DD: I am afraid of staying still, of lacking energy. You seem fearless. Is there any darkness that plagues you?
Michèle Lamy: I spat out all my inner fears a long time ago. I had the chance — maybe it was karma — to run in my late teens into the path of Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari at university and at the open psychiatric hospital La Borde outside of Paris. I had immersed myself in all-confounded schizophrenia, poetry, drugs and anti-Oedipus. One night in ’71 (I think), I made a dinner party in our communal apartment in Montparnasse, and what a fab mixed group of characters we all were! That evening I entered a kind of trance! I talked for nine hours straight, only hearing once someone say, “Look! She is talking with her eyes shut.” I continued until I puked and fell asleep in it. I woke up to no guilt, no fear and a new reborn me. We were all going in cars to Aix-en-Provence for a Grotowski performance and even though I felt seasick right then, I felt serene. Of course I heard bits and pieces of my blah-blah later on.
Saudade Is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.
A stronger form of saudade might be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing, moved away, separated, or died.
Saudade was once described as “the love that remains” after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places, or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one’s children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings altogether, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.
it’s ok if you wanna get married and it’s ok if you don’t
it’s also ok if you wanna talk about the societal problems with the institution of marriage, but please don’t do so with people who are preparing to get married unless they start the conversation because that doesn’t make you smart, it makes you a presumptuous jerk.
marriage is huge and complex and because of those societal problems it brings up a lot of emotions and stress in people, especially but not only the women involved. once someone decides to get married i promise you they have already thought about these issues (and if they haven’t i promise you that your words of wisdom really won’t be welcome). owen and i got married two and a half years ago and i am STILL working out some of the issues marriage stirred up in me about my body and my family. it is absolutely harder to be single than it is to be married, but when someone is going through a big life event we just don’t give unsolicited advice, okay? we just don’t. it’s not nice.
Once upon a time someone told me a story about those marks covering our bodies. Some hate them and others love them, and I believe they truly add a little detail to a person. The story tells a tale of your past lives and the previous ways you had been injured or did. The marks on your back tell the story of how many people stabbed you in the back and broke trust with you. The marks on your face tell the story of how your curiosity killed you. The marks on your ear tell the story of all the lies you were told. The marks on your upper chest, the closer to the heart the more it hurt when they betrayed you. The marks on your stomach tells the story of how many times you were nervous or felt butterflies. The marks on your legs tell the stories of the miles you walked to achieve your goals. The marks on your feet tell the story of the eggshells you had to walk on to please everyone. The marks on your arms tell the story of your strength. The marks on your hands tell the story of the people you’ve kept safe, nurtured and help bring out of the dark. The beauty marks on your body tell a story.
This is getting out of hand. I’ve tried my best to stay out of the drama but you’ve brought this on yourselves with all the hate, thinking that none of us would fire back on your inaccurate comments about Karamel. It’s one thing not to ship it, I fully respect you not shipping it. Everyone has their preferences of ships and that should be respected. HOWEVER, sending hate to shippers, reblogging content and adding anti comments, forcing us to “open our eyes”, sending hate to the writers, it’s just immature and too much. I get it if it’s not your preference of ship, but just because you don’t ship it, doesn’t give you the right to hate on someone who does. We have valid reasons to like, or even have the ship as our otp, but for all of you to call the ship toxic, when there’s nothing toxic at all about the ship, is once again, inaccurate and immature. Take if from someone who’s had a mother in a very, very toxic and abusive relationship, what it did to her, how it changed and shaped her. I know an abusive and toxic relationship when I see it, and Karamel isn’t it. He tries so hard to listen to her, and respect her choice. He doesn’t always do the right thing but he apologizes when he’s wrong. He hasn’t forced himself on her, he admitted his feelings for her without expecting anything in return. He heard her when she said that they weren’t a good match and listened to her even if she was lying. He didn’t try to force any feelings on her. Seriously, you don’t see us hating on your ship, so why don’t you stop hating on ours.
someone once anonymously told me that alt-j’s song “lovely day” was written about me and it made me so happy that I’ve honestly never forgotten it and every time I listen to it, it just brings a smile upon my face. I’m listening to it now and it just reminded me so @ whoever that was, thank you 💙
Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya Words: 768 (Nurse!Chuuya and Patient!Dazai)
For @curiouscat99 (sorry this took so long orz. I had a shit tons of stuff to do and idk how to really write this so this is really really short and probably crappy)
quiet and peaceful outskirts of Yokohama; among the dozens of people parading
around; among the thousands of cars passing by, no one seemed to notice that
lone figure standing outside the safety railings of the bridge.
the railings tight — his knuckles turning white. There’s a soft smile on his
face; one so uncharacteristically out of character before he pushes himself off
the bridge, eyes closed and waiting for his said demise.
like falling, isn’t it?
eyes snapped shut; a groan emitting from his lips as his nose registers the
smell of antiseptics and blood. Someone had foiled his suicide attempt once
more. For the nth time, Dazai wakes up in a hospital — a machine attached to
him and the dreadness of emptiness washing over him.
slight movement on his right making Dazai snap his head. He feels the soothing
temperature of something cool against his skin. Noticing that he had just been
injected, Dazai groans slightly.
blinks. It’s not every day one can render Dazai Osamu speechless; but it’s not
every day Dazai gets to see his living fantasies walking in two legs. Without
even meaning to, he opens his mouth; words spilling like ink turned over.
