#like jesus fucking christ how are yall this dense

[thebewilderer]

Have you ever considered that not every self-dx'd person is like your sister?

Sorry I'm an asshole and an ableist because despite my years of fighting depression, suicidal ideation and self harm, etc, my parents still don't believe in mental illness and trying to receive any prof help is a huge fight.

Sorry your so tired and angry that I self-dx'd so I could better understand my symptoms and know what resources to look for.

*you're

#yeah youre ableist lmfao but way to manipulate language to make ir look like you're not good job there bud #also why you sending me this garbage in the first place? #like yall know EXACTLY what i think of you that ain't gonna change because of an anonymous ask with poor grammar #also what part of my being furious and upset and betrayed and ranting about it made you think #''this person needs a passive aggressive anon ask'' #like bro. literally why would i care about your opinion on this. i dont know you and if i did i wouldnt like you BECAUSE of this bullshit #i honestly want to know what you got out of sending me this ask instead of just blocking me. like for real. #mail #anyways using coping mechanisms aint the issue the issue is yall speaking over people who actually have it #and pretending like yalls experience is the default #like jesus fucking christ how are yall this dense

[incarnateirony]

Of course you can have other hobbies, but I think it's very telling that you are all cricket noise about TW the very moment the show is cancelled, which actually proves you have been wrong all along

OH LOOK, I'll answer you. You, nonnie, are the million dollar winner of being THEE MOST EXAMPLE DUMBASS, without actually having to post pages of you whining.

No, your bad faith ignorance won't stop our HBO max exclusive placement. The only thing that could is Amazon bidding in the 5m/ep area. Enjoy rotting on a budget cut CW show for 13 more episodes, the end. Get used to it. Nobody has to spar with your fake noise. Stop playing with your invisible friends, stop trying to fill your social gaps with tumblr anons, and go fucking get a hobby you lifeless weirdo.

I've been NOT POSTING about this shit for MONTHS, stop doing so much cocaine, you're the ones bugging me since January, and since March when I TOLD YOU I HAD TO STOP POSTING FOR NDA REASONS, YOU BUFFOON. Half of fucking Atlanta WB is monitoring my blog for compliance you useless piece of shit. Me or my friends' livelihoods by the literal dozens are not as important as fighting about literally irrelevant garbage made up by morons like you that will be embarrassed soon anyway.

THEE MOST DUMBASS here is such a gold star piece of self absorbed ignorant hallucinating heavy drug dealing reality-distorting short-term-gain-sighted moron example that it gets pinned. Fuck off, you losers, nobody real in this has time for your noise. That's why the CW started tweeting about noise, when I told you to knock off the noise, holy shit. Get a clue. I tweeted the joke for a solid month nonstop before getting bored because you're too dense to even compute how you're being laughed at, jesus christ. If you wanna be embarrassed in retrograde, check the timing and content of my posts through March. There you go. Wow, yeah, don't you look like a hilarious pants shitting fool.

The reality here is the CW (or, specifically, TW, Berlanti Properties Currently Airing On) has been subtweeting yall since MARCH when I told you in MARCH to stop bothering me, and TWO MONTHS LATER, you still HAVEN'T, because you seem to be suffering some psychotic condition that has detached your scope of reality for a digital fakespace, and after TWO MONTHS of me telling you all to fuck off and that you're beneath me, you're going "HAHA!!! SUDDENLY, NOW!!!!" no man. It's just that it isn't worth talking about if you have two braincells to rub together, it has to get cancelled on CW for pickup elsewhere you floating fat turds.

Just because you wanna fight about it doesn't mean it's not real. It just means you're dumb as a brick, and we're done wasting time on ignorant asshats. We got what we wanted. It's over. You lost. Go home. There's nothing for me to fight anymore. You don't keep fighting when you win, that's what pressed asshats like you do trying to squeeze out anything that feels like a win for a breath of a second. My energy is best invested elsewhere.

Nobody cares that a hoard of single digit IQ harpies feels accomplished for a whole few weeks just to look like assclowns again, in this timeless fibonacci toilet bowl of made up horse shit called SPN fandom.

