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#like literally ever in my life
sameboot · 8 months
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Simon petrikov coping FAIL compilation
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mxcrayon · 4 months
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losing my actual mind rn
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i had this interaction in the dropout discord (i am the first and third person). short. simple. i only got the first year bc of a discount + a gift card i had, so i was planning on using this person's suggestion.
then, i got this.
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oh my god!! how nice!! how sweet!!! how thoughtful!! i gave them my email and they sent over a subscription, i thanked them profusely. i was very grateful, very touched.
hours and hours later i was still thinking about it and i recalled how, in the email id gotten about it, it said "tao yang sent you a subscription" and id seen that and thought "oh haha like the tao yang" and then moved on
but now, thinking back, i was like.... theres no way, so i googled tao yang.
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......
TAO YANG BOUGHT ME A FUCKING ANNUAL DROPOUT SUBSCRIPTION
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inkskinned · 3 months
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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isolophilian · 4 months
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i think we need to understand the gravity of how quickly Percy blames himself and his disabilities for the way his world is. how he's been made to believe over years and years that he's weird, that there's something wrong with him. Percy saying he should've been paying attention. Percy saying there's something wrong with his brain. Percy calling himself broken.. he's just a kid man
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fluffyartbl0g · 1 year
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A man of many of the most INTENSE facial expressions,,,,
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Happy birthday Monkey D. Luffy!!!!
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This morning sucked. Woke up at 7 on less than 5 hours of sleep to bake over 50 Eccles cakes. Didn’t have like half my ingredients. Bought more only to realise I still didn’t have them all. Burnt myself on the syrupy filling. Printer died on me as I was trying to get a printing job done. Forgot to have lunch I was so excited. Locked my car key in the boot. Waited an hour in the sun in all black to make sure I didn’t get a parking ticket whilst trying to get said key out. Got stuck in traffic for half an hour only to find I’d just moved under 100 metres. Accidentally had the thermostat cranked up to 40C the whole journey. All of this, just to get to a screening.
Then when I got there….
Shrimp emotions. The atmosphere was incredible. Got there 3 hours early. Immediately bonded with people, and it just felt so warm and exciting. I passed round the Eccles cakes in its little (very large) Antichrist basket. We all counted down with the timer waiting for the episodes to start. The episodes were amazing, and I have to thank @neil-gaiman for making this season come true - it was everything I hoped for and more, and I think that’ll be the case for pretty much everyone. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, even if I had to live through this morning 20x over.
Trust me when I say you’re not prepared for season 2. No one is.
Anyways here’s a picture of the cakes in their basket:
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linktoo-doodles · 10 months
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I feel loved
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Happy Birthday, Ritsu.
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eggsdrawings · 5 months
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dynavity team up!!!
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thepunkmuppet · 5 months
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↳ cordelia chase + comfy / casual
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mayhasopinions · 6 months
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what in the lgbt even was this scene (see tags for discussion)
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dizzybizz · 3 months
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some stuff picked out from my tgaa sketch dump :) figuring out some faces,, memes,,, stuff based off of dialogue,,, exactly one sad,, gays,,,
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cupiidzbow · 19 days
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we’re autism4autism have i ever mentioned that
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dollsuguru · 2 months
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this man has no fucking right to be THIS beautiful… jinshi my LOVE.
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cuubism · 9 months
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a selection of The Library's customers
--
One day Hob will get used to The Library's many strange happenings. Maybe. Or probably not.
Today, it's the fact that there's a customer.
Sort of.
The small child who's essentially appeared in Dream's study frowns up at him, hands on her hips. She looks to be about nine. She's wearing a school uniform. Where are her parents?
"This," she says to Dream, horribly affronted, "is not the school library."
"I imagine it did not have what you needed," Dream says. Utterly unbothered by a random child wandering into his shop, seemingly out of nowhere. Hob watches with astonishment from where he's sitting at Dream's desk with a cup of coffee, evidently not needed for this interaction. "What were you looking for?"
"Unicorns," she declares.
