i skipped being 19 because i thought it was such a non-age, unlike more tangible 20, so i've been 20 for two years which. would go for a three, actually, but i don't want to skip being 21
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i skipped being 19 because i thought it was such a non-age, unlike more tangible 20, so i've been 20 for two years which. would go for a three, actually, but i don't want to skip being 21
so i finished that td fic i've been working on for the entirety of july and it sits proud at almost 20k words of giving up bodily autonomy for the Greater Good (tm), persistent lagomorphic hallucinations, dealing with grief and metaphysical splittings of identity in the best traditions of Crash, Of Course.
i'm Pretty Nervous about letting this into the world so i made a picture which can count as propaganda!
& it's on ao3
had a dream some time back about true detective s1 being set in the heavy heat of my hometown as it is right now, war and lack of water. and i guess themes and images do stretch surprisingly well
dissociating so hard today but at least i got a 280k words very domestic rustmarty fic to read. thanks for your service user blackeyedblonde
had a dream that rustin cohle of all people gave me life advice ("anyone would do anything for a story") because i was short of change for a bus & upset so it led me to a bus stop w ANOTHER RUSTIN COHLE (??) and maggie, couple of month into knowing each other, so maggie asks him what he thinks is a fitting name for a whole roster of creatures' pictures aka her pets on her phone and there is a whole winding internal monologue about sophia and names and he's spiraling but trying to think of sth clever maggie can relate to to keep the convo going, until the picture of ASH LYNX (? – never seen banana fish) comes on and he says "Percocet" & they laugh & it represents hope because you can spiral all you want and still have something stupid and funny lift your spirits for a second. hell yeah
you really only see everything through the lenses of your own experiences, which sometimes has disadvantages like trying not to cry at the screeing of the hail mary film because the pace is slow and you have time to think and the thought is that your nation could violently and completely get wiped out by another nation, and in the very same year the world will forget about you and congratulate them, the nation who cleared the beautiful blue face of the earth from vermin like you, by plastering russian fucking flag on the uniforms of the space movie
personhood is getting more difficult to contain during the academic kill-yourself season. i need to learn the worst folk punk song on my guitar and scream it outside like a wounded steppenwolf