#maybe i'm also just hungry

[rainy-day-wizard]

My mental illness has got to stop having physical symptoms because i am tired of being nauseous from anxiety 24/7 -_-

[lazylittledragon]

don't you love when you Just stopped feeling guilty about eating the things you like and then one of your parents drops the "i'm concerned about your diet"

[cerealbishh]

"We get to, this season, explore their chemistry and their real love and their intimacy. So we get to have a glimpse into that world that just feels so pure and beautiful and romantic! And then, sort of navigating those other circumstances once they're out in the world, dealing with real... challenges." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[bladedhunter]

So.... hungry...

[lilmaemae]

rereading your own fics to see where you left off is tough bc i just reread it and now i want to delete the whole chapter?? would people even notice that a chapter is missing?? or would it collective fever dream??

[travelbasscase]

me when my disability disables me:

[nobodybetterlookatme]

I don't care if the texts are about what you're eating for dinner, I'll take all the crumbs I can get !!

LMAO yeah okay here you go. And upon reading them this morning it wasn't that funny so idk why I was laughing almost hysterically last night about it ahskalslal

[trans-leek-cookie]

its past midnight and time to yap about Mouthwashing. Anyway obviously we don't see the Specific Events only how the characters react but with Anya... Okay I'm going to talk about the Sexual Assault not with Specific Details but that's what the post is about so

Anyways she reads to me as very like... trying to downplay the severity to herself. Like thinking through it (not having the exact quotes but) I feel like it'd be an unfortunately natural reaction- if you were stuck with 4 guys and the guy with the second highest position on the ship assaulted you depending on the situation. I feel like its not hard to imagine you'd try and reframe it as Less Bad to cope because let me be honest if I had to confront the implications of that, mainly the fact he could do it again and I wouldn't have any real way of dealing with it without complicating things even further bc he doesn't just have a close relationship with the guy with the Most Power on the ship, he also is in charge of keeping Me and The Other People On The Ship Safe, i would be in deep denial just to not lose my god damn mind like thats so fucking scary. And then the implication you tried to talk to the captain and even if he wasn't cruel he didn't Understand the Severity of what you were suggesting is like. Besides feeling afraid it could genuinely really fuck with my own perception bc like "if this guy who I trust says he's not a bad person maybe I'm just overreacting?" is. Again unfortunately understandable.

And again I'll say that Anya fully breaks down when the news breaks that pony express is fucked and like. 1. I think that's related to her own finances (and also. Literally just realized the way an abortion could interact badly with "no savings" like I Just Processed that fact. Like I knew "oh if she couldn't abort having to support a child wouldn't just be traumatic but also fucking nightmarish finance wise" but even having an abortion could make things so much harder.) 2. Jimmy LASHES OUT at Curly OPENLY. again based on my interpretation of Mildly In Denial To Cope this would. Like. Really fuck with that because it goes from "I trust the captain and I don't want to be afraid of my crewmate for a year" to "oh he is willing to verbally abuse the captain, who is his friend" and realizing I wasn't overreacting.

I also wanna point to the dead pixel conversation and obv it's symbolic but idk if it's meant as "there's a dead pixel that Anya noticed and she's using the topic to like test the waters" or if it's "anya is literally just trying to figure out Curly's thought process" which isn't like super important but like. Focusing on the way she starts the conversation by saying that she "Likes the illusion the screen has". (I don't remember the exact words sorry) But that's really interesting to me bc obviously you can read into Curly not seeing the dead pixel and instead focusing on the bigger picture (and how the dead pixel "doesn't ruin the illusion") but I think it's really interesting that Anya starts by talking Positively about the screen even though the dead pixel is there (and she can't stop thinking about it)

Like thinking through implications option 1: she's talking about the screen and uses the dead pixel to get a feel for how Curly responds to her bringing up issues

2: she's being entirely metaphorical and still trying to sort of self soothe- seeking external validation that the dead pixel Isn't Actually That Big A Deal (and therefore she's just overthinking)

