#complying

[themandalalady]

24-290 Discipline

Discipline “the quality of diligently complying with established rules and guidelines” Having attended Catholic schools for ten years (1-10th grade), discipline tended to have a negative connotation for me. The priests and nuns could be quite tough. As intense as it was, I actually had a solid education. But I digress. These days I attribute discipline to following a daily regimen, which for…

[mega-delicatelysuperbcollector]

THAT'S ENOUGH

Your hugs, those are enough, She said, her voice almost rough… With tears in his eyes He meekly complies, Sitting down watching her do stuff. – Listening to her all the time, Trying to say certain lines… Making not quite His line to light, But oh for the chance he pines! – Is it obsession or love By which his precious state knows… She speaks truth As to the route Her brighter…

[workersbushtelegraph]

Disappearing Palestine sign forbidden by Council

Yesterday I took this sign to King George Square in Brisbane and displayed it near City Hall. A woman asked if she could take a photo of it to which I replied yes. A security guard from City Hall approached me and told me that I was not permitted to display the sign or to affix it to railings or objects in the square. I was holding up one end and the other end was held up by a pole. She told me…

[aressida]

a reminder.

[disenchanted2006]

Hughie and Butcher in THE BOYS

[heritageposts]

Updates from Al Jazeera's live feed (24 May 2024):

[bubbarnes]

“... I'm a nobody. I can't even remember anything. Nothing. Not even my name.”

[zondearts]

More More doves

[ryllen]

x ❤️ ace is at it again ❤️ x 

[librarycards]

Hey, that's my book, Failure to Comply!

Cavar's Failure to Comply is an abolitionist text concerned with trans, disabled, and Mad liberation as a speculative art.

Every story has its fugitives. “I,” a deviant self-hacker with three arms, two stomachs, and no name, is on the run from RSCH, a high-tech, authoritarian government that mandates wellness and carves the contours of truth itself. When I is kidnapped at axe-point to be mined for forbidden memories, they must struggle against RSCH’s medical abuse to recapture their history, reunite with their lover, and rewrite their future—or risk remaining Patient forever.

I crosses an epistolary, time-flipped dreamscape as they recollect their memories from RSCH’s hungry archive, and, in the process, write the story of their liberation.

Rivers Solomon said this about it:

Failure to Comply is a striking and fresh examination of life under boot of hegemonic corporate society lovingly and ecstatically told. With language that sings and stings, this novel disrupts the status quo with the form and poetry of its telling. This book made me feel. Each sentence excited and thrilled. I loved it.

It'll be out on August 6. A percentage of the proceeds from pre-orders of FAILURE TO COMPLY (check out the new ~official~ cover!) now-June 30 will go to Palestinian LGBTQ organization alQaws. In July, for disability pride month, a percentage will go to the anticarceral care collective/respite space Wildflower Alliance.

If you haven't pre-ordered your copy yet, now is the perfect time. Consider adding on goodreads –– where there's currently a giveaway going! –– and storygraph while you're at it, and tell your friends!

[see the original post about my book here :)]

[captain-astors]

The Crown Prince

[animestan69]

sind nicht alle produkte, aber mehr optionen gibt tumblr polls nicht her. leave the obligatory "JA ABER WAS IST MIT" in the comments.

[blackskullaltar]

[clowndensation]

favorite thing in the world is when game mechanics reflect character powers. like. haha oh nooooo i got too uppity and now my boss has used his mind control powers on me and taken my free will away which is reflected in my dialogue options being revoked, free choice is an illusion oh nooooooo

[da-janela-lateral]

Reigen has dengue fever and a drugstore suffers minor losses

[d-emeter]

Johnny Mactavish who realizes he likes his girls a little bigger when he visits a museum for the first time — plus-sized!fem!reader x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

CW: mid/plus-size reader! this is absolutely far from body neutral, talk of bodies/body image

Some love for my curvy gals🫶🏻

Johnny's first encounter with the beauty of the female form is as expected, almost stereotypical — staring at the pictures in the playboy magazine he stole from his older cousin. Usually hidden under his mattress, only coming out in the dead of night with a flashlight in hand. The girls are pretty. Scantily clad, sultry expressions, and Johnny quickly learns that this is what is considered hot. He sees girls like this in films, too — films shown to him by that same cousin, God forbid his ma ever found out he watched it — and he hears his cousin and his friends drone on and on about how sexy Megan Fox is as she bends over the hood of a car. Desperate to impress the cooler, older boys, he joins in too. This is what he should find hot.

