Consider this: You can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum. As you read this, you are traveling at 220 km/sec across the galaxy. 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.” The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star. Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potato. The existence of the rainbow depends on the conical photo-receptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist. So you don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it.
—  NASA Lunar Science Institute, 2012
Celebrating African-American Social Dance

This is the Bop. The Bop is a type of social dance. Dance is a language, and social dance is an expression that emerges from a community. A social dance isn’t choreographed by any one person. It can’t be traced to any one moment. Each dance has steps that everyone can agree on, but it’s about the individual and their creative identity Because of that, social dances bubble up, they change, and they spread like wildfire. They are as old as our remembered history.

In African-American social dances, we see over 200 years of how African and African-American traditions influenced our history. The present always contains the past. And the past shapes who we are and who we will be.

Now, social dance is about community and connection; if you knew the steps, it meant you belonged to a group. But what if it becomes a worldwide craze? Enter the Twist.

It’s no surprise that the Twist can be traced back to the 19th century, brought to America from the Congo during slavery. But in the late ‘50s, right before the Civil Rights Movement, the Twist is popularized by Chubby Checker and Dick Clark. Suddenly, everybody’s doing the Twist: white teenagers, kids in Latin America, making its way into songs and movies. Through social dance, the boundaries between groups become blurred.

The story continues in the 1980s and '90s. Along with the emergence of hip-hop, African-American social dance took on even more visibility, borrowing from its long past, shaping culture and being shaped by it. Today, these dances continue to evolve, grow and spread.

Why do we dance? To move, to let loose, to express.

Why do we dance together? To heal, to remember, to say: “We speak a common language. We exist and we are free.”

From the TED-Ed Lesson The history of African-American social dance - Camille A. Brown

Camille A. Brown is a choreographer fusing dance and social commentary to explore race, sexuality and femininity.

Title Design by Kozmonot Animation Studio 

Cooking Time!

Wherever you go on earth you will find “local cuisine.” Local cuisine is often made up of local food, things that are grown or produced only in specific areas, and at the most minute level there is home cooking, recipes and specific alterations to common recipes that only exist in your family. This is the core idea of my next story. (My first story is about fetishes that i brought over from my other blog)

    One day the Human crew decided to make special dishes for the rest of the crew. This idea scared most of the ship. What was acceptable Death Planet meals? Many assumed it would be bloody and gruesome, which for some of this dishes was the start, or poisonous, which the humans made sure to check food restrictions for their crew mates. Some of the humans brought on livestock, killed and cooked it in front of the crew. They claimed that the “fresher the meat is, the better it tastes.” Others brought pre-cut meats with leafy things. Some brought on weird squares that jiggled but retained their shape when it didn’t seem like it should to be able to. Lots of liquids, powder things, fruits, and leafs were brought and shared by most. Lastly, One human named Ernest, brought on a few cans. He did not labor over the flames, smoking oils, hot ovens, or boiling waters. Ernest just watched others work while he sat there with his cans.

The first was a human to make her dish was named Sophia from a country known as I-tall-ee. She made Pee-za. All the other humans seemed very excited by this, most agreed Pee-za was their favorite food. Though the crew learned rather quickly that it was very hard to decide on the makings of a Pee-za or where on the Death Planet it came from. Some argued the Pee-za from Nu Yurk was better, other said Boss-tan and Sophia said the Amerikans didn’t know what real Pee-za was. The only thing most of the humans could agree on was that it was a crime to put pineapple on Pee-za. A few of the bravest crew tried the Pee-za and enjoyed the finished item. Others of the crew were afraid to try it due to the humans arguing and joking about fighting if they liked one pee-za more than another.

After Sophia was Otgonbayar or Bay as most called them. He was from Mongo-lia. They brought mutt-on, which was butchared while the Pee-zas were made. Bay cooked chunks of meat with many liquids and spicys on a flat cooking plate. The crew was worried about the plate being so hot but were reassured that a cooking plate and an eating plate were different and they would not be getting food off the searing cooking plate. The humans all complemented Bay on the smells of the food which did seem rather good. Most of the crew was happy to sample the mutt-on.

The next Human was Suki from Ja-Pan. She prepared several meals. First was a hot liquid called Me-so soop. Many were confused that the Toe-fool in the soop did not contain the Toes of a fool, but found the soop to be tasty despite the confusing name. What bewildered most of the crew is when she made Fry Rise. It was a combination of so many things; small narrow rise grains, egs, ste-ak, vegtables, and lots of seasonings. Many of the crew enjoyed it but could not understand why anyone would traditionally eat such small food with 2 sticks.

