irreperable

vriska and dirk (at the beginning of their arcs) are both people who take “the ends justify the means” to its logical extreme

theyre both people who grew up from infancy under incredibly adverse circumstances and, instead of acknowledging that that adversity traumatized them, recontextualize their coping mechanisms and survival tactics as “strength”. vriska tells herself that her lusus turning her into a child soldier and constantly dangling the threat of death over her head made her a smarter, stronger, more cunning person. dirk tells himself that growing up isolated from any human contact and being forced to fend for himself against the elements and assassination attempts by the condesce made him capable, self-sufficient, and mature.

they think that adversity made them strong - pressure makes diamonds, steel sharpens steel - and that they are their best selves. and they love their friends (yes, even vriska - look at the way she talks to aradia or terezi), and they want whats best for them. specifically, dirk and vriska want what they think is best for their friends, regardless of their friends actual wants or needs. dirk and vriska think that adversity is what made them strong, so in order to empower their friends, dirk and vriska will be that adversity.

of course this fails because dirk and vriska 1. are stupid children, and 2. lack the social graces or understanding of interpersonal relationships to know when theyre pushing someone past their limits. the only real difference is that vriska is hyper-empathetic, whereas empathy for dirk is a learned skill - vriska has explosive episodes of rage that shes immediately consumed with guilt over, and dirk hurts people because he cant really understand when theyre expressing unease or discomfort

and they both have arcs that revolve around this architecture of strained, broken relationships and inflated egos crumbling around them. all of vriskas friends turn against her. dirks emotional inaccessibility is a prime contributing factor to the trickster clusterfuck. vriska, who thinks that she can handle everything, is killed by terezi in order to prevent a doomed timeline. dirk, who thinks that he can handle everything, is functionally neutered for the entire condesce/aranea conflict when jade teleports him to the furthest reaches of space.

post-retcon homestuck has a lot of flaws (ive written about this extensively before) and one of them is that while dirks arc gets a satisfying resolution, vriskas doesnt. dirk comes face-to-face with his own worst case scenario, how his mindset and behavior has the potential to damage people irreperably, and resolves to make amends and change. (vriska), when divorced from the environment of constant stress and violence that defined her childhood and shaped her as a person, opens up, lets herself be vulnerable, acknowledges her own flaws and shortcomings and ultimately reunites with the terezi from her native timeline. vriska prime doesnt have these same revelations about herself - yes, vriska prime and (vriska) are the same character, and (vriska) exists to show vriskas true nature and potential for introspection and self-awareness, but vriska prime is still exhibiting the flaws (vriska) overcame all the way through the end of homestuck. vriska comes SO fucking close to having a satisfying resolution, swerves, and misses it. thats the fault of bad writing, though.

ultimately though theres more than enough evidence of vriskas character to make her sympathetic and forgivable - more than dirk, even, id say - it takes a certain special kind of cognitive dissonance insist that one is guilty and the other is innocent

4

Pablo Neruda: Love.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

Looking for Alaska quotes for the signs
  • Aries: "Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war."
  • Taurus: "That didn’t happen, of course. Things never happened the way I imagined them."
  • Gemini: "And in my classes, I will talk most of the time, and you will listen most of the time. Because you may be smart, but I've been smart longer."
  • Cancer: "We need never be hopeless because we can never be irreperably broken."
  • Leo: "A woman so strong she burns heaven and drenches hell."
  • Virgo: "When I look at my room, I see a girl who loves books."
  • Libra: "At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it's over and you're relieved."
  • Scorpio: "When you stop wishing things wouldn't fall apart, you stop suffering when they do."
  • Sagittarius: "If people were like rain, I was like drizzle and she was a hurricane."
  • Capricorn: "If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless."
  • Aquarius: "You just use the future to escape the present."
  • Pisces: "I'd rather wonder than get answers I couldn't live with."

It’s absolutely beautiful to see the love pouring out of the music community on tumblr today.

We all clearly love Chris and his music very much. We are all grieving right now, and it’s totally understandable. Chris was a gift to us and the world, with his beautiful voice, and dedication to his work. It certainly shows, as he fronted three bands and had a successful career by himself, too. He has been a huge contribution to rock and grunge as we know it today.

