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I know the context is that Superboy has been struck dumb by red kryptonite. But come on, as is that's pure comedy. Action Comics 259

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enjoying a character is so embarassing like ugh yes i do want to buy this thing that has him on it. just because it has him on it. what next. a fucking shrine? get real.

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this line delivery is so underrated yet lives rent free in my head

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Fyi

( x )

Happy creating folks

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The first post of the new year!!

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Just so like... it's clear... anyone who censors words that contain "man" or "men" to anything like "xxn" that's TERF shit.

Any reference to women/womanhood that solely revolves around having a uterus or "womb" is TERF shit.

Any sentence where the OP says they support people being "trans identified" with quotes around ""transwomen"" or ""transmen"" is TERF shit.

I'm seeing a lot of you baby Tumblr gays out there not knowing what these specific TERF dogwhistles look like.

"Wombxxn" is an incredibly dumb way of spelling "woman" that treats the word "man" like a slur and also reduces women to their ability to give birth.

"Trans identified" is their way of saying "this person calls themselves trans, but I don't believe they are."

Saying "People should be allowed to identify however they wish, but we still need to protect women/children" IS TERF SHIT.

Learn to identify this garbage, because not all TERFs are going to spell out their intolerance for you. Some of them are going to try and seem reasonable and polite and normal, and it's fucking dangerous to our community.

Also unpack any internalized transphobia and your transmedicalism, because both those things will have you quickly siding with TERFs and bigots.

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2024 is the year we stop “consuming” and go back to “reading/watching/listening to/playing” things

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The anxiety of the internet

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Reblog to kill it faster

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my friend took in a stray and she’s the cutest kitty ever but he named her oil so whenever he sends a picture of her me and my other friends look like we’re roleplaying as the US military

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Hey you! wanna use the newly copyright-free Mickey Mouse designs in a way that will spite the Disney Corporation, republicans AND make Walt Disney roll in his grave all at once???

Then stop talking about shitty edgy horror remakes and make LGBT+ merch out of it instead. I’m not kidding.

For years, Disney has patted itself in the back for being ~LGBT+ friendly~ by…..reintroducing their “first gay character” every movie or so and slapping rainbows on their overpriced merch to make it even MORE expensive, all while throwing money at bills like the Don’t Say Gay Bill behind our backs.

To this day, Emily Gwen (creator of the lesbian flag as we know it) still struggles with being homeless and jobless while the biggest megacorporation on earth squeezes money out of her design without her consent.

Not to mention how they’ve screwed over showrunners like Dana Terrace (creator of The Owl House) for making two girls kiss. Disney keeps making money out of their hypocrisy and then having the gall to claim they care about their LGBT fans.

You wanna stick it to them? Make LGBT+ merchandise using their mascot; as long as it follows copyright laws, you can make money that would ACTUALLY help LGBT+ causes (whether it’s donations or because you as a LGBT+ artist need the money) and there’s nothing they can do about it. It’s a much better use of your disdain towards Disney than ‘Steamboat Killy’ or whatever

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Hi my name is Michael Williard Steamboat Walter Mouse and I have mouse ears (that’s how I got my name) that are black and on either side of my head and feel like fuzzy cotton balls and black soulless eyes that consume lost children of the parks and a lot of people tell me I look like Walt Disney (AN: if you don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Remy but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I drive a steamboat but Im best at whistling. I’m black and white all over. I’m also the most recognizable public figure other than Santa Claus (he’s disgusting), and I like spending my summers in florida where I’m the most important guy there (everyone loves me). I’m a mouse (in case you couldn’t tell) and I literally only wear shorts and shoes and my steamboat hat. All of my clothing is brand-only because i am a billionaire. For example today I was wearing my favorite pair of white shorts (some people say they’re red but they are haterz) and my matching steamboat hat, my full circle black eyeliner, white face paint, my white shoes that come up to my ankles and are very soft and nothing else because I am a mouse. I was driving my steamboat and spinning the wheel. It was sunny and I had the feeling like a movie was about to start, which I was very happy about. Ron DeSantis stared at me. I put my middle finger up at him.

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God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

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