#yes yes yes im aware

[coachbeards]

me, even though it’s literally my own headcanon and Not canon: i can’t believe they never had beard and roy bond over receiving injuries that end their competitive careers

[bloodbending]

can’t believe tiktok is actually getting banned, twitter is infested with bots and brainworm-infested musk bootlickers, facebook is king of QAnon, instagram caught the plague from facebook and is dying a slow death in real time… and as the dust settles… only Miss Tumblr is left standing… failing upwards once again

[koobiie]

i <3 chef characters

[mroddmod]

you'll never know.

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[ethosiab]

I see a lot of designs out there in which tango has red tinted glasses/goggles (mine included) but I don't think enough of us acknowledge how much that would affect his vision

[ladyaugment01]

this morning, I discovered that this kid in Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla is meant to be the kid from Hamtaro

so while GxM doesn't exist in any prior Godzilla timeline, it does exist in the Hamtaro universe, which to me implies that the sentient hamsters are some form of mutation as well, possibly irradiated by-

[c0ckandb4lls69]

Phoenix as soon as maya mentioned Edgeworth in Justice For All

[cthulhum]

does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship

[fuffy2002]

dash MD

screencaps

[alioshakaramazov]

when they say shakespeare is inmortal and eternally relevant what they mean is that he was making one brain cell jokes in the 1600s

[ca-3]

something something, maybe Sumi shouldn't have been in P5S 😔💔 /hj

Collection of Sapporo based comics that spawned goofy doodles too... because people's twt comments make me laugh

[attyrocious]

no holding back

[thefishywizard]

*sounds of screaming and breaking glass in the background* the kids are alright.

[padmestrilogy]

padme’s second-ever scene is a royal court meeting where she sits on a throne and says things like “we must continue to rely on negotiation” and “i will not condone a course of action that will lead us to war.” this is the introduction we’re given for naboo: a peaceful planet, a peaceful queen. but in the film’s moment of triumph, padme sneaks back in to the court and arms herself with two guns hidden in her throne’s compartments. the same throne she preached diplomacy on. it’s not subtle! she’s been a soldier from the start; there was never peace.

[raayllum]

Is it you? Have my prayers been answered? Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more? You look different, your eyes look tired Your frame is lighter, your smile torn Is it really you, my love?