#fucking ludicrous

[spenglercore]

tfw your GP is concerned enough about your mental state to bring up the possibility of being admitted, but you've worked in the local psychiatric ward before and know exactly how horrific things are in there.

[sugarpenchant]

Additional fun facts about Barnaby Joyce include: in recent years his party has tried (multiple times!) to introduce drug and alcohol testing for welfare recipients

This week, the Labour prime minister stated that drug and alcohol testing for parliamentarians wasn’t necessary

Please tell me you've seen that footage of Barnaby sprawled over a planter box & swearing into his phone filmed overnight

Ladies and Gentlemen, the former deputy Prime Minister of Australia

[stil-lindigo]

Ahmed Saad, a Palestinian man who had to jump through an insane amount of loops to get the funds necessary for escaping Gaza, is asking us all to donate to his friend’s family fund.

Mohamed is a hemophilia patient who needs access to medicine and to do surgery on his knees, his 11-year-old daughter also needs thigh surgery (she was supposed to do it outside Gaza in November but couldn't travel due to the border issues). Mohammed’s condition is worsening rapidly and, with Israel destroying the last functional hospital in Gaza, things are looking dire.

Please donate generously!

[perryparrotfish]

@kiddscove continued

Perry just returns Foxy’s grin with one of his own, showing off his usually hidden set of pointed teeth.

For all the flack the Fox got for his own chompers, it didn’t stop Fazbear Entertainment from continuing to give pretty much all of their animal mascots formidable mouths.....

Perry flicks at said rubber appendage playfully, the teeth marks were still more indents than actual tears at this point. If Foxy just left it alone and had his little visitors do the work for him, the parrot fish was sure the hook would be gone within the week.

Kids were rough. He would know, more than once he’d had some little shit pull at his tail or fins with intents to tear.

[spitblaze]

gnc and butch women (cis AND trans) and transmascs are punished for performing masculinity past certain thresholds of arbitrary attractiveness because people that cishet society categorizes or clocks as 'women' are not supposed to perform masculinity. hope this helps 👍

[peter-weir]

it’s really fucked how I, a childless full-time working adult on a fairly average wage cannot afford to buy a house or even an apartment in the city i was born (sydney australia). it’s fucked that a house in sydney today costs around 14 times my annual wage, when in 1995 (one year after I was born) the average house price was around 6 times the median annual wage. it’s fucked how i’d only be able to afford to buy a place if I shared finances with another full-time working adult (which i don’t), and that this is probably going to be a huge issue when I get towards ‘retirement age’ because the government basically doesn’t give a shit about you if you’re not a landlord with a nuclear family

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Love the fact that everyone's acting surprised that the We-Dump-Shit-In-The-Water country has had an outbreak of There's-Shit-In-The-Water disease.

[spaciebabie]

[whitehartlane]

one last post about this shite but all this summer has proven to me is that casual racism is still entrenched in every single bit of professional football to exist and most importantly people still don’t care about the actual racism but use it as a gotcha against their rival clubs and pat themselves on the back when the players from their clubs haven’t done anything wrong (yet). and that’s the thing, it’s the ‘yet.’ i would bet hard cash that there are players at every single club in the top 5 leagues who think the same things as the ones that have come out and said it and have been rightfully slammed for it. it’s only when we put aside our tribalism and actually work on dismantling the racist structures in football as a collective that we can eradicate them. but it is looking absolutely fucking bleak. racism isn’t there for you to weaponise against your rivals or to point score for your own. that this has to be said is shocking and it’s sickening seeing white people on this site doing exactly that. footyblr champions itself on being ‘progressive’ nah man you’re having a fucking laugh

[moonshynecybin]

we all know abt vale infamously saying that he's not part of the mile high club but 'something a bit more easier'. first of all unhinged thing to say. second how do you think that when down in the rosquez universe. who initiated etc etc. btw let's ignore that vale said that in 2013

i’m thinking. joking response with kernel of truth. i’m thinking. why come to you when you all come to ME. ease of access. i’m thinking the mile high club is hard because you have to convince your partner that an airplane bathroom is a sexy space (flying scares the NUTS off of me so i personally think. ack.) and that seems a little high effort for the (at the time) casual hook up king valentino rossi. he can simply get pussy in other places. easily.

