help some of you to read bigoted ramblings#because so many of you waste a lot of time anxious and arguing about beliefs that these people don’t even have#if you’re going to be anxious anyway you might as well know what they’re actually saying @femalegothic

Yeah I originally included that qualification because of the timing of when I made this post, I didn't want people to assume I was validating the conservatives having meltdowns because people they hate didn't want to talk to them. But I think you're right.

Obviously there's a limit to it, there's a point at which it becomes unhealthy, and that point is different for everyone. But I have been worried for a while about the culture on tumblr that creates a belief that seeing even one bigoted post will trigger an intense meltdown in a marginalized person. I think the "I am actually shaking" and cry-typing posts of yesteryear were so popular because tumblr gave people the idea that that's how they were supposed to react. I think there's also an element of tumblr only being able to take bigotry seriously if it does a certain amount of tangible "harm," which on tumblr looks like provoking an extreme distress reaction in an individual. Bigotry does do harm, including to physical health, but it's generally cumulative exposure that does it. Most people are not going to fall apart if they see one bigoted post, and anyone who is needs to get help coping with it because it's an unfortunate part of the world we live in.

So in some ways you have to pretend this stuff just doesn't exist, except not really, because you still have to care about social justice. So you're supposed to feel righteous anger at theoretical bigots, without ever engaging on any level with the real ones.

These twin expectations create this paralyzing environment of fear. People are scared of things that are not actually happening. People are making up guys to be mad at and, I think more harmfully, afraid of. It's not pretending to be oppressed, a lot of these people face real oppression, they're just guessing at what that oppression looks like. There's absolutely no good in that! And sometimes the real bigotry is just so stupid that it's actually not as bad as what your anxious brain can conjure up. Sometimes it just takes the sting out of it to see what absurd things grown adults actually believe.

And of course it's a cliche, but if you want to do something about it you have to know what you're fighting. It's a lot easier to combat bigotry if you know what people are actually saying and what they actually believe. Even if you're not going to convince the bigots, you need to know what arguments they're using to try to radicalize regular people so you can counter them.

So yeah it would do a lot of you some good to read the bigoted ramblings a little bit I was just trying to put forth the most basic possible baby step of readings things you disagree with because I wasn't sure how much tumblr could handle, lol.

I really think a lot of you need to read things you disagree with more. Not bigoted ramblings but just opinions you don't agree with. So many people on tumblr are terrified of seeing a take they don't like about their favorite show, let alone anything serious. I think it comes from a lack of confidence and security in your own opinions and that leaves you vulnerable to manipulation. Reading an opinion you don't agree with should help you articulate your own opinion and why you believe what you do, which strengthens your position.

[gravyhoney]

Hey why is the genuine grief I’m experiencing from finally blocking my mother more agonizing than the years I spent in her house of horrors?

[starfallen-sloth]

Sometimes I make edits that I like to inflict upon my friends on discord, but today I'd like to inflict more than just them >:3

[blizzardfluffykpop]

why the fuck do i miss pigeons

[thethingything]

I'm fatigued, my back hurts, I accidentally spent like 3 hours sat downstairs in a chair that made our back feel worse because our executive dysfunction prevented me getting up and going back upstairs even though I only went down there to get one thing, and now I really need to lay down but if I accidentally fall asleep again I feel like I'll wake up, realise I fell asleep and also that I feel like I wasted a big chunk of the day, and I'll end up feeling even worse again

[rosesradio]

🧍

[laldupattewali]

when you realise that the emotional hurt you just experienced is actually fine because you're a writer and can just channel it and it only just gives you more to work with

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[specialmouse]

I hate doing this. It feels like I’m trying to pitch a family’s lives to dispassionate, detached investors.

Today I spoke with Khaled, Ghada’s younger brother who helps her run their campaign, and as I sent him a draft he said something incredibly sobering. I had asked you to raise $500 in 2 weeks because it seemed realistic—and he said, it needs to come sooner, this isn’t urgent enough. My heart dropped when I realized what I had said. I’m tired of capitulating to the whims of reblogs, of finding the language that most appeals to your generosity.