It is what he thinks he finds hot. That is, until his final year of secondary school. He's freshly turned eighteen, overeager to enlist (his ma had insisted he at least finished school before he did), and taking what he thought were the easiest electives to try and coast through to graduation. He finds he actually really enjoys art class, unlike most of his mates who had the exact same plan he did (he's particularly talented at drawing anatomy, and tries not to preen too much when the teacher compliments him for it to avoid teasing).

Said mates and him are fucking around during the busride to the school-mandated museum trip, none of them particularly excited to spend the day between what they deem boring paintings and sculptures. Well, Johnny is actually quite curious — his family never really took him on trips like this — but he pretends to be just as annoyed as the others.

Find a work that calls to you, and use it as a drawing exercise in your sketchbook. That was the assignment. Johnny's friends take the easy way out — beelining towards the modern section of the museum, finding the paintings that are simple squares of colours. He's planning on following them, but then his teacher lays a hand on his shoulder and points him towards another hall — classical sculptures. He's torn, not wanting to be left out of his friends' fun, but also not wanting to disappoint his teacher. He decides to follow the direction of his teacher's outstretched finger.

He's surrounded by white marble and plaster. The genuine old-as-fuck sculptures are displayed on a plateau in the middle of the hall, the plaster copies piled along the walls. He wanders, pausing here and there to sketch a hand, or a nose. And then he spots her.

It's like he's hypnotized, body moving of its own volition, bringing him towards his object of fascination until he's face to face with her. His eyes flick down to the plaque on the floor — Venus. She's a goddess of... something (he wasn't paying attention during that class, okay?). It doesn't matter. The first thing he notices is that she looks nothing like the girls in the magazines, or films — no, her body is softer. Well, it's not really, it's plaster, but she looks softer. There's a roundness to her shoulders, a fullness to her thighs, a pudge to her tummy, the skin in rolls where she's bent to the side. Hot, is the first thing that comes to mind, but then he shakes his head at himself. No, hot doesn't do her justice — she's beautiful. Gorgeous, stunning. He scoffs; she's tucked away in a corner, like she isn't the most breathtaking thing he has ever laid eyes upon. He spends the rest of the afternoon taking down every detail in his sketchbook.

—

Johnny's been searching for her. Or, rather, for that pull he had towards her, all those years ago. He knows it's stupid. His Venus was perfection in plaster, she was made, without faults. No woman can measure up to that, not a real one. And yet he searches. He flirts with the curvy girls, the ones that rarely get any attention among their group of friends. He enjoys the way they react; some fluster, some flourish, none of them expecting his undivided attention. He takes home pretty, plump birds from bars, spends a night worshipping them. Nothing about it is not real, per say. He finds them attractive, frothing at the mouth at the way his hands sink into soft flesh and roam wide curves — but they're not her. He searches.

And then he finds.

It's the day you come waltzing into his life. Or, more realistically, you come waltzing onto base. Price was getting a new secretary, courtesy of Laswell. Johnny hears the comments — she's a pretty thing, young, and smart. He doesn't think much of it. There's plenty of those walking around base.

Then he catches sight of you and — bloody Jesus. You are young, and you are smart, but you're not just pretty. You're beautiful. Plush in all the right places, sending Johnny into overdrive, an incessant need to get his hands on you as soon as possible. It's out of his control, the way his legs carry him over to you until he's face to face with you. He's already decided he'll worship you, if you'll let him.

His goddess. His Venus.