Game of Thrones Daily
roma★
Color Me Curious
ellievsbear
RMH
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
macklin celebrini has autism
ojovivo
The Stonewall Inn
NASA
One Nice Bug Per Day
Doug Jones
gracie abrams
YOU ARE THE REASON
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Today's Document
Misplaced Lens Cap
tumblr dot com
official daine visual archive
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Oman
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
@savagelysarcasticsilence
The green of magic flickered around them as they frolicked and searched for a place in the parkland to call their new home; and when night eventually fell and they had curled up together with the one that they would remain with for the rest of their life, a different, smaller burst of magic fell over the two sleeping foxes. Art for STARSdidathing’s fanfic Entwined 💖
More to follow because I love this so goddamn much dfkjkj
Concept: Depressing dystopian factory where everything is gray and samey and the workers are called by their employee numbers by an ominous deep voice.
But it's a really great place to work with high salaries, excellent benefits, and a flexible working schedule with plenty of paid leave. They just like the dystopian aesthetic.
PA system: Worker 72094. Leave your working station and report to the Supervisor immediately.
Supervisor: Worker 72094. You failed to meet your quota for 3 weeks in a row now.
Worker 72094: I can explain!
Supervisor: You're clearly burned out. I heard you moved recently. Take a mandatory two weeks paid vacation to readjust and report to me then.
Worker 72094: I... thank you?
Shadowy Board Member: Worker 11335. Do you know why you were summoned?
Worker 11335: Is it because I badmouthed the company during lunch?
Shadowy Board Member: That is correct. We are very displeased, Worker 11335...
Shadowy Board Member: ...with ourselves, that is. We hold ourselves to high standards of excellence which we clearly failed to meet. We were hoping you could advise us on necessary improvements. You will receive appropriate compensation, of course.
Job Interviewer: *wearing a featureless mask and speaking through a voice changer* Welcome to Hopeless Inc., Worker 100100.
Worker 100100: What's with the mask?
Job Interviewer: I'm shy 🤭
Of course. All Hopeless Inc. employees are due-paying members of Mindless Drones United.
It's a very responsive union that cares about its members on an individual level. They just love the dystopian hivemind aesthetic.
I know in my heart that shane is the type of person who would never bring up essential personal details until they are immediately relevant and then would also be so understated about them
he and ilya are hanging out in the yard and some bees are buzzing around because some watermelon juice spilled on the ground earlier and shane suggests they go inside or rinse the juice off the patio and ilya teases him about being scared of little bees and shane SO nonchalantly just, "no, but i am allergic and you don't know where my epipen is"
and ilya
reblogging with my own tags because i'm also CACKLING imagining the implications of this not being specific to ilya, either. they're having a barbeque at hayden and jackie's house and hayden is good-naturedly encouraging shane to try a piece of coffee cake or something and ilya just goes, "no, bad for you"
and hayden IMMEDIATELY is on the defensive because what? you get to tell him what to eat now? where do you get o-
"no, bad for him because it has walnuts in it, pike. you want him to die? this is what you want?"
"what are you talking about?"
shane: "i'm allergic"
"??? since WHEN??"
"since always??"
"you've eaten over at my house HOW many times?? and never brought this up? the fuck, dude?"
"jackie knows"
"WHY DOES JACKIE KNOW AND I DON'T"
yuna and david dialing IN to "if you don't freak out, they won't freak out" during shane's formative years to the unintended and unfortunate side effect of ending up in situations like bb!shane going *calm tug tug on david's shirt* "yeah buddy?" *big inhale that audibly wheezes as his throat starts swelling shut*
the idea of ilya on instagram accidentally pressing like while DEEP in allergy mommy blogging territory and natalie from That Allergy Mama DMing him to be like "hi, my husband wants me to tell you he says hi and that he's a big fan and also that call against you against san francisco was bullshit." "hello, husband of natalie. also do you have any suggestions for substituting peanuts in this recipe?"
