#consider that I fucking hate myself

[femboty2k]

Its a night for terrible feelings

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[beanghostprincess]

Luffy not knowing about Zoro promising Sanji to kill him if he ever ends up losing himself makes me go feral because that's something they can only know about. Because Zoro's respect for life and death goes beyond anything, and Sanji knows he understands. Sanji knows that if somebody has to kill him, it's him.

And I don't even think it's because Sanji assumes Zoro's opinion of him is hatred and it would hurt less for him to do this, but because Sanji knows only Zoro would be able to treat the promise as it is. Because he would put Sanji's wishes before any feelings he has for him. It's not that Zoro doesn't care, but I think he respects people's ideals and decisions to the extent of being able to kill Sanji if he so desires.

That being said, he'd do it if there's no other way to fix it. If it's either dying or living as an emotionless machine, which is the same as dying for Sanji, Zoro would fulfill his promise. And there is just... Something about Luffy not knowing. Their captain. The man they're devoted to the most as if he were their God. Luffy doesn't know. It's something only the captain's wings are aware of and the thought of these two keeping this from Luffy until the end is just insane. Not even trying to make it romantic here, but the bond and respect these two have for each other is crazy.

Maybe it's the poetry of it all, too. Somebody like Zoro, who has looked at Death in her face multiple times and said "no", ending Sanji's life, who wants to give in to death to not experience a fate worse than death for him.

[submalevolentgrace]

for pretty much my entire life we have been locking up refugees in UN-certified human-rights-violating "offshore detention" camps for the heinous crime of daring to try and flee from death and worse, often from wars-on-terror we've helped wage, and have very much done highly decorated war crimes in. we hold them in conditions so bad that war-fleeing refugees have sown their mouths shut, tried to starve themselves, even children trying to kill themselves to escape what we're doing to them. WE are doing. because in my boots on the ground activism days i tried to fight the government on this, and the fact is, the australian public on the whole doesn't give a shit about us torturing refugee kids, half the country is in support of it, so the government gets a free pass no matter which side is in power. from howard to rudd to gillard to rudd to abbott to turnbull to morison to albanese, we lock up and torture refugees. the UN anti-torture inspectors aren't allowed to visit. the camps are run by a private USA prison contractor now.

and it's not like we can't organise a protest! we'll barricade MP's offices because of something an ally-in-law country is doing that we condemn, but when the blood is on our hands we don't wanna know, don't wanna fight, don't wanna admit. and albanese gets up there and says those barricades have "crossed a line", "there's no place for violence like this in our democracy", he says. you know where there is an implicit place for violence, apparently? cops beating indigenous kids to death on camera, the australian people are fine with that apparently. happens all the time. better have a curfew so those kids don't get too rowdy about it!

oh and the CIA agents and US soldiers we welcomed here to supposedly defend us, they rape a bunch of women and children, mostly also indigenous? better get ASIO and the AFP to monitor the population for anti-american sentiment, local cops do it plenty too and we can't stand up to the USA, we're about to go to war with our biggest economic trading partner on their behalf, the troop buildup locations have already been announced! sweep it under the rug little aussies, scrub it from your memory, who cares about raped children anyway? not worth protesting, apparently.

we are right in the middle of the asia-pacific, with loosely speaking about a 5th of the population ethnically or culturally asian, and they are absolutely terrified of speaking out about how many hate crimes they suffer constantly, because the other 80% of the population is more culturally invested in american politics than the fact that labor considers pauline hanson an ally. i don't blame the 20% getting hatecrimed for being scared to speak up, i sure as fuck blame the rest of us for not protecting them, and for doing those hate crimes. "wE'rE a MuLtIcUlTuRaL sOcIeTy!! nO rAcIsM hErE!!", but we'll organise citywide marches in the middle of a pandemic if a black american kid gets killed over there, and then tell blak people they're spelling it wrong.

then we flood the region with our white-bleached propaganda and "culture", to control smaller governments and and lure the people of the region here for our economic benefit; the wealthy as fodder to fund the education complex, and the poor to work below-minimum-wage-slavery "jobs programs" on our great proud aussie battler family run farms.