AND i’m thinking he’s never reallyyyy thought about it until marc. who wants it all the time and often in public because they don’t see each other much outside of race weekends. and he is on the same flight for someee reason (testing stuff? all week long casual fuck buddy vacation?? literally fate??) and it’s normal! until marc taps him on the elbow, leaves the pads of his fingers on the inside of the skin there. leans over to point something out, hot breath on vale’s cheek. doesn’t bother moving his knee away (i’ve never been in first class leave me alone if that’s not how it works) and marc’s not even TRYING to be sexy in fact he actually keeps trying to show vale stupid mountain biking videos on his fucking phone, but suddenly there’s a shiver running up vale’s spine and he can’t stop catching his eyes on the line of marc’s nose and thinking the most deranged thoughts in the WORLD and bouncing his knee up and down and it’s like. oh. that’s why people do this. okay. well i need to get inside him NOW. leans over to whisper to marc while he’s chattering away and watches the way his face changes. the way his pupils dilate. gets a hand on the strong muscle of his thigh. and OFF to tha bathroom they goooo

[loudmound]

that "when you were a woman" quote from that fucking article pisses me off so goddamn much because if you asked me a question with that phrase in it i'd pop you in the jaw bcs I WAS NEVER A WOMAN IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Charlotte really be like: “Aye yoo! Stay the fuck away from my hooman ya crazy biach!” And everyone is losing their collective shit because here is one of the most dangerous creatures to roam the forests, curled up protectively around a human child, "the spawn of the demon" no less, while said child is petting and calming it down. Neytiri is in shock, Jake is blue screening, and Mo'at is just: "When will they learn?" whilst sitting beside Spider and giving him snacks to feed his friend.

Jake: what do you got there?

Spider: a palulukan!

Jake: NO-

[storm-of-feathers]

I maintain that stress sickness is a stupid maladaptive response like oooohhh the numbers in my bank account aren't big enough so now my body is cooking itself. bruh.

[brucequeensteen]

all r-dfem blogs on here are always posting 3 things: a) most vitriolic disgusting display of shaming people for how they look which almost always implicitly or explicitly aligns with some kind of eugenics or racism, b) how everyone who isnt them or disagrees with them is stupid or misguided or has no hope left for them, and c) how lonely and isolated they feel all the time . I wonder when they will join the dots

[prettyflyshyguy]

Hello, I appreciate you exploring your interests and I'm interested to hear more about the Live Free and Twihard SPN AU

HI. I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS. So does @snackhouse and we've been screaming at each other about this.

She came up with the name "Live Free or Twiharder"

We just really wanted to see the episode go further and double down more mostly.

Anyway gonna dump post some stuff from our conversations under the cut!! We've been bouncing back and forth a lot of ideas, writing snippets, and lamenting on how we wish he had better teeth.

Y'know girl talk things. "I wish this man had really fucked up teeth"

"Yeah"

This is a mix of ideas and comments from the two of us, so full credit goes to Snack for being a local legend and playing handball with me with our shared blorbo. Worse Dean Winchester.

We wanted Sam to have his soul, because the angst potential goes up 200% and we're all here for that. Instead of Sam watching Dean get turned, he gets there too late, and blames himself for what happened.

He's full nihilism mode, genuinely thinks this is the end, Sam tries to explain that there's a cure but Dean's too stubborn and too deep in the downward spiral to really take it in. He has self sacrificial tendencies and just immediately decides to take the fall.

"Dean please just listen to me for once."

"Look at me man, I'm a monster."

Our man is not coping.