3: idk how to phrase this exactly but ppl have talked Abt the way she talks to Jimmy, how it indicates a sort of "Fawn" response where she tries to keep him calm with compliments and stuff, and her talking about "enjoying the illusion" is her trying to do something similar with Curly- essentially starting the metaphor by downplaying the issue

Anyway. I don't know if I have a full conclusion but another thing is I think ppl need to acknowledge that while Curly fucked up and harmed Anya (mainly thru inaction). He's not uniquely shitty. Most people will be in a situation where they act similarly, and that DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS. I AM NOT SAYING CURLY IS ANY BETTER. I am saying that you need to be able to recognize your capacity for harm thru inaction and understand that like. He's not uniquely terrible he's just Normal Levels Of Unhelpful, which in a situation like Anya's is Dangerous

Like. Basically you can say "fuck jimmy fuck curly" all you want but you need to be able to understand that everyone including yourself has the same capacity for harm

[robinsnest2111]

maybe I really need to get back into carbonated water. the latest addition to the local grocery store's bottled water selection has been quite good actually (sparkling peach and sparkling lime-lemon flavour) in those 3/4 liter "sports" bottles...

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

arrived at the disturbing realization that when left completely to my own devices and with no schedule i very well could accidentally starve myself because when i tell you i did not eat ANY acceptable food today

list of things i ate today:

Singular fish stick (someone made them. i was offered two but the texture disgusts me) one madeline cookie 2-4 bites of leftover chicken pad thai the last of a bottle of arnold palmer. less than a fourth probably half a protein bar (the taste disturbs me) bowl of cereal (probably the best thing i ate today since it was at least a full portion. also it had nuts in it which is neat) about two handfuls of gummy bears

and that's literally everything that i ate over thirteen hours of consciousness

[happyk44]

"I'm not leaving you behind! It is my duty," he hissed. "I swore myself-"

"Your swore yourself because you had no choice, Percy." Her eyes were endless dark, devoid of feeling, of life. "You had a price to pay for your mother's life and this was your only offer." Her thin fingers cup his face through the bars. "You didn't choose to be my protector." She gave a weak laugh that made his stomach plummet to the floor. "You're not even my guard yet, not really."

Like a phantom, her touch slid down his cheek. He caught her wrist before her fingertip stopped gracing his skin. He could feel the rounded edge of her fingernail poke against him. Silence held fraught between them.

"Bianca-"

"Percy," she cut in, voice so sharp it cut him to the core. "I want you to survive. You're free. Take advantage of that, and go. Now."

"I can't go back without you," he said, quickly. She didn't fight his hold, but still his grip tightened. As though the harder he held her, the more she would stop protesting her escape. "You are-"

"Dead." Her lips thinned. "I'm dead, Percy. I was dead the moment they got their hands on me and I will be dead before either one of us even makes it beyond these walls, but you-" Her voice cracked, eyes watering.

He shook his head. Blood pounded in his ears. He didn't want to hear what she was going to say, wanted her to stop, wanted it all to stop. Just for a moment.

But it didn't, and neither did she. With a deep breath, she carried on, "You can make it. You can live. But only if you leave without me, so go."

His lungs burned. She inhaled so deeply, spoke so forcefully, and it made him hold the air in his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't breathe, maybe she would. But his chest ached. Self-loathing wedged itself like a rock in his throat as he let go. The sound of his own breath was like nail on chalkboard.

"Percy," she whispered. He shook his head and leaned in closer. Although tears hadn't yet fallen, her eyes were still wet. They glistened like the night sky. Her forehead pressed against the bars.

He looked away. The brick wall to his left was growing a fair bit of moss in the corner. "What's our star again?"