You need to catch a clue at my flatass lack of a need to prove shit to you, and the collective patterns of my blog the last six months and the context and meaning of those, and WHY I literally. do not care. what you believe. It is your own self importance and/or internal issues realizing the truth and wanting to convince yourself otherwise that convinces you anyone that knows HAS to tell you what's going on, or beat it into the dirt for bad faith actors like you when the truth is gonna come around shortly anyway. HBO just isn't announcing most of their orders until the strike has some potential visible ending, but we're fine. Sorry to disappoint you.

You absolute assclowns didn't even notice Max hasn't announced their series yet before you gloated, did you? Their round of that was in February, you scrub, we're next wave, probably post- or late-strike. it's not rocket science you insufferable, lonely, diseased cunts.

Yeah, it SHOULD be telling that I stopped arguing with you knuckleheads, after 6 years of combat. If I was ashamed of anything I'd delete my blog or some shit, rather than sitting here waiting for the boomerang to knock your ass over while rolling dice with gay lizards. Figure it out shithead, your game is over, I'm playing a new one, because I won the last, what's not fucking clicking?

The point was never winning YOU over beyond the public opinion needed at certain business pressure points, and that's 2 years past, you can't stop it. I literally don't need any of you. Those that are interested in me as a person can stay around. It was about winning the show, about winning representation, about platform winning. We won guys. cope. I won, I moved on, why is this so fucking complicated for you to accept? Have you never lost at something before? I'm happy to be your first teaching experience.

[ghost-babygirl]

 blah blah i do not existttttttttt blah blah disregard look away look away nothin g is real i am not real 

 i’m kind of amazed at my ability to not follow the worse thread (physically) as I have often quickly done before. Is it because i’m too tired? maybe. I live in an apartment with another girl who has an eating disorder and just my luck, is very very far from recovery. Tonight, I got really sick of my bullshit and finally got myself to make dinner around 9 after 3 ish weeks of beating around it and having goldfish or half a bullshit smushed pbj I didn’t have time to eat at work. however on rare occasion,  all my roomies were here and kiki’ing in the kitchen, when suddenly the other girl gets up and is like “okay fuck it im eating!” after watching me and my other roommate start to cook. Yall. not only does this girl strictly eat diet food to the point where it’s officially fucked with her period cycle, but she gets up and the way i can FEEL her angry beside me on a calorie tracker.... words cannot describe how uncomfortable i feel in this place. its as though im watching my worst moments on a loop and i can’t do anything about it but cry. If i clench my jaw tighter my molar will crack and pierce the soft gums below it.  I don’t know if its me being over my bullshit and knowing i can’t /don’t want to go back to that, or what, but i actually stood there and told myself “you’re finishing making this and you’re going to fucking eat it”. it wasn’t much, i’ll be honest, but i did. It was horrible the entire time and i felt like I was being incredibly judged but jesus christ i ate. and thats going to have to be enough. everything all of the time is just this constant reminder something is wrong with me and im just so tired. im so tired. all i want to do is be okay during this internship and i cant be. How can i be? Its like sticking an addict in a room with nothing but everything at their fingertips, man.  All i want to do is watch a stupid fucking anime with someone i like and feel NORMAL  and i can’t, they’re calling a man who’s at best a 34 a pig boy. all i want to do is go to a theme park and enjoy myself and i CAN’T cause this new friend happens to be obsessed with talking about how bad food is for you!! literally all of the time, and eating fast!  and oh my god did you know that traditoinal mooncakes are wonderful but SOOOOO calorie dense? yeah! they’re actually HORRIBLEEEEE for you! did you know this? because now i do. 