shane at the other end of the couch after thirty minutes of ilya not looking up is just ??? who the FUCK are you texting down there??? and ilya still without looking up just, "many many sexy women who are crying because i am married now. they are very upset." as if his ass isn't diligently taking notes from a married mother of four on a good allergy-friendly pad thai recipe because shane mentioned in passing that it smelled good the last time ilya ordered some and now ilya wants to find out how to make some he can try.
he gets filmed for a what i eat in a day/day in the life type video and is so used to thinking about substitutes at this point that he doesn't even think about it when he mentions them in passing. they keep an allergy friendly household so the stuff he mentions is compliant, but it's paired with comments like, "and then i add some wowbutter, which is soybeans and not peanuts. we also sometimes have sunflower seed butter, but the texture for this is better with the wowbutter. i have also tried this, what is it called-shane: the gross paste with beans" *shane, offscreen from the living room*: "chickpea butter?" "yes, this." "it's nasty" "yes, not good. their jar says it is, but it is not. anyway-"
and it truly IS casual for him because this is just how he thinks now, but everyone else just ??? allergy friendly homemaker ilya rozanov??? since when??
A. the idea of ilya being lowkey stressed about shane surprising him and potentially being exposed to allergens is so fucking funny. ilya who ends up also keeping an allergy-friendly household PURELY because it's just less stressful that way. meanwhile the motherfucker WITH the allergies is SO fucking casual about it that it wouldn't even occur to him to ask ilya to do that.
B. when they're pushing the friendship cover, ilya gets nudge nudge jokes about trying to copy what hollander's doing, and he's not going to share information shane didn't greenlight to get out, so he just plays along. and now there's like. at least three other players lowkey accidentally following an allergy diet because they don't know it's an allergy diet. why do hollander and now rozanov not eat tree nuts? unclear, but they're also the best two players in the entire industry so it's worth a shot to copy them.
C. people being so afraid of ilya's wrath if shane has an allergic reaction to something at their house is KILLING ME. shane just fucking. STANDS near a plate of peanut butter cookies on the table in the backyard during a barbeque and four different people are immediately there shoving him away because they will NOT answer to rozanov about this. they will NOT die over cookies. who is the IDIOT who brought PEANUT BUTTER COOKI-
@lucky-santangelo ilya only getting five seconds of feeling smug and holier than thou before shane puts him on blast is KILLING me XD
@shanetism the idea of ilya finding out how many times he could have potentially killed shane over the years from not knowing this VERY IMPORTANT THING ABOUT HIM and shane's life flashing before HIS eyes is so funny. also the idea that shane was going to show him the fucking WELL at the cottage and just not mention the drawer his epipen is in and ilya being so ??!!! HOLLANDER ?!?! PRIORITIES ?!?!
shane groaning SO loud when ilya first breaks out the allergy cards because GOD ilya it's NOT that serious this is embarass-
oh? is this more or less embarassing than having allergic reaction in the middle of a restaurant and needing your epipen? hm? shut up and take the fucking shiny cards, hollander.
and riFUCKINGp to the restaurant that lied about not using peanut oil in their fryer as an angry, stressed ilya is stuck in a hospital lobby with wifi and a lot of energy that has nowhere to go until he's allowed to be back with his husband. you're DONE FOR.
also ilya being lowkey SO fucking frustrated at shane having allergies AND refusing to eat fast food, especially when they're on the road so often and ilya eats allergy-free when they're together. hollander, pick a struggle. you know what will not kill you? mcmuffin. she loves you. look at her allergen list. she is safe. this organic artisinal breakfast wrap from this tiny cafe cannot say the same. she does not love you like mcmuffin. she probably whores around with peanuts.
GOD the psychic damage ilya takes the day he finds out body products can have allergens in them. his body wash company is getting a SCATHING email about fucking around with their formula when there are PEOPLE with ALLERGIES who RELY ON-
and shane meanwhile is just, "i can take some meds and just be itchy for a little bit. it's seriously not a big deal." "you are covered in bumps! it could have been worse. they should have to give warnings if they are going to fuck around with things like this." "you seriously have to calm down. it's not going to stop me from play-" "shane i cannot overstate how much i need you to not talk about hockey to me right now."
