orphiclovers

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Drew that scene in the epilogue where yoohans waiting for kimcom outside. I think hsy in a parka is so cuteee <3

+ extra

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scrolling through tumblr at the family function is like russian roulette. it’s either architecture, poetry, ethel cain, or gay porn. every time i scroll im like… pls don’t be dick don’t be dick don’t be dick.

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DANG DANG DIGGITY DANG DANG

THE HEATHERS (yoohankim edition and jdj gets hit with the woman beam)

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おゆう

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STOP LOOKING AT THIS POST AGAIN I thought I was finally free😭

🙂↕️ …..

I'm not posting this.

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@trashforao3 WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND THAT POST i'm not reblogging it but you know what you did

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thinks about concentric and proceeds to spontaneously combust

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"getting laid" is very hot and sexy. "getting off"? great news as well. so you would think "getting laid off" would be wonderful news for your penis. but alas

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CAVEMAN DOING STANDUP: two moons ago, me daughter ask for new furs. no want mammoth or giant sloth, no, now want cheetah fur. me so tired of "fast fashion."

OTHER CAVEMAN: [plays a rimshot on two coconuts and a scallop shell]

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There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

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for my next trick I'll get really into homestuck

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puppy play but halfway thru i suddenly start barking and run off into the woods faster than u can keep up with. u quickly lose sight of me. u call out my name and whistle to no response. u walk slowly in hopes of hearing where i may be but its dead quite. my barking stopped some distance away. it was getting dark when i ran off but now its pitch black. against ur better judgment u leave in hopes that ill come back of my own accord. 3 days later uve given up hope. ur printing out lost dog posters when u hear scratching at the door. u open it to see me. u lunge forward and hug me so excited i came back. immediately upon being back u feel like somethings off. i look and sound just like me. but i walk around the house like i hadnt been there. i refuse to eat anything even treats. and when u look at me u get the sinking feeling these are different eyes staring back at u. almost as if theyre seeing more than usual. u initially write it off as just being due to stress of being in the woods alone for a few days. but one day in the middle of the night u hear a scratching. u think its me but im asleep on the floor by ur bed. u walk out into the hallway. u follow the noise to the front door. under the sound of scratching is whining. my whining. u swing open the door to a barrage of licks and headbutts. the joy u get from seeing me immediately sinks into a gutteral fear as u realize the dog that came back. the dog uve spent a week sleeping next to. was not me. but some kind of imitation. i start snarling. then whimpering. u dont need to turn around to know what was standing behind u. u pick me up and run as fast as u can. stomping footsteps way too close behind u. and then. nothing. u turn around just in time to see the thing that was once imitating ur dog lurch into the woods. it lets out one final bark in my voice. then disappears into the trees. and then we like. have sex or something

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sweet dreams

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When I went to the hospital after my botched hanging in college, my stay actually extended across two psych wards within the same institution: the third floor (where I was admitted first), and the second (where they transferred me for a while before eventually releasing me). The former was for the really severe cases (the homicidals, the suicidals, the dangerously psychotic), while the latter was divided into the half for “chemical dependence” and the half for extremely sad college students. In my case, they sort of graduated me from the third to the second as an intermediary step before release once they thought I was no longer an imminent threat to myself

As you can probably infer, the limitations on yr personal freedom on the third floor were a lot more severe: it was the one with the strap down bed in the isolation chamber, no access to yr own clothes, everything locked down, no razors or worthwhile pens/pencils. On the second, the atmosphere was friendlier, they let you visit the cafeteria for meals and take supervised walks on the grounds, and there were a few more little indulgences in what you could keep and use. And ofc you saw less use of physical restraints etc

But the more I reflected on my time there, the clearer it became how much more tolerable the third floor was. One difference was pretty straightforward: while you had to attend a certain amount of group therapy there in order to graduate down a floor, they didn’t force you to attend any particular sessions, and didn’t bug you if you wanted to spend yr time in yr room reading instead. On the second, you were obliged to attend every single ludicrous session every day, on pain of being stripped on yr right to eat in the cafeteria downstairs.* (Ofc you might say, Well that’s still an improvement bc upstairs you could not eat ANY meals in the cafeteria; this response totally fails to understand how stigma and isolation practically function)

But this merely points the way to the real difference between the two. The third floor had a sort of manifest, monomaniacal teleology, and every deprivation of yr personal freedoms served to optimise for this variable: the function of the floor was to keep you from injuring yourself or others. Everything else followed, in bloodlessly paperclip maximising fashion, from this basic goal. And while I could not and cannot agree to this optimising heteronomy of the ward’s institutional will, I could at least understand it, to an extent even respect it

The aims of the second floor, by contrast, were very nebulous. This went along with the staff clearly enjoying a higher opinion of themselves, and all the condescension to go along with that. The pretence of individual respect and affirmation suffused all the minor privileges with a vague sense of indebtedness, though ofc the staff would never put it that way. They would say, instead, that respect is mutual and trust is built interpersonally, meaning that their letting me eat shitty fake eggs straight from the basement dining hall once a day entitled them to my simpering perpetual deference. Where one storey above they sensibly anticipated fear in accord with conditional threats, here they expected gratitude in response to tenuous privileges

When I explained this to my gf, she replied that a lot of my stranger political impulses could probably be described metonymically as attempts at moving from the second floor back to the third. Which is pretty perceptive tbh