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@theartofmadeline

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

JVL
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
noise dept.

Kiana Khansmith
occasionally subtle
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@chenillcam

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The Spectral Titans, by Anthony Machuca
okay let's make another cake 🎂🎂
butter
sugar
eggs
flour
milk
baking powder
vanilla extract
please, dear audience, fill this out. for science
Why don’t we do something crazy
Why don’t we do something crazy

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Hanahaki disease is a psychosomatic illness. It's a thing that your body does in response to stress over constantly repressing/concealing your feelings in settings with high background magic. It's like you've been ignoring pain for a long time and suddenly your vision starts going dark, because your affected body is just YANKING on random alerts trying to get you to PAY ATTENTION there is a PROBLEM. Yes the flowers do really exist. So do non-magical psychosomatic symptoms. The flowers aren't special.
This does of course open up the trope to options for non-romantic concealed feelings. Which I think is great. There is something viscerally satisfying about the person who seems so outwardly chipper coughing and hacking and spitting up Depression Flowers so now everyone has to know they're hurting. Isn't there?
Meph and I played around with alternate editions of Hanahaki, where different repressions/suppressions create different diseases, and they’re all vibing with gothic aesthetic beauty
The people who insist AI is smarter than a human are doing their fucking damnedest to manifest that
Не верите. Доверите.
Do not trust: verify.
Everyone please behold this baby tree:
It's so much smaller than the support posts, they had to secure it with caution tape.
Caution: baby!
One day (but not this day)!
Update:
Thriving!
Now taller than a human person!
In case you were wondering!
Update:
Filling out, and up!
We threw it a birthday party once spring arrived. 🎂
Today was a pretty shit day. This is a nice post to see. Birthday hat tree.
I hope tomorrow is kinder. 🌱
You can. You will! 🏞
je sais que c'est pas le blog pour ça mais j'avais vraiment envie d'écrire quelque chose sur ce que c'est d'être queer en france aujourd'hui pour moi, et si vous le voulez bien, de me partager vos propres pensées. je vous laisse les miennes sous le cut, et je vous passe le micro
pour moi, vivre en france en tant que queer est une dissonance cognitive constante. je regarde les stories instagram de mon amie trans, elle vient de finir sa première année sur le terrain après avoir passé son CAPES et s'émeut des petits cadeaux de ses tout premiers élèves. juste après, je reçoit un message d'une autre amie trans qui m'annonce qu'elle a accepté un rapport tariffé pour la première fois, en désespoir de cause. ma copine me demande si elle peut m'embrasser au milieu d'un café bondé, et bien sûr que j'accepte, avec une pensée pour ce garçon encore plus jeune que nous, laissé pour mort après une agression homophobe exactement dans la même ville que nous, avec une pensée pour mes darons qui ne sauront jamais, jamais. je fais du rangement dans mes vieilles notes de la fac et je repense à mon cours de droit des personnes, où on nous a expliqué que la procédure de changement de sexe à l'état civil a largement évolué dans le but de simplifier les parcous de transition. je pense aux murmures dans l'amphi tout au long de ce passage. je pense surtout au courier du tribunal, aux juges qui ont regardé mon amie droit dans les yeux avant de noter que "sa comparution et sa présentation à l'audience ne laissent pas apparaitre qu'il se présente comme appartenant au sexe féminin revendiqué", la phrase la plus violente que j'ai pu lire depuis un moment. je vois les drapeaux queers à la vitrine d'une banque, à l'étage, puis je baisse les yeux et je vois une dame qui regarde mes doigts entrelacés avec ceux de ma copine comme une crotte de chien sur le troittoir. je pense aussi au soir où j'ai embrassé une fille à un arrêt de bus, tard le soir, et que quelqu'un que je n'ai pas pu distingué nous a applaudi.e.s.
je pense à cet amour de femme qui a vécu toutes les saloperies qu'on peut vivre en 40 ans de vie, a fortiori en tant que femme trans, qui me dit qu'elle sait qu'elle aura une mort violente, entre une gorgée de diabolo fraise et un haussement d'épaule. je pense au cris avec mes parents, aux larmes et à la minute suivante où on a repris notre épisode de dr. house comme si de rien était, comme d'hab, comme si de rien était. je pense aussi aux parents de mon ami qui pensent par un obscur raisonnement que l'envoyer en erasmus en chine le rendra cis. je pense à ma tête sur les genoux de ma première copine, sur le canapé déglingué du local des terminales, au milieu du reste de notre classe trop occupée à faire des lances flamme au déo pour se rendre compte qu'on est là. je pense à mes cris sur ces abruties qui ont osé insulté l'une des filles les plus gentilles que je connaisse. je pense à vous avec tout l'amour que j'ai à vous donner, qui ne suffira jamais, alors je pense aussi à vous avec les poings serrés, prêt.e au pire, priant pour le mieux
Congratulations on the cat

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Does this count as finding a walrus at your door?
Absolutely, and definitely less surprising than a fairy
I will concede, in this specific circumstance, it makes more sense
My incredibly bleak philosophy of compassion is that we should all pity each other horribly and practice an according amount of kindness.
I asked for a pastry at the coffee shop. When I raised my card up to pay, he simply said "you're good." and waved it away. I wondered why. I wondered what made him think I deserved to have my order be free. Sparing me those two dollars.
Sitting down at the table, I remembered the scars on my arm. The universal signifier of "This Kid Needs Help." Maybe his kindness was only out of pity. He saw those and assumed there was some great misery and wanted to offer me some relief. It's generally good to be kind to people who are hurting. But I wasn't hurting that bad.
The thing is, there is some great misery. People generally aren't doing that great. There is a great misery within me and within him and within everyone, and some people notice the pain, some people express it, others don't. But we all suffer from something.
It doesn't matter if someone seems to deserve some relief. Everyone needs it. Everyone is suffering constantly. Some more than others, but still. This Kid Needs Help applies to everyone.
Thirty minutes later, I went to get a second pastry, intending to pay and leave a tip this time. It was the same cashier. As he reached to grab it for me, I saw scars on his arm.
But it doesn't really matter. He'd deserve a tip anyway. Because it's never just us hurting.
I remember when I was younger, anytime I watched a movie where the characters have to kill a scary monster/alien, I always thought the act of killing it was intended to be part of the horror. Like there’s this amazing creature that we’ve never seen before, and maybe under different circumstances we could’ve coexisted with it, but it’s trying to attack you and you have to defend yourself, but by destroying it you also destroy the ability to ever understand it and that’s sad and is supposed to make you feel conflicted.
It was not until well into my adulthood that I realized most people do not have complicated feelings about movies where people have to kill a scary alien monster, nor is that necessarily meant to be part of the narrative (unless it very obviously is). They just want the scary thing to die because it’s scary. I don’t have a real conclusion to this I just started thinking about it for some reason.
I always felt I couldn't possibly be upset about dying to an alien monster because proof of otherwordly life is exactly what it'd take for me to die happy
awww the like button turns into a rainbow when you press it! that's so cute...hey staff what's with all the trans women you keep nuking?
i think we should be ridiculing them more for this. you don't get to try and go all "queer website" when your staff likes to go on nuking sprees targeting the trans fem users
would be remiss not to mention that the rainbow notably straight up just removed the trans flag colors from it. like they’re gone. it’s the progress flag minus the trans flag colors.
that’s not the whole flag, now is it
hey staff what the fuck
hey staff don't you think you're being too on-the-nose

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Saints of the One Way Trip.
I don't know where and I don't know when, but we'll meet again. some sunny day.
brave little cosmonauts