Master of Magnet

@lexfoster / lexfoster.tumblr.com

sof. they/them. 27. jewish. "some people are just gay, i guess" gay ally toby isaacs, 2001
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Pamela Foster refused to go to the hospital throughout her pregnancy. When Pamela went into labor with Hannah, she was at home with no medical staff in attendance. Unfortunately, Hannah was a breach pregnancy severely complicating the birth. Hannah would have died if not for the timely intervention of this character. Who delivered Hannah Foster, thus saving her life and perhaps vicariously, all of existence ? [...] The answer is Lex Foster. Lex never wanted a sister, but when she psychically felt Hannah dying, she intuitively activated her powers, reaching through the black and white and teleporting the baby out of the womb. Lex has no memory of this event.

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sappsorrow

Harvey Keitel & Tim Roth as Mr White/Larry Dimmick & Mr Orange/Freddy Newandyke RESERVOIR DOGS (1992) dir. Quentin Tarantino

“Give me your hand. Just cancel that shit right now. You’re hurt, you’re hurt real fucking bad, but you ain’t dying!”
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re-entered my lost phase so be warned

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lexfoster

Finding My Self in "We're All Going to the World's Fair"

originally posted on goodfeed content warnings for discussions of depression, suicidal ideations, and predatory relationships

Sometimes I still think about Erick. At least, I think his name was Erick. His email is still in my contacts, though it’s been a decade since we last spoke. Back then, I was a junior in high school, on my first antidepressant, and doing everything I could to distance myself from me. There was no big trauma, no life altering mind fuck to inspire the absolute hatred I had for living in my body. Just a suffocating loneliness. That’s when I found the tumblr roleplay community. I was raised on fanfiction and had written my fair share, but there was something different about roleplaying. I became that character, immersing myself in that fictional world. The numbness I felt about my own life was replaced by the intense wants, fears, grief of someone else. The emotional connections that my depression had severed became usurped by the relationships my character had with other characters. It was all text on a screen, but it was a life when I didn’t feel like living my own. In high school, I was a ghost. But when I wrote as my character, suddenly there was something solid to me. At the very least , I was solid enough to make contact with keys on a keyboard.

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