His music helped me and my father during a rough time in our lives. It helped us grow close again, after what I thought would be irreperable damage from our situation at the time. I remember being amazed by his voice when I first heard it; I still am, listening to his music today. Chris is my father’s favourite vocalist, hands down. I am extremely shocked and saddened by this news, just as many of us are, as well.

As a community, all we can do is support eachother, and remember Chris for his music and what he gave to us. We can’t forget that. He’s so much more than a singer or a musician to a ton of us. At the same time, we also need to give Chris’ family the privacy and space that they need. They’re grieving, just like the rest of us.

All we can do now is never forget him and cherish his work, just as we did before this tragedy. Chris, and everyone else we lose in our lives, are only truly gone if we forget them.

I am here for any of you who need or want to talk. I wish you all the best.

Briefe, die ich nie schrieb

Brief 1

Hallo X,

es ist schon seltsam.Als du gegangen bist, bin ich stark geblieben,entgegen aller Erwartungen. Ich war mir immer so sicher gewesen, dass , wenn es mit uns mal aus sein sollte, etwas in mir zerbrechen würde. Auf irreperable Weise.Dass ich es ohne dich nicht aushalten würde. Dass ich innerlich sterben würde.Dass mein komplettes Leben auf den Kopf gestellt werden würde. Aber die Tage vergingen und du warst nicht da.Und ich lebte weiter. Ohne eine einzige verdammte Träne wegen dir zu weinen.Ich hatte nicht das Bedürfnis, dir noch etwas zu sagen. Nach all den verdammten Jahren, nach all der langen Zeit. Es kam mir so falsch vor.

So schnell hatte ich einen Anderen gefunden.Ich machte mir so Vorwürfe. Wäre ich an deiner Stelle gewesen, ich wäre so enttäuscht gewesen von dir. Vielleicht war ich in Wirklichkeit enttäuscht von mir selber. Ich kann es dir bis heute nicht sagen.

Aber etwas hat sich geändert. Nun, nachdem ein paar Monaten vergangen sind. Es ist nicht so, dass ich dich als Partner vermisse. Was nicht heißt, dass unsere Liebe schlecht war oder zu wenig bedeutet hat, nein. Aber ich vermisse mein altes Ich. Mein Ich, zu dem du so einen großen Teil beigetragen hast. Weil du mich verändert hast, auf eine positive Art und Weise.Ich vermisse mein altes Leben, von dem du und deine Familie und deine Freunde so lange ein Teil wart.Es fühlt sich an, als wäre ein Teil von mir gestorben, der nie wieder zurückkehren wird. Und jetzt, nach den paar Monaten, trifft mich der Schmerz des Verlustes stärker, als kurz nachdem wir unsere Beziehung beendet haben. Ich realisiere langsam, dass diese Leute nicht mehr zurückkommen werden. Menschen, die mich geliebt haben,die ich geliebt habe. Deine Mutter, die mich wie ihre eigene Tochter behandelt hat.Deine Freunde, die auch meine Freunde wurden. Ich bin so egoistisch…

Es stimmt, ich habe dir nicht nachgeweint. Dafür weine ich jetzt wieder um so mehr. Manchmal habe ich das Gefühl zu ersticken. Dass selbst wenn ich schreien würde, mich keiner hören würde.Ich weine mich wieder abends in den Schlaf und komme morgens fast nicht aus dem Bett. Manchmal kann ich nicht einmal mehr lachen. Ich habe das Gefühl, mein Leben entgleitet mir und ich habe keinerlei Kontrolle über das, was geschieht. Ich fühle mich unvollständig. Ich fühle mich nicht mehr als mich selbst.Ich fühle mich verloren in einer Welt, in die ich nicht reinzupassen scheine.Ich habe wieder Angst. Angst, vor neuen Begegnungen. Angst, nicht gut genug zu sein. Ich kann nicht mehr unbefangen mit den Leuten reden und lachen. Wenn ich weggehe, trinke ich wieder viel, um überhaupt teilhaben zu können. Damit ich nicht wieder nur in der Ecke stehe und das Leben an mir vorbeizieht. Es wird nur langsam besser…

