The upside to having this job that I already hate just two months in? When I get paid I can buy things I like but don’t necessarily need such as a 1 year subscription to the streaming service that gets me Hallmark Christmas Movies and some new jeans. I also don’t have to worry about how much they’re trying to up our rent by since we have to renew our lease next month.
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I found the apartment, thanks to abnormally large apartment number signs.
It was on the southwest corner of the building.
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the modern villainisation of demeter will never cease to enrage me bc it wasn’t ENOUGH to just take a story of a girl being torn from her home from everyone who loved her and dragged away to be forced into marriage and twist and corrupt it until it was a romance story about female empowerment that wasn’t ENOUGH they HAD to take the original hero of the story the mother who went to every length to find her daughter again to bring her home and demonise her character until she was this horrific overbearing unloving mother. overprotective controlling without love. they turn the story of her grief at her YOUNG daughter being torn from her without her knowledge into the story of a misunderstood bad boy and a horrible cruel mother who won’t give him a chance and i really find it sickening. it’s ironic, that the ever misogynist age of hellenistic greece, has a better grasp of how disgusting and horrifying this situation was that a modern, self proclaimed ‘feminist’ era.
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Who tf plays lame edm at 1:30 am on a Wednesday??
Like these walls are made of paper.
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She be marbling on my nest till I die of the plague
i doodled this exactly a month ago and wanted to caption it "she be marbling on my nest till i die of the plague" bc i wanted them to lie down on the circular polyhedron base floor but then this art was posted while i was working on mine and i thought "oh my god it's a well thought-through and serious piece with the same pose as my doodle i cant caption it like that now"
but now i believe enough time has passed that i can be free to be cringe. heres the art in question pls check it out!!! it's fuckin beautiful!!
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if you're wondering what the big deal is about the louis-philippe sentence in les misérables, it is, in the original french, 760 words long. the subject of the sentence doesn't appear until 95% of the way through, at word #711; the main verb is word #712. the sentence contains 91 commas and 49 semicolons and is almost entirely a list of laudatory adjectival phrases describing the erstwhile king of france. this is perhaps especially notable because les mis is, shall we say, not known for being particularly gung-ho about the monarchy.
this sentence copied and pasted into Word takes up more than one page single-spaced. in the 1800-page folio classique edition, it is fully two and a half of those 1800 pages. that means that les mis is 0.14% this single sentence. more of les mis is made up of this sentence than earth's atmosphere is made up of carbon dioxide (0.04%). if the page count of les mis stayed the same but every sentence was the length of this one, les mis would consist of only 720 sentences total.
incidentally, guess who named hugo a peer of france 17 years before the publication of les mis?
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Sometimes one has a naive assumption that other disabled/neurodivergent/mad people are not going to judge you for the things you can't do, can't do well, can't do consistently, or can't stop doing even though they are very annoying, disruptive, upsetting, dangerous, etc. Sometimes one also has a naive assumption that because one has struggles along these lines, one will automatically be able to empathize well with others in a similar boat and not become upset or disappointed with them.
I am here to tell you these assumptions are baloney.
On one hand, it's true that kinds of empathy and solidarity can exist within these categories that it's hard to find outside of them. On the other hand, most of us also have less capacity, time, and energy to help others in our lives, especially if they have intense or extremely specific support needs, than non-disabled people. And many of us have more trouble than average with things like concealing and controlling anger/frustration, not becoming anxious when other people don't do things exactly the way we were hoping or expecting, understanding that other people have different perspectives than we do, and even just, like...perceiving reality and remembering things accurately.
Do your best, apologize to people when it's called for, and try to give others a lot of grace/benefit of the doubt. Also, remember that when you start having thoughts like "I bet that person's problems aren't really that bad, I bet they're just lazy. Why do they feel entitled to all this help when no one is helping me? I work a lot harder than they do, and I feel like shit all the fucking time," that's a sign that you're operating way past your limits and are on the edge of burnout, and the fact that no one IS helping you is an indictment of your environment's (lack of) social safety nets, not of your also-disabled friends' laziness, selfishness or lack of care.
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1 :DDDD
1: don’t leave
Peeling off the VCARB branded fireproofs feels like exfoliating a layer of dead skin.
Daniel pulls the Ricallen tee over his head before anything else, relishing in the soft fabric against his still sweaty shoulders and chest. Standing there in nothing but the shirt he helped design, his race suit in a crumpled heap on the floor, ink barely dried on his new contract, Daniel feels reborn.
There’s an urgent knock at the door and Daniel knows it’s Max. Christian would have told him the news, Daniel had requested he be the first to know. Daniel can’t help but smile as he pulls the door open to reveal Max, looking just about as shellshocked as he feels. They reach for each other at the same time, and it feels like coming home.
Max tastes like Red Bull, and sweat, and all the things Daniel has been too afraid to let himself want for the past 6 years. He kisses exactly how Daniel remembers—eager, absolutely zero finesse, tongue and teeth and his big hands gripping Daniel’s jaw like he could unhinge it himself to crawl right inside. Max licks over the roof of his mouth, the backs of his teeth, the space between his gums and the inside of his lips. The scratchy stubble against Daniel’s chin and cheeks leaves him feeling completely flayed. Max didn’t have so much facial hair, the last time they did this.
Daniel would’ve expected it to be a raw reminder of the time they’ve lost, but the only thing he feels is lucky that he gets to fall in love with Max all over again.
Max pulls back slightly, the taste of his hot breath lingering in Daniel’s mouth. He cradles both of Daniel’s cheeks in his wide palms, gentle but still firm, like Daniel will float away if he doesn’t. “Don’t leave,” he says. “Promise me, whatever happens you will not leave me again.”
The notion that he would even think about leaving after this, after kicking and screaming and belly-crawling his way back home, is so ludicrous Daniel wants to make a joke about it. Wants to shake his t-shirt in Max’s face like Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.
He knows what Max needs to hear. “Promise, Maxy. It’s you and me ‘til the end.”
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Every so often I'm reminded of how many people don't realize just how high the bar is for indie titles to actually make enough money or gain enough recognition to be sustainable.
Like someone will say "I think it's great that mildly successful indie titles exist that no one has heard of before, such as [multi-award winning indie game that was incredibly financially successful that has had coverage by multiple major news outlets]! It's so nice small indies exist" :)
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