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suiheisen

you're doing amazing sweetie KPOP DEMON HUNTERS (2025)

bonus:

junflower123

fvlter

I was gunna put this in the tags but it’s a lot. When i first started going through the process of getting a diagnosis, i was labelled with ODD. I immediately took issue with this, it seemed like an unfair diagnosis based entirely on the session the psychiatrist had with my parents (which mostly consisted of “my child is being really difficult on purpose”), and Hoo Boy when i tell you ODD immediately strips you of your ability to call out anyone on anything, that would be an understatement. I couldn’t even disagree or bring up my concerns about the validity of MY OWN DIAGNOSIS without it being labelled as oppositional defiance. Whenever i displayed any negative emotion the “treatments” did so much more harm than good. When you label someone as ‘defiant’ (ugh), when that word is put on their medical record, that person is never allowed to complain about anything again. Knowing that POC are disproportionately affected with this diagnosis makes me feel sick, i can only imagine what’s being swept under the rug as someone just being “defiant to authority”, not even just in the medical field but as justification for police brutality and mass incarceration. When i say medical racism kills people, this is what i mean.

noodle-the-queen

this is so fucking important. reblog.

yashawiki

Klavier Gavin's life is so hard, guys

ifanimaltrapped

dyemelikeasunset

Thank you everyone for your patience, Dom & Mor are back for 2024!!

We're kicking off this 15-chapter arc with an introduction to Mor's friends and some of Dom's interesting background

hamletthedane

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

pervocracy

Another thing that’s cool about fanfiction: it’s as long as it needs to be.

Well, sometimes it’s longer than anything on God’s green earth needs to be, but my point is that there’s really no rules about fic length. In traditional publishing there’s this awkward middle where nobody wants to print a novella that’s too long for a short story collection but doesn’t really fill out a book. Ebooks have changed that somewhat but it’s still a convention that a book is about 75,000 words.

Fanfic is not bound by this standard. If your story takes 25,000 words to tell, then you can do that, and there are readers for whom that’s a sweet spot. If you just want to keep going and going for 350,000 words and beyond, nobody’s going to say “only famous authors with grand ideas get to do that”–text is low bandwidth and there are readers who will love the feeling that your story is a home where they’re invited to stay as long as they like.

Sometimes restrictions breed creativity, and some writers need to be forced to edit themselves. But some writers know exactly what they’re doing when they make a story a certain length, and it’s awesome that the Internet has created spaces that put no limits on that.

thinknicht

Lol this is me

soberscientistlife

THIS 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

queer-as-city-folk

The point of public transit is that it serves as a public service. Public services should be free and paid for by government fully. The over reliance on fare revenues is one of the key factors in the poor Maintenance and reliability on our systems. Public transit like Metros, Light rails, Trams, Busses and Commuter rails should be free and we shouldn't arrest people for fare evasion

ampervadasz

Unmute !

deactivated-blog

Outstanding.

definedvines

this is why i love this game. the fuck even is this conversation

calmingthoughtsinyourhead

legally blonde from warner’s perspective is so funny

One day you’re dating this gorgeous but ditsy girl but your family pressures you to break up with her once you go to harvard so you do and it ends in tears but whatever.

Next thing you know, she’s at Harvard, dressed in entirely different clothes, saying its easy to get in and she’s pretending she forgot you go there. But you payed your way in and she’s rich too so you kind of assume she did the same thing and fine, so you have a stalker now.

There’s a mixer at the start of the school year. She shows up in a playboy. bunny. costume.

She tries to flirt with you while your fiance is in the next room. You tell her enough is enough and she gets like really angry at you.

Suddenly she is kicking ur ass in class, she steals opportunities away from you, she steals your girlfriend, she starts winning cases, she’s on the news now, she graduates as valedictorian

derinthescarletpescatarian

And you deserve it

ollieofthebeholder

The book from his perspective is even funnier.

You break up with the girl you actually really like because she's hot, but your family expects you to marry a girl who's rich and also smart enough to be a lawyer herself, so you string her along until just before graduation and then tell her so long and thanks for all the fish.

Then you show up at Stanford for orientation and, at the end of the long list of accolades and accomplishments the various students in your graduating class comes in with, the dean of students announces Stanford Law's first-ever beauty queen, and holy shit it's your ditzy ex.

You have already gotten engaged to the girl your parents expect you to marry. Your fiancee is actually in more of your ex's classes than you are, just because of how the schedules line up. There are quite a few people in your class who knew her before and they all mock her. Most of the other students get in on it. You stay out of it.

There's a Halloween party, she shows up dressed as a Playboy Bunny, and she outright tells you she came to Stanford to prove she's good enough for you. You laugh at her.

Your fiancee convinces you to send everything you ever got from your ex back to her. She does this right before first semester finals. You may possibly feel like a jerk, but you do it anyway.

You get your grades back for the first semester. Your fiancee is near the top of the class. You are at the bottom of the class. You are pissed off about this. You decide you need to do something about this situation. What you decide that you need to do is take your ex, who understands you and would never show you up with grades like that and knows how to make you feel like the biggest man in the world, out to dinner, order a meal that your fiancee has managed to convince you to stop eating for your health, declare to your ex that you are going to start making your own decisions again...and have therefore decided to start playing golf again, damn what your fiancee says. You are completely confused when your ex leaves the table in tears.

You may or may not find out that your ex took all her first semester classes pass/fail, which means she technically did better than you.

You apply for an internship with a lawyer who is working on a case involving a woman accused of murdering her elderly husband. You get it, along with your fiancee, a militant feminist, and your ex. The feminist gets the internship because she is an expert in women's rights and particularly as they relate to this case. Your fiancee gets it because she has insanely good research skills and the grades to back it up. Your ex gets it because she is passionate about the case and also has connections with a number of people involved in the case, including the defendant. You get it because your father went to law school with the lawyer in question.

Your ex gets to go along on depositions. Your fiancee also goes to depositions. You are struggling to keep up with the minimal workload you have been given.

The case gets to court. The lawyer is on the verge of losing. Your ex suddenly jumps up and asks to ask the key witness questions. She then manages to skewer the entire testimony based on her intimate knowledge of both beauty routines and sorority politics. She gets mobbed by the press immediately following the case and the lawyer goes on record as stating he is proud of her.

You are delighted. You present your ex with a detailed explanation of how you can now marry her, because your parents will accept her when your dad's old friend tells them how smart she is and you can have a hot wife too. Your ex informs you that she's not interested in you anymore and that she's realized she can do better, and then adds that incidentally your fiancee has been standing behind you this entire time hearing you talk about how she's ugly as a brick fence and you're only marrying her because your parents are making you.

Your fiancee gives you the ring back, skips class, and goes to the salon. Your exes have now unionized.