Khaled and his family are freezing to death. His niece, Iman, has osteoporosis and needs leg braces. She is 6 years old. What more do I need to say, and how should I say it? What other pictures of these elementary school children do you need to see? Do you need to see them bleed for you to merely share the post? How much more trauma is necessary until it opens your wallet? I don’t want to shame you—I am trying to wake you up. The reality is that I could say this about any campaign from Gaza. I could say it about Fadel’s, I could say it about Ola’s, or Hanan’s.

But I have gotten to know Ghada’s family and their stories over the past month and it has become personal. When I eat, I wonder if little Amir was able to do that today. When I put on my shoes, I wonder if my sweet Iman is struggling to walk. I see elders in the street and think of Nabil and Fatima, how hard they have worked for their family’s happiness for it all to be stripped away from them. I see families laughing together and think of Ahed and Mohamed, who must witness their beautiful children shiver and cry for their old lives in the bitter cold. I see men my age and think of my dearest Khaled, who did everything right, got his degree and his job and planned his future, and still is forced to wake up at dawn every day to carry water back to his family.

Maybe that’s what you need—you need to realize that the people you see around you are the same as the people in Gaza. Maybe it is hard behind a screen. Maybe the methods we are forced to employ annoy you, or make you feel guilty. The only way to assuage the guilt is to help. If you have the money, please send it. If you can’t, please share. I don’t know how else to combine words anymore to appeal to you, without downplaying the severity and urgency of this.

€8,001/€20,000 - DONATE. JUST DONATE, PLEASE.

@rickybabyboy @sayruq @officialspec2 @nabulsi @valtsvolts @komsomolka-blog @r0zeclawz @chokulit @3000s @ot3 @90-ghost @apas-95 @punkitt-is-here @i-am-a-fish @b0tster @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @tamamita @omegaversereloaded @catsgifsarefun @teaboot @sawasawako @feluka @spongebobssquarepants @skipppppy @paper-mario-wiki @xgoldenlatiasx @postanagramgenerator @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @spacebeyonce @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @neechees @evillesbianvillainarchive @taffybuns @nyancrimew @thatdiabolicalfeminist @beserkerjewel @tpwrtrmnky @beetledrink @spaghettioverdose @grox @minmos @paparoach @jackalopescruff @slimetony

[crystalstorm]

Fun facts about

Leona Kingscholar

Let’s start with a few common ones,

He has a special talent of falling asleep within 3 seconds

His favourite food is meat, any kind of meat

Hates vegetables

Loves playing chess, often playing against himself

Loves reading from a young age

Exceptional flier on a broom

Very respectful towards women and a gentleman

Can’t stand constricting clothing

Doesn’t like to wear the hood of his ceremonial robes because it presses down on his ears and makes him uncomfortable

Nose is hypersensitive and can smell the presence of magic. (Magic has a smell??)

Now for more obscure ones,

He was 17 when he started at NRC then was held back a year when he was 19 as a third year due to poor attendance

He’s always thinking of ways to help the Sunset Savanna progress (economically, access to basic utilities) even in class

His views on how the Sunset Savanna should be run clashes with his family, which is partially the reason why he doesn’t like being around them as it always leads to disagreements.

Likes things that challenges him intellectually (strategy games, spelldrive, etc.)

He doesn’t play video or computer games, having at most poked at online chess when he’s bored.

His favourite candy is a spicy sweet from the Sunset Savanna (Mabuyu; a kenyan candy)

Has had a driver’s license before joining NRC and likes to drive in the open savanna to clear his mind and relax

Plays billiards very well

Used to cry as a child when Kifaji bests him at chess

Has insane amounts of stamina (take that how you will)

Can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, anyplace

Good singer (Sang in the NBC halloween event)

Tutored Ruggie when he first started at NRC and gave Ruggie his old uniform to wear.

Can cook if he tries (it’s somewhat edible) but he’s too lazy to cook properly.

Doesn’t know how to use a microwave

Finds the feathers on his staff annoying but can’t take them off or he’ll get scolded.

Believes that if the Sunset Savanna won the Spelldrive World Championship, it would help boost tourism. But Farena believes it’s just a distraction for the masses.

Kinda implied but he’s a burnt out overachiever that has severe depression. He already learnt the entire academic syllabus even before he joined NRC from the best tutors his family can get.

Edit: Holy shit this is the first time I’ve made a post with so many notes. Highkey feeling like Idia rn lolol

Edit 2: Can I just say, this was all brain worms that I remembered off the top of my head.