MAN
shane growing up who always got, "oh, you poor thing" from well-intentioned adults as a kid and then, "damn, i could NEVER live like that" from same-age peers when older whenever he had to explain his allergies, and it was both annoying and also felt like failing at something when he had to decline a piece of birthday cake or a slice of pizza because it wasn't safe for him.
but if he frames it as a performance diet, then suddenly! admiration! he gets some teasing obviously, but there's also an air of "good for you, man" that lands a lot easier than pity.
this does, unfortunately, mean that he just develops a habit of just never saying ANYTHING when not directly asked lmao.
@riddlemaster101
i feel like shane would reliably tell medical people because this is a Rule for medical settings so yes of course he'll go into detail
for everyone else though??? cackling about people who have known him for literally fifteen years finding out about potentially deadly allergies ONLY because ilya is fucking interrogating the waiter at the restaurant. shane of Before just would have probably declined going and used his diet as an excuse because he didn't want to have it be A Whole Thing. now he has a husband to "he said no pickles" his allergies on his behalf, so he's straight chilling. 🤣
Can we also talk about the Yuna and David of it all?
David spots them at the cottage and they go over, Shane's cottage is obviously allergen free and the shopping he did is all safe for him. Yuna and David know to cook safely, the chicken parm is all good and fine but they say "the croutons aren't safe for you, but you don't like those anyway" just in passing as a matter of habit and Ilya who JUST learned about bananas and latex and bees is like "oh wow! More allergies?? I need a list. Haha" and then they have the meal and the panic attack and they become boyfriends. Before they leave Yuna makes him a copy of her list of all the known allergens and Shane's common reactions to them, it's the first time he hugs her. He looks her in the eye and says "thank you for letting me take care of him. I will be careful."
It's a relief, to know he cares to try. But at the end of the day they JUST met this man. So they cross their fingers and try not to feel the same way they did every time Shane went to somebody's house for a birthday party or a sleepover.
And then they are over at the cottage some night and they decide to order in for dinner. Ilya takes everybody's orders and goes to the kitchen to call it in for them and it's taking *forever* so Yuna goes to see if he needs any help. She finds him sitting with two copies of the list, hers and one translated into Russian for his easy reference. He has the phone on speaker and says "thank you for checking the dressing ingredients, I know is weird request, but sometimes Caesar dressing is safe, sometimes not safe, but he likes it so much is worth checking. Yes, I'll hold again."
They've ordered from this place a dozen times, their recipe for Caesar dressing is safe, YUNA knows that, SHANE knows that, that's why he ordered it. But *Ilya* doesn't. So he's checking. Because Shane wants the dressing and Ilya want him *safe* and *happy*. And isn't that all a parent wants? For their kid to be with someone who is just as invested in their happiness and safety as they are? For somebody who will wait on hold while they check the fry oil and the dressing ingredients and whatever else?
Once Ilya has placed the order and hung up he gets surprised by a hug from behind, thin arms wrapped around him and perfume he's starting to recognize. He's bewildered, but when he asks gently "...Mrs. Hollander?" She just tells him to call her Yuna.
WEEPING
also cackling about the idea of ilya using the group chat with them to be mad about brands changing their ingredients so things that were SAFE are now NOT 😤 it started just as a "hey, those crackers aren't safe anymore" as a collective fyi thing, but it ends up being ilya just mad about safe things not being safe anymore
significantly shane remains SO unbothered about it all
also EXTREMELY funny to imagine ilya suddenly being strict about allergens in his house with svetlana, who has done body shots off of strangers with this motherfucker who is suddenly?? confiscating her granola bar??? ilya what the actual FUCK is happening right now??? "no peanuts inside anymore" "...what the fuCK ARE YOU TALKI-"
GOD shane who never really got the experience as a kid of getting to sleep over at someone's house and just Know there would be food for him to eat. he either had to bring his own or ask to read labels because he promised his parents he would, and then sometimes there just. wasn't an option.
and now he gets to go to his boyfriend's house and just know there'll be a cabinet of stuff that's safe for him. doesn't even have to worry about it. this is the Shane Cabinet, and it contains Shane Food. and when there's dinner?? that will also be Shane Food.
