#reminder: try not to look away

[limelocked]

I try not to reblog or post “x amount of time left until essential service is cut off” because if you see the same news over and over (like 24 hours left of fuel for hospital) where the time limit has been extended due to scrounging up of fuel from elsewhere only to hit the t minus 24 hours again mark it will erode your trust in the source and/or desensitise you to the urgency

That being said, just like I said when gazas telecom went down the first time; this is scary

This is fucking scary on a new magnitude because Israel has become more and more blatant in its war crimes as the genocide has progressed these last 33 days with now the active ground threat posed against major hospitals which are designated, illegally, as targets

Telecom going down due to lack of fuel, something Israel probably never will budge on allowing through rafah, is watching the on the ground information reporting being starved until the Israeli military can do what it wants in almost total darkness because it’s war machine is what controls the fuel needed for telecom

Short blackouts have had the same effect but when communication network have gone back online the reporting catches up from the survivors

Israel has bombed solar panels and won’t let fuel through rafah

They don’t want coms to come back

And this isn’t mentioning how vital telecom is for communication between humanitarian workers and organisations

[puppyeared]

i like him

[fatedroses]

I know I design him with the intention that he becomes an evasion tank, but there's an irony I find very amusing in making his new magitek armor lighter than his original.

[nyatbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

[sysig]

Moomin. Moomin in Minecraft. please?

Day 16 - Are you new to the valley?

[shayberri789]

Something about how in chapter 4 of trc Adam is insecure about the fray on his second hand sweater, and how it's a symbol of his background and insecurities, and how most people don't notice it, and if they did, they didnt think better of him for it

And how Blue saw it immediately and it was something she liked about him, a girl too good at seeing the vulnerabilities of other people, but Adam didnt want someone to see his insecurities, didn't want someone to acknowledge that life

But Gansey did. Gansey needed someone to see him at his worst and love him for it, and blue did that

And how Adam needed someone to see him at his most unruly, and encouraged that

And Ronan makes Adam loud

[amimuu]

Ok which one of you keeps putting Billford and Gravity falls content in general on my timeline. GUYS ITS BEEN 8 YEARS I CANT GO BACK THERE.

[braisedhoney]

some tragic love stories be like: if i could bottle the galaxy, i would pour it into a cup so it would be easier for you to drink. do you want them? do you want the stars? or do they suit you better as adornments for your eyes than glitter on your lips?

but they don’t want the stars. they don’t want the galaxy. but how can they not? is that not enough? (it’s too much, that’s the problem. it’s too much.)

[fatehbaz]

.

[pastafossa]

*heavy breathing* I decided to try to find a workaround for the long covid brain fog tonight.

Aka a new pot pot strain a friend recced to see if it would help me out with this.

It worked.

Do you know how well?

I just came up from a fucking five hour writing spree.

I'd planned to edit TRT's new chapter. And I did for a bit. But it wasn't enough. I had that itch, one that had been rattling around under my skin for months.

I needed to CREATE.

I NEEDED TO WRITE.

So I turned my eyes to the Raven fic's final chapter, where I'd been slowly working on adding the new scenes I wanted and redoing a few to match the new ones.

I didn't just enter the writing zone. I blew that fucking door off its hinges. I saw the scenes in my mind's eye, and I typed the words that came, and even when the words didn't show up, I waved it off, slapped in a placeholder, and blew past it. My hyperfocus latched on like a gator and did fifty thousand death rolls.

I wrote FOUR. POINT. EIGHT. THOUSAND. WORDS.

IN FIVE HOURS.

I may have forgotten to drink or eat anything so that's familiar too

This proves it. Getting TRT's new chapter written, if not edited, proved the words were still there in my head. And THIS proves I can still enter that miracle zone that makes everything worth it oh god i missed the zone. As best I can tell looking over it, this didn't fix my 'what word did I want here???' problem that I continue to struggle with. I still have a lot of placeholder words. But what it did do was remove my frustration, my anxiety, and my long pauses when I couldn't find a word I wanted. It was far easier to just continue on. It also gave me, for just a few hours, the ability to focus, enough that even as it slowly wore off I'd built enough momentum to keep going for a while.

Now I just gotta find a way to get there more regularly like I used to, without the herby nudge. Tomorrow I'll try the same thing though, only with editing instead, now that my itch has been thoroughly scratched.

And if anyone hears triumphant howling tomorrow evening, just know that it is I, Pasta, summoning the words again.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

something i'm grateful for about Wally is the representation for people who love eye contact. we're underappreciated smh

[butmakeitgayblog]

Lotd have mer y ADC looks so good with her new selfie. And she’s posting flowers as usual 🥹

And wearing a white shirt. I'll say this, you can't accuse the girl of not staying consistently on brand 🥴

I will say also, she's never escaping the Victoria Pedretti doppleganger allegations any time soon (although I guess it'd be the other way around since she's older. Whatever) Anyway they neeeeeeed to play sisters at some point cuz what the actual fuck are we doing here like what is the point of all this if that never happens

[sammygender]

im new here- is dean abusive?

imo yeah. smarter people than me have written dissections of the way he treats sam & others (he’s also Awful to his psuedo-son jack, but i haven’t gotten to that season yet), i’ve probably reblogged a bunch of them.

he certainly doesn’t mean to be & i don’t say it to condemn him as a person or as a character & i’m still very attached to him & he loves sam very much (not that that makes a difference in whether u abuse someone or not) - but the way he treats sam a lot/some of the time is emotionally abusive and sam is clearly badly impacted. s4 and s8 come to mind as his worst moments also ofc moc era - after that there’s less interpersonal conflict (up to where i am at least) but that’s because sam mostly stops disagreeing with dean not because dean actually gets much better <3 spn is cycles of abuse show after all. family is hell. dean’s learnt pretty much everything about how to behave from his abusive father and as a result. well. cycle continues

[desire-mona]

can someone please come over and braid my hair and talk about fnaf like im 9 again thanks. can someone please come over and pretend like its all ok thanks.

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.

[silver-horse]

I think I lost a bunch of weight 💀 saw myself naked in the mirror and jump scared myself a little bit... the chest bones are visible (at least when I put my hands up)... not looking too good...