Whoâs your comfort character?
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Whoâs your comfort character?
Thanks for giving me an opportunity to just post this precious boy some more.

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you ever think about how Hakoda never actually met Aang until the day of Black Sun?
he knew OF him; the last airbender. the sole surviving Air Nomad, miraculously appearing 100 years after he was thought dead, at just the right time to stop the Fire Nation in its tracks and bring the world back into harmonious union with itself
someone out of legend and myth; a living incarnation of power that, he hopes, nothing can stand against, and stop even the invincible Fire Lord at a time when the world needs it most, and then he actually MEETS him for the first time, after hearing about him from Baato and the swampbenders and everyone else
they spoke about his kindness, his wisdom. the eccentricity, the puckish sense of humor, the overwhelming power concealed in a good-humored sense of whimsy
but he actually sees Aang, a small boy with his head shaven in accordance with cultural traditions unknown to Hakoda, his body tattooed with the marks of a master, and he is so slight and short. he must still have some of his baby teeth, and already his eyes look old and tired
and Hakoda thinks, keeping his face still and his thoughts to himself:
heâs only a boy
heâs younger than Sokka is
589ish said: They technically met after Aang recovered from a coma, still so huge oof.
honestly though that makes it WORSE because Hakoda first met him, the one everyone is hitting with all the pressure of âyou gotta win or EVERYONE IS DOOMEDâ over and over, and the first time he meets him, he legitimately died and he first saw him as a lightning scarred, convalescent wreck with no one in the world except Hakodaâs own children and a little blind girl from the same kingdom that just got conquered
i donât think iâve rewatched atla since becoming a committed pacifist and i just finished what was probably my tenth rewatch and i have never loved aang more. i've seen it so many times but i still came away with a new appreciation for the way the end of the story was handled. aang is the only survivor of a genocide and he is clinging to the last remnants of his culture and religion, and everyone is telling him the only way to save the world is to kill the dictator whose regime is responsible for the genocide, but to do so would abandon the deeply held beliefs of his people. if aang goes against his beliefs and kills ozai, his people's way of life dies completely and sozin wins.
aang knows it would be wrong but he can't see another way out so he prays for an answer, and the universe hears him and the spirits send out the lion turtle, and the creator answers him. and here's the thing that i never put together before today: aang would not have been able to energybend ozai if he had given in and wanted to kill him. the lion turtle tells aang that only the incorruptible can bend anotherâs energy, or else they will become corrupted themselves. and i think that aang, because of his love for the fire nation as he had once known it, was never corrupted by personal hatred for the fire lord or the fire nation. he was able to expertly hold two conflicting beliefs in harmony better than any adult could, the belief that ozai is a horrible person and the world would be better off without him and that he's still a human being with a life that is sacred.
and i don't think it's a matter of selfishness like some people make it out to be. aang is not some immature little kid who doesn't want to kill because killing is for bad guys. he's an incredibly wise and spiritual person who was shaped by airbender beliefs and upholds airbender beliefs, and he can see beyond the scope of this war. the balance of the world depends on the existence of the four nations, and aang does not just represent the air nomads, he IS the air nomads. he's all that's left.
despite many peopleâs interpretation of the four past avatarsâ advice, none of the past avatars outright tell him to kill ozai. they tell him to be decisive, to bring justice, to be proactive, to be sacrificial. but none of them tells him definitively to kill him. he doesn't disobey or ignore their advice, he follows their ancient wisdom while still staying true to his beliefs. yangchen actually comes the closest to outright telling him to kill ozai (even more than kiyoshi, surprisingly) but what she fails to account for is that aang is not just the avatar, he is the last airbender, and being the last airbender is far greater a burden than being the avatar. no matter what happens, once he dies, there will always be another avatar. but if he is not careful to preserve the airbender way of life, there will be no more airbenders. yangchen could sacrifice her air nomad way of life for the sake of her duty to the world because there were thousands of other air nomads to continue their traditions. aang has no such privilege.
and it's not that he doesn't want to kill, it's that he actually doesn't think he can do it -- both that he won't be able to emotionally bring himself to kili someone, and, prodigy that he is, he doesn't have the raw bending skill to overcome a comet-powered master firebender. and then it turns from 'i don't think i can do it' into âi canât do it.â and when the avatar state gives him enough power to actually do it, he changes the answer to âi wonât do it.â he overcomes all the combined power of his past lives to say no, i have found another answer and i will remain incorruptible. to kill is to maintain the power struggle of the fire nation and to reject air nomad wisdom and without airbenders the world CANNOT be brought into balance.
