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#finally getting around to making an intro post #ignore please beloved mutuals #credit to @barbeddreams for self-harm barbie hotch #Spotify

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tatzelwurming

in the dungeon you will have to face a monster with the nose of a tiger, the teeth of a tiger, the ears of a tiger the eyes of a tiger , the cheeks of a tiger , the neck of a tiger, the torso of a tiger, the arms of a tiger, the paws of a tiger, the belly of a tiger the back of a tiger, the the legs of a tiger, the claws of a tiger, the ankles of a tiger, the tail of the tiger, the mind of a tiger, and the power of a tiger

anyway we always talk about dennis's religious baggage set to ethel cain so now i'm proposing dennis's religious baggage set to kristin hater

#mine #the pitt #dennis whitaker #fan edit

chizhik-pyzhik

my people will vagueblog your people

iavenjqasdf

i just unzip my cloaca and let the posts gush out of me

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clickholeofficial

This Loyal Dog Refuses To Leave A Grave That Has Peanut Butter On It

evilvillain123456789

in the daek era of my rule cigarettes whill give you nutrints and phood will slowly destroy your lungs. a vegan subculture will emerge wich smokes only dryer lint & grass clippings, gradually accumulating nutrient deficiencies, while "noshers" will linger outside nightclubs and employee exits nursing their snacks & treats

galaxywarp

once you realize you don’t actually need to sleep, you can really (stops talking abruptly and stares straight ahead for 4 minutes)

support

One legitimately weird thing about Tumblr is that we literally can’t code for shit, many people quit working at Tumblr due to a hostile work environment, and we can’t seem to program a simple blogging website to not flood your RAM.

monopoison3r

nearing the 10 year anniversary of banishing editable reblogs

human-pet-they

when the author describes someone dying and you can just tell they’ve never actually died by the way it’s written

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crazysodomite

all i'm saying is that it probably feels good as fuck when life and warmth drains from your body and you become cold and stiff and you die. I just know it feels goooooddddddddddddddd

tomirida

What if the dead horse wanted to be beaten

crazysodomite

having cptsd feels like being a piece of tupperware that's always oily no matter how much you try to wash it

handsomeboymodelingschool

sun bleached flies

#mine #the pitt #dennis whitaker #ethel cain #fan edit

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ismenes

When my son was about to turn two, strangers would offer condolences. There’s a collective cultural dread of toddlers, who get described more like animals than people. Kids in their "terrible twos," I was warned, are illogical, unregulated, and feral. "Good luck," people would say. "He'll grow out of it."

I'm lucky: My son is a very easygoing kid. But I remember the first tantrum he threw for me. He was standing by our front door and asked to go outside. So I opened the door and grabbed his shoes. But as soon as he stepped onto the porch, he pointed back into the house.

"Inside," he said.

"Okay," I said. I picked him up and brought him inside.

But as soon as I shut the front door, he pointed outside.

"Outside!" he said.

You know where this is going. We went back and forth, inside and outside, again and again. He got more frustrated. And I got more frustrated. Eventually he wound up straddling the threshold of our house, sobbing. When I tried to comfort him, he screamed at me. "You go wherever you want!" I said. He just got madder. I felt trapped, convinced he’d concocted the whole episode as a pretext to unleash his rage at me. It was ridiculous. I consoled myself with the thought that he was just being a toddler.

But later I kept thinking about him wailing at our front door, one foot inside, one foot outside. His misery wasn't unreasonable, or trivial, or silly. My son was experiencing the agony of wanting two things that were impossible to have at the same time. What a fundamentally human sorrow! My son wasn't being a toddler; he was being a person. Adults may not walk around howling, but that same pain rages within us. In that moment, as a father, I was powerless to solve my son's problem. I told him he could go wherever he wanted, but of course I was wrong. To be where he wanted was impossible.

Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children by Mac Barnett

#words #children's rights

cognitohazardous

no one says big mood anymore. no one even says mood. no one says anything. all thats left is a dry wind, that scours my face until i bleed

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