 i just want the luxury of being able to fucking exist, and at this point i don’t think thats genuinely possible. every day the world shows me that i’m one of the worst possible outcomes it seems. i’m this girls worst nightmare. I’m my mothers worst nightmare and yet she tells me im beautiful so whats the truth? but also dont dress that way because it’s not flattering. but also she’d kill to look like me yet i’m what she’s spent her lifetime killing herself to not look like. everyday there’s a new issue. Is it an issue? am I my hair or my legs or my uneven bone structure? am i the issue? and why do people fear me? Do they see my insides from the outside? what can they possibly know when im trying so hard to hide? i’m trying to hide it all, i’m trying to fix it. did i ever really need to fix it? You love my laugh but its too loud and its too ridiculous and i’m too annoying, do i need to be smaller? Are my insecurities really an issue to be fixed? are they really an issue? well it wont be next week....but it’ll swing back the week after! and be in your head all over again and when people are positioned on a certain side you’ll wonder if they focus in on it the same way you do, like when you’re at the movies. you love being there but hate the seats and you’re in your head partially because of how they are positioned and what if you look disgusting what if you’re vile? and oh god are they able to tell?  oh wait, its a new week, and now its not as bad as you thought until oh waIT! oh GOD!  you just saw it again , with worse eyes than before, and now you’re crying in the work bathroom. until wait, let me trade out worrying about this issue with your hair texture. too much right? not enough? the girls always told you you should straighten it. should you start that again? no, you don’t want to, but you know its whats preferred and easier to look at- less of a mess, less loud. 

 I think everyday is just going to be the world telling me something is wrong with me and i’m supposed to now just learn to be okay with that. i dont know, but I wish i was someone who could have the right to just be. 

#ed tw #I feel like everyone who goes out with me and has a good to normal relationship w food and #doesn't feel the need to say things you shouldn't while eating is owed a kiss on the mouth and a lifetime of my love #they have no idea the solace they bring me but god the way i tear up when i think of them #I can count on a single hand who they are and i wish i could tell them how thankful i am but it wouldn't make any sense if they heard #how do you begin to tell someone that they make you feel less lonely performing a task you have to that makes you want to die #90% of the time? you can't

[lilacfarm]

i cant believe what i just saw on tumblr dot com.......................

#chase.txt #''lesbians notoriously hate trans women'' how DENSE can you be #jesus christ this is someone i looked up to???? #there are????? trans lesbians???? #and also to act as if lesbians are the main perpetrators of transphobia is ridiculous #newsflash: ALL cis people have the capacity to be transphobic #and GET THIS: members of the lgbt+ community are more likely to understand and be accepting of other members #to say that LESBIANS are the problem #not TERFS #just LESBIANS AS A WHOLE #i cant fucking believe #i continuously want to die #yall hate every single aspect of me

[nikkashidashipper]

people can be so fucking stupid im fucking losing my shit all my braincells are fucking dead

#xz_ #it might be two am #how are people this dense jesus fucking christ #like some of yall are genuinely lacking #its melting my brain

[arnicaxross]

