so im being horny and wayching porn and i burst out laughing because the top came and he literally sounds like someone chopped off his finger or some shit it's so fucking extra and i wish i could post it but i can't but its so fucking funny
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@rat-knife
so im being horny and wayching porn and i burst out laughing because the top came and he literally sounds like someone chopped off his finger or some shit it's so fucking extra and i wish i could post it but i can't but its so fucking funny

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Surviving props and puppets from Ladislas Starewitch's Le Roman de Renard (as seen at the "Metamorfosis" art exhibition at CCCB in September 2016.)
(I've been wondering about the current whereabouts of these puppets for years now, so happy I stumbled across this. I don't think I've seen that poster anywhere else either.)

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anyway every time i post about ocd people start tagging the post like "wait this isn't normal?" and i always like to remind people that intrusive thoughts are normal. pretty much everyone experiences them. "what if i jumped off this balcony?" "what if i crashed my car right now for no reason?" "what if i yelled a curse word in the middle of this wedding?" everyone thinks these things from time to time. it's disordered thinking when the distress starts becoming intolerable.
"am i normal" is not as helpful question to ask as "are intrusive thoughts causing me frequent distress?" and "would my life be better if i could find a way to feel less distress/learn to tolerate the distress?"
millions and millions of people have ocd. having ocd is normal. you're normal. but what if you could feel better? what if living everyday in your own mind and body could be tolerable? is that something you want? need? these are questions to ask.
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.
My poem:
the shrill of wicked clown's laughter
the hall of fabulous jewels trembles
sad news, my son Crispin Shopify III saw a picture of me when i was breastfeeding him as a baby. the psychiatrists all agreed that exposure to this act which is potentially incestuous and sexual was equivalent to infinite permanent sexual trauma, and so we've decided to euthanize him and just start again from the beginning. hopefully i wont fuck it up again this time. god bless.
Anyone have more of these so I can add them to my collection

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Even saying ”I’m so sorry, I completely forgot” sounds marginally better than ” I’m so sorry, I didn’t completely forget, I actually completely remembered. I thought about it the whole time and it stressed me out so much my brain built an insurmountable wall around it.”
ABE LOOK OUT
just like. for the crowd.
here's the sexual content guidelines saying nudity is ok
here's the bit from the termination email telling you you can make a new account as long as it doesn't break the same rule
here's the guidelines for what counts as explicit (not mature, aka grounds for content deletion)
here's the section telling us that you will always be able to respond to content getting flagged as explicit (lie)
here's the section where it says you will be notified when your accunt gets terminated, and that the appeals are reviewed by humans (both lies)
and by the way, posting a single thing against ToS isn't supposed to be grounds for deletion,
what I mean: "sexual intercourse" is as much a social construct as "romantic courtship," and you discover this very quickly as a queer person if you try to talk to able bodied straight cis people who literally think the only thing that counts as Actual Sex is penis-in-vagina penetration, like they call oral "foreplay" it's so dire. various people have a lot of vested interest in cleanly defining "sex" vs "not sex" for a whole slew of reasons (ex. censorship dodging and enforcing, conferring the social clout of virginity and prowess, finding and closing loopholes about premarital sex, deciding what relationships "count" as serious partnerships, ligating what is general assault vs sexual assault vs Something That's Definitely Probably Fine And Not Sexual At All, Actually, etc.), and it's really not something you can just fall back on as obvious common sense that people are dumb for questioning.
what I say: sex isn't real and you can't have it
when i was a tiny baby queer (aka a 24-year-old), i went to my first pride festival probably three months after i kicked ex-gay therapy to the curb and came out to my parents. being the people they are, my parents came with me. they weren’t really sure about this whole gay thing, but they loved me and wanted me to be safe and happy and wanted to be involved in what was important to me, so they came along. (i also think my mother still might have thought i might get drugged or murdered or beaten by a protester of which there were plenty.)
anyway i wanted a memento of my first pride, you know, and this one vendor was selling keyrings, and i liked it, so i bought one. do you remember those italian charm bracelets that were all the rage like 10-15 years ago? it was a keychain like that, and it had a rainbow rooster, a rainbow cat, and then just a rainbow, and so I bought it.
i run into my mom a couple of vendors over and she goes oh you bought something? what’d you get? so i showed her, and i was like, “I’m not sure why it’s a rooster and a cat. Seems kind of random. But I liked the rainbows.”
and my mom, who was some form of minister’s wife for most of my childhood and teenagerhood, stares at me like she thinks i’m joking.
“What?” i say.
“…it’s a cock and a pussy, Jules,” she says flatly, and that is the story of how i died at the age of 24 while attending my first pride festival.
I love how every June this one gets dug up and passed around again, lmao.
oh no is this what we’re doing now
…relic…
*crumbles and blows away on the wind*

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somebody apparently tried to get the Wikipedia page for discrimination against trans men deleted entirely because of the use of the word "transandrophobia". y'all are part of a fucking extremist hate group at this point. it's pride month and the government is killing us and you're actively trying to destroy documentation about trans people's discrimination? really? how fucking evil do you have to be to do this shit?
can we finally admit that these anti-transmasc people are part of a hate group? can we finally address this fucking problem and acknowledge it exists?
this behavior deserves to have this user's privileges fully revoked and banned from editing. or at least suspended. this is fucking ghoulish behavior.
it's one thing to make a bigoted remark, it's another thing entirely to suggest deletion of the fucking page. nowhere is that necessary, even if you were critiquing the word used itself.
oh!
Being a crafty person and making a bunch of things often prompts people to ask "oh wow did you make that?" And like, the short answer is: yes I did, but the long answer is: well, no, the pattern isn't mine, but I did choose and buy the fabric/yarn and sewed it together/crocheted it/knitted it myself. I used a reference for that drawing/painting, I didn't come up with it myself. That ceramic piece was insired by a poem and a painting made by different people. What I'm trying to say is, everything I make requires other people to make their own thing first, and then I get inspired by them to do my own thing. So I can't really call anything truly mine, because really it's just a bunch of inspirations and experiences of others (and me) put together by my hands. Does that answer your question
This yarn came from sheep raised in New Zealand and was spun by a woman in Peru. The pattern was created by someone in Germany. My needles were made by a craftsman in China and my stitchmarkers came from the lady at the local fiber festival.
I may have knit this sweater but it contains the souls of people from around the world.