jup1tersparx

[jup1tersparx]

[jup1tersparx]

the thing is, sitting with your legs curled up underneath you is so so comfy. until it's not. and your feet and legs are numb and cramping. and this happens every time

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It’s always “revenge won’t give you back what you lost” and “murder is wrong” and never how was the bloody violent revenge the bloody violent revenge looked fun was it fun

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there's been plenty of pushback against youtube's plan to age-check users by using an AI to analyze everyone's watching habits, but amidst that, i spotted this playlist circulating among some teens:

(picture is a reconstruction to protect the kids identity)

interesting! they're trying to trick the AI by watching videos that have a primarily adult viewer demographic? well im a curious fella so naturally i have to take a look-see, and

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firm reminder that if you’re saying shit completely indistinguishable from bigots like “we gotta start killing trans women” “trans men should just take some dick and they’ll be normal” “[slur for intersex people] are such a small minority and they always make it about themselves” (all real opinions i have seen Multiple times) then you can fuck right off

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i went to "mad at me" island expecting to find people i knew, something i understood. but when my boat landed, standing upon the shore were a million empty husks wearing my own face. every foot of the island was occupied, and everywhere i went, they watched me with contempt. they never spoke, never breathed. they simply watched. no matter how i grovelled and begged, snarled and cursed, tried to hide or kicked and hit, they simply stared. the hatred in their gaze was inescapable, but i could hardly return it, knowing that their doomed existence was of my own creation. knowing that the hatred was nobody's but my own. in the end i just wept, unable to stand the relentless gaze of my own infinite glare.

the guy who i accidentally cut off in traffic last week was there also

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i think when we used to point out that a story didn't need a sex scene what we meant was "this story reduces its women to mere sex objects and gives them no interiority so the sex scenes are gratuitous and geared towards the male gaze" it wasn't the sex that bothered us per se it was the objectification of female characters while givig them little to no consequence to the overall story but nowadays people mean "sex is icky and gross and has no merit to ever be portrayed in our arts which should be good and pure and never ever make ME feel discomfort" and it's like. i bet a bowl of unfrosted flakes looks real good to you rn

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oh god I got a picture of the moon you tumblr bitches are gonna LOVE

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pentiment + posts

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The first asexual person I met outside of the internet was a 65 year old woman.

I’d been interning with her as an artist/executive assistant for some time. To put a long story short she’d developed a tremor that kept her from doing a certain amount of studio work, so in between sending emails and invoices for her I’d chip in and help with line art or drafting on longer projects. A lot of it was the two of us sitting in her basement studio, doing our own thing, waiting for the phone to ring. We got to talking a lot. I’d just moved across the country and was still finding my footing.

There was a handyman she had over occasionally — he was a personal friend who enjoyed her company more than she enjoyed his. She didn’t dislike him by any means, but he definitely had feelings for her that she didn’t reciprocate. One day, after he’d come over to repair something-or-other and left, she and I started talking about relationships.

She asked if I had a boyfriend. I told her I wasn’t interested in being in a relationship with anyone and that I’d never had a desire to be in a relationship. Admittedly, I was bracing for the “You’ll meet the right person someday” response. I knew it generally came from a place of care, but it never changed how much I dreaded to hear it. I really respected my mentor and I was prepared to nod along to whatever response she gave me. Instead of anything I expected her to say, she just kind of nodded and said, “Me neither. I think I’m — what’s the term — asexual?”

I was ecstatic. I told her I was asexual, too. I saw her sigh in relief, the same way I did. I couldn’t believe it.

We didn’t get much work done that day, we just started talking about our experiences. She’d been married once when she was younger and even during that period of her life her disinterest in a sexual relationship didn’t change. She had a roommate after graduating college who confessed to having feelings for her and she had to tell her “It’s not that I don’t like girls, it’s that I don’t like anybody.” The roommate harbored enough bitterness over this that they had to split ways. Her mother told her that she would quote “rather have a gay daughter than a daughter who didn’t fancy anyone at all” unquote.

I didn’t have nearly as many experiences as she did, but I was able to share my own for the first time. I shared how it was easier to say I was taking time to work on myself than to say I had no interest in being in a relationship. We talked about the words “You’ll meet the right person someday” and “You’ll know when you’re in love” and “Don’t worry, one day you’ll meet some guy that changes everything.” As if something was broken.

“I’ve been alive for sixty five years,” my mentor told me, “and I’ve never felt like I was missing something, even if everybody told me I was.”

Currently, my mentor lives with her parrot, her cats, and her backyard-wildlife pals in a house that she owns. She makes art and hosts community art groups and volunteers at care homes and is the most self-fulfilled woman I’ve ever met. And she loves her life. She loves the people she knows and they love her, too. If I could be half as cool as she is when I grow up, I think that’d be pretty amazing.

“Asexuality” isn’t a problem to be fixed or a phase to grow out of. Sometimes you’re fifteen and sometimes you’re sixty-five. I knew in my heart that older asexual people existed but it changed me completely to meet one. We were here before and we always will be.

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i remember jonny talking about how helen's arc was meant to sort of poke at the idea that having a sketchy supernatural friend probably wouldn't be that great actually. like "this character is a bit of a scamp and you don't fully trust them, but they'll be there for you in the end! …..except they won't :)"

and i know the intention with heinrich is probably similar. but i don't care. i still want my own murderous scary grandpa pal. i don't care that he killed a guy he can do that if he wants

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I made a bad comic and now you have to look at it

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when I say “Let me ask my husband”, one (or both) of these things is taking place:

1. I am in a loving, happy relationship where we value and respect each other’s opinion

2. I am using this as an excuse to get out of something I don’t want to do (sorry habibi)

what is not happening here: I am being oppressed

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i cant be particularly mad at highschoolers for using chatgpt to cheat their homework because finding ways to cheat homework is a tale as old as time. i just wish this particular way to cheat homework was not so easily available yknow.

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produces one agonized scream before doing three little circles and curling up cozy to nap