@just-my-soul-and-brain / just-my-soul-and-brain.tumblr.com
HEARTBREAKING: Poor girl has to get out of the soft warm bed even though she is so so so so comfy
HEARTWARMING: Since it is night, girl finally gets to crawl back underneath the covers and be so so so so comfy
HEARTWRENCHING: Morning has come again, poor girl suspects she might be stuck in a Sisyphean curse
Quick reblog to give your mutuals an absolutely fantastic 2023
being married to an elf would suck bc they’d just be like “i wrote a short ballad on the subject of our love. would you like to hear it?” *proceeds to sing for the next 12 hours without pause because that’s what’s considered brief by elf standards* and being married to a dwarf would suck bc they’d be like *spends 36 hours carving a pattern into a single face of a hammer they’re working on because you “can’t rush art” and forgets that you even exist until you’re forced to come down and persuade them to return to the surface to take a nap before they collapse of exhaustion* so you really can’t win
you’re too smart to be following me
i love that doctor who is really just a show, and actors who don't know anything about the fanbase are always like "oh yeah sure, I'd love to play the doctor," but the second they set foot in this fucking arena, millions of us just go rabid and start drawing fan art and making fan cams and fan fiction and putting them in other doctors' clothes. it's like, by embodying the idea of the doctor, you're immediately accepted and immortalized by a herd of internet gremlins, who now love you
Continue✨ Keep going✨
Thank you, lady 🤗
The Nigerian accent. God. She reminds me of home...
Always grateful when this makes the rounds
“While it is true that in the period of time that Alicent’s life and Aegon the Younger’s reign overlapped, the queen mother was confined to Maegor’s Holdfast, she was periodically allowed to visit the chapel on Visenya’s Hill where Targaryen ashes were interned. There, she would sit beneath the plots of her children, Aegon II and Helaena, reading from The Seven Pointed Star. Strangely, on more than one occasion, the queen was witnessed sitting next to the plot of a woman widely known as her enemy: Rhaenyra the Pretender. While sitting before this particular plot, the former Lady Hightower would read from tomes other than the holy text. Detailed histories of the Continent, business documents from the Free Cities, dashing romances of knights and ladies - the readings of learning girls rather than a woman grown.”
i.e., i have a headcanon that once rhaenyra dies alicent goes back to her grave and reads from the books they did when they were younger because she misses her :,) also i could not find what the hell targaryens do with their ashes so i just said they would be put beneath what would become the great sept ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
🌳🌲🌳🌳🌲🌳🌳🌳🌲
Tiny forest for your dash
🐿️🦔🦉🐜🕷️
wildlife returning to your dash :)
🌳🦆🌿🌈🌅🐸🌱🌳🦋🌳
Look, there's a small river crossing your dash!
⛰️⛰️🏔️🐏🌲🐐⛰️🌲🦅🏔️⛰️
We're coming up on a mountain range
🌱🌾🌻☘️🌼🌱🏵🌾🌼🐦☘️🌻☘️🌾🌱🏵
Meadow!
🌅🌊🐬🐟🐠🐙🐚🌴
Slowly reaching the coast!
☁️🍃🕊️☁️🐦☁️☁️🦅🦇☁️🦋☁️🌤️
Into the sky
🌌🌙🚀☄️🌌🪐🌟💫🌌🪐🌠🛸
Made it to space!
☢️💥☄️
i killed you all.
🔥🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🌱🪨🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🪨🔥
and yet, life remains
🔥🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🔫🌱🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🔥🪨🪨🪨🪨🔥
it has a fucking gun
thinking about dr james barry and other historical trans men who were outed against their will and like
not all the trans men could have gotten outed, right?
like im willing to bet that there are quite a few men out there who were buried as men
im glad not to know them
the archive, when it comes to trans people, records violence.
Oh, absolutely! The funeral industry is sooo new relative to the history all of mankind, and previously funerals were performed by family, including handling of the body. A spouse or family member generally wouldn’t go around outing their loved one after their death, so of course most of the people who we would call transgender today went unknown. That’s not even going into cultures where gender was more complicated than just man or woman. Transgender people have always existed and have always been loved and when a person isn’t remarkable in some way they go just like the rest of us. Into the ground and lost to history.
