why is it always the fancylad boy-king type whos the bottom. maybe his tough loyal knight who uses his body to protect and defend him and lives to serve him wants to get railed
maybe i just like it when masc dudes with scars and calluses and a devotion complex bigger than the moon get topped by troubled prettyboys with hands thatve never worked a day in their life. who said that
“wearing all pink to the barbie movie” “wearing full suits to the minion movie” the children yearn for themed parties
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.
Put googly eyes on your blender pls
it wasn’t actually my blender, I was staying at a friend’s house
Colleen Moore’s fairy tale castle dolls’ house. Moore was one of the most successful silent film stars (famous for popularising the ‘Dutch boy’ bob), and she started creating this dolls’ house in 1928. She enlisted the help of professional planners and architects, such as Horace Jackson, the set designer at First National Studios. The entire house can be broken down into individual pieces and packed into specially designed shipping crates, and from 1935 to 1939 Moore took the dolls’ house on tour through the U.S. to help raise money for children’s charities, which proved hugely successful. Moore gave the dolls’ house to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago in 1949.
Every type of woman becoming a porn category with a list of tropes is so fucking horrible. And the fact that people encourage that bullshit too
"I want a goth dommy mommy" dudes should have their internet connections cut off forever I'm so serious
Its butch appreciation day appreciate ur local butch <3
I wasnt kidding btw
THIS POST INCLUDES TRANSFEM BUTCHES AND WAS MADE BY A TRANSMASC BUTCH LESBIAN. TERF LOSERS FUCK OFF
as someone who was on tumblr in 2011 when suits premiered and it seemed like no one in the world watched it except for tumblrinas who genuinely (and correctly) believed that the main characters were in a 24/7 Dom/sub workplace relationship, i can’t even begin to explain how disorienting the past few weeks have been
No matter how old you get, you still have Doubts.
The longer I look at this, the more I love it
Little Birds' First Flight
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if i ever met a genie i wouldnt wish for a million dollars id wish that whenever i bought something i’d always have the right amount of money to pay for it in my pocket
you are one of the great thinkers of our time
Favorite thing about renaissance faires is that they have fuck all to to with the renaissance. This thang is not about historical anything this is about dressing up like a fairy and watching a joust
After sex you see me roll over and go to balcony. You think ive gone for smoke due to my melancholic nature but I’ve opened sudoku.com evil level
i like sailing myths and superstitions because most of them can be boiled down to "if the ocean doesn't like you it will chew you up and spit out your bones. and if it really loves you it will swallow you whole and keep you forever. good luck 👍"
they just don’t do any classic homophobic children moments like this anymore
There was really no winning that one
Bullshit. Let him writhe
Homophobia.
