the day we found a magical realm in germany~ 🍂

Poe isn’t scary I think but he’s a good writer. Thanks

That bitch from starwars got a book?

Yes, I keep it in my wine cellar. Come with me while I retrieve it…

Sure! What could go wrong?

“He’s just trying to bring a little sunshine into your life”

(Source)

ok so what if you worked in an old office building that had cool gargoyles on the outside. that’s sick, right? you don’t get why no one else thinks the gargoyles are awesome. you didn’t even watch that old 90′s gargoyle cartoon because you were too little when it was airing, but you’re vaguely familiar with the plot. you always did like the thought of statues and pictures and paintings having secret lives where no one could see. 

in the summer, when it turns out the windows open, you leave a cup of coffee out on the ledge for the gargoyle that’s nearest the breakroom. it’s funny. it’s just a cute joke. your coworkers laugh, but not really at you. it’s harmlessly silly, and frankly working in an office kind of sucks. no one minds something extra to smile about. 

the next day you go to get the mug back. the coffee’s gone, but the cup’s half full of rainwater and cigarette butts. haha, cute joke, someone else must be in on it. you wash the cup and put it back out fresh for the gargoyle. everyone’s calling him greg now. everyone smiles over greg’s morning coffee. greg needs his fix! greg is a valued employee. keep up the good work, greg. you set a mug of coffee out for greg every morning, now. 

the stuff in the coffee mug that’s left behind keeps changing, though. it’s different every morning: always rainwater, but also cigarette butts, coffee grounds, a handful of gravel, some bottlecaps, gross old pennies. receipt papers, pigeon feathers, half a shoe.

then one morning it’s a whole, wrapped snickers bar. still in half a cup of dirty rainwater, but the plastic’s fine, the candy inside should be good. 

‘huh. thanks, greg,’ you say, and after you get greg his coffee, you open the candy bar and have it right there, sitting on the windowsill. 

‘so that’s what you guys eat,’ the gargoyle says, satisfied. 

Definite example of how seeing a twist coming from a mile away just makes hitting it satisfying.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck thank you I’m just gonna put this in my pocket to use for the rest of my life.

Artemis/Diana

Small acts of devotion.

want tattoo

One of three gay emotions

Gay Emotions:

1. Want Tattoo

2. Y e a r n i n g

3. I Literally Have To Pet This Animal, Guys Wait Up I Have To Pet It, Guys There’s A Cat Here Hold On

guys please keep Puerto Rico in your thoughts, we have been having earthquakes for the past 10 days and this last one was a 6.6

electricity is out everywhere, people are scared, we’re still recovering from hurricane maria and houses have collapsed. please stay tuned, i will try to keep updated as long as my battery holds out.

some images of the damage are starting to surface. please stay tuned for any ways of helping us.

UPDATE: another 6.0 earthquake just hit.

THANK YOU JENNI HERD

dang Jenni, GO OFF

https://pastebin.com/MLHzUG4w

[ID: a tweet by @mxdecolonialist which says "It would be a shame if this list of ICE agents spread around and they were all confronted and humiliated into resigning" with the above link attached.]

A more comprehensive list:

https://archive.fo/lfh98

Just adding onto this post, someone shared a list of ICE prosecutors which can be found here:  https://anonfile.com/s9s6K508n3/OCC-NYC_Phone-Email_List_-_Public_xls

When I was 19 or 20, I sewed myself a wool dress for medieval re-enactments. I hated it almost as soon as I put it on. The bodice was cut wrong; the lacing was uneven; the colour was garish; the front closure was historically inaccurate; the embellishments were sewn on with terrible thread. Wearing it, I was constantly aware of its myriad flaws.

Then in my twenties I hit my adult metabolism and didn’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. I gave my old dresses to my foster mother, who sells costumes for a living, and the green dress sold. It entered the local medieval re-enactment secondhand economy.

Every time I go to an event, someone different is wearing my green dress. It draws my eyes because it’s a lovely colour and the fabric—real wool and enough of it—moves beautifully with the wearer’s body. I never recognize it at first, because every wearer has worn it a different way; it can be mixed and matched, dressed up and down, moved around a good century of history. From ten feet away its lacing looks elegant, its embellishments beautiful gracenotes. I think: Oh my god, that dress looks beautiful. Wait a minute, that’s MY DRESS.

That dress teaches me, every time I see it, to stop looking at myself through such critical eyes. That dress doesn’t just look good, it looks better than most other dresses in its category, because I put in the time and the effort (including using pliers to force a needle through six layers of wool) to make sure it was done right.

It’s my reminder that sometimes the things I do are actually good, and if I indulge my natural tendency to criticize myself in everything, I’ll end up missing when I’m actually awesome.

heard my little brother mention a character that shares my deadname. went “AUGH” like you do when you hear your deadname. he and my sister go “what?? what is it??” i say i heard my deadname. it takes them a second and then they both say

“i forgot you had a deadname??”

reblog to forget your own and everyone else’s deadname

wow this post blew up. thanks to all you guys ive forgotten my own deadname. i dont have one anymore. not sure why my drivers license says some other bitch’s name thats weird

me, seeing my personal email: who’s this bitch?

A lesson that we can’t afford not to be taught.

let’s spread this again and again and again

This blog is anti-TERF. If you’re a TERF or agree with their ideologies, unfollow right now.

A-spec identities can combine with mental illness, neurodivergency or trauma. And it doesn’t make someone whose identity does that any less a-spec.