Ich hatte nicht ganz unrecht, es kommt nur immer anders als erwartet.Tatsächlich bricht mir mein Leben jetzt gerade unter den Füßen weg.Tatsächlich vermisse ich dich nicht, obwohl ich das erwartet hätte. Aber ich vermisse all die anderen Dinge, die wir miteinander geteilt haben. Und, bei Gott, es tut so verdammt weh, dass ich es manchmal schier nicht aushalte. Ich kann mich selbst nicht mehr ertragen.Diese toten Augen, die mich im Spiegel anstarren, obwohl sie doch vorwurfsvoll schauen sollten.Dieses ausdruckslose Gesicht, in das ich am liebsten reinschlagen würde, so dass es sich mal wieder regt. Ich bin nicht mehr stark, ich muss mich so sehr für Kleinigkeiten anstrengen.So wenig bereitet mir Freude, so vieles bereitet mir Schmerz. Das bin nicht mehr ich. Du hast mich mit dir mitgenommen und dann sterben lassen. So wie du mich aufgebaut hast, so lässt du mich nun zusammenfallen.

Ich muss mich wieder neu finden und definieren. Ich weiß auch, dass ich es ohne deine Hilfe schaffen werde. Ich brauche nur etwas Zeit…

Ich hoffe für dich, dass du nicht dasselbe fühlen musst. Ich hoffe für dich, dass du stärker sein kannst als ich. Dass du du bleiben kannst.Du warst mal mein bester Freund, weißt du? Ich wünsche dir nichts Schlechtes…

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

—  Love, Pablo Neruda.

Love.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

—  Pablo Neruda

Love.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

—  Pablo Neruda
Fixer Upper || Benji & Stiles

@benjidunnimf

Stiles doesn’t know if he really likes all the paperwork so much. He likes the research and he is definitely a fan of there finally being a bit of a lull, but it means catching up on forms over forms and that’s just tedious. So as soon as he could, he stole away for his lunch break. Sitting in a stuffed room with his team was making him twitchy and he kind of missed fresh air. Which is why he was taking a walk through the park nearby, munching on a sandwich and holding his phone where he was absentmindedly reading the news. 

In relation to certain K-Pop ‘news’ outlets

Please do not allow attention-seeking, self-righteous and sesationalist K-Pop ‘news’ outlets - which parade as being run by fans, but are in fact profit-generating enterprises thriving on conflict and deriving their earnings from the attention it attracts - to entice you with their unfounded claims of being in possession of facts to which they could not possibly be privy. They present little to no well-researched news, resorting instead to exaggeration, scandal-mongering and sensationalism in order to sell their sad product. Do not allow their half-baked analyses, biased interpretation and misrepresentation of facts, accusations, half-truths and outright fabrications to could your judgement.

The have little to no regard for the consequences of their actions on anyone but themselves, and if indeed they ever were real fans - something that requires a bit of love and humanity -, they have long since turned into no more that merchants of scandal that prostitute their morals on a daily basis.

Do not allow yourself to be used as an accomplice in this form of yellow journalism, which is to the detriment of all those invloved. None of us are perfect, but no one deserves to be dragged through the mud on the basis of someone’s arbitrary interpretation of information of questionable provinance. The mud these people throw at others can at best gain them a handful of additonal clicks, but it will cause those they slander irreperable damage.

5

10x14 “The Executioner’s Song”

“It’s not the first time today.”

I honestly don’t know where to start and end with this scene. From Dean handing the blade to Cas - because he might expect him to make good on his promise to take him out. To how his voice sounds so un-Dean when he says the line above. The way Sam reacts to it and possibly wonders what Dean might have lied about as well today and Cas, who is possibly able to sense that something irreperably broke within Dean. The pain in all their faces kills me. And you know what might kill me most? This last look of Dean upwards. It’s the same look he had on his face after what happened with Charlie in the ending scene, the same look he had on his face when he was praying in 5x14 when Sam was detoxing. He is looking up to heaven. Hoping against hope there is something that can prevent his “fate”.

2

Hey! I was tagged for the 20 beautiful woman thing by punkcraic juiceboxniall thotfuss & horanchesthair (thank you💖💖 and pls excuse the hair, I’ve no brushed it yet)
I tag: omgpizzaislyfe never-irreperably-broken yslbae autumnheaux harrysmyson tittytenda niallthedinglehopper varsityho queenoffeminism frickingirish hokieniall work1d fuckkyliejenner zaynmalikleft arabianho nouisjpg urfavesheaux irlsiren irishlaurent

lin manuel miranda is an inspiration to me because im always worried about like becoming successful but in so doing i do irreperable damage to my eyes and have permanent eyebags and no one likes me but lin looks like the most Tired Boy and everyone loves him