what do you think when you imagine a world driven by instinct?
(yes, please answer me! can be in rb, comments, dms, anon/non anon asks, etc)
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@flowersonpebbles
what do you think when you imagine a world driven by instinct?
(yes, please answer me! can be in rb, comments, dms, anon/non anon asks, etc)
I never liked those posts that reduce the Disney princesses to “girl who overacts about something and dramatically flings herself down and bawls” (super popular in the early 10’s and somehow that’s how a shocking majority view the classics now) but after an Aladdin (1992) rewatch, it’s especially egregious that they ever included Jasmine in that.
This part. This is the part I’m talking about
This is not a woman falling to pieces because her father won’t let her marry a man she just met.
This is a woman born to a life she has very little say in. She has never had a genuine friend (besides a tiger). She is facing a marriage to a man she doesn’t know and doesn’t like but duty (and the law) demands it. So she took a risk, ran away, ran to a world she doesn’t know or understand and when she landed in trouble (serious, serious trouble) a stranger came to her aid. She finally (finally!) made a real connection with someone but they didn’t get much time together before the guards showed up and she had to reveal who she was.
This moment when she’s crying her heart out? It comes after she’s been told that the first person she ever connected with, the first person to be genuinely interested in her for who she is and not what she is, the first real friend she has ever made, was executed… because of her.
She believes a good, innocent person has lost their life because of her actions, and what’s more, it brings home the reality for her that she cannot have a normal life or normal relationships, because see the consequences one little attempt wrought?
I actually love this trope. People treat crying like some kind of moral failure. Boys shouldn't cry, girls *can* cry, but that's also what makes them inferior. If this is not an example of toxic masculity, I don't know what is.
Crying is normal. Even if it's over something trivial. We all face a lot of struggles in their lives, whether we acknowledge it or not. Something minor might end up breaking the camel's back.
Anyway, here's one of my favorite scenes in Beauty and the Beast:
Belle's reaction is completely understandable. I think Mrs. Potts put it best: "The girl lost her father and her freedom all in one day." That's not overreacting!
Thank you so much for adding Belle!
Really, none of the classic princesses deserve the misinterpretation.
Cinderella?
Again, this is not after someone told her “yOu CaN’t MaRrY a MaN yOu JuSt MeT”—this is after she went to great lengths to get ready for the ball, adhering to the intentionally difficult (meant to be impossible) stipulations set by her abusive step-mother for her to be allowed to attend (when really she was invited and had as much right as the others to attend). She made that dress (I can’t recall off the top of my head if the classic animated version was also her mother’s old dress she restyled or not but still, she put in a ton of work on top of all the extra house work) and what did her step-family do? They tore to shreds while she was wearing it. Of course she’s lost hope: it’s the final straw after years and years of doggedly remaining optimistic despite constant harsh treatment.
Let’s go to another favourite: Mulan.
Mulan’s just had the worst day.
She tried her hardest to live up to her family’s and her society’s expectations and vision of a perfect bride but she failed. Not only did it go wrong, but she was publicly humiliated by the Matchmaker—by extension, humiliating her family.
Granted, her family has been kind and sympathetic about the whole thing. Her father even goes to encourage her, assuring her of his unconditional love for her and his confidence that she’ll get it right next time.
She’s just beginning to smile when the drums pound and news of war reaches their village. Her father—her beloved father who’s already a veteran and lives with a disability—is expected as the only male in their family to suit up and head out in the morning.
Mulan can’t help. Nothing she says will be listened to and she can’t take his place (until, of course, she thinks of a way to do so which this moment of crying it out in the rain leads to—score one for having a good cry and clearing your head).
There’s of course more. Take any princess’ dramatic crying momentTM and review the context and I’ll bet you’ll see it’s never as trivial as some have framed it. And, yes, like prev pointed out, it’s this awful thing of people believing boys can’t cry and girls can but then they can never be taken seriously.
Crying is healthy. And crying in response to emotional distress is totally normal. Writers and storytellers across the ages have understood it and portrayed it.
