Michelangelo • all pronouns • 22 • queer >:) • non-binary • brain full of soup •
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i love you, Two Catfish as Street Musicians in the Kashina district, ca 1855 of an unidentified artist, you go so hard

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is this ship popular because it’s legitimately compelling or is it popular because it’s the easiest to decontextualize and write college roommate AUs about?
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associating the most visible forms of pseudoscience with "women and queers" was the greatest trick the devil ever pulled
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adults disciplining children: i think i will communicate with this brand new human in the loudest, rudest, most obnoxious and socially off-putting way possible
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always complain about things. okay, you know how programmers explain their code to rubber ducks when it's not working? same principle. an appliance breaks down. I get pissed off, try everything, go through the various stages of despair etc. I complain about it to a friend and explain why it frustrates me so bad, and suddenly I'm thinking 'wait I should try unplugging it and then doing a factory reset and then—' and I go home and do that and it starts working again. I keep losing my earrings. I complain about it to a friend, about how I keep them all in a little dish but then the specific one I want always dematerialises the moment I want it. my friend says 'I just keep them on the little card backs they came with' and I think well shit, I always throw those out. but then I think aha I can make a bunch of pinholes in a decorative postcard. genius. I read a story. it's about something I'm usually into, but for some reason I don't like this story at all. I complain about it, I figure out what irritates me about it, I have a great idea for a way better story. I try a new recipe, it doesn't come together. I bitch about it like crazy, about what I thought I did right and how it failed, and before I know it I'm explaining out loud which parts I'm inexperienced at or didn't understand or adjusted wrong. I need a little table for drawing on. I complain about it in the group chat, two days later someone says 'hey I spotted the kind of table you're looking for on the side of the road, do you want to come pick it up'. I complain, endlessly. my life is enriched. the art of complaining.
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i didnt know you were allowed to do things for the sake of wanting to do things. i thought you were just supposed to keep that locked inside your ribcage and let it rot you inside out until youre limping around as the desiccated corpse of who you could have been
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Idk it just gets me cause like. Being trans in the southeast u.s for the last ten years I'm not exactly a stranger to having Real, Material Oppression like of the legal variety against me. I don't have rights here. And the fact of the matter is sometimes you just have to make choices you don't want to for Real Material Reasons & I get the feeling from the way a lot of you talk about Disobedience and Rebellion etc that you're kind of.......... new here. Idk
Pick your battles. Protest but be smart about it. Losing your job isn't praxis. Ok ? I love you
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most basic treatments for sickness involve some form of salt water (drinking electrolytes, gargling with warm salt water, epsom salt baths) as a way of microdosing going to the seaside
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[Cult of the Lamb] Gone were the Bishops of the Old Faith, left was the usurper of Death
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arthur’s logic being ‘you’re not a socerer, I would know’ drives me INSANE. it’s not ‘you’re not a sorcerer, that’s impossible’ or ‘you’re not a sorcerer, my father would’ve hanged you’ or ‘you’re not a sorcerer, you’re my dumbass clumsy servant’ or ‘you’re not a sorcerer, you’re not evil’ or even ‘you’re not a sorcerer, you’re my friend and you couldn’t have chosen to be my friend if you had magic’.
it’s none of that, it’s ‘I would know.’
you’re not would’ve told me by now. i would’ve realised by now. you’re not a sorcerer because you’re the one person that wouldn’t lie to me
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