the only thing ozai cares about is power, and that's what the entire fight with ozai is about, physically and ideologically, because ozai only sees power in terms of force, fear, threats, and violence. to ozai, aang (and his entire people) are weak and undeserving of life because they are largely pacifists, but he fails to see the magnificent power that the airbenders do hold, spiritual wisdom and mastery of the self and contentment and joy and harmony and a deep understanding of the world that a man like ozai could never obtain. to kill ozai would ratify ozaiâs worldview that power as he defines it is the most important pursuit in the world and the only way to assert one's right to be in the world is to be cruel and violent like him. i think to ozai, becoming powerless might be worse than being dead. he wants power, or he wants death, and aang gives him neither. it upends everything he believed in. aang, the avatar, but more importantly, the last airbender, armed by his past lives' power and his people's love and the spirit world's blessing and the lion turtle's omniscience (and toph's mastery of true sight through neutral jing), ends the war 100 years to the day after the air nomad genocide, in the way that his people taught him, with power that goes beyond force and violence, with spiritual wisdom, with an incorruptible soul, with mercy -- mercy that is not weakness, mercy that brings justice.
They tell you that you are a god, that thousands of years of unnamed power thrums beneath your veins. Yet your lungs rise and fall as they always have, and you feel just as human as ever-
(Maybe you never have been. Maybe your only reference point is you, and that is where your error is gravest. If you have been a god all along, what would you know of being human?)
-x-
They start to fear you for the accident of your birth. You try to tell them that you are the same as you have always been. You play all the same games, throw pies off the stony balcony ledge and watch them land and burst open like overripe fruit, gooey cream exploding into the air.
But they stop smiling at your jokes. They stop listening to the songs you've learned to play on your flute. They never say we're not friends anymore, because it's not true, not exactly. Friends are people that can be trusted and you, you are not a person.
There is only one man in the world who thinks otherwise.
-x-
They want to take him away from you. They want to tear you from your home and your family and what little you have left. You have been taught not to be covetous, but this angers you.
So you run, like the wind that has been trapped between the trees. You see the wide, open sky and decide to conquer it, just like your people have for generations. But it's not the storm that swallows you; the waves claims you before the clouds can.
You sink to the ocean's depths, and your grip on the reins starts to falter.
(You are not human, and this keeps you alive. Perhaps it is the elements. Perhaps it is the magic. Perhaps it is something far older than both. Your eyes glow beneath your closed eyelids, and your tattoos burn with impossible light. You are breathing still.)
-x-
They want to ask you how you did it, want you to reach inside the depths of your murky memory and proffer your secrets to them. But you have no answers to give her when she keeps questioning how you forced the turning tides to do your bidding.
The answer is simple. You didn't, the monster did.
See, there is a monster inside of you. Not a god, because gods are never this angry, never this vindictive. The monster wants to rage and destroy everything it sees painted in red, but you will not let it. The monster eats you up when you get scared or angry, and you are never strong enough to make it go away.
She is. She calls out to you and her voice somehow lulls the monster back to sleep. She cradles you in her arms and tells you that you can let go. You think her words are lost on you, because you are not the monster.
-x-
They want to pull the monster out from inside you, and you let them. The monster has laid waste to armies while all you have done is run, run, run. Your people are gone because of you, but the monster saved you. Perhaps it can save them too.
She tells you in plain terms that she does not like this, and you can see the fear in her eyes when she talks about rage and pain and you. You do not know how to respond. Perhaps if you cut enough pieces of yourself away, the monster can finally save you both.
It's okay, you want to say. I'm scared of it too.
All you give her is cold, cold silence.
-x-
They are gone, and you are all that is left of them. They are gone, and it is you, two animals, and a monster that stubbornly claws its way out of you when you are forced to confront this fact. The monster is everything your people would have hated, because it aches for blood and vengeance in a way you never can.
(They are your people, they have to be, and you cannot be this other, this god, that they just raised like a cuckoo in the nest.)
In the desert, as the heat scorches your bare skin, you look at your shaking hands. You do not deserve to be the last of your kind, because now when anyone thinks about your culture of peaceful monks, they will think about the monster inside you.
-x-
They are right to fear the monster, and you are right in wanting to control it. You seek out someone who promises to help you tame it. He wears the saffron of your people but smiles sadly when he says he is not one of them. He tells you about your guilt and your fear, your hope and your longing, and all the things you have to confront.
And it doesn't make sense. This isn't about you, this is about excising the monster inside you.