So we're both like OK what if it takes longer to heal him. What if he's stuck for a bit longer. Ya gotta hang in a few more days. So then maybe he runs into Lisa, or she reaches out to Sam. She loves this man and after he has the worlds most bizarre and erratic behavior she's going to be really fucking worried, especially since he was aggressive out of seemingly nowhere. She's terrified of him AND for him.

We're cooking so hard the kitchen is on fire.

We are making an environment that is so toxic.

Snack's been cooking hard on how bad can the cure possibly be.

_

Everything was quickly becoming too much. Every sound, smell and sight was bombarding his brain like a 18 wheeler hitting a squirrel.

“My mouth tastes like blood and creepy-dude sweat.” Dean grunted, stepping towards the bathroom.

It was a bullshit excuse and they both knew it, but Dean didn’t think he could make it another minute standing so close to his brother. Stepping into the cramped bathroom he took a second to breathe in a space where he couldn’t hear all of Sam’s veins pulsing with blood, Dean’s gaze drifted towards the mirror.

I wonder if I’ll even recognize myself by the end of this…

He already knew what he was going to find, it’s not like he couldn’t feel them.

Gently peeling back his lips, Dean struggled against the waves of nausea that spilled over him at the sight. Feeling the fangs where there was different from actually seeing them. Now there wasn’t any doubt as what he was now.

Lightly poking the exposed tip of the fang, Dean could feel how sharp it was. Moving his fingertip upward, he slightly pushed the gum above the protrusion, pushing the tip of the fang out like massaging a cat’s foot to see its claws.

The other needle-like teeth seemed to be eager to join their friend, as the rest of the fangs slid from their slits in Dean’s mouth. He wrenched his hand back in horror. He could feel the sharp new additions sliding over his normal teeth. Like the bars of a cage they sealed away any signs of humanity he saw in the mirror. In a matter of seconds he found himself grasping the toilet bowl for purchase has he emptied his stomach.

-

^That's a Snackhouse special right there

-

His shaking hands rattled the keys, clanging in his ears. It made him wince. Pressing his eyes closed he felt for the lock and fumbled for a few agonising seconds in the searing light of the hotel corridor before he heard the familiar clack of the latch sliding open. Stumbling inside, he was relieved to find the interior of their room cold and dark.

“Dean?”

Sam’s familiar voice called out from the table.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Dean groaned as he lurched towards the kitchen, eyes fixed on the floor as it began to shift and spin. Waves of nausea had flowed through him all night, rolling through his body, shifting from his stomach to his chest. He crossed by the beds, leaning on them for support.

“... You ok?”

He stiffened as the feeling rippled through him.

“I’m good, Sammy.”

He heard his brother start to speak again, but stopped. Thank god. He needed a beer or two. Or three. And a nice dark corner, as far away from the table, and the windows, and the noise from the upstairs room, and the opposite corridor room. And the pipes. And the heartbeats.

He could hear two of them as he leaned on the wall, breathing heavily as he recovered from the growing ill sensation in his abdomen. His back was to the table but that didn’t stop him sensing and feeling and hearing. Every. Pump. One heartbeat was significantly faster than the other. Samuel must’ve gotten back early, he noted. He’d had moments of nervous spikes, but generally was taking things well, as expected. Sam on the other hand…

He grunted as he shuffled infront of the fridge and yanked the door open. The hinges whined and creaked, spiking the building throbbing pain in his head. Staring at the contents in dismay, he assessed the rations.

One beer, three cans of soda, two mason jars of cows blood. Both were almost full.

Scrunching his face in disappointment, he reached for the beer. He pressed himself up against the kitchen bench, gently nudging the fridge door closed with his right foot. It glided shut with another sharp and piercing squeal. He growled at it in response as he twisted the bottle cap open.

“I uh… accidentally… ran into Lisa just now and–”

He paused to take a swig of beer. The cold sensation was refreshing, but the taste was stale, and wrong. He gagged on the mouthful before forcing a swallow.

