The cold cleanses, slower and more painfully than fire would. That’s good. Pearl wants slow and painful. She wants Scott to feel it. She wants him to tell Cleo about it. She wants them to know.
She steps in to the snow, up to her hips. Her hands rest on top. The first bits that go numb are the finger tips that once brushed up against the others’ when they passed buckets with axolotls between them. Then the fingers that once carefully untangled the flower crown Lizzie had made from Cleo’s hair while they stubbornly refused to cry, sniffling and hurt but stoic. Then the hands that Scott held once as he guided her, led her, and hands that had given him life once, twice. Her feet too, start to chill. Feet that had once been wiped on the carpet outside the front door of the cottage. Legs that had carried her with her dogs to reunite the three of them in that final session.
She sinks further into the snow, sits in it up to her neck. Feels the burn of cold on her back where Cleo had wrapped her arms around her, congratulating her after her dance floor boogey kill. The sting cuts deeply around the place on her upper arm where Scott had squeezed reassuringly before they broke off for the final four fight. It rests finally on her shoulders where she saw as a ghost but could not feel Scott clutch her body one last time before he was killed by the forces that run the games. She can’t feel them now either.
Her communicator buzzes somewhere on the floor. She ignores it. It hasn’t made her feel any better to lose the parts of her that were theirs.
I hate the phrase “I never let my disability stop me” because yeah, I do. I don't push myself to go for a run. I stop myself from committing to a bunch of outings. I let my disability stop me doing things that will cause me pain, endanger me, or worsen my health. I let my disability get in the way of things I am unable to do.
By definition, there are things we can't or shouldn't do. If you think that's not inspiring enough, then fuck you.
the best use of the power of your mind
accidentally caused myself to get a stomach ache by vividly imagining myself eating the burger i was planning on having for dinner tomorrow
This. This on so, so many levels. The stark contrast here alone should be enough to prove why this election was so important and why we're so afraid.
Among other things -broadly gestures-
Something that I've been wondering is like... when Obama or Biden won their terms, did Republicans post a ton of suicide hotline info the same way we are? Because it's a lot right now.
The monthly occurrence of an Izuku midoriya fictive fronting, writing a fanfic that's really just their exomemories, and leaving it in our drafts for some poor soul to find and be confused by has happened -Blurry
two sentence horror story. My head feels fuzzy. pk;m new.
rotten 🍅🍋
Reblogging again because more ppl need to see this
daily amnesia in DID is something i don't see talked about that much, i see regular amnesia (ie not being able to remember years of your life, traumatic memories etc) talked about but never the daily things.
daily amnesia is on a day to day basis never being able to remember important things, did i take my medicine this morning? did i shower yesterday? have i eaten yet? what have i been doing for the past hour? what was i supposed to do today?
daily amnesia REALLY fucking sucks because whenever you start suffering you remember every other time you've been suffering and just scold yourself for not getting help and not getting better - but when the moment it's over? it's completely gone from your memory. it's so much suffering and you're so stuck because how can you ever get help for something you can't remember? you're always in a constant state of 'feeling fine' and when you end up getting help and going to therapy there's nothing to talk about because there's nothing you remember.
every day is groundhog day where you are forced against your will to repeat it over and over for god knows how long.
Hell yeah!
It’s not over yet.