But as you gulp down the horrible banana onion juice he insists on feeding you, the truth hits you like a falling meteor. There is no monster, no other force inside you that magically appears when you get sad or angry.
There has only ever been you.
-x-
They are disappointed that you cannot summon the monster anymore, but you are just relieved. The anger keeps building inside you, like a roaring flame or a rising tide or a towering mountain or a howling wind. Its pitch and roll keeps you up at night, the names of all you have lost black marks against the inside of your skin.
You try to be as you have always been, but your smiles never reach your eyes, and the notes of your flute always sound out in minor key. They probably notice that something is wrong, but they don't say much except to push you towards your destiny.
Your temples are in ruins, and they think you weak for trying to hold on to them. They think you weak for forgiving, not knowing that the alternative, letting the monster have at them, would have been far worse. But it's okay now, the monster can't hurt anyone ever again. You can't hurt anyone ever again.
-x-
They tell you to kill him, and you want to say no. The voices of your friends, the voices in your head, the voice of the monster, they all scream at you to just end it. But a smaller voice, one that speaks from your heart, just whispers in quiet opposition.
The monster is you, has been this whole time, but you are not a monster. You are more than a living relic or a god given flesh. You are a person, the last of your kind, and they all live on in you, so for their sakes and yours, you say no.
"I'm not going to end it like this."
knowledge long forgotten
got really into reading item descriptions on this playthrough. anyway did you know the silent princess is one of the only raw materials with a cooking effect to not explicitly list that effect in its description

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In English, we say: "Overthinking." But in poetry, we say: "The storms in my head ruined the garden that my soul holds."
Syros Greece. - Author: SassySashimi-
Misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive
Library in Oslo

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youâre the dried flower between the pages of my favorite book
The kitchen is decorated with nineteenth-century blue and white Dutch tiles and a set of copper pans. The ceramic cheese-making jug in the foreground was made by Stephen Pearce, a potter from County Cork.
In an Irish House, 1988
O Algoritmo da Atração, por Pauline G, editora independente, 2024
ââââ
Quando comecei a ler esse livro, nĂŁo tinha altas expectativas, atĂ© porque os Ășltimos livros nacionais que li me decepcionaram um pouco. PorĂ©m, assim que comecei a ler, me senti fisgada pela forma da autora de escrever. Ela tem uma linguagem leve e ao mesmo tempo empolgante. Os personagens sĂŁo cativantes e vocĂȘ torce por eles, querendo que tudo dĂȘ certo. Ela tem uma forma de narrar que te deixa inserido, e muitas vezes senti meu coração acelerar, seja de nervoso, seja porque estava ansiosa por um beijo, um abraço, uma conversa.
E falando em beijo, Pauline consegue descrever o mais simples dos atos de maneira empolgante. Seja nas cenas mais quentes ou nas mais calmas, existe uma força que faz com que vocĂȘ queira ainda mais.
Achei o final um pouco apressado, algumas coisas poderiam ter mais desenvolvimento, como a questão do crush de Clara, ou o fato de que os personagens tomam decisÔes importantes, mas de toda forma, amei todo o desenvolvimento e com certeza lerei o segundo livro da duologia, e os outros livros da autora.
All Tomorrows, por C. M. Kosemen, versĂŁo digital, 2006
âââ
Este livro simula um estudo sobre espĂ©cies, de forma semelhante ao que Clarke propĂ”e em âO Terceiro Planetaâ. Trata-se de uma reconstrução do que aconteceu com a humanidade apĂłs bilhĂ”es de anos de evolução, perĂodo em que uma espĂ©cie alienĂgena, chamada Qu, realizou engenharia genĂ©tica para modificar os humanos em figuras grotescas, por puro prazer doentio.
O livro contĂ©m imagens e explicaçÔes detalhadas de cada uma dessas espĂ©cies, abordando sua evolução, as consequĂȘncias dessas transformaçÔes, quando foram extintas, entre outros aspectos. Ă muito interessante e foi uma boa leitura, especialmente considerando o terror que me causou, jĂĄ que tenho alienfobia severa.
NĂŁo Ă© o melhor nem o mais longo livro do mundo, mas foi uma leitura interessante, e eu gostaria de ler outras obras do mesmo autor.

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Remember to give yourself time to grow. #doodling #watercolour #plants #pot #myart https://www.instagram.com/p/BnUBRSljHao/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1va0xdph8h4ol
Bullet journal September set up. #bulletjournal #september #personal https://www.instagram.com/p/BnJv8UTjV5f/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1aldvabh75rpk