Now came one named Robert from Arc-en-saw. He made a meal that made others wince in pain at it. It was a Cheez Borg Er wrap in Bake On. The crew who enjoyed meat loved it dearly. The other Humans warned against eating too many due to Heart attacks. That did not worry the Foorgorian crew members as they had 3 hearts.

Next came Mary from Me-he-co. She made a meal called Talko’s. Some of the crew theorized these Talko’s is what made Mary talk so much. It was served in a few ways she explained depending where in Me-he-co you live. Some cook the Shell, some leave it soft. Some roll the meats and sauces in the soft shell while others piled it on the hard shell. She had one sauce called Picko-D-Guy-o. She warned some people it was full of spices that make some men on earth cry. This scared away most of the other crew but the Bilnafs ate the sauce and literally breathed fire. They were checked into medical bay shortly after and was later cleared as ok and healthy to eat. The gooakomolaye was much better for most of the crew to eat.

Next to last came a man from Aus-tray-lee-ah named by the other humans as Auzzy. He made a Sand-Mitch, with a jelly called Vegi-might. Many of the crew were hopeful at the nutritional value of the meal as it sounded like a vitamin and that is where humans gained their strength. That was until the other humans did not wish to eat it. A few of the crew would taste it and many did not like the taste. This did not offend Auzzy, “More for Me,” he said.

Last came Earnest from a place called North-way. He held one of the cans up and a few of the other humans began to cover there face or leave the room even though the can was still closed. He explained this was a can of Pick-old Hearings, a small aquatic creature that has been preserved for months during the frozen time of year. The Crew looked on with half horror, half curiosity, as he opened the can. Some of the other humans began to gag at the simple smell of this food. It was later explained by the other humans that the Hearings are caught and put in the can with minerals that allow the creature to undergo a type of fermentation that basically is on the edge of decay and rot. It is checked by the local government agency to make sure that it is safe for human consumption, assuming that you wanted to consume it. Most of the crew was confused by this dish the most out of all the foods. Why did the other humans run out of all the foods that were presented this was the crews favorite.

For once it was the humans who were confused and a little scared as the rest of the crew hungrily attacked the remaining cans of Pick-old Hearings

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

dragon age inquisition sentence starter

“ Bad things should happen to bad people. " 
” Rich tits always try for more than they deserve “
" Whatever the truth is, that belief gives you power. ”
“ Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life? ”
“ I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty. ”
“ I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die! ”
“ Tell me… where is your Maker now? Call him, call down his wrath upon me! You cannot. For he does not exist! ”
“ Common ground is the start of all negotiations. ”
“ Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. ”
“ It spoke of judgement instead of acceptance. It should encourage the good in everyone, rather than rebuke us for our sins. No one should be turned away from our doors. No one is without worth. Whoever you are, whatever your mistakes, you are loved. Unconditionally. ”
“ If we’re going to change it, why not change the whole thing? ”
“ I’ve known mages. Some of them were better people than me. And yet I’m free and they’re not. It’s not right. ”
“ Sometimes you have to figure out for yourself what the pledge to protect others really means. ”
“ You are who you choose to follow. ”
“ Took me years to understand what he meant. ”
“ But wars are won by men. ”
“ You inspire them. ”
“ Build on that foundation, and you will have an army that makes nations tremble. ”
“ We all need to believe there are such men in the world. ”
“ I needed to believe I could be one of them. ”
“ We could make the world better. ”
“ It’s just easier to shut our eyes. ”
“ It’s not right… to want to do good, to be good, and have that turned against you. ”
“ At this moment, you are the only threat I see. ”
“ How seldom does reality match the ideal. ”
“ We must do so with open hearts and open hands. ”
“ I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. ”
“ At some point, power becomes its own master. ”
“ They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. " 
" I want to help. ”
“ I used to be like you. I’m not anymore. You shouldn’t be either. ”
“ They forgot about him. ”
“ I came through to help… and I couldn’t. ”
“ Isn’t it wonderful? ”
“ Living a lie… it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart. ”
“ It’s my duty to stand with you. ”
“ I’m here to set things right. Also? To look dashing. That part’s less difficult. ”
“ We’re a lot more fragile than we’d like to believe. ”
“ Life isn’t about personal freedom. ”
“ People don’t always tell the truth when you’re polite. ”
“ We pick the ones willing to make the hard decisions… and live with the consequences. ”
“ Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be. ”
“ No real god need prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying. ”
“ I would not trade it for anything. ”
“ I hope there’s a damn good punchline coming. ”
“ The truly great ones can keep their distance. They don’t get attached to their people. ”
“ I always wind up babysitting my informants and worrying about their families. ”
“  Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that.”
“ That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle. ”
“ For those who value survival, sentimentality is not an option. ”
“ I’m never truly out of my element. ”



