been getting a lot of spy v spy posts on my dash, what is it? ik i could look it up but i love getting answers from the community, like at first i thought it was some old hanna barbera show or a classic comic but i'm not too confident in that any more
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Next book is Gilded by Marissa Meyer, who also wrote the Cinder series, which I really enjoyed. This one is the Rumplestiltskin story, but better. There's a little bit of gay with some side characters, but I don't mind the main hetero ship. It's playful and witty.
I think I actually enjoy this novel a bit more than the Cinder series. This one is a bit more focused, and I'm getting really invested. A good time investment so far.
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tHAW Fan Wiki!!!
the thaw fan wiki is finally (pretty much) done!!! including, might i add, my (hopefully) comprehensive timeline that i included at the bottom of this post
fan wiki
version with spoilers hidden
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I'm sure someone else already thought of this, but I just thought of an agere hack! If you like flavored water, Propel comes in bottles that are designed with a sports cap (idk if that's what they're actually called) and it almost feels like a bottle or sippy when you drink from it! So if you gotta regress in secret, you can use them instead of having to hide a bottle or sippy! 😃
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Nine Years.
We're coming up to the end of Disability Pride Month, and I just had my first seizure at my new job. After sitting in my fifth break room since I was eighteen, drinking some water and blaming myself for something out of my control, I came to an important realization:
I've gone nine (9) years without accepting my seizures as a part of my life. I haven't accepted how disabled I am.
It seems like every solution to an issue that I have due to my seizures I write off because "I might get better. I'll see how I'm doing in a couple of months." It's why I constantly delete my text-to-speach app even though I can't speak after I have a siezure. It's why I haven't fought the "no" that I got from the disability office last year with a lawyer to prove that I genuinely can't work the way I want to be able to. It's why I haven't saved up for a service dog that I genuinely believe will make living independently easier for me.
I've worked so hard to live my life around my seizures rather than working hard to make my life easier with my seizures. I try to accommodate others as best I can any time the need arises, but I haven't accommodated myself.
It's easier said than done, but I need to learn how to hold onto hope that I might get better while acknowledging that yes, I am disabled. I can't do the same things that people without seizures can do. There's a lot that I can do independently, and there's a lot that I can do with help, too. But I have to learn to be okay with the things that I can't do, and how to accept help.
I'm going to talk to my Pastor at church about a service dog organization that she knows about and see if she can help me get in contact with them. I'm going to keep my text-to-speach app on my phone at all times. And I'm going to learn to love myself even with my seizures, and not wait to love myself until I'm "better." As more time goes on, I'm realizing more and more that that just might not happen, and I need to be okay with that.
I'm allowed to take up space as a disabled person. I'm allowed to use things that will make navigating life with my disability easier. I'm allowed to live a full, happy life as a disabled person. While my disability doesn't define who I am, it is a part of who I am, and I'm allowed to love all of the parts that make me, me.
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Materials Engineering Student Gothic:
You've been working on the assignment for 18 hours straight. You cannot feel your fingers, only the numbers. They can feel you back.
Your blood is sluggish and tired after only three hours of sleep. You wonder if it would solidify in a Chvorinov's Rule assumption or a linear casting assumption. You forget that your blood is not metal.
The Career Center is sending you emails for internships. There are none. The companies do not exist. They are sending you emails. You send them your resume. They are calling you. There is no Career Center. They email you again.
Your evening Calculus exam has been moved to a new room in the Engineering Quad. The room does not exist. You miss the exam time. Thanks to the curve, you get a B.
You've been grinding and polishing your steel samples for two hours straight. They are getting rougher each time. Your professor stands looking over your shoulder silently. They have not moved in the full two hours. You wonder if they're human anymore, if this is what you must become to get a perfect mirror finish and pass the lab.
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Clive B. Smith, Builders in the sun; five Mexican architects (1968), pg 204
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