New Donation Post For Lola! We Met The Last Goal.

New donation post for Lola! We met the last goal.

Image text: URGENT!!! Nigerian trans woman who is facing homelessness is urgently in need of funds for rent as her being homeless is very dangerous and due to rampant transphobic violence and she needs to be sheltered as soon as possible.

GOAL: $1250

CASHAPP: $Tantienancy

PayPal: @angelsaxis

0/1250

[Garish au]

Alma: Dammit, you ruin everything!

Isabela: You're welcome.

Isabela, after getting punished: Worth it

GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. OR DOOMSDAY. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

Reblog if you think KOSA is unfair and shouldn't be anyone's problem -- including the adults ALL OVER THE DAMN EARTH forced to face the mass censorship it causes because "think of the American Children!".

Reblog if you support internet activism and Palestine.

Reblog if you hate fascism or censorship, and don't want actually serious and helpful conversations censored on the internet.

Reblog if you value the internet in any way at all whatsoever.

CHECK THIS PETITION, TOO! https://www.change.org/p/stop-the-kosa?recruiter=1331807538&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=sms&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf&recruited_by_id=57368c40-d0fd-11ee-98f7-2175430f819f&share_bandit_exp=initial-36809664-en-US

(Also, please reblog with at least "stop kosa" as a tag and not "kosa". I made the mistake of not adding just "kosa" as a tag...)

We won't let this stand any longer. Let's start a riot and get this trending.

Loose threads

Looking through what was left after Casita's fall was really fun. There were so many memories from the past that they all had forgotten.

Casita's fall meant a lot of broken stuff, that was left in the rubbles. Most of the things were destroyed beyond repair. However, there were leftovers that at least resembled something. Photos cutten by their glass frames, crumpled cutlery, books sheltered by their wooden shielves.

And looking through it all made a fair amount of fun time for the entire family. So many things reminded of old times, about childhood or adults' youth. Casita was the place where they all grew, their home.

It was the time when Camilo and Antonio had found a box with the toys. The older boy could recognize some of his belongings. Next, some things weren't known to him. The older girls' stuff. And it wasn't like he would miss another awkward story, they seemed to have these for every occasion. And inviting the rest to join them wasn't baffling. Senoritas seemed just as eager.

The day off paced in a rapid temp. Camilo took another thing. A torn knitted doll. The threads were torn, the right arm and half of the shoulder were ripped off, lying as cotton in the bottom. What was left of brown hair was made into a sloppy braid. The face was ripped open, and one of the eyes and the mouth were destroyed too.

"So, who is its owner?" Camilo laughed, taking the toy out. "Isabela?" He turned to the eldest granddaughter, expecting her to admit this as hers. He knew Mirabel never had anything quite like this and Luisa was far too vigorous to play with the dolls.

Dolores squeaked, grabbing it from Camilo's arms in a gentle grip. "I think it's mine." She muttered in disbelief.

"Pretty sure it is," Isabela confirmed, making the younger grandkids stare at them in disbelief. Camilo understood that his hermana didn't have any girlish property before she came out, and he would have known if it was after with no doubts. "I remember you've carried it around as much as you could."

"Really?" Mirabel gasped, studying the pattern of knits. "I don't remember this at all."

Dolores pressed the plaything against her chest, not too tight so she wouldn't damage it further. "I think I stopped by the second year in school. Didn't want to be called girl."

It was strange to believe that there was a time when Dolores acted like her biological identity, refusing from something that would make her look like a girl. Camilo never had any problems with his love for kids and he didn't try to appear as a certain sex, just like himself. But again, he couldn't relate to Dolores in terms of this, even with his shapeshifting.

Luisa scratched her head, thinking for a moment. "I can recall that Isa called you Dolly... I mean when we were kids." She didn't retain the doll in the same way Lores and Isa did, but she could remember that her older cousin was often carrying something. It was a blurry memory. If Dolores stopped playing with it after she went to school, Luisa was four at best, and she was never close to Dolores in the same way as her sister. What she knew was so brief that she could never tell if it was what happened in fact or if her brain was playing a trick on her.

This made Camilo even more surprised, He knew his cousin used this as a nickname for Dolores ever since she had chosen this name, nobody else really did. And Lola was getting mad to the extreme point if anyone else dared to call her like this. It couldn't be descended from her old name, so Isabela used this because of a toy.

