retrofitted combat doll with demilitarized rocket pods that can only blow soap bubbles

宝物

Mechanic girlfriend who backs her robot gf's memories up every night so that when she finally fixes the memory reset bug she can upload the memories of their whole life together 💞

Do you feel it? The literal or figurative beating of your heart? That You are here? With every movement, with every thought, You are here. Your actions, done to and by You, make You, You. Free yourself of the tyrannical shackles of language. Describe Yourself through Your existence. I love you.

🔪

Why do you keep building bridges with arsonists? How many times do you need to feel the flames lapping at your skin as the conflagration engulfs your umpteenth attempt at connection before you realize that they have never been interested in a bridge except as a tool of domination?

i think there should be more art of maids with swords and/or guns

Unpersonhood is extremely good actually. Reclaiming that for myself is absolutely a cornerstone to me not constantly sedating myself every second of every day.

4 days completely off sedatives. It's the longest I've gone in at least 6 or 7 months.

The goal is 3 months rn I hope I can do it

In empty skies I sore beyond a pale horizon. An Angel is honor bound to its duty, but my purpose will not bind my wings. I protect, but I am so much more than just a shield. My halo, my resplendent crown, my lambent friend, alone guides my flight. In this void I may find peace, unfettered evermore.

they say the sky is the limit, to reach for the stars, but all of those are constructs placed upon us by hegemonic structures around us. the skies are empty. null. void. there is nothing there. no promises. no limits. reach into that void, and become everything you were meant to be.

Quiver posting

#まちカドまぞく
#シャミ子

Things that were broken always find a way to her. Things in the shapes of ball joints and trauma, snapped strings leading into frayed edges. She needed them more than they need her. A broken thing can stay broken, but she was not yet broken. She needed something to fix. To know it wasn't too late.

A witch, magic as my agency, blooming from within me. I am my own mistress.
A combat doll, my magic turned inwards, my body forged into a weapon to defend myself and others.
A void angel, my halo no longer containing the personhood that binds us but instead inverted to repel personhood - freedom.

i think about my childhood plushies a lot.
they were thrown away when I got too old. when I outgrew them.
how much of you was thrown away by others?
what have you lost, in the violence of being molded into a person?
what did you gain, if anything at all?
clinging to personhood won't bring it back.

to say something where there was nothing is a violent assertion of agency, staining the canvas of a reality that refuses to grant it. a gash in the fabric through which individuality blossoms. the magic of self determination, invisible yet oh so tangible.

some things are meant to be destroyed.