#this is satire don’t come at me

[bwambiee]

LMFAOOO LOOK AT THIS LOSER GETTING HIT IN THE FACE 😹 bro said “i’ll stop you” and gets knocked

[hjansetv]

UZI GIVES BIRTH?!

This is satire pls don’t come at me a friend asked me to draw this at 2am

[calyxthenerd]

The difference between how the average guy and girl copes with their trauma can be seen when comparing Jason Dean and Violetta Castillo:

She was dragged across the world by her father because he couldn’t handle his grief over his wife’s death, she went on to become a world-famous singer

He was dragged across the United States by his father because he couldn’t handle his grief over his wife’s death, he died at seventeen while trying to blow up his high school

[sillymacaronic]

tally hall pinterest makes me want to peel my own skin off with a vegetable peeler

what possessed “their tapeworm <3” to go out of their way to make & upload this to the internet…

[rightthrough]

none of u will ever get the 2014 wintergirls skinny love “my anorexia journey” “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” diet coke skins uk vibes like i do 💔

[mydarlingdahlia]

I keep forgetting how ancient Muzan actually is

That bitch was probably at the signing at the Declaration of Independence

Wouldn’t be surprised if I saw his name on there tbh

[saturnslastgoodbyes]

everyday I see a female reader x xie lian or Hua Cheng I internally die and crumble into my knees. then I see it’s seperate and I cry even more

they are a two for one pack how dare you,,,,

[burtlancster]

i have a goal to watch the whole burt filmography but how am i supposed to get through like. Zulu Dawn. or The Scalphunters. i managed The Unforgiven but good god. any advice?

umm ig remember he’s not your friend he was an actor and an independent producer w the power of a studio in the 1950s and i think his work needs comprehensive examination. acknowledge the things that make you uncomfortable—and why, use historical context in your analysis, don’t compromise your morals, and idk sometimes just turn that shit off. ​there’s more than a few landmines in his career and he never balked at good faith criticism.

live laugh media literacy ✨

as for the plain awful but not tear-your-hair-out awful shit just hang in there. south sea woman sucks ass but you get thru it.

[the-fog-system]

.

[wilwheaton]

In a new interview with the New Yorker ahead of his 70th birthday on Monday, the comedian explained his theory about why there’s no “funny stuff” to watch on TV anymore. “Nothing really affects comedy,” he said, “People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it.” Instead of getting sitcoms like M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and All in the Family, audiences miss out, he said, as a “result of the extreme left and P.C. crap, and people worrying so much about offending other people.” [...] A look back at some of his earlier comments on a similar subject adds some context, if not clarity. In 2015, Seinfeld sat down for an episode of The Herd with Colin Cowherd podcast, where he explained his aversion to performing stand-up on college campuses. “I don’t play colleges, but I hear a lot of people tell me, ‘Don't go near colleges. They’re so PC,’” he said on the show. After giving an example of his teenage daughter using the word “sexist,” he concluded that young people “just want to use these words: ‘That’s racist’; 'That’s sexist’; ‘That’s prejudice.’ They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Jerry Seinfeld Draws Right-Wing Praise for Comments on ‘Extreme Left’

This is such a bummer. Tell me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer without telling me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer.

It’s interesting to me that he says these legendary sit-coms, none of which were cruel, punching down, or hurtful, but were actually satirizing power, celebrating women, changing societal norms through representation, and using comedy to do it all, wouldn’t exist if “the extreme left” had anything to do with it.

Umm. Who does he think created these shows? And is he really that ignorant? Has this guy never read a single interview with Norman Lear? Or literally anyone in the cast of Mary Tyler Moore? I mean. Come on, man!

Teenagers and college students don’t know what they’re talking about when they tell a privileged, entitled, multimillionaire Boomer that his “jokes” can be hurtful, and maybe he could use his tremendous talent to do comedy that is just as funny without being hurtful. Okay. Got it. Keep saying that, and see how far it gets you, buddy.

Hey, Jerry Seinfeld: when blue checks on Twitter are celebrating you being a dick, it’s not because you’re so funny and such a brilliant comic; it’s because they love how you’re validating what garbage they are. You can’t see that, or don’t care, and that’s such a huge bummer.

[the-californicationist]

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk. 

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity. 

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words. 

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death. 

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile, 

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it. 

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box. 

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you. 

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled. 

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff. 

“Fuck me!” He shouted. 

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped, 

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder. 

“You alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale. 

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry. 

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together. 

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs. 

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered. 

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand. 

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations. 

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply. 

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it. 

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment, 

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you. 

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

[truelliaster]

what’s up with ya’ll? tryna use grammar to sound more punctual when in reality all you’re doing is looking angry

[hichew76]

Swifties are now the 6th largest voting bloc in the United States

[junglejacks]

omg why hasn’t aew posted happy birthday cm punk like i get there’s a legal investigation and he might be fired but it’s so wrong i’m gonna fight tk how hard is it to say happy birthday ughhh >:(

[mydarlingdahlia]

I just had a eureka! moment guys

If you’re tall, your pronouns are: fee/fi/fo/fum

And you short mfs are: eeny/meeny/miny/mo

[wizzard890]

So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings. 

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is. 

Like, let’s go down the list here. 

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals? 

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene? 

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated! 

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible. 

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)