for the ides of march, tumblr should give us a button to stab people. and a badge for stabbing a lot of people.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Keni
Xuebing Du
wallacepolsom

titsay
official daine visual archive
The Stonewall Inn
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Sade Olutola

Andulka
Today's Document

Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
YOU ARE THE REASON

if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature
h
noise dept.
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day

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@a-space-shiper
for the ides of march, tumblr should give us a button to stab people. and a badge for stabbing a lot of people.
idk if this is funny, but I just made this for me so :P
ALSO, everyone say it with me: Thank you Ao3 team!
die die die
tomarrymort dynamics...for ME
(and of course)
Yes, Spain!!!!
SPAIN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR???
no one is going to be doing this and even if they were literally who cares. Ouhhh noooo, someone gets 3-5 days off a month aaughh how scaryyyy. Society will collapse aaarrrghhhh.
Do you know how often I call in sick from my retail job just because the vibes weren’t aligned that day? Who cares.
If you get bothered by someone who you believe is taking advantage of an accommodation who doesn’t need it perhaps you yourself need it. Ie: you’re mad that smokers get a ton of ten minute breaks just cause they smoke. Maybe you need a ton of ten minute breaks
HELL YEAH 🔥
"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level
what my atoms are doing is their fucking business man i'm busy trying to stop my dog from eating tissues directly out of the box
nuclei don't touch, but the nucleus is not the core of reality. reality is made of electrons dancing. reality is made of bonds.
you pet your dog and the atoms that are you brush up against the atoms that are him, and the electrons that are you press into the electrons that are him, and both of them change their movement.
electrons of course are not really particles and do not really move.
you pet your dog and the electron-orbitals of your skin overlap with the electron-orbitals of his fur, and both are changed by the contact. you are not made of little motes floating alone in a void. you are a single unfathomable chord formed of a trillion vibrations, and so is he. and the note you play is changing at every moment by what you touch and how you breathe, and so is his. and atoms do not really have edges, and to touch is to interact, and when you put your hand on your dog the universe does not know that you are separate. the song expands to hold you both.
I found a servant of the mothman. Very polite 10/10
Happy birthday to AO3 🎂🎉
Happy Birthday!!!! 🎂❣️
Reblog if you're not homophobic
Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad.
Reblog this you little shits.
Always reblog.
Get off my blog if you can’t and won’t reblog.
I’m queer…so yeah
Aroace Genderqueer and respectful only if you respect me and the people I like!
HEY TO EVERYONE READING THIS POST. I JUST WANNA LET YOU KNOW.
I MASSIVE SUPPORT YOU ON YOUR SEXUALITY IN THE LGBT
Well, gotta reblog.
haha reblog go brrrr
Funni reblog
I think I like men
goes out to all my gay hoes (myself, all my followers are bots)
Slay tea the house
REBLOG NOW OR ELSE
Reblog people!!
Yippee
It’s homo time
lesbian who uses neopronouns here!
Bi girl here!!! Hi!!!
WSUUUPPPP ur bisexual crackhead is heeeeeeeeeeeere!!
hey gamers welcome back to my blog, today i’m gonna burn down an orphanage filled with homophobes and children, reblog if you agree
nah I’m helping
I got a lighter
*watches them burn it down* “w h y (im part of community my friends)
where’s my bi gang-?
Demigirl here
Skilo and aro here!
graysexual gay demiboy wassup
🫵
If you can’t reblog this you are blockdst.
is there a problem G? .w.
uuhm no?? do YOU have a problem g? 🤡
ill fucken reblog it again
by god your poor hand op
this post is still going
Some of my best apprentices are gay.
✨*Cutely reblogs.*✨
My friend and I respect the gays!
Can y'all stop telling me to reblog so I can get to the button
Can y'all stop telling
me to reblog so I can
get to the button
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
ohhh october be kind. on god be kind
im handing out chocolate and tea to everyone reblogging this. good luck friends i wish you all the best
Big Labor News, the WGA won on nearly all fronts.
Second step basically means that the writers are now garenteed the ability to do at least 1 rewrite or the second step of writing after the first step of creating a draft
Hell yes!
En parte me hubiera gustado ver qué hacía armando si nicolas llevaba a betty a un motel, cuando los sigue hasta le noir. Eso hubiera sido cine. Apuesto a que ni siquiera hubiera dejado que entren. No lo hubiera soportado.
Sueño con ver lo que hubiera pasado.Betty entra al motel, pone una película para pasar el rato. Durante dos horas, él los espera afuera, muriéndose por dentro ¿Hubiera entrado? ¿Los hubiera confrontado afuera?
Estaría encerrado en su auto imaginando, fantasía tras fantasía, lo que ocurre dentro de esa habitación, cada imagen cortándole la piel, viajando a su sangre como fuego.
sandra complaining that mario never her brings her back anything from his trips .... so not only he's a terrible friend but also a terrible boss
marcela doesn’t bring anything back for mariana either, who i know is a better employee than patricia.
it's funny to me cause marcela always says betty is armando's celestina but she's friends with patricia for the same reason - she's her spy in the office and it's the only reason she wanted to get her into ecomoda. so bringing her gifts to me is part of the transactional value of both hers and patricia's relationships.
transactional relationships is the only way the valencia’s and the mendoza's know how to operate.
just got to the part where marcela says she bought a gift for armando for behaving do well while she was gone. point proven. you know she'd have withdraw it if she found out he fooled around.
only reason he ‘behaved well’ was bc betty ditched him.
I think everything here is true. But I need to remind you that Marcela does bring a gift to someone else and that is Freddie. Everyone loves him 💕 Daniel included
Girls don't want to work. They want to think about fictional characters.
oh no my finger slipped
Whoops, I just posted this? Oh well.
Oops sorry my rights slipping away made me trip and press the button
Oops sorry my rights
slipping away made me trip
and press the button
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
No oops. This is a threat 😘🏳️⚧️
The masculine urge to become a mountain man. Only come off the mountain twice a year to get supplies. Farm and harvest and hunt and build everything else. Talk to myself constantly. Stop coming into town for a few years after the age of 76. The sheriff finally comes up to check on me and finds the door to my shack wide open and my skeletonized body lying in bed, tucked up under the covers. They all forgot my name so they just put ‘Mountain Man’ on my tombstone. Shack left to decay but I’m not quite done having fun. My ghost lures lost hikers in and makes them keep me company. They come off the mountain rambling about the crazy old man in the hand hewn log cabin with fire in his eyes and leaves on the floor. I was alone in life but I don’t want to be lonely in death.
Whew guys sorry about that! Had a funny turn for a moment. Back to normal now.
You’re partially correct. This needs a gay subplot.
I was in love with another mountain man who lived on the other side of the mountain. We both liked being alone but sometimes it was alright to be alone together. His arthritis got bad and he couldn’t chop wood for himself anymore. Eventually his niece came to take him to the big city and put him in a nursing home. He didn’t want to go. I never saw him again. That’s why I died alone in my bed and not his.
If you asked Todd, he would know my name. 93 years old, blind as a bat with arthritis so bad he can’t move his fingers, rotting away in that horrible place his niece put him. He’d know. A smile would come to his dry lips to think of me, his fellow mountain man. He can no longer see but in his mind he sees me the way I was, in overalls with my rifle over my shoulder hunting squirrels. He knows my name but he dares not speak it. The words on my grave a more worthy epitaph. I wait for him on the mountain. None of the hikers that stumble in are ever him. He’ll return shortly, I’m sure. I’ll make him coffee on the wood stove one day. We’ll share some venison. He’ll come back from the holler. I know he will.
Women with swords. You agree. Reblog.