Simply put: Pollution. All living things conduct magic, whether they mean to or not. Sentient things are special, in that we have a modicum of control over what the energy does when it hits us. Now, nobody is doing magic all the time, so when ambient energy hits you and isn’t directed in any particular way, you get an aura. An aura is how a soul at rest conducts the arcane. 

When I say aura, most people interpret it as a cloud of spectral light around someone. This is only partially correct. While light is common, aruas exist on multiple planes of existence, some are even easily observable. How you talk, how you stand, the muscle tensions in your face, your tone of voice, these are all components of your aura. 


Its possible, but it takes practice. Don’t be too hard on yourself if it doesn’t come to you quickly. Some people have duller, more intense auras, while others might just sparkle. Everyone’s aura is unique. What makes seeing an aura difficult is that is cannot be done consciously. An aura is by its own nature something of inattention, and can never truly be focused on. But with careful meditative practice one can relax their attention enough not to see, but feel, the aura of another. 


Well, everything really. If you were to point a video camera at a volcanic vent miles below the earths crust, film a single rock for thousands of years, and then play that video in super fast motion, you would get an idea of how an aura is structured. Experience upon experience, a great flow of molten life constantly heating and cooling, snapping and reforging. Some parts are unchanging, some are fluid. There is no rhyme or reason to it. Some people are just more prone to change. Dont expect to be able to tie a single color or texture to a personality trait. People are more complicated than that. Angry people dont have red auras, etc. 


If you want to read someones aura, Ive found that the best way to get a good look is to make sure they’re the first thing you see when you wake up. That bleary-eyed half dream state is the perfect way to see things that arent there, however it does make the observation difficult to remember. With practice this method can teach you how to slip into that mindset more easily, and see more effectively with your “third eye”.

why do y'all feel the need to justify mon-el’s behavior? that’s trying to justify the unjustifiable, and it’s not like he’s a 13 yo boy in a new planet and trying to undertand its culture, while learning to control his powers. He’s a fucking adult that is capable of discern what’s right/wrong.

And please do not say that crap “he’s not from earth! 1! He’s learning!1! We shouldn’t judge him by earth standards he’s from daxam!1!”  i’m pretty sure morals and common sense exist outside earth, he’s just a crap person - or alien in this case -, nothing can excuse his behavior. He’s an asshole that doesn’t deserve Kara.

A Letter to Nintendo (I Met My Love on Mario Kart)

Dear Nintendo,

If you didn’t exist I would not have met the love of my life. You’re probably thinking, “So you bumped into someone and realised you both liked Nintendo, who doesn’t? Cool story…” Not even close. 

The year was 2008, a year I’m sure many hold dear in their hearts. The year Mario Kart Wii was released. I don’t know about yours, but my days were filled with holding that wheel (of the plastic kind). MKWii was basically the air I breathed, I still remember my very first online race as crisp as a freshly cut lawn (Grumble Volcano before people realised that glitch existed). After playing the other Mario Kart games over the years against item-lucky computers (and the rare actual person), this blew my mind. However this is barely relevant to the story. The point is, people. There were people out there, just like you and me, casually sitting on the couch with a wheel imprint (perhaps 3.5% of the racing population) left in our hands and soul. Many hours (days, weeks, months), races (thousands, easily), blood sweat and tears went into this game and we all got something out of it I’m sure; fun, frustration, and friends.

