Rot-never-ends - Rot Never Ends - Tumblr Blog

funniest shit is going down on discord rn

i was watching my girlfriend screenshare nightcore and we did a beautiful dance. this is what true love looks like

Homura is just straight up one of the weirdest people imaginable. Like, forget about the time loop tragic doomed romance for a bit, I want to see what it looks like if she wins and then actually tries to romance Madoka. She has a massive collection of illegal firearms. She builds her own bombs. She lives in an ultra-modernist white box apartment that she's decorated with a couch made of concentric circles, a giant swinging knife pendulum to remind her of the ever-present flow of time, and a wall of several dozen screens. She communicates primarily in vague and ominous warnings and is more or less incapable of saying anything directly. She addresses everyone she meets by their full name with no honorific which comes across as bizarre and intimidating. If you count time loop years she's 26. She was raised in a catholic orphanage. I want to see her take Madoka on a horrifically bad date and cry in the bathroom partway through when she realizes she's fucking up

being unemployed is rad but being unemployed in a world that treats employment as a necessity that completes you as a person while also having zero access to unemployment benefits is maybe not so good

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

Several masked and leather-aproned court alchemists using iron tongs to remove a live and undamaged mouse from the mystical solar kiln

Sometimes queer discourse on this website reveals someone's issues to be legitimate, but concerningly non-universal.

the badfunniest part is this is usually done by the same parents who will preach about how back in their day they used to roam around outside til the street lights came on

something i don't see talked about enough is the fact that parents having constant surveillance over "their" children is normalized by our society

like seriously, parents will go install the Super Panopticon Kid Safe Parental Controls 2000 that sends their kid's internet history, recordings of their calls and texts, every file on their phone, and exact geolocation to the parents.

and if you ever point out that this is more likely to endanger kids than protect them, people suddenly bombard you with a thousand comments about how children are too stupid or immature to have the most basic privacy in their life.

not enough fucked up little freak animals in the barbie movie. not enough busted ass capital-c Creatures. barbie god's™ mistakes.

within fifteen minutes i have found two different grown adult men who have dating app profiles that say their worst fear is:

werewolves.

one was funny. two is like... hang on, do we actually have a werewolf problem in this town?

ive read a lot of anti-transition arguments towards people unsure about their gender that basically pose any sort of internal exploration as inherently solipsistic and narcissistic, with the mantra being that to think about your relationship to your assigned sex is already thinking too much; you should be thinking less! go get a job! work with your hands! volunteer for the needy! get involved in your local church! pray! marry! start a family! keep yourself busy, so you can never think about yourself again. maybe if you fill your mind with enough noise, you can drown your own conscience out.

im 100% not exaggerating btw, it's actually kind of madness inducing w how many times ive seen people use this mode of argument, it's extremely common. i think ive seen conversion therapy resources use a similar line of reasoning too. and like, if you are a cis person just trying to keep a closeted tranny in the closet, it works like a charm. you can, in fact, drown a person with enough noise and garbage until they stop thinking about their gender dysphoria or, well, anything. all the better that "i saw the tv glow" addresses it head on in relation to the closeted subject in question; yeah, go ahead, do it. you might be trans, you might actually be in serious danger, but it won't hurt if you don't think. and it will work for you, for years and years, and you'll always find more responsibilities and more opportunities to muffle your thoughts. but, maybe 5, 10, 20 years from now, none of the noise will be enough and it will dawn on you, how seriously in danger you actually are - but by that point you've drowned out your own inner conscience so aggressively that there's nothing there, just more of the static and noise of others and no interiority left to seek refuge in. you've got a job, you've buried yourself in work, you've married and have a family; you've given every part of yourself to others just to preclude the possibility of thinking about yourself, for yourself, and now there's no you.

moon snail 🌕

moon snail 🌕

at some point you have to realize that you actually have to read to understand the nuance of anything. we as a society are obsessed with summarization, likely as a result of the speed demanded by capital. from headlines to social media (twitter being especially egregious with the character limit), people take in fragments of knowledge and run with them, twisting their meaning into a kaleidoscope that dilutes the message into nothing. yes, brevity is good, but sometimes the message, even when communicated with utmost brevity, requires a 300 page book. sorry.

more space adopts! sold them all already but i think theyre neat and i like to show what im working on :)

Reblog if you think trans women:

A. Are women

B. Can be lesbians