it's all out in the open. the torture, the murder, the rape, the hate crimes, the technically-it's-legally-distinct-from-slavery, it's all known, all reported regularly on the news, endlessly, cyclically, every few months or years, for my whole life. fuck knows what else we're doing and i don't know about because pine gap prevents it from reaching english language news.

i know the internet zeitgeist really only cares about the single latest trending topic to happen, so you're wondering what that is to make me react enraged and ashamed; but it's everything. i haven't even scratched the surface, just ranting off the top of my head.

every day i carry the shame of what a disgusting violent colony nation this is; to the people who consider themselves australian, to the people here before the nation and their descendants, to the people surrounding us now. i carry the guilt of failure to stop it, and casual complicity of having given up the fight because i couldn't handle it. i think that's what most activists do here, give up in shame, because activists aren't fighting the government - we have one of the most free and open democracies in the world, and the spineless cowards in charge absolutely will do what the populace whims of them - activists here are fighting the cruel and apathetic average australian, who either don't care, or active condone it all. we have the blood of this country on our hands.

so.

what has australia done now?

it's fucken wednesday, mates. nothing new.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

the thing i love about bill cipher is that even after i've learned all of this stuff about him, seen him at the most vulnerable he'll ever get, seen him at his most innocent, i still can't give a flying fuck about trying to justify his actions. yes he's traumatized, yes he was twisted into what we know today, and while it gives a semblance of context to why he did what he did, it doesn't matter. he still ruined ford's life. he still drove and baited multiple humans to suicide. he still tormented every human he saw as his ticket out of the consequences of his own actions. he still took delight in his actions. he was willing to commit genocide for fuck's sake!!! (freezing all of the humans into statues). trying to explain away what he did does not get rid of what he did, but it certainly puts it in perspective. you won't be catching me being a bill apologist any time soon <3

[imavikingo]

[stuckinapril]

I’ve always loved medicine bc it’s the perfect intersection of science and humanity—the two things I value above all else in this world. Truly adored it since I was in the cradle. But now I’m thinking about how so much of my journey to neurosurgery will have to involve KILLING my feelings essentially bc how do you survive otherwise

[scrawnytreedemon]

While I intend this blog to remain a largely news-free space due to the constant hellstate of the world, let me be clear that I stand in full support of both the Palestinian and Jewish peoples who are currently experiencing relentless hate and suffering in these horrid times.

I am disgusted at the number of people, especially "progressives" on this website who have used this situation to spread both Islamophobia and Antisemitism. This goes double if you dared to reblog those "punch nazis/fascists <3" and "[x] are welcome here!" posts while in the next breath spreading dangerous fucking narratives that kill people.

So many people in online political spaces evidently see this as nothing more than a case of picking "sides", when ultimately what matters is supporting the oppressed against fascist governments and militias, wherever they are.

Common people will always have more alike with each other than their leaders. This is not a novel concept. Your activism should always be motivated by love and compassion first, and hatred second. If you use your beliefs as an excuse to find an acceptable target to vent your hatred towards regardless of the actual material outcome, you are no fucking activist.

You're a bigot.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

well. did you fucking miss me.

[multi-lefaiye]

i could ask you to elaborate on why purple boy is slowly turning into a lion monster. and you can answer that. but what i really wanna know is what killed him the first time.

:3c oh i am so glad you asked this question

short answer: his mother. or at least, the creature that used to be her.

long answer: WELL. (cw under the cut for non-graphic descriptions of body horror, discussions of ableism and terminal illness, and also just. straight up. i'm telling you how eden died. not going into graphic gorey detail but yeah </3)

so, eden's mom died when he was 12. famously, that's an event that really helped shape his life, second only to abdiel leaving six years earlier. however..... it's important to know that those two things are related.

y'see. eden doesn't know this. but hannah had been sick for a long time, and part of why abdiel left was to go find a cure for her. that's not what she wanted him to do, of course. hannah wanted him to stay with her so they could enjoy the time she had left. but he was determined to cure her and that he'd have to leave her in order to do so. so. welp. her wishes in this situation would have to wait.