Living in that piece of country people may often forget even exists (if it weren’t for the fact we use kangaroos as transport, especially after we realised emus don’t fly nor reverse), the option to play continental was such a blessing as we would often bump into the same people and you’d have that unspoken connection. No words, no contact, you just recognised each other by your Mii and/or name (for those who didn’t change it from John to W4FFLEZ, to SwagMeister89 every day). There was this one player that just stuck out to me, perhaps it was her luscious brown pixilated hair. Or it could have been because we seemed to be completely evenly matched, the only thing that separated us were those items. She’d win one race, I’d win the next. We had formed some unspoken bond, completely without contact, as we wouldn’t hit each other with items but were happy to do so to others. Side by side we’d race until some item-happy player would come along and separate us. So I’d stop at the finish line for her, even if that meant getting last place, just to let her know I saw what happened and she doesn’t deserve to come last because of some item spammer (you know, usually the 3 red shells one at a time). This became a trend and went both ways, I’d see her waiting there at the finish line for me. Then we’d both stop, together, and neither of us would cross. We just sat there at the line, revving our engines, moving backwards and forwards, wanting the other to cross. I still remember so clearly at 1am in the morning we ended up in a race together with just one other person, so the 3 of us. The race started but, simultaneously, we turned around and went backwards, did loops around each other, did the stop start (like when cloud man picks you up and you need a boost) into each other’s vehicles, grabbed items just to hit each other with, not having a single care about the race itself. This lasted for a good while, many laughs were had, and it seemed a true bond was formed - without a single word to each other. At this point, Mario Kart Wii didn’t have the option to add a friend just by clicking on them, or contacting them for that matter. You had to actually converse with them to get their friend code to then become friends, so all this time we were ‘scouring the country side’ to find each other (or more so because Australia is about as big as a 250kb USB, it was easy to bump into each other). Race after race, hour after hour, day after day, week after week we would race.

I didn’t know who this girl was (or even if she was a girl on the other side, let’s be honest) but we were Mario Kart soul mates. It wasn’t just Mario Kart that I loved, it was racing her, through our unspoken bond and silly rituals, that was fun in the purest form. It sounds like a Mario Kart love story… Until that dreaded time came where eventually we went our separate ways. It was time to say that unspoken goodbye, time to let go of that unspoken bond, time to move on. That was it…

So that’s the story, I met the pixilated love of my life and we raced until we could race no more.

…Ah but that’s only the beginning.

 6 years later Mario Kart 8 was released and I wiped the dust off the wheel, reflecting on the past. That wheel was my partner in crime, Epona to Link. It had scratches, bits missing out of it, even bite marks (ahem, sometimes races don’t exactly go your ways…). Those were the times! I jumped online only to find I had people from France, UK and Italy roam my races. Where were my fellow Australians? I played a few races and that was it, holding too strongly onto the past. Down went my trusty wheel and off went the game.

Until one afternoon my brother was bored (or procrastinating) and wanted to know what Mario Kart 8 was like, as we didn’t spend that much time together it was a prime opportunity to chill. So I popped it on, jumped online and went through the motions. A few races with people so far away, whilst fun, I got bored too fast. Almost switching the console off, something stopped me. Those brown eyes, luscious brown hair, big smile, black outfit. Could it be? It was. It was her. In a packed race filled with people from France, UK and Italy there were two Australians. Myself and the girl I raced almost 7 years ago. The girl who stopped at the line for me, the girl who didn’t hit me with items, the girl who who was my racing equal, the girl who I never spoke a word with but shared an unspoken bond. She had the same Mii, same name, there was no doubt it was her. Unlike me I had a different Mii (puberty does things to you) and a different name (I felt now that I was 23 I could level up from nickname to actual name). I knew who she was but she would never know who I am! I was on the tracks riding next to her, beeping at her, bumping into her, all the while knowing she would just think I’m some weirdo who doesn’t know how to handle a bike. It was all so ironic, as well as the fact unlike MK Wii we both didn’t race as our Miis but as Mario and Peach (the helmets covered up our luscious brown hair, y’see). Mario chasing his princess whilst the princess was basically in another castle/didn’t know who he was. I wanted to reach out and tell her who I was; I was that guy she raced almost 7 years ago, that guy who stopped at the line for her, protected her from items, the guy who she stayed up with into the early hours of the morning, that guy she never spoke a single word to. I savoured every race not knowing if I’d ever be able to see her again. I raced by her side race after race, even though I was hit with her items (“And if you hurt me, that’s okay baby” - Ed Sheeran, ‘Photograph’), I even stopped at the line for her. Did she know who I was? Probably not. Next race she was gone. 

And that is how I met the love of my life on Mario Kart, twice. Does that count as a real love story? We basically raced into the sunset to live happily ever after, right?