It seems odd to Hob that a primary school library wouldn't have any fantasy books with unicorns in them, but what does he know. Dream nods with utter seriousness. "Please wait a moment," he says, and disappears into the bowels of the shop.
"How'd you get in here?" Hob asks as the girl sits down primly in a chair.
"I used the door, silly," she says. Not the front door, surely. Hob definitely hadn't seen her come up the stairs into the study.
Then her eyes light up. "Can I have a scone?"
Hob had brought over a container of them from the cafe, and Dream's been picking at them all morning. Hob passes the kid the container. What the hell else is he supposed to do?
Fortunately, Dream returns before Hob has to figure out what his adult responsibility is as regards an unaccompanied child that probably should be in school right now. Dream hands the girl a stack of at least ten books of varying sizes, presumably about unicorns. The girl looks through them, scrunches her nose up, and asks, "D'you have anything more scientific?"
Dream considers. Then hands her a large, flat book that he definitely hadn't been carrying a moment ago. The girl sets it on the ground, kneeling before it, flipping through the pages. It seems to be made up of scientific diagrams and large, full-color images. Hob sees viscera, organs, bones-- then the girl closes the book again. The cover says, Unicorn Anatomy: Piece by Piece.
The little girl smiles up at him, sharp and pixie-like. "Thank you, Mister Dream," she says, incredibly polite for a child currently grinning madly over unicorn dissections.
Dream nods solemnly. "I hope it will serve you well in your endeavors."
She trots off back into the stacks, to whatever door (?) she came from, and Hob turns to Dream. "Do you often get random children here?"
"The Library finds its customers," Dream says placidly. "She will find her way back to her classroom, worry not."
"Figured that, somehow."
Dream sets the other unicorn books aside and takes up a scone in their place, nibbling on it as he perches on the edge of his desk, looking down at Hob. He seems amused by Hob's confusion. "Why do you have a front door if people don't use it?" Hob asks.
"You use it," Dream points out. Which... is unexpectedly touching. Unexpectedly special.
"Fair enough," he agrees, voice tight.
--
Dream's next customer comes bursting in through a side door as Hob is helping Dream stack some new books. He runs in so fast he has to catch himself against the desk, his business suit tattered and smoking, his hair... literally on fire. He rapidly pats it out.
"Please," he begs, as Dream just observes him calmly from where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I need--"
"1983 Alternate History," Dream fills in. "Yes, I'm sure you do. One moment, please."
As he disappears into the stacks, the customer leans against the desk, panting for breath. Hob doesn't think offering a scone is going to help in this case. He's not sure what else would help, either.
Fortunately, Dream returns quickly, handing the shaking man an equally tattered grey book that is indeed titled, in a concerning handwritten scrawl, User's Guide to 1983 - Alternate Version. And, subtitled: FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY.
"Thanks," breathes the man, clutching the book to him. And with no more explanation than that, he runs back through the door he came from. Hob thinks he catches a glimpse of something very large and very on fire through the doorway, but the door swings closed too fast to tell for sure.
"They would do well to pass that around rather than returning it," Dream says, before sitting back down and returning to his book sorting.
Hob is naturally curious, but he thinks about all the fire and this time decides he doesn't want to know.
--
"...Hi?"
For once, Hob has successfully convinced Dream to stop working for a moment. Dream is, in fact, currently sitting on his lap, resting his head on Hob's shoulder in a half-doze as Hob regales him with a university story that's certainly crazy enough to fit in with any of the books in The Library. But Library customers don't follow a nine - to - five schedule, Hob's learned this well enough by now.
Dream does not seem embarrassed to have been caught in this position. He just stands fluidly, stretching his arms over his head. "Yes?"
The young person standing hesitantly in the middle of the room -- might be eighteen? twenty? once he crossed thirty Hob lost the ability to tell young adults' ages with any accuracy, they all seem like kids -- twists their hands together and says, "Could you help me find a book?"
Dream nods and waits for them to tell him which one.
