Really Loud & Super Gay

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incorrectinfinity

Where am I

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Source

incorrectinfinity

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Sobbing, crying, shitting, etc

incorrectinfinity

Ok I'm sorry for shoving this in your face again but like. He didn't just say that trans men and women are real. He didn't say there were three genders. He didn't do that, he said there was a spectrum. He insisted it was a spectrum, and he's fucking right.

Did he do actual damn research??? I would assume that this isn't basic common knowledge to a guy like him. He legit took the time to research this, and is still a huge piece of shit afterwards. What the fuck. What the FUCK.

terumimi-your-snek-fren

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just-a-queer-fanboy

IS HE GETTING A GODDAMN REDEMPTION ARC

acuraintegrrl

@christs-cock

punketteraccoon

"trans women are women and they belong IN THE KITCHEN"

mr-phoenix-downer

did you really ask if the man on trial for sex trafficking and rape is getting a redemption arc because he said water is wet

kineticpenguin

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strangelittlestories

After shoving Hansel in the oven, the witch turns to Gretel - who is currently fending the witch off with a gingerbread chair - and says:

“I can’t believe you thought a trail of breadcrumbs would save you. I mean, honestly, this is a forest! It’s full of animals. Honestly, the very idea that a dumb shit like you thought you could get the better of me is absurd.”

Gretel hits her in the face with said chair. To be fair to the witch, she takes the chairshot like a champ.

“Ow!”

“Did you know,” says Gretel, “that crows are capable of facial recognition?”

“Eh?” Says the witch, clambering to her feet and pulling a candy cane sledgehammer off the wall. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Not only that,” Gretel continues, “but they can remember both friends and enemies. And they’ll often follow people they remember as friends.”

The two fence with their sugared weapons for a moment, before the witch knocks the chair out of Gretel’s hands.

“Enough with the bird facts! Honestly, this whole attempted escape has been utter clownshoes. Get in the fucking oven!”

She seizes Gretel by the collar. Gretel immediately sandbags, letting her whole body go limp. This eminently practical defense forces the witch to try and deadlift her. Which is hard, as the witch often skips leg day.

“For example,” Gretel says, as the witch struggles and grunts, “if you feed crows a lot of breadcrumbs, they’ll probably start to see you as a friend and follow you in the hope of more food.”

The witch stops. Outside, she hears the thunder of wings.

“They’ll even bring you shiny things they find as presents!” Says Gretel, as a corner of the gingerbread ceiling is suddenly cut away by a large crow with a knife in its mouth.

“Oh shitballs.” Says the witch, as the crows descend. “I hope you know this is a great unkindness.”

“Technically,” Says Gretel, “It’s a murder.”





dykecostanza

you can enter the most hyper-specific search terms into this website and it will literally always return kpop gif sets, sims mods, and second person imagine fan fiction about a piece of media you’ve never heard of in your fucking life


chaumas-deactivated20230115

Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.

A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.

chaumas-deactivated20230115

#i'm so happy to finally understand what you meant by wizard high #i think you saw through the veil of the universe and unlocked the core of animism via weed gummiesALT

alagaisia

Hey. Why isn’t the moon landing a national holiday in the US. Isn’t that fucked up? Does anyone else think that’s absurd?

alagaisia

It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!

alagaisia

It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.

watermelon-converse

Hey. Hey. Tumblr. Ides of March ppl. We can do this

the-bibrarian

Happy moon landing day!




lesbianbrad

work is disabling; disability is class-enforcing. adjust ur ideological paradigms accordingly

yeettherich

Can someone elaborate?

lesbianbrad

sure!

work is disabling

  • physical labour is a literal strain on your body. historically this has been a given of certain forms of labour, eg, even before the official recognition of disability, mine workers in many parts of the world received disproportionately high wages compared to other jobs because it was understood that your body would break down by the time you were 40-50 and you wouldn’t be able to work anymore. the high wages were for supporting you after that, but they were only present where unions had been able to force this demand on bosses; there’s a reason mine working has historically been a common form of slave or indentured labour. this example is an obvious one (and one i wouldn’t want to rely on for various reasons) but if you’ve worked stocking supermarket shelves, or cleaning, or as a barista, or as a farm labour, you will know that being on your feet for hours on end, the repetitive movements required to complete tasks, the strain of constant attention, these all take their toll
  • work environments are stress inducing and long term stress has both physical and mental effects. it can change how you approach other people, how you regulate your emotions, how you relate to social settings. stress can produce strains, it can produce headaches, it can produce tightness in muscles that are can cause injury
  • when you need to work to provide food, rent, clothing for yourself, you are not as able to protect yourself from health and safety risks. you are more exposed to disease and to other health risks, depending on the job, and you are less able to effectively rest and recover, thus increasing the likelihood of long term complications

disability is class enforcing

  • being disabled is expensive. simply getting healthcare at all can be prohibitively expensive for many people. this is not even to mention mobility aids or other specialised equipment. you may have to spend more on specialised diets or accommodation. you may need to hire personal assistants or other forms of labour to complete certain tasks for you
  • there are less jobs that you are able to work. you are less likely to be able to work long term. you are less likely to be able to work longer hours, and your partners may also have to work shorter hours to care for you. you are more likely to be forced into precarious employment or onto benefits which, which available, are pitifully small
  • you are more likely to face job discrimination and more likely to face housing discrimination. the housing you are able to get is likely to be more expensive
  • you are more vulnerable to abuse, either domestic, or in public, or by the state. this is increasingly the case if you are Black or a migrant or a woman or trans or homeless, etc, and it’s increasingly the case the more poor you become

this is not a complete list, it’s just what i could think of off the top of my head (and i just woke up too lol). i hope that clarifies some of the factors i am thinking of here. feel free to ask if there is anything that is unclear