So there may be more to it. Being in a state of excitement, nostalgia, and who knows what, I was a man on a mission. When I’m a man on a mission I usually forget the simple things, like clicking on her Mii to add her as a friend. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. So I literally was a man on a mission. My first resort, google. Obviously no luck. Miiverse! Excitedly I reached ‘Search Users’ and typed in her name, only to realise that it was one of the most common names to exist. After about an hour of searching my hope was wearing thin, my face resembled a Mii who came in at least 10th, head down, lost, reflecting, pondering. Hang on, she had stars in her name! Apparently everyone with the name Lisa has stars in them. No luck. Utterly defeated, I held the power button down for two seconds and just before the third I realised something. Something didn’t look right… That’s right, she had spaces between the stars! I’ve never been more determined to hit that space bar. There she was. I had found her.

“Hey Lisa! I’m not sure if you’d remember me but I used to race as Ed back in the MKWii days! Was good to see you, can see you haven’t lost your touch!” Not even sure if she’d see the message or even reply, it was all in the hands of fate now. Fate it certainly was. She remembered me. We conversed through Miiverse, learning little basic bits about each other. The most important being that The Legend of Zelda was our favourite gaming series (and basically favourite thing to exist). To the point I have a Zelda tattoo and her dog’s name is Link. Destiny? From there, she asked for my email address so she could send me a photo of Link (let’s just say I am very thankful for Miiverse’s lack of characters/ability to send photos). 

One message turned into many, across days, weeks and months. A one sentence message grew into paragraphs, pages, novels, photos and videos. One single message evolved into over 25 000 words combined. Who knew what one message could lead to. I had found someone who I connected with on every level, whom I shared endless things in common with, big to small (to the point of both of us being left-handed and our birthdays being 2 days apart). However she lived a whole state away. This was nothing but a mere friendship over the internet.

I came across the amazing fan book “Legend of the Hero” by Kari Fry and bought one, along with a few other Zelda bits and pieces. A thought crossed my mind, perhaps I could send this to her? I mean it’s just as easy for her to go buy it herself, but it would be nice, right? So she ended up giving me her address and I excitedly made her a Zelda package. 

Off it went, along with my number on the back of the package (as required by the, ultimate wingman, post office). I soon received a very excited text message and from there we conversed through text - although we couldn’t let go of our novel emails straight away, as our recent messages were “Hey, just letting you know the Postman has left something in your inbox (Da na na naaaa)!” Soon after she sent me my very own Zelda package, which was easily the best package I have ever received in my life.

From there I knew I wanted to meet her. I wanted to drop everything, catch a plane, and meet this girl who I shared this abnormally special connection with. Meet this girl who I had raced for many hours, days, weeks and months on Mario Kart(s) (“Oh I lost you once but I found you twice, and my search is over” - ‘Deeper Love’, Mike Mago). Meet this girl who I waited for; not only at the line but, unknowingly, for many years. Meet this girl who I had spent hours upon hours writing to, words upon words, photos upon photos. Meet this girl who seemed to be a destined part of my life. That I did. 

One single flight and a solid friendship turned into thirteen flights (within a month) and a beautiful relationship, with the final flight being a permanent one. I’ve now moved states, transferred jobs, and am living with my best friend, my soulmate, my love. Best decision I’ve ever made was to catch that flight. No, the best decision I’ve ever made was to play Mario Kart. 

Who knew that Mario Kart could forever change your life?

Thank you, Nintendo.

- Elijah 

P.S. We are now very happily engaged - Zelda rings* for the both of us!

*Austin Moore from Earth Art Gem and Jewelry ( made both our rings, with Lisa’s being a custom made design. Absolutely recommend!

P.P.S. Here is a link to the video (also included within post) of me proposing to my now fiancee (with Mario Kart included - as well as a Zelda cake): 

Thank you, Nintendo.

Why “straight passing privilege” Is Not Real

*in this post I will often use the term bisexuality, but please note that this applies to pansexual and polysexual and all bi+ people as well

A very common misconception that exists within the LGBTQ+ community is that being bisexual means that you have something called “straight passing privilege,” which basically translates into heteronormativity to your benefit. A lot of people assume that it is somehow easier to be bisexual than it is to be gay because not every crush that you have or not every relationship that you are in is necessarily gay, always having that “straight side” to turn to and not always having to come out to your family or to your loved ones because you can just use that “straight side” of yours as a shield and still feel comfortable. 

