#yeeeeeeah i

[theeverdream]

if you do not have sensory processing issues and you are a person who has made my personal life harder because of my sensory issues (so like not anybody here) I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH

[allmyandroids]

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 - 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

[barkingangelbaby]

i should get a treat every time i take my meds!! it has been so so so difficult to even drink water today, much less swallow my meds.. everything hurts so much :c im currently crushing my pills up n mixing them into my drinks bc it's been so hard, rip.

i was barely able to speak aloud today too /: I rly hope im feeling up for doing some light chores tmrw. anyway. time to try to drink my little oxy water without crying !!

[theauthor27]

Look at this hat I own:

[iknowshocker]

wip...saturday?? lol i'm chipping away at chapter 22, but life has gotten so busy recently. this jokai scene has been with me since the beginning tho and i'm excited to share <33

Kai groans, holding the phone away from his face as he rolls out of bed. “Jo! Are you almost done?”

He hears the sound of the sink running on the other side of the bathroom door, but Jo doesn’t answer. 

“Josette, come on,” he tries again, knocking twice. “You’ve been in there for an hour, and your kids are turning into banshees. Can you just-,”

The door cracks open under his next knock, his blood running cold at what he sees. Jo stands at the sink, still wearing her bloody clothes from this morning, scrubbing frantically at her hands. 

“Sorry, Ric,” Kai mutters, already lowering his phone. “We’re gonna have to call you back.”

He hangs up before Ric can launch into a disgruntled argument, silencing his phone with a click before he tucks it into his pocket. 

“Sissy?”

Jo finally lifts her head, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “It won’t come off,” she whispers. “I can’t get it off.”

Kai’s eyes drop to the bloody water before returning to her panicked face.

“I have to get it off,” she continues blankly, shuddering before she turns back to her task.

Coming up beside her, Kai reaches around her arm to turn off the water. 

“Stop!” She yells, shoving him away to snatch for the faucet. “I have to-,”

“You’re making it worse,” he murmurs, catching her hands in his carefully. He lifts them up, giving them both a view of how raw and scrapped up they’ve become. “You have to let them heal first, Sissy.”

Jo trembles, her hands twitching as the self-inflicted wounds slowly fade. She’s left with blood caked beneath her chipped nails, the creases of her knuckles holding on to stubborn stains. “Why is there so much,” she whispers, looking up at him dazedly. “Why won’t it come off?”

[dragonomatopoeia]

at any given time I am thinking about Your Brain Is Not an Onion With a Tiny Reptile Inside (2020) by Cesario, J., Johnson, D. J., & Eisthen, H. L.

[ohgaylor]

me? oh yeah I’m just thinkin about how taylor said she used to call scarlet lips her home

[small-purple-duck]

Spotify wrapped told me I listened to 30,022 minutes this year and I did 28,250 minutes last year. That is a 1,772 minute difference and I am PROUD OF MYSELF

[oldtvandcomics]

Happy Queer Media Monday!

Today: Nous Sommes la Poussière by Plume D. Serves

I found a book.

[Nous Sommes la Poussière as seen in the queer bookshop in Paris, with the shop's recommendation still attached]

Nous Sommes la Poussière is a French novel written by LGBT+ and autistic activist Plume D. Serves. It is a magic realism story about people affected by a disabling condition that causes electric dust to gather around them. As a form of “treatment”, they are made to wear special chains with a magnet that absorbs the dust before it can become a visible cloud, which end up doing more harm than good. The main character, Elias, is one of these people. (She is also a lesbian.) The book follows her from the moment that she really started to feel disabled over years of struggle with both her disability and her fight for social acceptance, until the activist group succeeds in repelling the very restrictive law forcing them to wear the chains. While doing so, it touches on many aspects of life with an invisible disability.

I feel like I’ve never seen my exact life experience as a disabled person this well reflected in any story. Plume D. Serves doesn’t shy away from the complexities and the nuances of being disabled and of the disabled community, or the way it intersects with other marginalized identities. I also appreciated how the thing that brings change in this book is relentless, determined community organizing.

Nous Sommes la Poussière is written in French by a French author, and has not yet been translated to any other languages.

I have done a review about it in French, if that is a version you’d prefer. Also, here is Plume D. Serves’ webpage.

Queer Media Monday is an action I started to talk about some important and/or interesting parts of our queer heritage, that people, especially young people who are only just beginning to discover the wealth of stories out there, should be aware of. Please feel free to join in on the fun and make your own posts about things you personally find important!

[serabellyms]

spotify starter #77: cradle to the grave - five finger death punch     ⤷ @altosk ✧ raven.

It seemed malakhim were still surprised when she addressed them; she, of course, could tell they were just that, one of the many benefits of her pact with Bienfu. That, and, well... they often didn't quite blend in as well as they seemed to think.

So, when the infamous question was asked---"You can see me?"--she couldn't help but respond with a flourish and a pose, her smile mischievous as ever. "Why, of course I can," she stated boldly, one hand resting upon her hip. "For I am the great, the illustrious, the powerful..."

"Mazhigigika Miludin do Din Nolurun Dou! But you can call me Magilou." She let the name hang in the air, letting it sink in as she offered a wink, along with the faintest of sparkles from her fingertips, like the tiniest of fireworks to introduce herself. What good was an epic introduction without a little flourish, after all?

"I've been called all kinds of things; a monster, a demon---a fake!" Dramatically, she flourished a hand, like it was the most absurd accusation anyone could have ever made of her. "A living nightmare from the cradle to the grave." Of course, she quickly followed it up with a shrug; it wasn't like she cared any longer about that sort of thing. People could think what they want; Magilou was... Magilou.

