firing melissa barrera from scream like she wasn’t a big part of the reason the revival of the franchise didnt flop is soooooo

will third wheeling for el and mike is so sad im gonna kms

TSATS leaked chapters/preview moodboard

laios985

hey btw if you're in the USA at  2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.

if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.

additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.

i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."

"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.

I hate them. Btw.

Best trait for a classmate to have?

searching for the peach of immortality

Page 38

oh boy-

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okay, bear with me this requires a lot of context. imagine that you wake up on a space ship with an alien species capable of telepathic communication with you. they are also capable of instilling you with the knowledge that everything they say is completely true, there is not a hint of uncertainty in your mind. they have weapons capable of obliterating earth pointed at the planet, and are forcing you to do one of two things in order to not fire. within the fiction of the scenario you are not being given the choice, but you the real you is picking which one of these things you'd rather have happen.

you must eat an 8 ounce serving of human baby meat, by default prepared like a steak (different preparations can be requested). you do not have to keep the meat down once you're done, but you have to get all of it in your body at one point. they do not provide any information about where the baby came from or how it died. if you complete this, they will deposit you back on earth and you will be free from legal repercussions of cannibalism, and it is generally agreed that you are also free from moral blame as it was against your will.

you will be surgically impregnated with a human embryo and must carry it to term and give birth. the embryo does not contain your dna, but otherwise you don't know anything about its origins. the aliens have advanced medical technology that gives you sufficient anatomy to carry and birth the baby, and keeps you healthy throughout, with no risk of long term complications or death. you have the choice to keep or give away the baby once you have given birth, and will be deposited back on earth.

if you refuse to comply in either situation, they destroy the earth and you are forced to live the rest of your life aboard the space ship as a prisoner, until you die of natural causes.

so,

something the women in my family are absolutely flabbergasted by every time it comes up is the fact that i don’t own a scale.

“how do you know how much you weigh??” they cry.

“i don’t.” i simply respond.

“you look thinner, have you lost weight?” they ask at christmas.

“i dunno.” i say as i check on the turkey.

“you look bigger, have you gained weight?” they probe, as if my weight rests on their shoulders.

“i’m not sure, but it’s fine if i have.” i respond with a casualness they cannot comprehend.

“don’t you want to know if you’ve lost or gained?” they inquire over cups of coffee and a plate of untouched cookies.

“i do.” i take a sip. “which is why i don’t need to know.”

“we don’t understand.” they say.

“i’ll drive myself mad if i know. it’s been a question i’ve been looking for the answer to since i was in the seventh grade and my weight was the topic of conversation for the first time; the stretch marks on my calves puberty brought being questioned and condemned. and so i started weighing myself once a day. then twice a day. i gained weight as i grew and was told to stop. i got depressed when i was 16 and the weight i gained was more concerning than the scars on my thighs. the critiques turned to compliments during my first year of college when i’d started skipping meals and my body had to feed itself because i wouldn’t. everyday i stepped on the scale and smiled as i watched that number get smaller and smaller. hunger felt like victory. i started doing drugs that took away my appetite and then my strength. and started feeling guilt when my stomach felt full. and suddenly every time i looked in the mirror i hated what i saw. the more weight i lost, the better i was supposed to feel. each remark on another part of my body lost felt like a slap to the face. i was told i looked good but i knew i wasn’t good enough. and so i tried harder. and then i started to get dizzy when i stood. and i ignored it like i’d learned to ignore my hunger. and then one day at work i dropped like the weight that was never enough after i bending at the waist to grab a milk cap from the floor. and when the darkness faded, i was surrounded by panic as an ambulance was called. and then i was tested and prodded and poked because they thought something was wrong with my heart. and the problem persisted but they never found out why. but i’d known all along. and then i left home and its scale behind. and moved into a new home that was mine. so i bought plates and sheets and art for the walls. but i didn’t buy a scale. then every time i walked down an aisle i’d see the them and pause. and i’d think about the hunger i now kept at bay. and even though i didn’t know how much i weighed, i didn’t notice my body had changed. and i’d think about how i hadn’t been dizzy for months. and how i hadn’t fainted for longer. and then i’d keep on walking. and now most days i like how i look.”

“but don’t you want to be skinny?” comes their quiet response.

“i want to be myself in whatever body i have.”

they stare in disbelief. so i shrug my shoulders, and grab a cookie. and i smile at them as i swallow the first bite.