Except, um, no.

Keep reading

There’s a tendency people have to replicate their own biases, even when writing stories where those biases supposedly don’t exist. 

One common one that I’ve seen is the “there is no gender bias” idea in fantasy where it’s either a role reversal (women in the society are treated the way men are now, more or less) or just an unspoken/watered down version of what we have now. Stories may say there is no gender bias, but the majority of people in managerial/high level positions are men, they historically have been men, and they likely are to continue to be men. Similarly, certain jobs generally held by women are devalued, similarly to how they are in the real world. Men are chefs, women are home cooks. Men are doctors, women are nurses. If you’re going to have a society that truly has no gender bias, you need to think long and hard about how that would manifest, and don’t just replicate what we have now. Otherwise, don’t have your story claim not to have gender biases.

Similarly, the fantasy worlds that claim not to have homophobia nearly always do. If marriage is centered around reproduction–unless couples who are unable to have biological children with each other have equal access to child production (eg magic incubators/baby production), and probably even then–there will be homophobia in your story, because cis male/cis male and cis female/cis female (and, depending on how your story works, cis male/trans female and cis female/trans male) relationships would not be considered equivalent to cis male/cis female relationships.

One thing to keep in mind in regards to homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, acephobia, etc. is that not all of it looks like Christian-based discrimination. There’s a tendency to think of homophobia/etc. as being from certain ideas (it’s a sin, sex should only be for reproduction, marriage is based in religious tradition, god made bodies/people a certain way) and so manifesting in certain ways. There is non-religious homophobia/etc., though, which is not only based in different ideas (conformism is necessary, reproduction is necessary because we’re running out of people, etc.) but would manifest in different ways. You may be avoiding the Christian-based discrimination you’re used to while still having other types of bias or discrimination in your story, which means that it’s not actually a bias-free society.

If you’re going to write a society with no biases–which may either be a society that has never had those biases or a society that has gotten past them, which would be different–be aware of what your own biases are and how to avoid having them appear in your story.

anonymous asked:

P.S. You're a dick sometimes 😊😊😊😊😊 calling people out on "stolen art" when it was obviously not the intended purpose was bullshit. These artists don't always get stolen and not tagged so one person in the hundreds that doesn't know or doesn't understand the guide lines is not reason to go all out and explain the details. Its one account honestly

Ooh no i am a diiiick   Σʕ゚ᴥ゚ノʔノ

(also it’s a ps but there was no message before, was that intended?)


Okay, sorry,time to be serious.Don’t get me wrong adorable anon but ofc  there is a difference between stealing and misunderstanding. (。•́O•̀。)

Let meh explain u very clearly.I don’t “call out” everybody i see and in fact,i talk to them privately before anythin’ else. U don’t kno’ that because yes,indeed,it’s private and i always try to keep it that way and not make a fuss.

Respect the rules, if u don’t kno’ them,i’ll take my time and explain .This is my choice and also my duty as artist to make ppl understand this. You can’t kno’ to not touch the electric plug if your parents doesn’t warn u. this is how i consider the situation. This is very traumatizing for somewahn to be called out. i understand and i always keep it in mind when i ask them to delete the reposted art.  (;*△*;)


Stealing stuff ,mostly art is very hard to handle. They usually doesn’t kno’ the rules (which i can understand) or break them purposely (which is dangerous).

Now, the lol lmao “it’s one account” , you can absolutely forget this. it’s pretty naive. I don’t care about mah art, i care for all artists around there. Hundreds and hundreds of uncredited repost accounts exists. The common answer i receive when i ask them to take down the reposted art is “i’m not the only one, why do you annoy meh? bc i have a lot of followers isn’t it “ 

No.Mainly because it’s illegal. ヽ(●゚´Д`゚●)ノ゚

This is despicable to reject the fault on somewahn else. Be an adult ,understand ur mistakes and don’t it ever again . That’s ok when it happens. I won’t get mad but it’s rude to not listen to the ppl who share their art for free just for entertaining your day.


I remember for somethin’ like plagierism in france, you can risk 3 years of jail and 300 000 euros of compensation to the person you stole/repoduced the art.

 one or one hundred reposter(s),if you’re discovered and don’t remove the art, you’re exposin’ urself to a lot of problems.