She laughed. It was a watery thing that choked him where he stood. Memories of standing the long grass, moonlight shining off the river, while she read her books beside him. Every so often, she'd look up at the night sky and search for the brightest star that month. She'd tell the stories behind the constellations. Or at least the stories from her kingdom. Any time she told a story, a fantastical myth, she'd follow up that her brother knew more - Nico, the quiet prince with a voracious appetite for legends and monsters.

Then, if she could spot the brightest star that month and if she recalled, she'd tell him what it meant for the people born that month. At least, in their hemisphere anyway. The stars were different elsewhere. Sometimes she'd crack open the newspaper, the stark image of her father, and read aloud the horoscopes.

He still remembered the incredulous sound she made when he told her they shared the same birthday. She'd dragged him to the library to refresh her memory on their star. Then argued furiously that he did not share the same traits as her.

It was a silly thing. She didn't believe it. He didn't either. But it was the first time they hadn't played the stiff act of royal princess and her knight-in-training. Not Percy holding his tongue and following strictly one step behind. Not Bianca doing her best to pretend he wasn't her shadow.

Awkward civility and stiffness carried thick between them from the moment Percy had been casted into his role. But that night, with the sound of yelling and laughter still echoing in their ears, they made an agreement. They didn't have to be the best of friends, but they sure could be casual with each other. After all, they were going to be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives.

At least... they were supposed to be.

Slowly each finger detached one by one until all that was left was his palm pressed against her wrist. Then that fell away too. Still he couldn't bare to turn his head and face her.

"Leo," she said. "The lion. Strength, pride, loyalty, confidence."

A stabbed orange toy on new year's day passed through his mind. "Sacrifice."

It was quiet for a beat. Then, "Yes." His heart hammered so fast he could feel it in his throat. "The lion represents sacrifice."

What was he supposed to say? He wanted to run, to turn the lock with the key he stole, take her and run. Run far and fast. But deep inside, he knew she was right. He could get by undetected. No one cared about a child knight, not even yet passed his training. He could blend in and slip out. Even if he got caught, they wouldn't nearly put in as much effort to get him back as they would if she were with him.

She was right.

She was already dead.

He swallowed thickly and met her eyes again. The night sky glistened back at him and he thought of constellations and warm handshakes and kind agreements and silly arguments. Breath caught in his throat. "I'll miss you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her lips twitched. "I'll miss you too." She blinked, and one tear slid down her cheek. He tracked the wet trace it left behind until it welled up at the bottom of her chin and dripped to the floor. "Will you do me a favour?"

"You're my princess," he said. "I would do anything for you."

It was a weak smile she gave before she spoke. The sight of it crushed him. "Tell my family I love them." Her breath escaped from her shakily. She pushed back her hair. A classic move to hide the nerves that drove her hands to tremble ever so slightly. "And take care of Nico. Please."

"I will," he promised.

Her smile strengthened ever so slightly. But the tears fell fast now, one right after the other. Her face tilted away at the first streak. He immediately turned his line of sight back to the brick wall. Weakness, sadness, grief - she hated being seen with any of them. He always respected it. Look away until she was done. Don't speak, don't ask her anything, don't help her. Just look away and stay silent unless she calls out.

So, even as his mind's eye was trapped in the wet track of tears on her skin, the hitched sound of her breath holding in a cry, he turned and headed back for the dungeon's door. The doorknob twisted in his hand. The door cracked open.

"Percy."

He held stiff. "Yes?"

"Don't forget the bracelet."

Heat burned at the back of his head. In his pocket, the bracelet felt heavier than the weight of the world. When he had first arrived, she gave it to him. When he refused to take it, insistent that she could deliver it to Nico herself, she shoved it into his pocket herself. Like a ghostly stain, his thigh still tingled with the forceful and firm press of her hand. He was sure it always would.

"I won't."

"Stay safe," she said, a princess in a dungeon ready and waiting to die.

His heart shattered. Still, he kept his head held high. "I will."

