#feels a bit empty without it

[pokemonkidsdaily]

day 36

typhlosion #157

[chickenscribbles]

Everything functions perfectly fine without you.

[taylortruther]

today's "they'll just say anything on that website" post: who's afraid of little old me? is taylor's version of eminem's without me

[uncanny-tranny]

I was told by someone that I couldn’t call myself a transsexual because I had to go off T for health reasons and I haven’t had any gender affirming surgeries yet since I’m poor and disabled. Is this true? What are like, the requirements to be a transsexual? /gen

The requirements to be transsexual: to identify as transsexual

This might seem too... straightforward, but genuinely, medical transition is so complex and individual that it's worthless to make it so ridged. There are so many reasons you have to stop some aspect(s) of transition, even if you didn't want to! That doesn't mean you never transitioned or that it's "lesser" now that you stopped.

Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, I, for one, couldn't care less if you call yourself a transsexual. To my mind, it is as political as it is an identity. Being a transsexual isn't just about your identity but also your place in this world. "Transsexual menace" isn't just a cutesy little slogan but a political battle cry. It can be an attitude about changing sex, about the lucid and plastic nature of people, and so much more.

The word transsexual was made and popularized, honestly, with the idea that we are separate from others. I think we can take this back and make it ours. We can start by actually making it our own, not the cis world's own.

[sparklativity]

There's something to be said for the fact that the keyboard has replaced Kris's backing vocals but still somewhat sounds like his voice

[cuz-reasons]

Discord changed their ui on desktop and it looks uglyyyyy

[quirkle2]

more zombie au :] (1.2k words)

The odor of rot has joined the damp growth of life from pots. Even if some things die off without human aid, there are always stronger elements that thrive in their absence.

The aisles are overgrown. Ritsu brushes past the vines as gently as he can, wooden floor groaning under his worn soles. There’s a gap of empty space in the middle of each aisle that he slots through, eyes roaming the shelves of largely useless things. Stronger stems snag onto his backpack and he tugs distractedly while perusing the labeled pots along the tables.

The barn is quaint, and Ritsu thinks he would love to stay. Moss eats at the boards under his feet and bugs swarm around him in the hot air incessantly, but it’s peaceful and there’s a constant sprinkle of sound to his ears that have grown so used to silence. Whoever owned this place beforehand put up a few wind chimes indoors—they must’ve always had the front entrance open for customers.

It’s a quiet little homemade garden center, or something similar, on the side of the highway. It’s an overgrown property with something dead in the backyard that Ritsu refuses to acknowledge or let Shigeo near. The shingles and boards in the roof have been replaced with polyethylene sheets—a barn-turned-greenhouse, uprooted from the hay and cattle it likely used to house and settled back into the Earth to be a paradise for plants.

There’s a large branch hanging through a hole poked into the plastic overhead. It sways with the wind and the chimes that follow, and Ritsu whistles with the leadless melody and gives it a direction while he studies old seed packets.

They didn’t stop here for any particular reason—a garden center doesn’t have much for apocalypse survivors, but Shigeo has always liked overgrown things. He’d always enjoyed taking care of their mother’s plants back home, and then Reigen’s at the office. His brother likes the humidity of greenhouses and the smell of soil and dirt and must.

He sees the top of Shigeo’s head over the aisles, across the barn. He walks past a shovel hanging on the wall and yelps out a grunt when it clangs to the floor behind him. Ritsu shakes his head and smiles, running his fingers along faded price tags.

The feeling of greenhouses has always had this… wet fullness, to Ritsu.

When he breathes in it’s like he can taste the life that breathes out and it feels like a conversation, a question and an answer, both of which he’s not sure how to articulate. The leaves wave to him and he waves back, the once-active sprinklers pepper his skin with dots, with compliments, with proclamations they are eager to share. The vines weave between fencing just to reach him, just to talk.

He understands why Shigeo likes it, and why he’d always asked to accompany their mother on trips to get new seeds. Ritsu hadn’t really understood, then, how pretty it could be, how full it could feel.

Shigeo had always been right about loving the little things. Ritsu wishes he’d seen that sooner.

His brother ambles down the aisle ahead of him and he listens to the quiet patter of his sloppy footwork, moving around a table of seed trays. His whistles carry across the barn, sort of aimless in their own right instead of leading the wind and the chimes somewhere worthwhile, but the sounds soak into the overhead plastic nicely, so he keeps going.

He pulls back a layering of vines and leaves to scan the contents of another shelf, and then he notices Shigeo stop in his peripherals. His dirty shoes stay planted in the corner of his vision, leaves burying the toes, and Ritsu looks away from the products.

He means to say something, to ask him what’s up even if saying things to Shigeo very rarely results in productivity, but he stops when he realizes his brother’s head is… tilted.