he's not the one person left out. not here. <3
Birthday gift for the lovely @newtypeshadow
Inspired by her absolutely amazing "He kindly stopped for me" fic found an Ao3 here
hi i’m in the business of designing helms for alien Mandalorians because lucasarts is full of cowards
- Togruta (Rozanin - Clan Rig)
- Nautolan (Hokaanir - Clan Dochost)
- Quarren (Barin’tiir - Clan Dochost)
- Ongree (Ir - Clan Rig)
All wholesome MadaTobi was written by Hashirama
I had a vision of Mito with yaoi hands
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
I reblogged this once with the first story. Now the story has grown and I’m crying. This is gorgeous, guys. This is what dreams are made of.
This is amazing!
My Duchess Satine Kryze “the lawless” cosplay
120 hours of hand beading real freshwater pearls onto silk verlor and velvet. All piping is reflective. After a year of work, it was Mando Mercs approved as of 15 Aug 2025!
I never posted for the solstice! oops
This is legitimately one of my fav quotes from him
Are you team:
A: Soulmate AUs are a reassuring fantasy, because I've had a lot of trouble finding both friendship and romance, and experienced lots of rejection in both areas for things that are not within my control; the idea of a universe where I know from early on if someone will be important to me, and will reciprocate my affection, is one that I find comforting.
B: Soulmate AUs are a disturbing fantasy because they trap people in those worlds within the expectations that one must engage in romance with someone who may very well be a stranger, and reading them feels like an indictment of my choice to avoid romance altogether, or reminds me of the specific limitations that my society or family place on me in regards to who my eventual partner should be.
If you are not one of the above, this post is not for you. Do not comment with 'oh, I just don't think about soulmate AUs.' Please do not be that person.
Let's talk about rape laws in a world with soulmates
Let's talk about adultry laws
Let's talk about pedophilia laws
Let's talk about imbalanced relationships and the laws to do with that in the military and the company policy rules in other companies
Let's talk about sexual coersion laws
Let's talk about abortion laws
Let's talk about homosexual rights and laws
Let's talk about interracial laws
Let's talk about slavery
Do you think that slavery would have ended earlier if we had soulmates because of interracial soulmates?
I am A and Yes
I am B and Yes
I am A and No
I am B and No
Next in line in the series of surprise sketches for my favourite authors is a scene from probably my favourite comfort fic of all time, Softly as a Promise by the amazing @keanblade
If you haven’t yet, please give it a read. It’s absolutely worth it!
Oh my god, this is AMAZING, I’m so excited!!!! And so thrilled you were inspired!!! Thank you!!
On the Vulcan term “Kaiidth”
Or, “If I see one more person translate ‘Kaiidth’ with ‘Que sera sera’ I’m going to start screaming”
Let me preface this by saying that I am emotionally invested in this. Kaiidth has pulled me out of some pretty dark places in my life, and whenever I see it equated to “Que sera sera” it makes me want to punch something. Because to me, the two sayings have nothing at all to do with each other. This is also going to be long, so you may want to buckle up tight.
My thesis: when you translate the term Kaiidth using “Que sera sera”, you may be encouraged to think that it’s a defeatist term and that it implies that you should accept whatever happens without having feelings about it. Some people also say it means “you shouldn’t work for your future because whatever is meant to happen will happen”. And while I agree that all this could be applied to our human saying, it is not at all what Kaiidth means, even though at first glance, it may appear so.
Let’s look at the original translation. Kaiidth: what is, is.
In the KirShara page on Kaiidth, the saying is compared to the words of Lao-tzu in the 76th verse of the Tao Te Ching: “An army that cannot yield will be defeated. A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind.”
Kaiidth is a very complex word, you see, but at its basis, Kaiidth is acceptance. The beauty of it is that it can be applied to multiple situations, from the smallest to the biggest. The most used example to explain it is the mistake in artistic creation, as Surak’s discussion of Kaiidth shows:
Artists and composers easily grasp the concept of kaiidth. They use it in their creations without conscious thought. Even the best painters experience accidents. Paint is spilled. Water is splashed. Eager fingers leave stains. Some artists weep, believe their work is ruined. But the true artist fits the paint-drip, watermark, or stain into the picture.