Be reasonable kyote anon.I’m talkin’ to you in a adult way. Don’t forget to credit an artist.Young or not, It can goes very far and the borders of a country won’t stahp an artist to sue a reposter. 

 i had to call out 3/ 4 people but that nothin’ compared to the number of accounts i contacted for removing the reposted content. There is still a hope, i believe when ppl say “i didn’t kno’” Since they are understanding,i’ll neveh be rude to them. I try to understand their issues so i hope they would understand mine as well.

Don’t forget i have a life too.As artists, one or one thousand, this is the exact same thing. We have feelings. we’re not robots. Take this in consideration. I hate doin’ this but if i don’t stahp that, other ppl will repost art from the person who reposted it at first and that shiet will neveh end.  ( ≧Д≦)

It’s better to kill it in the egg before it become out of control. 


At this moment.i can tell u, that would be impossible to stahp this.

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.” At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. (AGOT)

most children in asoiaf hang on the every word of idealized songs but what arya enjoys most is hearing the less flowery, but more honest, accounts from real life people - in this case winterfell’s smallfolk. whether its a blacksmith or a steward or a horsemaster or a nurse. they talk about their lives and trades and duties at the stark table and arya loves to listen to them. its not even something she views as a tedious duty like some highborns might. she genuinely enjoys learning about the people who play such important roles in running winterfell. she loved nothing better! and this is a ned’s lesson™ we only see through arya’s pov so i think she’ll carry it on in the future. generally, highborns disregard the common folks entire existence. but arya easily connects with people regardless of their social class. she values, not only their skills, but their lives. they’re not servants to her they’re her friends. and she lived among them for years so she understands their struggles better now. arya has experienced poverty and starvation first hand. that will directly shape arya and the kind of leader she becomes. arya might not follow every little courtesy as a “”proper”” (southron) “”lady”” should but she is very good with people. especially her people. thats been consistent in her arc and always will be.

Making a Trope your Own

@missgoomba39 asked: “How do you write the ‘Token Evil Teammate’ trope in a good/better/unique way?”

The question I think is less “how do I make this trope unique and original?” but more, “how do I make this trope my own?” While you are creating a character who has something in common with the existing trope, you have to force yourself to think beyond that. Who is this character? What does he want? Why does he go after the protagonist? What jealousy or ill-will is there and why is it there? What is his family situation? What external pressures does he have in his life that weigh on him? 

One example of this trope in action is in Harry Potter. Early in the series, the character Draco Malfoy is established as a mean, little kid who quickly becomes Harry’s rival. As the series progresses, we learn more about his character, the pressure his father puts on him, and even the cowardice that he’d been hiding behind cruel words. Though he stays a villain, he becomes a fairly dynamic character and much more than just that mean little kid from the first book. 

When making a trope your own, you stop thinking about the character as just the typecast you want them to be, and the person beyond that. In early drafts, this may not be something you focus on for every minor character, but as you continue to edit, if a character is sticking out, you may want ask yourself, is it because they do not fit into the world of your particular story yet. 


☆Namjoon Soulmate AU 5/7☆

01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07[END]

I like this part more than the previous but still not my fave. I think I might start on some other members as well… I mention “Soulmate Systems”. That’s because, in my version of a universe with soulmates, not every pair has the “Name Marks” like Joonie and Reader have in this series. While permanent marks (like the names or matching tattoo like marks) are most common, other systems exist; like the colour, timer and pain systems.

《Requests are open.》

Watch on

This reopened the gaping hole in my life that Thursday left. I miss these guys. If I had a time machine, you can bet I’d be at every single one of their shows. This song sounds so wonderful to me, so ethereal, even live. I wish I’d seen them more than twice. Their musicianship and group dynamic is wonderful. I can get lost in this song. The passion they put into their music is just breathtaking. It’s also kind of amusing to see Tom with a beard and Geoff with that longer hair. God I love these guys. My faith in humanity is immensely bolstered when I know such wonderful music is out there. Thanks, Thursday. Miss you. 


I have been taking to writing about the experience of “Deeper” more than any other journey I have ever embarked on. This experience has been one of intense personal discovery and is really the first time I have ever been involved in something, where I have an overwhelming awareness of my life changing as I move forward.

Christy Mack is a friend. She is someone I hold a great deal of admiration for. She has been through a very public ordeal that prior to shooting this project, I could never begin to image the fallout from.