The kid glances back and forth between the two of them nervously, like they think one or both of them might judge their selection. Hob tries to look non-threatening, even though it's hard to look more non-threatening when he's already half-sunk into the couch, wearing sweatpants, and was just caught cuddling his boyfriend in a semi-public space. He's also certain that whatever book this kid might be after, The Library definitely has something more concerning and more questionable.
Like Alternate 1983 History, for example.
Dream probably already knows what they're looking for, too, he always does.
Dream just tilts his head in beckoning and walks off into the stacks, his customer following behind, still wringing their hands.
Hob's fully expecting only Dream to come back, for his customer to disappear through another exit -- none of which Hob can ever find later. But they both come back through around ten minutes later, Dream carrying a book with a yellow cover. The study is close and cozy enough that Hob can make out the title -- Gender Queer -- as Dream passes it over, and oh, yeah, he gets it now. Granted, Hob himself has always been more of the type to punch people out whenever they give him any shit, but he understands the impulse, the need, sometimes, to hide.
The teen clutches yellow-covered book close to their chest. "You can take it home," Dream says when they make no move to leave.
They look down at the cover and then back up at Dream. "...I'm not sure I can," they say at length. "It's too, um. Obvious."
Dream just raises an eyebrow. "Is it?"
Hob swears he didn't look away, but as he follows the teen customer's gaze back down, the book has definitely changed. The cover is blue now, and it seems to be about maths, though it's hard to make out from far away. The kid flips through the pages, and they must be different from before for they look up at Dream in disbelief.
Dream, the fucker, just winks. Presses the book closed again, upon which the cover returns to yellow.
"Algebra is scintillating," he drawls, turning away and snatching up the container of scones from a side table -- a not-insignificant part of Hob's job, at this point, is just keeping Dream in scones -- "and suitable for any young person. Take a scone with you, too." He holds out the container. "Hob's are the best."
And with a tiny smile, the kid takes one.
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artemis-pendragon · 9 months
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Born too late to explore the world, too early to explore the galaxy, but just in time to watch Imogen and Laudna kiss by the bread stand
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rubysparx · 3 months
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Um actually I have something more to say about Kabru and Mithrun’s similarities and relationship.
I think a lot abt how it’s shown a few times how elven culture relies heavily on non-natural ways of doing things, and it’s interesting especially how like our main cast repeats multiple times the three steps to living a long and healthy life. Meanwhile the canaries, the elves, don’t necessarily recognize that stuff as important as it is. I think specifically of the example of Mithrun explaining to Kabru that he has to have medication or a spell otherwise he can’t sleep, to which Kabru tucks him in and gives him a massage which knocks him out cold. His dependency on other methods to fight off insomnia were kinda just in his head, he hadn’t tried anything else. I mean prior to joining the canaries he was fully restrained 90% of the time so ofc a servant would just come in and place a spell for him to sleep every night. And he was like that for years. And then Cithis just replaced all his caretaker servants, then it became her job to make sure he took a pill or listened to her bells every night. I think there’s something there about how there’s a list of stuff Mithrun wasn’t allowed to be around and when he gets separated from the canaries he encounters all of that since Kabru doesn’t know to “protect” Mithrun or restrain him so severely. And it’s interesting because Mithrun doesn’t even seem to have issues with the things, like ofc top on the list was he wasn’t supposed to see goats or sheep. One of the first things he and Kabru eat is barometz. Its something to me that Kabru, who has also suffered so much, takes Mithrun into this dungeon and he has to face head on what’s been bothering him, he has to look his trauma in the eyes. And eat it. He cannot move on until he sees it, understands it, and finally starts talking about himself (“the last desire I had left wasn’t revenge, I wanted the demon to finish me off” “I was scraps left on the plate […] I guess vegetable scraps have their uses too”)
It just seems to me like a more vague and overarching way we see the elven cultural mindset hold him back from properly healing, I don’t think Kabru knew what he was doing at all but the fact of the matter is no one was filtering Mithrun’s view of the world anymore. And while Mithrun believed that didn’t matter to him, nothing mattered, it still made a difference. He was still on the path to moving on, and properly healing, even though he didn’t quite recognize that.
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