This is kaiidth.
“Well,” you might say, “isn’t that the exact definition of ‘you should accept whatever happens without having feelings about it’?”. But really… you expect Vulcans to talk about emotional control in public? Please.
In this infinite rant, I am going to apply Kaiidth to emotional acceptance, which is something Vulcans are not comfortable talking about out loud but is definitely part of the Kaiidth philosophy. It is doubly important for Vulcans, I may add, because it is a tool of emotional control, which is something fundamental for a telepathic species with very strong feelings. This acceptance works at multiple levels and it only truly works if you let it meet you where you are.
Keep reading
I would also say that Kadiith is translated to standard as “what is, is”, present tense. Que sera sera is future tense, “whatever will be, will be”. It is different to look at something or someone as they are now and acknowledge that this is the way they are (allowing for all that has happened before to have lead them to be this way) and say, “what is, is” and be content or accepting of that. It is different to look at something or someone and think, “they are this way now but who knows how they might change! Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be”. By adopting que sera sera in relation to another person or thing you are, in essence, holding out hope for a change from their current state and ultimately not allowing for the way they currently are to be how you perceive them. Kadiith can be simple acknowledgement, but it can also be respect and celebration for what one is, what one has worked to become currently, to be.
Side note: this is some Shakespeare level parsing of language and I think TOS Kirk would love it.
Yes, exactly! That’s precisely the difference that makes me go feral when I see the two terms correlated. A wonderful addition, thank you 💕
So here's a Star Wars Crack Treated Seriously idea for you.
Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself back in the past somewhere during the Clone Wars.
And obviously he needs to make sure that Anakin doesn't Fall and go on his Grand Slaughter Adventure.
But Anakin is the most bantha-headed, stubborn, CONTRARY disaster in the galaxy. Obi-Wan just KNOWS that if he tries going at it straight on Anakin might Fall just out of sheer spite.
No. No. This requires some finesse.
Long story short, he gets his hands on some yellow contact lenses and begins playing the most intricate game of reverse psychology guerilla warfare in the history of the Republic.
(and would you look at that, "Sith" are allowed to make assassination attempts on Supreme Chancellors. How... convenient)
How to spot signs and symptoms of Breast Cancer
Reblog to literally save a life
whish they told us this in school, all they did was say “feel for lumps, you will know when you feel it”
This is important, even if it doesn’t work with your blog theme REBLOG IT!!!!
Women need to know this, not all of us have ever been told what we need to look out for!
yeah reblogging especially for my transmasc fellows who (like me) might be real uncomfortable with their chests and not know what to watch out for because we try to avoid this kind of thing (just me? okay)
Cis Men need to know it too. They can get breast cancer even though the odds are lower.
Everyone needs to know Breast cancer symptoms
@ablankboredtoinsanity
Director Phoebe Kemp said: "Twelfth Night already toys with gender and performance – it feels like Shakespeare wrote it for us"
"Director Phoebe Kemp said in a statement: “Twelfth Night already toys with gender and performance – it feels like Shakespeare wrote it for us. This reading is about joy, solidarity and showing what’s possible when trans and nonbinary artists are at the centre of the story.”"
And:
“The production will be staged at The Space Theatre in London on 25 July 2025, on the eve of London Trans Pride, with a global livestream available to audiences everywhere.”
Director Phoebe Kemp said: "Twelfth Night already toys with gender and performance – it feels like Shakespeare wrote it for us"
"Director Phoebe Kemp said in a statement: “Twelfth Night already toys with gender and performance – it feels like Shakespeare wrote it for us. This reading is about joy, solidarity and showing what’s possible when trans and nonbinary artists are at the centre of the story.”"
And:
“The production will be staged at The Space Theatre in London on 25 July 2025, on the eve of London Trans Pride, with a global livestream available to audiences everywhere.”