another important part of this puzzle is that abdiel is a necromancer by trade. he knows other schools of magic as well, sure, but necromancy has always been his focus. and he specifically is a major proponent of the idea of using necromancy for healing, rather than simply resurrection. that's what much of his life's work was focused on.

so, abdiel sought to find a way to use necromancy to help cure his sick wife, and he failed, and she died. and eden, who was left feeling worthless and alone after his father abandoned him (and after basically all the adults in his life failed him, one way or another ), decided that part of his revenge would be destroying that work and making it his own.

eden would become the only dr. linnaeus remembered by history, by doing what abdiel had failed to do. by not only reviving hannah, but curing her illness entirely, and then using that to cure anyone else suffering like her who wants to be saved.

of course, by the time eden knew any necromancy magic himself, hannah was long dead. and... from a purely practical perspective, eden was nowhere near skilled enough as a spellcaster to be able to use any traditional necromancy to revive her. so eden decided, instead, to try something new.

he was going to revive his mother through transmutation magic, through the alchemy and artificer infusions he was already learning and showed a great affinity for.

i'll skip ahead in this explanation, but basically eden's idea was to create a new body for his mother's soul to inhabit. he wouldn't be reviving her in her original body, no, he'd be reviving her in one free of the pain and illness she'd suffered from for much of her life.

(before i continue, i'll just go ahead and establish this now: no, eden did not consider whether or not hannah would want to be resurrected. by this point, his tunnel vision on beating abdiel, one way or another, was beginning to consume him. ethical concerns didn't matter so much at that point.)

skipping ahead again. when eden finally succeeded at the ritual he'd created, it... backfired, putting it nicely. the creature he created wasn't hannah, not really--it had her face and it spoke in her voice, but it wasn't her. it was a mass of limbs and teeth, with too many eyes and an enraged howl that shook eden to his core.

he tried to reason with it at first, to get it to recognize him and calm down as it thrashed around his lab. and it lashed out at him, slashing him across the face and throwing him to the floor. and for a moment eden just... lied there, shaking and staring at the monster he'd created. it hurt. that thing wasn't his mother, but it was her face and her voice screaming at him, cursing him for creating it.

and then he was just... angry. how fucking dare this thing attack him? how dare it be such a failure? how dare it ruin everything he was working for? how dare it act like this was his fault?

before he really knew what he was doing, he grabbed a hammer from his artificer tools and lunged at the creature, intending to put it out of its misery so he could try again. clearly, he needed to refine the ritual, but he was on the right track. he just-

(eden managed to kill his creation, but it fought back and mortally wounded him in the process. he shoved its body into the open fire at the heart of his lab, where he'd brew potions and boil water when he needed it. and by that point, he was too exhausted to keep going and try to find help. so he just... lied there, and bled out slowly.)

(as a not-so-fun aside to this. when eden's body was found a few days later, there was an investigation launched by the university. a recent graduate dying brutally in his university-funded lab? yeah that raised some eyebrows. ultimately, though, said investigation determined that eden had killed himself, as by then the creature's remains were burned until they were unrecognizable. everyone assumed it was just some... *thing* he'd been studying.)

(very few people were surprised by that news.)

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[heretherebebookdragons]

Not hotd fandom driving out yet another talented artist. Why is this fandom so hateful, I don't understand! ;_;

Let people have fun and play, and be kind. For fucks sake.

[33max]

me when I remember that I suck and people hate my entire existence

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

hai guys :3

[anotherpapercut]

just officially sent in my resignation for my fucking childhood dream workplace

[puppyeared]

if you're walking at 5mph, but your feet are on sideways, and the sky turns green at 2:53, and Keanu Reeves has been sent to Neptune, what's your favorite video game

i cant walk 5mph in the first place, im only 5'4 and i have to walk like marvin the fucking martian everywhere i go

if my feet were on sideways i would still manage to get my shoes on wrong because i cant tell my left from my right

if the sky turns green that means every single car on the road is allowed to go at the same time

keanu reeves cant be sent to neptune with an expired passport

my favorite videogame MIGHT be professor layton and the diabolical box just because ive never been able to get over the ending, but mario galaxy and deltarune also come to mind