Can everyone who makes video content do a Deaf bitch a favor? Watch your shit with the captions on and the sound off, and then do another round of editing to fix things including but not limited to:
Captions cover the spot on the screen you put the information I need
The dialogue is captioned but not the song you have playing that the dialogue is responding to
You only captioned the person on the screen, not the person off screen who is also talking
No captioning of critical sound effects (alarms, bells, dogs barking, etc)
Speakers are not labelled at moments where it is not clear on the screen who is talking.
Captions cover the spot on the screen that you put the information I need!
Other d/Deaf people welcome to add.
This post brought to you by the fifth video tutorial I could not follow because the bad, auto-generated captions covered what I was trying to watch today.
I made another one
I made another one
I made another one
I like how in stampgaze Nai feels like... Well. Listen. In Stampede. He wnats to get into the portal thingy.
But. But it's essentially the womb. Because there's nothing there with him. Except peace.
Whilst he's getting the plants pregnant to make more like him. To also suffer. But he gets to be with Vahs in his mind scape and in peace, pain forgotten. Idk how to articulate this. But like. This.
And in Stargaze... It felt like he wnated to do it again but since it didn't work the previous time tries to give it to Vahs only so he can handle the rest. Does. Is this anything.
He wnated to protect Vash so bad. Give his innocence back to him so bad. He was willing to be a womb bearing his brother for eternity. I.
I am unwell.
I like how in stampgaze Nai feels like... Well. Listen. In Stampede. He wnats to get into the portal thingy.
But. But it's essentially the womb. Because there's nothing there with him. Except peace.
Whilst he's getting the plants pregnant to make more like him. To also suffer. But he gets to be with Vahs in his mind scape and in peace, pain forgotten. Idk how to articulate this. But like. This.
And in Stargaze... It felt like he wnated to do it again but since it didn't work the previous time tries to give it to Vahs only so he can handle the rest. Does. Is this anything.
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
Vash twirled his finger around a lock of silver hair as Wolfwood idly traced his fingertips along the raised scars on Vash's chest, both with half lidded eyes and soft looks of content. It was barely past early evening, the bits of golden light now shifting to paint the house in pinks and reds as it spilled through the large window behind them. They had spent most of the day like this, arms wrapped around each other and skin against skin as much as one could in the bed, only getting up to eat. Even then, they were glued to each other, not bothering to put anything other than underwear on for the day. What was the point in anything more if their hands were going to find their way under them inevitably? They had been craving this since that morning back at the orphanage, when their rush to get back before Ms. Melanie noticed they were gone meant they didn't get to enjoy a lazy morning just basking in each other. Now though, with the need to steal time over and the others gone, their lazy morning turned to a lazy afternoon to a lazy evening of quiet conversations, caressing, and kisses. Vash would've thought he was dreaming had it not been for the sickening warmth in his whole body and the fact that he couldn't have dreamt of anything this kind for himself. Suddenly, a grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Wolfwood looked up at Vash, "hungry?" "Apparently, got any ideas?" Wolfwood moved his arms from around Vash, resting them on his chest and propping himself up slightly, "you ask like you're the one making it." "I'm just trying to brainstorm here, and you don't want me trying to cook. Trust me, I can barely warm food up right." "Oh I can believe it as disaster prone as you are. How many kitchens have you blown up in the past?" "You really think I'm that bad?" Wolfwood raised a brow smirking. "…three." "Lower than I guessed." "But I've started a lot of fires in them, too many to remember." Wolfwood chuckled, "thank God I'm here, you'd starve." "You're right," he gently cupped Wolfwood's cheek with his right hand, "I'd truly be hopeless without you." His smile dropped a bit as he saw Wolfwood staring at him. His own hand came up to hold Vash's as he pressed his face into the touch, his brows upturning as they furrowed, eyes shut. It looked as if he was about to cry as he kissed the inside of his palm softly over and over. After a moment he let out a shaky exhale, "God, I missed you." If Vash looked down at his chest, he was sure he'd see his heart breaking through the metal plate under his skin from how intensely it beat, but his eyes could not move from anything but him as they began to feel hot. "I missed you too Wolfwood."
imagine six thousand people read your journal every single day . thank fuck only like 10 of you max interact with me