My goal with shooting “Deeper” is to create an environment that is safe for my subjects. Safe to explore and identify emotions that translate to an honest conversation between two people. I never set out to shoot a bunch of photos of half naked women “crying,” but once I realized the depth of the conversation AND the reality that tears are NOT a sign of a person’s weakness… it became very clear to me why tears have been a part of most of these shoots.

Christy is a public figure and we all know that in the world we live in, public figures are subject to intense scrutiny. Having such a public profile and being involved in such a terribly public ordeal would reduce most people to reclusion and isolation.

I didn’t know what to expect when I asked Christy to participate in “Deeper”. My hope was that we could have an honest exchange, resulting in something that would reveal where she’s been and how far she has come. What occurred was everything I could have hoped for and more.

Recovery from any traumatic experience is a roller coaster. We put on a happy face in the hopes of showing strength to those around us… in a way, assimilating to societal norms in an ongoing attempt to make other people feel “okay.” This often results in a feeling of “emptying the tank” and creating a feeling of exhaustion and a sense of loneliness.

We hold people, especially those with a public profile, to unfair expectations and cast aspersions upon them with no real thought to consequence because we forget that the person we “follow” is human. A major reason I have continued with “Deeper” and have decided to focus on people in the adult industry and sex work is because I feel it’s really important to reveal the common humanity that exists in subjects who are so easily dismissed and, quite honestly, dehumanized on a regular basis. Everyone has a story that deserves our acknowledgment and understanding and the stories I am hearing regularly are astounding. I feel a certain responsibility to create a body of work that reflects this idea.

I am truly humbled by Christy’s emotional honesty and willingness to allow me to capture her in a state of vulnerability that was very real and beautiful to bear witness to. There’s a strength in allowing yourself to be vulnerable… and once you are able to allow yourself to honor that emotion, the release from that is equally beautiful.

Thank you Christy for everything. You define strength and I can only hope that what we created illustrates that.

T H E     D E V I L ' S     T E A R S

Hades has been ruling over the underworld with a solid grip and his wife Persephone, by his side. However, his regime never pleased the olympians. Over and over again they tried to strip Hades of his powers but failed each time. One day Zeus asked Circe for her help and together they created a powerful weapon called the Bermuda Box. It was supposed to be given to Hades as a gift but as soon as he’d open it, all his powers and memories would be trapped inside it, making him a common mortal. None existing spell could ever open the box again, once it’s been closed, what ever was inside, was locked forever. Zeus gave the box to Hermes and told him to bring it to the underworld. However, when he arrived, it was not Hades who greeted him but Persephone. Hermes, not aware of what power the box held, gave it to her and returned to the olymp. As soon as she held the box in her hands, curiosity made her open it up and the damage was done. Persephone lost all her powers and memories, which made her a common mortal. That should’ve been the effect of the spell but it was much more powerful than that. With an empty mind, the spell replaced the blank spaces with new memories of a life Persephone never led and send her down to earth to live them, now as Muse B.

Hades, eventually finding out what happened to his lover, was enraged and promised war with the olympians as soon as his wife returned home. He went down to earth to find her but to his suprised found out that he couldn’t restore her memories, the box was too powerful. The olympians, not wanting another war, told Hades to bring Muses’ B memories back in a different way, by making her fall for him. So Hades took on the identity of Muse A and started a life among humans.

As a god, it should’ve been easy to be part of their world but it turned out to be a hard task, especially because Muse B was not interested in any kind of interaction. However, the bigger risk was the fact that the longer Muse A stayed on earth and away from the underworld, the weaker he got. Nevertheless, he was never going to give up on Muse B.

After many failed attempts of a conversation, Muse A and Muse B eventually hit it off. They started to see each other on weekends and even went out sometimes during the week. It could’ve been great if not for the strange dreams Muse B started to get about a place that resembled hell and Muse A was its King.

there’s a cough drop stuck
in the back of my throat;
i can’t swallow the guilt
of blood stains on my ex’s shirt. 
she’s off to heaven, i’m in hell,
our little world is burning,
and she’s escaping, silver
teeth and knives glinting. 
i’m choking on loyalty
and trust and hearts. 
one thing they all have in common,
they all exist to be broken. 
i’m stuck, dissolving in her veins,
she stabbed me in the back
and i guess bleeding pain
is a deadly sin.
—  french kissing in dark alleys in south chicago || r.m. || 6.18.17