Of course, keeping a low profile had been the preference as of late. Since leaving the Abbey, she was certain Melchior was on the lookout for her, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with him. She'd been... putting out feelers, to say the least. She'd been trying to determine what his next plans were; she'd heard he was communicating with Artorius, who was living in Aball, but she didn't dare get anywhere near there.

Not after what happened nearly six years ago.

"Now, my dear malak---what brings you to these parts?"

[inavagrant-a]

rOAST HIM NILOU ROAST HIM. COOK HIM, GET ‘IM. 

[ancientblxde]

Mun:

If you guys are wondering where to find me:

@ancalagxn​ and @snakeofgarlemald​

these two are my current muses and have been. I’ll probably keep reporting this if I get back on this account more often or something.

[azureoctahedron]

Nostalgia's Warning

At first it was a love for anything retro. Anything old-fashioned. Everyone said it was just a trend of the decade. Except it made billions at the box office, for gaming studios, for fashion moguls.

Years went by with people obsessing over old movies. Old fashion trends were made new. The yearning for the Good Old Days permeated everything - even into politics where people fearing the future tried to seed their constituents with that fear to move them into office.

We were furiously trying to rewind the clock any way we could.

We thought it'd just go away. We thought people would start thinking about the future again, but as the years wore on, even the future felt like a battered Jetsons lunchbox, its promises of technology and hope something kids dwelled on.

We would've sailed on into cold hard cynicism as the cruelty and banality of evil wore on in its trickle-down from corrupt governments and corporations if not for what happened.

People started having memories they didn't recall getting. Things they did. People they met. Sometimes it was just a nostalgic dream. Sometimes it just flashed when the sunlight catches their eye That Way like they saw in a room on a lazy Saturday when they were children. Sometimes it was things that never happened.

At first it was just water cooler conversations. Then inventors and writers and innovators began recalling things they'd built before, and improving on them with their current designs. Technology advanced faster and faster, the memories feeding into everything.

Sudden medical, technological, and even social advances were all made by people remembering things - either in trying to repeat them, or avoid them.

Memories were then correlated across entire continents - of disasters all with unusual patterns. Storms leading to volcanoes. Meteor impacts followed by electromagnetic pulses that knocked out vast areas beyond the disaster zone.

The entire world had deja vu. People felt their steps retreading the same track of years over the span of an entire decade. Questions spread. What was going on? Was someone doing this? Perhaps God has some Plan for us?

Then, during a brutal hurricane which everyone anticipated and evacuated in advance of, another wave of memories spread across the globe in dreams, flashbacks, instants between moments. Everyone said that the main trigger had been thunder and lightning, or in the case of those who saw lightning strikes, explosions.

Memories of the entire world ending in fire from sweeping clouds which weren't clouds. Barely-visible beams of incredible power. Holes in space-time where entire towns fell to never be seen again. Lives snuffed out in seconds.

We all saw the end of the world together, before it would happen.

We knew who was doing this to us now. They weren't of this world. That much was blindingly obvious in the way they destroyed our defenses in seconds.

We didn't see their faces. We only saw their supremely advanced technology, and their utterly alien nature. We only saw them rush to consume entire forests, whole mountains, and billions of lives with waves of writhing blackness. But it wasn't just blackness. It was something you couldn't see. Something not entirely of this dimension, rippling through shapes in an instant.

Millions fought. They adapted in their neverending parade of shapes and forms. Agents who looked and acted like us but were this dark ooze. We saw war rage on for years, consuming entire continents.

Their victory was far from total. Entire cities, ravaged by particle beams and interdimensional weapons, still stood defiant with leftover weapons and cobbled-together countermeasures. We fought then because we remembered them, just as we remember their invasion now.

But there was one shred of hope we had as we rushed towards our inevitable past future.

Our entire planet was repeating a cycle through the last two decades, over and over. We'd boiled like frogs, and yet we still learned what happened. We weren't completely blind, for our technology and knowledge was better for having gone through each loop.

Even if we die again over the coming battles, we will have our chance again, twenty years ago, and twenty years from now.

The end of the world was a cycle - and if there's one thing we've learned it's that cycles can be broken. Those events that didn't happen. Those lives that weren't gone now because we acted on instinct and memory.

We will try again. We will try again through every loop we go through. We will try again and again, until our enemy - powerful as they are - finally loses this war, and we are free to finally claim our future.

With nostalgia and memory as our signposts, we will find the way to victory.

--

Note: This came out of an idea I had years ago, I think from having watched Groundhog Day and had Independence Day on the brain. Something about an alien invasion that uses a timeloop to figure out how to beat the humans. Don't get total victory? Run the loop. Except like in that one Groundhog Day episode of Star Trek TNG, it's not a perfect loop. Each one is unique, and leaves an echo.

Except, just 2 days ago, I had this idea again from the Eva brainrot. The premise of the Neon Genesis Evangelion Rebuilds involved time loops, the pieces of which, moved into the next loop.

And then I realized I had the perfect hook to make this work: our current worldwide obsession with retro, especially in movies and games.

It's almost like we know something about the past our conscious minds hasn't grasped.

[claire-boyant]

Spent the day filming my music video, a thing I am not paying a cent for (no one is, no budget lol), and got to spend the whole day going to scenic places with my two closest friends

[ll-underestimated-ll]

Pros of possessing someone to go out in the summer afternoons:

- Get some stuff done.

- What a lovely sunny day.

Cons:

- I have sunburnt the ghoul again.

- Experiencing heat is inconvenient and a great nuisance.