This goes along very well with the original intent of the “well-behaved women rarely make history” quote. That goes for queer people as well. Trans people lived their lives, gay people often went unmarried or married out of necessity. Sometimes their families even accepted them for who they were. These people didn’t stand out, didn’t make the historical record. That doesn’t negate the fact that they were people and they were here.
how many ancestors went up in smoke with their letters and diaries after their deaths- and how many, much as we cry out to know them now, were happier in life for their anonymity?
just saw a post complaining about how hard it is to find adhd resources for adults and one of the comments said “tiktok has a lot of adhd tips” as if telling someone with adhd to enter the algorithmic quicksand of perpetual dopamine hits isn’t the most insane thing you could suggest for someone with adhd
My dear lgbt+ kids,
Here are some good things that happened in 2022!
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
July:
August:
September:
October:
November:
December:
Here is to more good news in 2023!
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my [tumblr] family!
terrible years really make you understand the point of a new year. i know nothing much will have changed between dec 31 and jan 1, but we need to be able to partition off everything that’s happened to us, we need a moment to say, ‘that’s done, we’re done with it, it’s over’ and have a little hope that the future will be different. we need to be able to stop and take a breath and sing, in the middle of winter, and prepare ourselves for spring.
went into black adam expecting a fun dc film (which is a miracle in its own right tbqh) left the film like hey. this is a deeply anti-colonist anti-imperialist film from start to finish. i was legitimately awed by how much passion went into that message, specifically. just me leaving the theater like damn that film that made a strong point for resisting colonization and monarchism by any means necessary sure had a lot of superheroes in it
My inspiration and genuinely the funniest shit I’ve seen all day
since the cowboy and the samurai were both dying out in the 1800s i want an action adventure historically wildly inaccurate comic about the last cowboy and the last samurai teaming up BUT one of them is gay and the other doesn’t understand what being gay is and there are multiple comedic mishaps resulting from this
after lots of frantic googling of “were samurais gay” “were cowboys gay” “how did gay samurais work” “did gay cowboys love each other” ad nauseam i have decided that it’s actually funnier if both the cowboy AND the samurai are gay but not for each other and also they both have their very culturally specific understandings of gay social politics so both of them still are equally like “dude why are you like this” to each other
samurai, trying to comfort the cowboy who just got dumped over pony express: when my lover left me for another man, i killed both him and his new lover, and proved to all in shudo that it is what happens when you leave me for another, and i felt much lighter. would doing that also help you?
cowboy, absolutely reeking of the flask, who stopped howling purely out of confusion to try and figure out if the samurai was being serious: dude what the fuck is wrong with you
the depictions of homosexual identity at the time are painstakingly accurate and very clearly heavily researched, and this is purposefully in direct contrast to how absolutely absurd and crazy the entire rest of the premise of the comic is
Do you ever find things you wrote when you were little and just really want to die a little?
Me at age 11: “I am a sea of feelings. I am an emocean.”
Emocean underlined three times
hey op did you . agree to this or did a tumblr ad whole on steal your post to call it cringe for money
Nobody paid me, or even reached out to offer to pay me
Disappointed but not surprised
The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.
Suddenly all the people with prosthetics, wheelchairs, implants, and the like are getting the accommodations and help they need without having to be poor or locked away in a care center. This is an apocalypse I can get behind!
The other survivors left us behind.
They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.
We understood. The world was ending, not changing.
“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)
Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”
No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.
Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”
“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.
Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.
“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.
“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.
“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”
Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”
Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.
We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.
All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.
Through our laughter, none of us cared.
————
They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.
But none came.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.
The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.
Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.
“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“…yes?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”
As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.
“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”
Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.
“Y-E-S.”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.
The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.
“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.
A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.
Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.
“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”
The bot seemed to consider for a moment.
Then its gun folded away.
“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”
Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.
————
My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.
And then there were the upgrades.
“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)
“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)
Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”
“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”
Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.
Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.
Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)
Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”
Thank you. Now gimme.
————
I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.
But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.
It’s nothing personal.
I’m sure they understand.
Omg that last line gave me chills