“Augh, what the hell.”

He brought the bottle up to examine the label. He’d had it before and it’d tasted fine then. Frowning, he turned his focus to the table.

“Hey did you–”

Sam was staring at him. He was fiddling with a bottle of the same beer, empty, in front of him. Samuel was not with him. Dean’s heart sank as the sounds of the water pipes, the street, the tv upstairs all began to fade out. She was sitting opposite to Sam, bottle in hand. She looked terrified, worried, confused. She was staring at him the same way she stared into his eyes when he was in her room, though she seemed to recoil in her seat slightly when he returned her gaze.

“Uhm, the uh, the eye thing is to be expected.”

Sam’s voice was a whisper but Dean heard it as if he was standing a foot away. His mind jumped to the nest. In the gloom, when the light caught their eyes, it reflected, like a deer when the car headlights scanned the countryside.

Or like a wolf.

Oh god.

“I gotta go.”

He barely blurted out the words, tossing the bottle of beer into the sink as he beelined for the bathroom door. Past the table. Past the sound. The unbearable, overpowering sound.

“Dean wait!”

Slamming the door behind him, he cursed when he remembered there was no locking latch. Pressing his weight into it, he felt the door handle turn gently. He pushed back against it, digging the heels of his boots into the grooves of the tiled floor as he slowly slid down to sit at its base, panting. The bathroom was his escape, the walls dampened the sound, he could turn the tap on to create white noise. The shower was the only time he felt safe. The drowning sound of the water droplets blocked everything else in the world out.

He could hear the thumping behind the door. Two channels in parallel, overlapping. The beating, beating, beating, beating, beating.

-

Creaking the door open just enough to peer out, he sighed in relief when he saw the hotel room was empty again. Sam was standing near the door, the lamp on the table turned off. He turned around and began to walk back towards the table, hitting the corner of one of the beds in the process. Dean would have laughed, if it had been any other day.

It suddenly occurred to Dean that it was dark. It was late, the blinds were down, and all the lights had been turned off. He could see everything as clearly as if it was a normal, overcast day. Sam was clearly struggling in comparison, as he slowly walked holding his arms out to avoid crashing into another obstacle. Once he had made it to the chair, he sat down and looked in the direction of the bathroom, though Dean could see he wasn’t exactly sure where to look.

“You can come out now, Dean. She’s gone.”

He could have told Sam that.

“The hell’d you let her in here for in the first place Sam!”

He gingerly took a few steps out of the comfort of the bathroom. The low thrum of Sam’s heartbeat was noticeable, but tolerable.

“She was owed an explanation, Dean. She reached out to me, practically demanded and honestly, she deserves to know what's going on.”

Sam was staring at him now, with that stupid puppy dog face he always used to get people to listen to him. Typical emotional bullshit.

“I almost bit her, Sam. I came so close and I–”

“I would have stopped you.”

“Would you have?”

Sam was silent. Grinding his jaw slightly, he breathed out and looked back towards the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Look, it's not your fault.”

He once again reached for the fridge door, pulling it open despite the creaks and squeals in protest.

“Augh, god. Fuck.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Dean glanced over at Sam, then down to his bandaged forearm. The white gauze was just visible underneath the edge of his rolled up sleeve as he reached into the fridge. The light bathed it in a sickening glow, the spots of red poking through were nearly impossible to hide.

“Nothing.” he responded curtly, slamming the door closed and shutting off the light.

-

^That's a Shy 4AM special for you. You ever open a fridge door and flashbang yourself in the hotel room? (Sorry I only have 5 jokes and they're all in constant rotation with a different skin like a videogame gun)

What you're all here for though, is TEETH TEETH TEETH TEETH

"Stares lomgingly at blood bag" nice

Anyway we started talking about the x files LMFAO but here's the most and best of what we've cooked together so far; we've had a lot of fun.

[wulfhalls]

anyone else convulsing on the floor I thought the convulsing on the floor was lovely today