Damnn broo the newest wonbin with roommate eunseok and sungchan has me shook. That was sooo good. It made my whole weekend better. Pls write more dark stuff like this. ( if you can pls write it little longer too). Only if you can i won't force my (gf) bellee. Love youu💕💕💖
thank you, I appreciate you ! though, I will never write anything longer than fifty words to spite you for asking me to write longer works because that was kinda annoying. I really glad you like my writing though and this is a dark blog so I post a lot of dark content like that :-)
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the man who owns and runs the thai restaurant in my town knows me by name. he is one of the kindest and most thoughtful men i know. i started ordering from his place back in january, which was when i got my fibromyalgia diagnosis. back then i was using a walker, had limited mobility in my entire body but especially my hands, and was very visibly in pain. i always ordered the same thing: yellow curry with no meat, potatoes and carrots only (i have texture and other dietary issues). he always made it a point to make sure i could get out the door and carry the food safely. he had his workers package the food so that it was easier for me to open. as i kept coming back and i told him a little bit about my health status, he would always encourage me to keep going. he told me about how the spices he used were good for inflammation and began to edit the recipe just for me so that spices that were even better for fighting inflammation were used. he’d give me extra portions and despite the fact that i would tip every time, i realized later that he never charged my card for them. as time went on and my condition began to get better, especially with the help of a physical therapist, he would make encouraging remarks and tell me how happy he was for me. the day i came in without my walker, he practically jumped for joy, and despite my insistence, he gave me my meal for free that day. i continue to make progress with my conditions and i continue to go to the thai place. this man who does not know me personally and who i hardly know anything about is one of my favorite people. it’s interactions with humans like these that make loving life easier. and his curry really does help my chronic condition. it’s comfort food taken to the next level.
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“Why did you follow this person ? uwu”
I’ve been here for fourteen years, do you think I remember? I don’t know who any of these people are anymore. I don’t know why they’re on my dash. I allow them to stay because they haven’t pissed me off enough to unfollow them yet. “Why did you follow this person?” I’m not sure I ever did. They’re just part of my ecosystem now.
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never has there been a series with more underutilized background lore than the Chronicles of Narnia. book one establishes that there exists a world-between-the-worlds, an infinite glade that can be accessed only via ancient Atlantean magic, fractaling in all directions with infinite crystal-clear pools of water representing the various dimensions of the multiverse—dimensions which contain realms of gods and technology, and magic of various types, and different magical systems for each dimension, and dead worlds, and worlds that have not yet sprung to life, and a million other wonders. book two has a talking beaver
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I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.
I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.
“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”
“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.
But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.
They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.
That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.
A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”
I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.
Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.
At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.
Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.
“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.
“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”
Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.
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Children make up half of the population of Gaza and nearly a million of them are currently displaced. They are forced to take shelter in unsafe buildings and makeshift camps. It is winter in Gaza, so the temperatures are getting colder and it is harder and harder to find warmth and the resources necessary to keep warm. Not even hospitals and schools are safe from bombing. The chicken are not safe from being taken hostage. They do not get enough food or water on a daily basis. The children of Gaza are by definition starving. Over 80% of Palestinian children are suffering from depression. Over 10,000 children have lost limbs in 3 months. They are going through extreme medical procedures without any painkiller or anesthetic. The watch their parents and family die in front of them and then are forced to continue in alone to try to ensure their own safety. And despite the horror that they have to go through on a daily basis, they still are finding joy and hope. They are stronger than every single one of us and if you are able to look at all the images and videos and stories that come out on an hourly basis of what these children are going through and are still not able to take it seriously you are treating them no better than Israel is.
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snow when a girl named katniss is reaped in district 12: oh wack what a coincidence i know that plant
snow when the same girl starts singing the covey’s meadow song: hey wait
snow when katniss adapts the mockingjay as her symbol: fuck
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