Her bed in Fairie is everything a magical fantasy bed should be if imagined by a little girl. Hugely round, soft enough to sink into, and the curtains that envelope her bed in a rose red caccoon hang from the ceiling and wrap around the platform to look like a tightly closed flower bud from the outside. It's the most perfect bed she's ever laid in and she's constantly being pulled out of it. "FairieRaide," It's the low booming voice of a dwarf and she can already hear the clanking of his armor as she sits up and peers blearily through the transparent red silks. "Up. 'M up. What is it Jargyl?" Something has happened in the six hours since she came home, got her kid up and dressed for the day and sent him off down the road to the school before passing out face down in the pillows. "The enemy army has killed two more of your kins children, my Huntswoman." Her stomach twists tightly into something cold and painful as she pushes the curtains aside to snatch her phone from the polished stump shaped table next to the bed. No one, human or fae can explain why tech works just as clearly in Fairie as it does on Earth but they're exploring it, slowly. Her twitter feed is on fire. Two hashtags for two middle school boys who according to the police were attempting to rob a store and according to a handful of witnesses were kicking the door of a 7-11 where the white teenaged cashier took their money and then refused them service. "Jesus fucking Christ. We can't even get robbed without them killing us now." She doesn't try to choke back the tears and rage in her voice, the fae of all types find emotions noble. "Your kin already begin to assemble and prepare to ride behind the Hunt and the Sithen has begin birthing more of the old city from her depths." "Thank you Jargyl. Have everyone sent into the feasting hall to wait for me. Ask the Brownies to make food available and the Kobalds to check and see if more of the armory has appeared. There's going to be more potential riders than I have horse and armor." "Aye, Huntswoman. Your kin are proudly ready for war." Dwarves are, were, the predominant war race of the fae. If Jargyl sounds this proud, the small city must be in a state of boiling readiness. "Fuck. I'll be there in a few moments." It doesn't take long to shower and the armor of the FairieRaid wraps itself lovingly around her limbs as soon as she touches it, but it still feel like it's been a dangerously long wait as she stomps across the marble and moonstone flagstones poking ever so slightly out of the lush lichens on the ground and into the feasting hall. The Sithen City holds almost a thousand people in it, rescued from hundreds of protests, jail cells, and raids and it looks like easily a hundred of those adults are waiting on her under the interlaced leaf canopy of the feasting hall. The roof that was a dying tangle of English Ivy and unscented roses when she first fell into the realm is a lush tangle of kudzu and honeysuckle now, morning glories twisting in and out in a dozen shades of blues wherever they want to. It smells like home and bolsters her bravery as she steps out of the back paths and onto the crumbled Queen's dias, hands held up. "I know. I've seen it. Who's been monitoring the protest threads, hands up?" It used to be easier to pick her huntsmen. At first there was always more armor than human riders, then volunteers started filling saddles and over the last year she's had to resort to using lotteries and even letting the armor itself do the picking to streamline the process. A hundred hands in a dozen shades of brown shoot into the air. "You, how many protests are planned so far?" "Thirteen." The girl she pointed to stands up, Iphone in hand and twists tied back out of her face. Tamika lets herself feel the twist of guilt that back in the mortal realm the girl would have been on some high school campus instead of gathering as part of a council of battle, and lets it warm into just another small blaze of anger to add to her determination. The girl may have been in school in the mortal realm, but she still would have been gathered in a group, following the tending tags for protests. The only difference really is that even preparing to ride out, she's safer here than there. "Big ones in New York, Baltimore, Chicago, DC, Austin, and L.A, the main protest in Richmond, and a scattering of smaller ones around the country. The White House has already announced they'll be deploying the National Guard in Richmond, New York, and DC." "Alright, then those are our first targets because those are the people in the most danger. Is there anyone here that's new? Who's never been with us before a protest?" Almost a dozen hands thrust upwards. "Okay. All of you come sit with me while we eat. Everyone else, start eating. It's going to be a long day and a longer night." The Queen's table is long gone, shattered and the pieces dragged away decades before she was ever born, but pieces of the legs still just up from the dias like weather worn broken bones dwarfing the much smaller wooden table that still easily seats more than a dozen. The scarred timbers are loaded with fruit that is common, exotic, and inhuman in glistening crystal bowls, platters spill their airy rolls, dense honied cornbreads, and lightly sugared shortcakes, and in between the bowls and platters are jugs of wine, juice, and the clearest most delicious water any of them have ever tasted. There's no standing on ceremony, not when food is concerned. She's already loading her plate with mangoes and lychees, shortcakes and spoonfuls of berries by the time people start taking seats around her, a group that could be siblings or cousins bow their head, hands clasped and murmur a quick grace as others reach with quiet respectfulness around them to load their own plates. "What is this?" One of the maybe siblings, maybe cousins is holding a Rambutan with a look that waivers between amusement and faint horror. "It's good, is what it is." She snatches one herself and peels it quickly, showing