He’s looking at him with as much inquisitiveness as his dulled down awareness can muster, pale eyes flickering across Ritsu’s face like he’s working out some puzzle. He instinctively stops whistling, brain lagging behind on this new info of this new behavior, and the sound fizzles out into a little huff of air that leaves the greenhouse feeling oddly empty.

Shigeo studies him for a moment longer, blinking slowly, and then he straightens his head out as Ritsu stares back. His brother’s gaze lingers there on his mouth, like he’s still confused, like he still expects something to happen.

Ritsu blinks once, twice. The wind chimes call as wind pokes at his greasy spikes, as it prods at the ends of his jacket and fills the silence with a different flavor of itself. The interest in the zombie’s eyes fades a little, gaze straying to the vines around them.

Very tentatively, Ritsu wets his lips and blows. The whistle grabs his brother’s attention immediately, and he’s suddenly tilting his head like a curious dog.

He can’t help the laugh that spills out and makes the whistle a mess of exhales. His shoulders shake a little and he hurries to keep the tune steady and consistent; a few seconds pass and Shigeo tilts his head the other way, exhausted eyes big and more alert than they’ve been in days.

Ritsu experiments, and ventures around with the sound—goes lower and higher and watches his brother twist his head back and forth like he’s trying to understand calculus. There’s something very innocent about it, about the look in his eyes that reminds him of when they were kids and their father would show them magic tricks.

It’s muted by the ever-present fog there in his pupils, but Ritsu thinks he sees a spark of that life in them, of that curiosity born from a mind that knows little. He gives him a simple sensation, a simple experience, and his brother is eating it all up like he’s four again, like he’s new and everything is colorful and unknown and big.

Ritsu watches Shigeo tilt his head back and forth, watches the rusty gears behind his window panes move. He changes tactics, because some sad part of him tells him to, and whistles Shigeo’s favorite song instead.

He remembers the name, but he doesn’t need the name because when he thinks of the tune he thinks of his brother, and that’s all that matters. It’s happy, because Shigeo likes happy music. It’s chipper and yet it meanders, like it’s willingly getting lost, like it’s wandering where it wants to and it’ll eventually find its roots again. It’s happy the whole time. The whole adventure.

Shigeo stops tilting his head, and the gears behind his eyes churn a little bit faster. His gaze clings to Ritsu’s and his brother makes actual eye contact, sinks his own being into Ritsu’s head when he’s least prepared for it. The recognition in his gaze has his soul souring.

He keeps whistling. He doesn’t want to stop, because Shigeo feels like Shigeo right now, and he doesn’t want that to stop.

His brother stares. Ritsu’s grief tints the music.

[pidgefudge]

sonic adventure 2 last story is too fucking hard should i give up vs. i Need to see the shadow and amy cutscene as a shipper and as a general lover of both and as an examiner of shadow's character and his relationship with amy (that cutscene is foundational for their relationship in any capacity ship or otherwise)

[benreygenders]

when the codependency hits

[rubiesintherough]

.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[ghostlylexie]

Slight vent art (doodle?) I made for what I feel for basically every art piece I make recently

Nothing looks right and when people try to give me advice it goes in one ear and out the other, and what I'm left with in my head is that I suck and nothing I do can ever be as good as others

[fagulaa]

im a grown ass man and im coming up with wolf 359 ocs. dont look at me

[mimiyanna]

If you've been following my blog or talking with me for long enough, you might find yourself wondering, "Damn. Is this bitch ever happy?" and the simple answer to that is no. No she's not.

[werewolf-kat]

Going to keep an eye on things while on a newly prescribed medicine for my heart, but occasionally I've been feeling like crying from joy/relief. I didn't know it was possible to live with little to zero chest pain and other issues on a daily basis.

I started feeling its improvements on day 2, and then all day yesterday has been like a literal weight off my chest. Slept a bit for the night, woke up around 4am and I'm just... Breathing so comfortably. I feel relaxed. That feeling of pressure in my chest is hardly there anymore.

This cardiologist said I'd notice changes after just a day or two if it helps. And it's happening!!

Guess it's very much confirming I've had pericarditis for who-knows-how-long. Could've been overlooked since having my cardiac ablation in 2019. Been so freaking rough living with this stuff. All my symptoms were assumed to be part of my WPW Syndrome ('cause the ablation didn't get all of the accessory pathways.) This sort of inflammation can be caused by heart procedures though. -sigh- Why didn't anyone watch out for that or suspect it earlier?

I'll be having a new echo done in a month or two (forgot which appointment date it is among other tests coming up). Crossing my fingers I don't have the pericardia effusion there anymore too if the pericarditis is getting tackled by this new med! 🤞

[lqcb97]