Actually, the "F" on my passport is for faggot, not female.

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Actually, the "F" on my passport is for faggot, not female.

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the fact hijabi amputee is basically a meme for the excesses of "woke 1.0 representation" ("woke 1.0" itself being an antiblack term) is really crazy to me. i went to high school with a hijabi girl who had a stump for an arm, although she was born with it rather than it being an amputation. yes, i know more hijabis than someone living in a whites-only town like most people who make such jokes, but hijabi amputees are real people. some of whom are gay or poly or w/e btw
not to mention like, gaza has one of the highest rates of amputees in the world, and you're telling me hijabi amputee is such an unrealistic combination you couldn't possibly imagine such a person being gay and/or trans
are you tme or tma
"i know you're nonbinary but which of these two arbitrarily constructed gender categories do you fit into" genuinely are you having a laugh
Referring to the distinction between those who are and aren’t affected by transmisogyny as “arbitrarily constructed gender categories” tells me exactly which of the two you fall into lmao
evergreen lmaooo
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And in time it came to pass that a young man by the name of Outis came of age in that city; and, as with all who lived in that city, he was taken to a secret place where a wise elder showed him a small cold dirty room. And in that room there was a small cold dirty child, naked and hurt and starving, who had never known the least human kindness.
And the wise elder said to Outis, “In our city, everything is good and no one suffers. But it all depends on this child. If the least kindness is shown to him, our city will become like all other cities. There must always be such a child in Omelas.” …
…And Outis said to the elder, “If our city becomes like all other cities, many children will suffer.” And so he became a citizen of Omelas. And Outis led a good and happy and fulfilling life; and the child continued to suffer.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he walked away from Omelas. And Outis led a cold and short and brutish life; and the child continued to suffer.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas carried on as it always had; and from that day forth no child suffered there.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there.
But Outis, who would leave no child to suffer, worked tirelessly to save each one of them, and to build with his own hands a city in which everyone lived a good and happy and fulfilling life; and so in time it came to pass that the latter days of Omelas were greater than the former. And for ten trillion years Omelas carried on, and no child ever suffered there again.
…And Outis said to the elder, “Nevertheless, this child is my son, and I will not leave him to suffer.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there. But Outis did not care, because he valued the well-being of his son over all of them.
…And Outis asked the elder, “Why?” And the elder showed him to a library filled with books. And Outis studied the books for many years. And when he was an old man with a gray beard, Outis went out of the library and returned to the child and took the child out of the room, and in the child’s place he put a stone. And the stone was naked and dirty and cold; and the child Outis took and bathed and cared for. And Omelas carried on as it always had; and from that day forth no child suffered there.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives; except for one child, who suffered so that the city might prosper. And all who lived there knew of this…
…And each citizen of Omelas, having looked into himself and seen that he would stand by while a child suffered in abject misery, found in himself a new willingness to do dark and evil deeds. And in time, all those who lived in Omelas suffered.
…And each citizen of Omelas lived with the gnawing guilt of his complicity, and the abiding terror that his own child would be chosen as the next to suffer. And in time it seemed to them that they could take no joy in any of the glories of Omelas.
…And one night, the child rose up and went out of his room and killed all the people of Omelas in their sleep.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives. And each morning, each citizen of Omelas was taken to a small cold dirty room, and shown a small cold dirty child, and told that the child must suffer so that his day might be filled with all good things.
And all in Omelas agreed that it was better that one child should suffer than many; and none of them ever asked if it was the same child they saw each morning. And after all, one small cold dirty child looks much like another.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives; except for ten thousand children, who suffered so that the city might prosper. And all who lived there knew of this…
…but none of them were ever taken to see the children in person, so none of them ever did anything about it.
…and whenever anyone saw such a child and “shouldn’t we rescue that suffering child?”, the other citizens of Omelas laughed and replied to them, “Naïve fool! Don’t you know that a child must always suffer in Omelas, so that the city may prosper? Otherwise it would become like all other cities, and many children would suffer.”
And everyone nodded wisely and went along with their days; and so ten thousand children continued to suffer where it might have been only one.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And in time it came to pass that a young man by the name of Outis came of age in that city; and, as with all who lived in that city, he was taken to a secret place where a wise elder showed him a small cold dirty room. And in that room there was a small cold dirty child, naked and hurt and starving, who had never known the least human kindness.
And the wise elder said to Outis, “In our city, everything is good and no one suffers. But it all depends on this child. If the least kindness is shown to him…”
“…the city will continue on as it always has, only your internet will be slightly slower.”
And Outis went back up into the city, and on that day he became a citizen of Omelas; and the child continued to suffer.
“…the best predictions of our scientists suggest that there will be a slight average decrease in various hard-to-measure kinds of happiness, which nevertheless in total adds up to more suffering than this child experiences.”
And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the average happiness increased in some ways and decreased in others, and the net effect might have been negative, but the best results on the matter had p > 0.05, so the scientists of Omelas could not rule out the null hypothesis.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And in Omelas there was a naked dirty child in a small dirty room; because the child was agoraphobic and was making mudpies.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
Very few people told stories about Omelas, but it was a very nice place to live in.
gentle psa to new comic artists about a problem i also suffered from: slow quiet pacing is totally fine BUT if that's not what you're deliberately going for, you CAN fit more Story Progression on the page. no, more than that. more than that even. i promise if you don't want it to a single action doesn't need to take a whole page to illustrate each of its steps, a lot of connecting magic happens in the gutters i /promise/ if you draw someone pulling up in a car then skip to them walking in the door with groceries we will Understand that they unloaded the car and unlocked the house you feel me
#I am not a comic artist#but I had a similar problem when I was in film school#I call it “the door problem”#in my thesis film I had written that two characters walk out the back of the club into the alley behind the club#and my club location did not have a back alley but did have a side room that we used as the door#but that door opened in#and the location I used for the alley had a back door but that door opened outwards#and I knew it looked weird#I struggled framing the shots#and blocking the actors#and I got really really caught in my own head about how to make this door work#because to me it was really important that you saw every step from club to outside#because even though we had learned in school that you could transition it didn't feel right because it didn't feel like a new scene to me#(this being one of the struggles with a short film. It can all feel like one scene if your script is short!)#AND THEN#when we got into the editing room we just...cut the door transition entirely#initially not on purpose#what happened was that we decided to tighten up the timing by cutting non-linearly to the custom music I had commissioned#which made it much more experimental especially in comparison to my fellow classmates#however it showed me that the story still absolutely worked without needing to show how they got into the alley#the audience can infer the door#so now anytime I can feel myself getting stuck on something when I'm filming I think#“Is this a Door Problem?”#as a storyteller it's always a question of what is the absolute bare minimum you need to convey what you're trying to say#and sometimes that means you just need to already be outside the club
(via @currentlycreating )
Exactly! Film and comics are VERY similar mediums in this way, I love this. We should always be considering Door Problems

