tv shows with time travel organizations/bureaus/police/agencies/whatever should have a department with instead of a tech genius eating candy, itâs a harried seamstress or fashion designer who is like
â1450 italy? does it look like I have the time to dye you wool? nO. YOUâRE GOING TO THE 1980sâ
and throws shoulder pads at the hapless time agent
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i want to share with you some of my favourite graffiti from Pompeii
âWeep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates menâs behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!âÂ
âAmplicatus, I know that Icarus is buggering you. Salvius wrote this.âÂ
âWe two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gaius and Aulus.â
âFloronius, privileged soldier of the 7th legion, was here. The women did not know of his presence. Only six women came to know, too few for such a stallion.���
âOn April 19th, I made bread.â
â I have buggered men.â
âIf anyone does not believe in Venus, they should gaze at my girlfriend.â
âIt took 640 paces to walk back and forth between here and there ten times.â
âChie, I hope your hemorrhoids rub together so much that they hurt worse than when they every have before!â
âEpaphra is not good at ball games.â
âTwo friends were here. Â While they were, they had bad service in every way from a guy named Epaphroditus. Â They threw him out and spent 105 and half sestertii most agreeably on whores.â
âSecundus likes to screw boys.â
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Iâm constantly torn between wanting to be impossible to hate because Iâm such a genuinely kind and compassionate person and wanting bigots to hate me so much they fantasize about me dying conveniently.
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There is so much blood on the Bible. There are lakes of blood on the Bible. At mass, in church, people bleed out together. The carpets are too thin to soak it up, the pastors and priests gorge themselves. Children and babies lost and sacrificed for their parents souls, and across centuries and continents millions died in the name of Christianity, the Heavenly Father. The Bible lays at the bottom of oceans of blood, so tarnished and worshipped we donât know what the holy words mean anymore.
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Adults who are attracted to teens are so weird. Like, you want to boink this person who doesnât know how to properly shave or keep their crotch clean? Someone that is still figuring out how to wear makeup and perfume? Someone that gets into online arguments and has all kinds of friend drama? Being a teen is fucking hard and you want to make it weirder? Do you remember how incredibly difficult it was to keep up with your body while you were a teen? And you want to go back there?? You think thatâs sexy? What the hell is wrong with you???
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A Little Life is like: What if victims of severe trauma were lovable the way I want them to be and their trauma violent in a way I feel is easy to validate? What if trauma victims were graceful and understood they are forever tainted and corrupted by their past so I donât have to question their role in society or their morality? What if victims of severe trauma were worthy of my unconditional love? What if I made trauma something easy for me to understand? What if your painful story was made beautiful and edible for me? What if your painful experience was actually about me?
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I think thereâd be a lot less âcrimeâ and many better jobs if there were more people who just sat down with someone and helped them go over all the things. Like there should guys (gender neutral) whose job is to make sure you get your needs met and help you look for work that is sustainable for you. And you shouldnât have to pay them. Like, the mayor pays them. They should be at the library and local community centers. Itâs policy that they have hard candy and hot coco mix and fidget toys. They also help you apply for financial aid and figure out how to budget. You shouldnât have to qualify for help. You just walk up to them and be like, âHi, I need to buy a new car and have no moneyâ and theyâre like, âOkay, letâs go to my office/the reserved library rooms, and sort this out.â And then when you sit down theyâre like, âMy name is Abigail and never got my drivers license. Whatâs your name and what city to do you live in,â and youâre like, âMy name is Harold and I live in Spaingland,â then theyâre like, âWhat do you need a car for,â and you tell them the whole situation and then they start looking up cars in your area and help you apply for insurance or whatever.
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(this story will continue tomorrow.)
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Reminder that it's international asexuality day eve, so don't forget to leave milk and cake slices out tonight for all your local aces
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At the end of almost every video essay about bigots or conservatives there is a segment focused on the people spouting all that hate and essayist is like, âLook at them, think about how sad and lonely they are, please be kind to them,â and like, yeah, because they are so angry and desperate but theyâre people and they need someone to bring them home. Theyâre like feral street cats with lice who desperately need to be vaccinated and bathed and fed and when they calm down enough to not claw your face off, held. They need to be told they can be kind and they can be loved and itâs okay to be scared. And eventually, when they admit, âHey, all that stuff I had been screaming felt really bad to say,â you can say back to them, âI bet, it really hurt to see you trying to beat everyone. And it was absolute bullshit and here is why.â
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(I bring a sort of âEveryone has inherent worth regardless of their productivityâ Vibe to every conversation that ableists donât really seem to like)
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