DAY 71: shy
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youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either.
and is also still, sort of, a sex flower
from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way
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when i was on episode 2 or something i found this malevolent references image (original creator @dunewindart!) but I found it so hysterical even when i didnt understand anything so I just started adding to it as I caught up and plummeted into an infinite hole of brainrot understood the references
here is it now…updated to 41.. I am continuing it
I spent too much time on this (with no regrets)
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I'm a many-many-generations-Appalachian, and when I was a teenager, everyone assumed I'd leave, so I thought I should. And then when I did leave, someone called my mama and told her I was the most homesick child they'd seen in decades, that she should come get me. She didn't, because she wanted me to succeed that badly, but I got myself back to Appalachia PDQ. And then I never left again, because Appalachia is where I belong.
I know the stereotypes, but we can be happy here, too. I've got a good life, with a well-paying job I love, a silver anniversary spouse, wonderful children, and a nice house. My mama lives with us and that's just how we like it. Our quietly queer little family is proud to be Appalachian, and our children learn our history, like the recorded story from their great-grandfather who saw the Baldwin-Felts get off the train in Matewan.
Are there problems in Appalachia? Sure. But that doesn't mean we are all living in misery. Appalachian lives are more than poverty porn and strip mines and drugs and Dew mouth. We have our own festivals and music and art and foods and books to celebrate our shared heritage. We have our own holidays, too, like the first day of deer season. There can be a lot of joy in our Appalachian lives, if we let it.
And of course, we can all join together to remind folks that #heaintfromaroundhere ;)
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hm, this may sound harsh but uh... femmes and butches who claim to support and uplift other femmes/butches, but at the end of the day only actually support femmes/butches exactly like themselves should be ashamed of themselves. You're not supporting and uplifting other femmes/butches, you're uplifting yourself reflected on others just like you
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One conversation I remember people having about people who have endured abuse or trauma is the use of survivor versus victim language, and I think a lot of people have misconceptions about the "right" language to use.
I think a lot of people have this idea that using victim language (e.g., "I was/am a victim of abuse") can send the message that you're perpetually a victim, and that because of that, it is "bad language." However, I think it's more accurate to conceptualize it more so as putting responsibility onto the people who harmed them. Framing yourself as a survivor can feel final and permanent, and some of us aren't ready for that level of definitiveness.
I think we need more acceptance of peoples conception of their experiences. It's okay to say that you were/are a victim, just as it's okay to say you are a survivor. The idea of being a "good" victim/survivor is damaging, and it's harmful to us. It puts the onus on us to think about everybody else's comfort but our own about our own damn trauma
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Use Images to Describe How You View Yourself
Was tagged by @greeneyezblackheart
Animal, Food, Hobby, Color, Character, Plant, Season, Place, Crystal
Alpaca, Watermelon, Writing, Sage, Mashup of Michelle and Simone - Dazed and Confused, Flower (Wild Trumpet Vine shown), Summer, Flower Farm, Chandelier
Tagging:
@valupuyhol @elscaptive @jakelinestradlin @takemetothetopp @beebemarie @prettypersuasion @groupieformckagan @cel3brity-skin @sunsetdaydreamer @inlovewithrockstar
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i like how we all collectively get so fucking angry at amaury but love him to bits
we hate his guts
we also adore him
we’re all collectively whispering ‘what the fuck what the fuck what the fuckkk’ while he recreates god himself out of chocolate and cake and I think that’s beautiful
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⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️
tomorrow's story post (oct. 11) depicts various forms of suicide and death. additionally, there is sexual content, but no nudity.
suicide tw, death tw, sim spice (tagged this way to avoid censors), mind reading tw, illness tw, hospital tw
+ [full content warnings for frozen pines]
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[ID: Two pages from Trigun Maximum. In the first, Rem cries as she passionately exclaims to Vash, "Don't throw it all away! Don't let it go! Don't say you'd rather die!" Young Vash seems shocked as she exclaims that she wants to see the world together, because it's made up of more than worthless people. Rem's face is scrunched up and flushed, tears beading at her eyes as she cries.
In the second, Marlin fondly tells Vash that Meryl and Milly worry when he leaves them and that he needs to learn to let people help him out, because they want to do so. Vash seems surprised, then begins to cry. He looks similar to Rem, with flushed cheeks and tears at the corners of his eyes, as he cries, "... Don't... Just... Don't tell me something like that now!" End ID]
Like mother, like son.... [starts bawling so hard I choke to death]
[ID: Another flashback page with Rem and Vash. Vash smiles with contentment and says, "But... if you hadn't stopped me then... I never would have know that when you cry, Rem... you look like you're laughing." Rem is still teary, but she smiles happily. End ID]
Bonus :')
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Day three of holding everyone’s laundry hostage until my father takes a shower.
The last of my father’s beloved white socks have fallen to the filth. There is little hope, and even less in terms of rest. The battle is ongoing, and it feels often that I am fighting alone. Morale is low; my ally in this conflict, mother, is injured. I long for the days when I can rest. When this war will cease, and all will be clean again. The dishes done, the people bathed, the laundry washed and folded. Alas. We know the struggle will never end.
I am Sisyphus, and my father’s horrid stench and apathy are forever my boulder.
My father is a war profiteer, and I am a hapless young recruit greeting a doomed mission.
Last shower date: December 25th, 2023
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