#kind of personal?

[bethanydelleman]

My favourite fact in the whole world is that one pure teaspoon of botulinum toxin could kill the entire human race. It stops your skeletal muscles from working by blocking the neurotransmitter acetylcholine; you begin with blurry vision and end unable to expand your chest cavity to breath.

Why is this my favourite? Because humans are so insane! This substance is super deadly and terrifying and we were like, "But hey, what if it's secret medicine?" It now has 8 FDA approved medical uses (including cosmetic Botox) such as treating chronic migraines, and it has a whole list of off-label uses.

I don't know what that says about us as a species, but I put that fact in the same box as almonds used to contain deadly amounts of cyanide until we selectively bred them into eatbility. What is with us?

[tadpolesonalgae]

heyyyyy, so i know I usually talk about helion and stuff but i just wanted to let you know to take your time with cbmthy + oneshot updates. if anyone is pressuring you, even absent mindedly, just remember to take your time boo! <3

your work is gold, and im very proud of you for it! so here's your reminder to stay healthy, drink your water, get good sleep and be good to yourself.

and always remember, when in distress, imagine helion's thighs.

love ya! - ☀

Actually you’ve got pretty great timing with this message so thank you!

For anyone who doesn’t know, there’s going to be a General Election on the 4th of July, so there’s a fair chance I won’t be as active as usual or might not be able to write as frequently due to the uncertainty and anticipation over what’s going to happen in the foreseeable future!

I do have some things already written, so hopefully even if I am short on time or just too stressed to write, I’ll have some backup stuff, but I’m just letting you guys know what’s going on at the moment since it’s kind of important! 😭🧡💛

And you also look after yourself!! 🙄 You aren’t allowed to wish me well and then not wish well for yourself, that’s not how things work over here, so you’d better be taking care of yourself aswell 🧡💛

(Also I finished that Helion mini-fic and am going to proofread it this evening, then hopefully have it done and ready for tomorrow!)

[akirathedramaqueen]

Haha, while I certainly share the sentiment, I prefer the lighter version of it: "Perhaps, this story isn't for me."

I've been told "Master and Margarita" is a masterpiece. Back in the day, when I was actively reading all kinds of classics (not out of personal interest—school obliged me to—but I still enjoyed some of them), this was the book I never understood. Never got what was so deep in it. If anything, it felt like a couple of good ideas in otherwise highly disorganised plot with little to no sense. But there are many people who like it. I think it was in the school curriculum for a reason, at least.

One of my recent reads, "Before the Coffee Gets Cold," is a modern book, and while I didn't like it for numerous reasons, a lot of Goodreads reviews find the story moving and innovative. Good for them, I think? I just shrugged, left my 2-star review, and went on with life. Not because I wanted the author to go down, but to let the other potential readers to know what to expect.

And if there are people who enjoy things I don't, I just leave them the right to do so. And I allow myself to think, "The story isn't for me." Bad for me, if you will.

before i accuse a story of being bad i must ask myself one crucial question first: am i perhaps fucking stupid

[smoosie]

(Which arm, Viktor, huh ? Which one ??)

They were not a couple so, Jayce (who had a very bad day and just wanted to hug it out) proceeded to freak out, backed out of the lab and never mentioned it again but, Astral Viktor, that mf ? He'd be delighted to remind Jayce of that moment in time, of that missed call and watch him die from embarrassment and resentment over himself

(I'm glad they've never beaten the gay allegations and never will)

[copepods]

twitter is great for finding a person whos username is like ZL287635630JHSB67 and who doesn’t speak english and is drawing fictional characters with more raw skill than leonardo da vinci

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[artsymeeshee]

Thinking about the idea I had a LONG time ago about Mabel sending motivational and complimenting stickers for the boys and Ford saving a “write your own message” one just for Stan and had to draw it.

[wusnus]

I love mabel and bill and i want to see them being bffs but i cannot see an interaction between them going any way other than this

[stil-lindigo]

lighthearted.

if this comic resonated with you, please consider donating to this palestinian escape fund (vetted by @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein) as it is less than $7,000 away from it's goal.

i turn 24 today. To celebrate, I made this comic to be a spiritual successor to lead balloon, a comic in which I talked about the darkest period of my life so far.

A lot has changed since my 23rd birthday and this one. My priorities have shifted a lot, in ways that I think are mostly good. But i think the best part about today is that suicide has gone back to being a far away notion. I'm really lucky, and I'm grateful for that.

[frenchublog]

[luguangs]

though the movie might be cancelled, yuri on ice will live forever in our hearts. thank you yoi fandom, it's been real ♡

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[wigglybunfish]

Welcome to Preservation! we have nice people and even nicer murderbots.

[heytherecentaurs]

Brennan’s talked before about how as a poor young adult he lived in New York and struggled with food security. He tells a story of going to frozen yogurt places for free samples and a cheap dumpling spot because it was a lot of food.

His opinions on food and his described behaviours around food make a lot of sense in that context. He may be successful now and can be assured he can eat again when he’s hungry, but it appears he has legitimate trauma around his experiences with poverty because what he’s humorously describing is a trauma response. His mind hasn’t gotten rid of the anxiety of “I’m eating now so I better make it count because I don’t know when I will again.”

Because he’s a comedian he manages to frame it as a joke, but there’s certainly an underlying sadness. It also informs Evan Kelmp’s characterization. Capitalism is the root issue here and poverty is state-sanctioned economic abuse.

Anyway, I hope he’s doing well and taking care of himself.

[percabetn]

i can’t stop thinking about how annabeth e-mailed percy the photo of her at dc but this doofus decided to print it and put it in his notebook to stare at her whenever he could. talk about dedication