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oh ofc you're a bottom
WRONG. i don't have sex. i'm on tumblr.
I am operating on levels of unfathomably stupid obscure puns far beyond your comprehension.
Aaand the winner is @kallonkutittaja who appears to be the first one who put the whole thing together.
In finnish, the handheld bidet showerhead is colloquially known both as "pillupuhelin" (pussy phone) and more rarely "pyllypuhelin", "butt phone", due to the shape resembling an old-fashioned handheld house phone, and what those things are generally used for.
Also the name Persephone.
in conclusion, I am alive because it's currently illegal to hunt me for sport.
the year was Two Thousand and twenty-four. I took a puff of my Electronic-Cigarette, inhaling the vapours. my mobile terminal buzzed in my pocket, a flat slab of microchips and glossy touchscreen. I ignored it....... probably another Electronic-Mail
human susie :3
its because youre always on that damn sidequest

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“Not fabulous.”
Sophocles, Elektra (trans. by Anne Carson)
There’s definitions of things but there’s often parts of a thing that exist on the edge of that definition but everyone knows is still that thing. Definitions are useful but at the end of the day you know a thing when you see it. You know that a horse is not a chair and that a 90s inflatable chair is a chair and that a table is not a chair even if someone is sitting on it. You know a chair when you see it. A beanbag both is and is not a type of chair and this is a comfortable truth.
But anyways that’s also kind of how gender works.
Also sometimes something might look like a kind of chair but it’s actually a rare kind of stand for wine kegs and is almost completely unrelated to chairs as a concept.
This is also kind of how gender works.
All of the exceptions and nitpicking y’all are bringing up in the notes only proves my point.
op have you considered ever getting a job at the UN
Yeah they never have open jobs that I qualify for
ACCIDENTALLY LEFT MY MACERATED APPLE SYRUP ON THE STOVE AND IT CARAMELIZED I GUESS?
it was super thick and dark and golden and bubbly so i took it off the heat. happy accident.
tastes delicious so good. idk what to do with it though
thank you for your recommendation! with brief consideration, it has been disregarded.
why do people need to be domesticated animals for petplay,. u r my lion i bought you illegallu and you are trying to kill me. go

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thesaurus.com save me
aid me
assist me thesaurus.com