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As I gaze at the structural column in Copley Station, cracked nearly in two and held together with zip ties that have been carefully painted over to match the column underneath, I feel my soul intertwined with that of a small Italian boy of days gone by, who also stopped to look up at a large, groaning, newly painted tank full of molasses
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things i’ll not call you a whore for:
sexual activity
how you dress
things i’ll call you a whore for:
stealing my food 
stealing my lemons
my cat likes you more than me
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Also on topic of Consent: whenever somebody says "Kids should have bodily autonomy!" some guy always is like "You are too unrealistic. What will you do when a kid is seeing the doctor and doesn't want to get a shot? Would you just let them refuse the shot?"
Yeah I probably would. You're straight up asking the wrong person if you want the nice normal answer here. Doctors and nurses forcibly doing (relatively routine) things to my body against my protests when I was a small kid fucked me up so bad that as an adult anything medical related is a huge trigger for me, I've had persistent intrusive thoughts and recurring nightmares about medical procedures, and I can't have even the most basic tests and health checks done on top of it.
I hate talking about it because I can't get comfortable calling it "trauma" and I don't have any other words that are useful, but it's made my life so much harder and really scary since if I start having a weird symptom, there's nothing I can move myself to do about it.
I figured out a loophole where going to a pharmacy instead of a doctor's office for vaccines reduces some of the stress, but I was still in stress and misery for days before I went to get my tetanus shot. The repulsion is so intense it feels like I literally don't have control over myself, it feels like I can't make appointments or plans about such things out of my own free will, and so every year I have guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt about how I should get the flu shot, and it does nothing but ineffectually hurt me.
Vaccines save lives and all that, but when it comes right down to it, I don't think it's actually a net benefit to public health to give any percentage of kids lifelong psychological scars so deep and painful they're almost completely barred from accessing health care as adults.
I know I'm not the only one, far from it.
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From the book Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD:
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Putting a coat on the back of a chair by the door is fine, but if you prefer, use coat hooks and a large catch-all basket for dropping keys, hats, gloves.
Small bookcase end-table next to the couch to store craft projects, books, and other things being worked on for easy access.
Add a storage unit near the dining room table to transition between eating and working there.
Daily toiletry items should be stored in a basket that you can move easily
Extra toiletries and medicine cabinet items go in open shelf/basket storage so they can be seen and used easily. If items no longer fit, purge the excess. Don’t obscure the view!
If you disrobe in the bathroom, place a tall hamper in there.
Keep a set of cleaning supplies in each bathroom
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extremely weird to think about the fact that the internet is a collection of physical objects, like, if i send a message to a person on another continent, there's a continuous physical path that each packet followed between each of our routers and it probably passes through an undersea cable which doesn't feel like something that should be real how did people manage that
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yeah you're "punk" but are you normal about deformed people?
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i am the smartest person to ever live
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When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.
They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.
The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.
When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.
Then he saw the woman.
He froze. He stared. She stared back.
He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.
She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”
“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”
“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”
“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”
She looked surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”
He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.
“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”
He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”
“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.
The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”
The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.
The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.
When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.
“What the hell,” said the vicomte.
“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”
“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”
The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form. He looked a bit like a moose crossed with a wolf.
“I had a moment of weakness.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”
“I got married.”
“And that’s another thing–”
“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”
The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.
“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”
The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”
The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”
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2020
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im tired of online discourse. look at this family of quails
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Internet Safety
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FWIW, "mauve" was one of the coal-tar dyes developed in the mid-19th century that made eye-wateringly bright clothing fashionable for a few decades.
It was an eye-popping magenta purple
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HOWEVER, like most aniline dyes, it faded badly, to a washed-out blue-grey ...
...which was the color ignorant youngsters in the 1920s associated with “mauve”.
(This dress is labeled "mauve" as it is the color the above becomes after fading).
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They colored their vision of the past with washed-out pastels that were NOTHING like the eye-popping electric shades the mid-Victorians loved. This 1926 fashion history book by Paul di Giafferi paints a hugely distorted, I would say dishonest picture of the past.
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Ever since then this faded bluish lavender and not the original electric eye-watering hot pink-purple is the color associated with the word “mauve”.
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wsb is so fucking funny actually
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