Isabela laughed, covering her mouth. "Oh, yes. I did." She patted Dolores' shoulder, who was half-floored even by this point. Not grasping into the verity that she held one of her aged belongings.

"I can't believe Mama actually saved it." It was odd, Dolores herself didn't remember it well enough, it was a memory that she had shoved at the back of her mind with years. She sometimes wondered what happened to it, neither of the younger children had played with it. But as a grown-up she didn't want to carry a doll around, there was no need for it. It was a key to so many memories, like a spray. She carried this doll to the table during their meals and was requesting Casita to place a chair for her, she had read bedtime stories to her and clutched her in her sleep. It was even upsetting of how she dumped it after learning about social roles. Now this was just a recollection of her youth years.

Mirabel wasn't exactly interested in the toy. She never saw it until now, so it wasn't the same part of youth as for Dolores or Isabela, but she was a creative person and adored craftworks. It was no surprise she was interested in the way how it was made. She could try to sew up the torn parts, but she didn't want to make it worse by pulling the yarns out. And nobody had asked her anyway.

Isabela was the one to remember it good, she was the closest to Dolores back then. If she placed it well, it was one of the presents for her birthday that she disliked. And Dolores happened to adore it. Isabela didn't mind this at all, she considered this adorable and mirthful. The doll could be known as Dolores' distinctive sign, probably causing the fact that Isabela started to use this nickname.

Part of Dolores wondered if she had picked her name because it reminded her of 'Dolly'. The time when she didn't have to pretend to be masculine and hide herself the way she had in her later years. It made sense to her, preschool years were the period when the distinction between boys and girls was the smallest. But she couldn't tell for real. Either way, she liked the name Dolores, and the roots of it weren't important. Maybe it was because of Isa, maybe it wasn't... What difference did it make?

Luisa: I love coffee

Isabela, sarcastically: Wow, really?

Luisa, being ironic in response: Yeah, you probably didn't know it

Luisa: I never drink it, right?

Garish au, cracks moment

"What are perfect night…" Isabela muttered under her breath, taking the way out of Antonio's room. She scoffed, leaning against the wall in a dark silence.

The stars shined in a dim sky, the patio was covered in moonlight. If anyone would see her upset like this, they would tell her to get over it. For some reason, she couldn't hold a grudge after growing up. The thing is, she did. Even if it had been years, Isabela still was hurt with her Abuela. She was trying her best, but the only way for her to get attention like she did back when she was the golden child seemed to cause troubles more than it was physically possible. As in reward, Isabela kept being pissed off. In Abuela's eyes, she would never be good enough even if she had turned into some princess with royal manners by some magic force.

Deep inside Isabela understood that her behaviour didn't make her look better in Abuela's eyes. But it wasn't like she cared about it.

Something cracked. Isabela winced from the sound, staring down. A roof tile broke against the floor. This was… odd. Casita had never done anything like this in her memory. Isabela clutched the carved railings but jumped back as they started to shake in her grip as if they were about to fall to the first floor. The cracks paced all over the patio, climbing onto the walls, spreading from one lambing door to another. Light in them began to flicker like a candle on the wind. In fright, Isabela tried to summon her plants to cover the damage, maybe it would stop whatever was going on. But her vines faded like a withered grass. Shit! This was bad! Casita looked like it was about to fall onto them, burying everyone down. And no one even realized it.

Isabela burst into the party room, yelling loud enough for everyone to hear. "Casita's breaking! We have to get out!" Right now it wasn't time for her to be mad at Abuela. No matter what she felt, she didn't want anyone to get harmed or, what's even worse, die under the rubble.

The room tensed, townspeople looked at each other in panic. Abuela tightened her grip on her black shawl. "Show me."

Just in time when everyone got out in panic, the cracks were gone just like they had never been in here in the first place.

"What the fuck…" Isabela muttered in disbelief, before turning to very displeased Abuela. "I saw the cracks, the entire house was sha-"

"Enough!" Her grandmother cut her off, "The house stands strong! Just like our drinks! Music!"

Isabela didn't even bother to look at how Dolores started to play a melody on her tiple. People got back into Antonio's magical room. And only faded vines along the walls stated that something had happened at all.