if u r trans no matter what ur agab and ur gender may be there is a good chance u will have a voice in ur head telling u that u need to lose weight to pass and to have people take u seriously . that is the voice of the DEVIL do NOT LISTEN TO IT !!!!
It’s important to me that everyone understands that if you’ve got an autistic friend who periodically sends you pictures/videos/whatever of your Thing, because they know you’re into it… They love you.
Now don’t get me wrong, It may not necessarily be romantic love, they might not want to run off to a little farm in Montana where you’ll be married forever and raise little sheeps…
But they definitely love you. And they’re so happy when they spot a post about X and go “ooh, my friend likes X! I’ll send it to them!”.
Because they love you and want you to be happy.
Happiness is stored in the 3am discord DM of a link to a Tumblr post of a cute raccoon
This is the digital equivalent of gifts as a love language and it is wonderful
Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.
Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.
Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.
You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.
As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.
Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.
This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.
A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.
This snake is trying to hold onto the mouse box - when exploring, snakes will often coil around things to help them stay secure. It’s just a snake thing. The box is too light to use as an anchor point, though, so it’s moving with their body and the snake is a bit confused about that. All’s cute here, though - nothing but relaxed and curious body language from this snake (note the relaxed muscles, steady movement, and alert but not worried tongue flicks).
imagine the first time you stumble upon the Bread Guy
So some TERF got dropped by her doctor after she harassed medical staff via phone and messages about a trans flag that they have at their front desk. She was going on about how they should take it down and how they're supporting misogynistic "bepenised males" (A real quote, you can find the message on Twitter I think). Now transphones are going on about how she should sue because she's a cancer patient that got her "lifesaving treatment" dropped because of the evil transes.
Like.... Fuck around and find out! That's what you get for being a bigot! Maybe she should have kept her rancid mouth shut and focused on her own problems instead of crying about how medical staff are decent to trans people and aren't weird transphobic freaks like her. It's crazy how she just HAD to address something as small and irrelevant as that. Personally, when I go to a store or service, especially medical ones, I like to pay attention at how the workers treat me and how good of a job they do, not look around for flags and pronoun pins to bitch about.
This is such a cis white woman behavior. They really have nothing better to do huh.
I saw that! And yeah that medical centre was right to do it. They even offered to help her find a new place so it’s hardly like they left her stranded.
I’d support it in the case of homophobia, racism, anything like that too. If you can’t shut the fuck up / keep your shitty views to yourself, don’t cry when you get consequences from it. You don’t get a free pass to be an abusive piece of shit just because a) you’re a woman and b) you have cancer.
I’ve legit heard about someone’s grandma being warned she’d have to find another chemo treatment center if she kept being mean to the other patients.
Turns out being an asshole isn’t a protected class.
Her equating trans people to Nazis is ironic considering the Nazis hated trans people so much they burned every bit of trans-related research there was in Germany. Transphobes will always be closer to Nazis than most of us are for that very reason.
ALT
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