Then, without another word, he left the girl he had spent the last three years training to protect. He was meant to die for her. It was the role he had accepted the night he and his friends had stormed the castle and pleaded for help with his dying mother. He didn't argue. He didn't plead. Without hesitation, he swore his life away for hers. Without hesitation, he swore his last breath would be hers.

Yet she was the one embracing the eternal coldness to come. She was the one breathing weakly so he could breathe strong. She was trading away her life for his. She was the lion, giving a mighty roar before the dawn of a new year. She was the sacrifice, held down by chains with a glistening sharp blade raised above her head.

But he wasn't the one lowering it upon her neck. No, he was the cold breath of winter. The first drop of snow. The wilting grass. He was the barren wasteland that drove her out into the open. He was the starving masses desperate to live. He didn't have to drop the blade. He didn't have to use his own hands to spill her blood across the ground. His survival was her end. And that made him her killer anyway.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[dreadfutures]

there's something here ok

my mom used to be a bigot. she was abusive and alcoholic and had self esteem issues that she self medicated and took out on the world. she hated homeless people, hippies, liberals, anti gun activists, didn't believe in climate change.

in 15 years she has changed a lot. She carries a bag around full of food and blankets and water to give to the unhoused. She always has cash in her wallet to give to people on the street. She believes in climate change and votes green. She changed her mind about guns.

I can talk to her without worrying I'm going to be judged just for being antiwar. Her biggest priority isn't whether or not I'm going to church but whether I'm helping people and being kind.

I feel like I can tell her about (some) things about my childhood, and my relationships, and I'll be heard and respected. That is more than before, where I felt like I had to lie about every aspect of my life to avoid a berating and harassment.

She apologized to me once three years ago for my childhood and I don't care. It means more to me that she was at a place personally where she could apologize, than anything else.

Nothing makes up for how I was made to feel growing up. But I never needed her to be a part of my healing. It happened, and I deal with it in my own way, divorced from her. I don't need anything from her except the answer to my ONE WISH growing up: I wished she'd grow up, and be kinder, and be more secure. Even then, when I hated her, I knew that what would be good for ME would be to get away and become the person I wanted to be; what would be good for her, my family, the world, would be for her to BE BETTER. I was so angry because to me, I KNEW she could just BE BETTER, KINDER, than this, but it felt like she refused to do the work. It made me SO ANGRY. And so hopeless.

It took almost two decades. It was not a pleasant 15 years for her I'm sure. But she did it.

She is a different person than the one who hurt me; the person who hurt me is the same person who always had the potential to be better.

There's something here.

My old therapist and I talked about compartmentalization and how it's boxing things up and shoving them under the bed. We discussed how that's not what I'm doing with this approach. When I say the person my mom is now deserves to be treated independently of the person she was. I think it's the only way to have a community. We have to meet people where they're at, and if they want to and are able to engage with community the way the community engages, then. we should.

I had cut off my family almost completely when I moved away for college. They just continued to prove that they weren't going to engage with me in a healthy way, and they weren't people I wanted in my personal community. I told them why I didn't want to be around them.

And I was fine; I found my community, identified my needs and found ways to meet them with the resources and people I wanted in my life. There are unique pains in that, too, but they're just different pains than the agony of dealing with family like that. Fixing them wasn't my responsibility; getting out of a situation where I was suffering, was something in my power.

If my mom hadn't genuinely changed, I wouldn't engage the way I am now. But she could, and she did. The rest of my family is also better but for reasons I still hold them at a distance. There's something to that, too. and all of it just. really validates an important part of my world view that needed strengthening. Hope without evidence of possibility feels like a vain exercise. But this one example solidified something in me. There's something there.

[fazcinatingblog]

but what if her aim is to just make as many money as possible, as quick as possible, and then sell the business, let someone else deal with the mess of it, and just retire with her rental properties and money from selling the business and/or those townhouses and

[yoshistory]

I feel so dogshit awful holy fuck

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Listening to "Out There" from the Hunchback of Notre Dame again and I'm like damn that really is a q!Fit and Madagio song huh