him the glistening white interior before biting it away from the pit. "Did I bring all of you here with the hunt?" "Not us, Ma'am." Oh ghatdamnit, they're calling her ma'am. Either she's too fucking old or they're too fucking young. "We heard about the bottle trees." "It's a good trick, right? We're trying to get word moving to put them up in ways where by the time it starts to leak outside the community that they're gateways, there're too many to get them all down in a coordinated movement." "Are you using Pintrest and shit? Just take some really good pictures and start pinning them to boards. People will do anything they see on Pintrest." "And if you've got a thousand white girls doing it too, it'll take them longer to catch on that you're moving through them." She smiles at them. She knew it was a good idea. "We're running a social media campaign, getting people to do blogs about them as yard decoration, tutorial vids on YouTube, pin boards. See your community leaders when we're done here. We always need more accounts." She piles a heaping spoon of berries into the small well in the shortcake. "After we're done eating, everyone heads out to the stables. All the armor we've got will be there. Everyone lines up and walks the line, touching the armor. You'll know when it picks you. That tends to take a couple hours. After that, a horse, probably a horse, will come out and pick a rider. We'll spend a couple hours riding the area so everyone can get used to being on a saddle and when the dwarves join us, it'll be time to go." "So if you don't get chosen?" The woman at the end of the table leans forward as she speaks and every single one of the knots coiled atop her head is a different vibrant hue. Tamika wishes her hair looked that cute. "Then you can go home or you can stay and volunteer with the ground team. We need people here monitoring the tags, the trends, the livestreams...we can't ride and watch our timelines at the same time. Someone has to send the info through to the carriage teams." The last two times the mounts had paraded out of the stables, teams of enormous black horses had emerged pulling behind them the kind of carriage you only see in period movies involving hoop skirts. And both times they filled both coaches to the limit more than once before the night ended. She just expects them to be a part of the mounting up now. "Our ground teams are vital. We fly blind without them. If you don't end up in armor today, I hope we can count on you to stay and man the lines. And you don't have to try the armor at all if you don't want to. At least twenty people here are just here to volunteer for the ground team." The ambient sound in the feasting hall is rising as people finish eating and begin to talk to each other. Tamika crams what she can into her mouth, gulps down as much water as she can, and rises. "Alright, come on yall! Don't let me see a single fucking adult here cutting lines and shoving, you hear me!" The stables are around the far side of the hill and her breath catches like always at the scale of it as she crests the top of the path that leads down to the beaten dirt of the massive parade ground that makes up the stable yard. The building, a long lodgehouse of white marble bricks and timbers like redwoods, is big enough to hold animals far larger than anything that's ever come out so far. She's been careful not to think the 'D-word' because things that she thinks too hard about in Farie tend to come and find her, but things grow wilder and wake up faster with every new believer she brings back and it's just a matter of time until one day there's a fucking dragon in the stables. 'Shit. I thought the word.' Which is fine. Wild ass Jamie with her purple glasses and her hair in puffs could totally ride a Dragon. It's fine. 'Fuck me I thought it twice. That's a lot of armor.' The thoughts tumble one on top of the other as she lets her eye scan across the long line of tooled leathers and tiny linked chainmails hanging against the stable walls. There's still room to spare, maybe two hundred suits could stretch the building end to end, but there's a lot less space than there used to be. She might have to send down into the city to get more ground crew. Jargyl stands by the gates looking particularly pleased with himself. "And as many for my own people besides. It will be a full hall under the mountain tonight. You are a damn fine FairieRaide." "Yeah, I better be. DC has locked down for 10 blocks around the fucking White House and protesters are fucking pissed that they're not being allowed near the Mall, New York is already threatening to bring out the sound canons if the crowd becomes 'Unruly', and Richmond is the scariest because they're not saying anything at all. They're waiting for us in more places then I think I can get to." "The Hunt has more powers than you've learned, friend. You have not yet begun to harass the enemy armies." She used to feel guilty when Jargyl called the assorted police forces enemy armies. They were just cops, sone good and some not, but just people. But years of faceless riot masks, bone shaking sound attacks, pepper spray and water canons have made all the distinctions dissappear. Her methods have been the same since the first Wilde Hunt of just her and the dogs; run those who will break and run, draw all manpower, recruit, and evacuate as needed, but the response continues to escalate. Their weapons cut everything but flesh, they always have, and the weaponized response just gets bigger every time. People have filed into the paradeyard and no one needs an explanation. People on their phones are peeling off towards benches and hay bales, assembling themselves into teams as everyone else begins walking the long line with one hand out to trail across the armor. "My people should be waiting for me. Ill return with the cauldron before we eat."The first figure has stepped out of line, leather wrapping and shaping around her limbs as everyone applauds and cheers. "We'll be ready for you."