“Thank God I’m finally dead.”
blinks at him, confused. “Sir, you’re in the hospital.”
you sure this isn’t heaven?” Dazai probes innocent, tilting his head
before he winks at the unsuspecting nurse. “Cause you sure look like an
silence looming over them as the nurse blinks at him; his face full of surprise
and utter disbelief. Dazai manages to keep his laughter as the nurse stares
incredulously at him, mouth open in disbelief. “Are you fucking
don’t know about serious but I sure do know about the fucking part.”
you just… flirt at me? The first thing you do after waking up?”
course not,” Dazai smirks. “The first thing I did was stare at
face turns beet red — in anger, in embarrassment? Maybe a little mixture of
both making Dazai smirk even more. He stares at the nurse’s dark, deep blue
eyes; one that you could drown into. His hair; though it had a beautiful shade
of orange-like, Dazai wondered if the barber who cut it was an amateur. Who
even has hair like that these days?
feel so honored having you stare at me, Nurse-chan~”
broken by Dazai’s statement, the nurse moves forward, glaring at him.
“Staring and glaring are two different things. Maybe you damaged your
eyesight too.” Then, like an afterthought, he added. “Sir.”
how honored I must be to be attended by such a cute nurse.” Dazai ignores
the former’s statement, exaggerating his own; going as far as to put his hand
on his chest. “I could die happy now.”
grits his teeth. He shows Dazai a forced smile; gathering his things. “You
have three broken ribs, Sir. Why did you even think of jumping?” He adds
the last part, like a mere whisper. “It may take a while to heal, Sir. We
tried to search for any identification but we could not find anything. Would
you like us to call someone?”
you give me your number, I’m going to call you.” Dazai winks, a small
smirk on his face.
his head, a small smirk on his face. He tries to shrug (although he ends up
failing miserably) causing the nurse’s eyes to widen in surprise and
immediately running towards his side as if on instinct.
calls, inspecting Dazai’s shoulder. His eyes; although a gentle shade of blue
is now full of slight anger and his fists were clenched to the side; as if he
was preventing himself from lashing out. “Your shoulders are also fractures, be
careful in moving them.”
groans in pain. “I think that’s not the only thing that’s fractured.”
eyes widens. “Sir, are you in pain?” He asks immediately; helping Dazai in
sitting up. Dazai groans once more, slightly amused by the whole thing.
you just fractured my ego, Nurse-chan.”
stares at Dazai; his worried face replaced with a red, upbeat and angry one.
His eyes were fuming of anger; gritting his teeth as he glares at Dazai. “Fuck
couple seconds of silence, one so uncharacteristically impaled. The nurse’s
eyes widens momentarily; as if his outburst had just finally sunk in. “I mean…”
grins, winking at the nurse. “Sure, why not?”
"This takes finesse and focus, none of which you have." "I'm waiting for mistakes to me made." "I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight. Remove yourself at once." WPC: More like these? Someone who is arrogant and has attitude? Thank you!
“You wouldn’t get that sort of failure from me.”
“We’re all waiting on you, sadly.”
“You should feel honored you got stuck with me. The same can’t be said for you.”
Me: Literally a lesbian WOC living in a red state who constantly fears for her and her fiance’s lives, can’t even hold hands in public, worries constantly about not being “too public” bc it could threaten fiance’s job and chances of getting a better job, etc.
Some Rando Bi Woman: Someone called me a nuthugger once THIS IS OPPRESSION!!! BIPHOBIA IS REAL!!!!
I just realised that this old draft kinda fits with the theme of day 1! First “date” and first kiss. I hope you enjoy my first published Mercy76 fic! (I am super nervous about posting this hahaha)
(Btw, the song I quote is The Devil by Michael Mott performed by Sierra Boggess. Go listen to it! It’s a great song ❤)
Jack, you really don’t have to do this..“ Angela groaned as Jack pushed her along with him out of the building. She could admit that she had been locked inside her office for a bit too long, but she had things to do! Jack couldn’t just barge into her office and force her with him outside. Not that she didn’t like it, she enjoyed having someone care about her own health for once.
“Oh yes I do! Angela you’ve been glued to that desk for three days now, you need to get some fresh air.” Jack said in a very scolding manner, but laughed it off. They exited the building and walked out into the chilly November weather. It wasn’t snowing, but it was still quite cold. Angela immediately felt her cheeks redden from the cold, as she was used to the heating in her office.
“Where are we even going?” Angela asked, tightening her scarf around her. She asked, a little irritated as she thought about all the work she still had to do when she got back. This had only delayed her research even further.
“It’s a surprise. And would you stop thinking about work? I can tell just by the look on your face that you’re thinking of that big heap of papers on your desk. Can you please try and relax? Just for today? For me?” Jack smiled and looked down at her with his puppy-dog eyes. Angela sighed and pouted her lips.
“I might try.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a soft smile.
I'm not sure how long ago it was done, but apparently peta either opened a fake leather store, or dropped their own shit into an actual store, but ngl I kinda want the purse they used. When you open it there's just GUTS inside that moved around and it was actually pretty cool. There's a vid of people freaking out on youtube over it.
I once saw an art project where someone had made handbags and jackets out of a super convincing fake human leather with like hands and faces and everything and it was meant to be disturbing but I genuinely wanted one.
like how Fucking stupid do you have to be to think the way info gets spread on tumblr is anything close to accurate like someone once got an ask about me starting a “"Hamilton au”“ like people literally just…..make shit up