Call me Shade, she/her pronouns. My blog is both a mix of lighter Tumblr and fandom stuff, and political posts. Also, I reblog things pretty much indiscriminately. Gotta keep the only way to spread and encourage posts on this app going, and I do kind of want things to be like in the old days of Tumblr, where people werenât too picky about reblogs and pretty much reblogged whatever they saw. Itâd probably be better for everyone.
i was chatting with a coworker about this whole saga today and someone nearby popped into the convo to be like âyou know, you can use chatgpt to write a demand letter!â and i sort of blinked and went, âokay. i did it myself, though.â and she was like, âyeah but it can tell you what laws and stuff are relevantâ and i was like, âi also did research myself.â and she was very well-meaning but she said âchatgptâ like six more times before she left and it was genuinely baffling to me, this insistence on it.
and in the one hand, did i enjoy spending hours researching housing regulations in my state? not especially. drafting this email was stressful. but on the other hand, did i learn a lot by doing that research? yeah, i did. iâm more prepared for my current and future leases. i used some of that info to make decisions about a new renterâs insurance policy. i already told three different people about things i learned that are relevant to their leases that they didnât know yet. (pro tip: see if youâre supposed to be getting annual interest payments on your security deposit! also look up what specific appliances your landlords must legally provide as of 2026.) i also got to reconnect with my cousin for a bit because her job gave her specific insight on part of the situation, and iâd much rather do that than have a chatbot make shit up for me.
also, i drafted that email with the power of friendship (friends angry on our behalf) and spite (from landlords telling me not to do my research). chatgpt could never.
The assholes openly admit it. The whole point of college is to enforce the hierarchy. When those who were supposed to be low on the hierarchy started going to college, the assholes get angry and want to make them suffer for challenging the hierarchy.
It's honestly terrifying to know that most people aware of the anti psych movement believe that it is all just schizophrenic people dealing with delusions.
Abuse? Assault? Rape? Nahhhh that could never happen! The people are making it all up!
The system is flawed? Noooo, the patients are just experiencing delusions that force them to think that!
I don't care if the majority of the people in the movement are schizophrenic, I'm still going to believe them over any 'professional' who claims that they know better.
An angel loses its wings every time somebody voluntarily admits themselves into a mental hospital or a psych ward.
I don't care if it helped you feel better. You just got lucky. That is all there is to it. A system that treats something deeply personal as an inconvenience that needs to be fixed will always be morally wrong.
I'm so sick of seeing people asking for help only for everyone to give them phone numbers to call.
These people you talk to don't want to help you. They want to get paid by doing their jobs. Please don't ever let them brainwash you into thinking that you need to be locked up to feel better.
To this day, I still get nightmares about my stay at the mental hospital. I was told that it was the only way to cure my issues. When I got there, I genuinely though that it wasn't so bad. I thought that they might actually fix me. They didn't. They ruined everything. Because of them I now have so much rage inside of me to the point where I feel like I might actually explode one day in the literal sense.
Why are we normalising this??? Why do only so few people see the problem???
No one should be locked up. No one. This applies to people in jails and prisons, too. We should be focusing on rehabilitation that actually works rather than whatever eugenic stuff we have going on today. You people disgust me so much.
I loooooove getting rejected. People should reject more. It's the "maybes" and ghosting that's just like too much. A firm but polite "no" is infinitely more respectful of everyone's time and feelings. Can we just do that?
Finnish soldier gets separated from the rest of his unit but heâs the only one carrying the emergency amphetamines for the unit, takes too many and goes on a one man rampage for like 2 weeks straight giving the opposing Soviet soldiers nightmares for decades. Oh and he did it all on skis.Â
Yes, during his methed up 2-3 week rampage he got injured by a land mine, travelled 400km on skis, and only ate pine buds and a Siberian Jay that he caught which he ate raw. When he made it back to Finnish lines he was taken to a hospital where it was found his heart rate was nearly 200 beats per minute and his weight had dropped to 43kg (94.7lbs).
Updated version of Boy Who Cried Wolf but there are actual wolves every single time and no one ever believes the boy - they get closer and closer every time he tries to warn them, until it's too late and the whole town screams at the boy for not warning them "enough", and blame him for the wolves at their door.
Once upon a time, there was a boy who said, "Hey, guys? This is a big wide mixed meadow and woodland with a river in it."
"Yeah, isn't it great?" said his companions. "It'll be awesome for the sheep once we get the village built."
"Don't you think this looks like a spot where wolves would wait in the trees to ambush animals that come down to eat the grass and drink the water?"
"Dude," said his companion, taking the boy aside by his elbow. "Cut the wolf talk, alright? You're gonna freak everybody out and they're not gonna want to settle in this obviously fruitful place. This will be good for us, so don't mess it up. Tell you what," the companion added, tone turning placating. "If we see wolf sign around, then we'll worry about it. Okay?"
Once upon a time, there was a boy who brought the gnawed skeleton of a deer to the campfire. "Look at this," he said.
"What the hell?" The other settlers were tired after the day's construction, and grouchy at having their dinner interrupted. "Why would you drag that nasty thing into our campfire circle? Nobody needs to see that! We're trying to eat here!"
"This is proof that wolves hunt here," said the boy.
"It's a health hazard, is what it is. Get that shit out of here."
The boy pointed stubbornly to the bones. "Look at the marks here and here. Those are teeth marks. You can see how wide the jaws were."
"That could have been anything," said one settler.
"Yeah. Or it could be old," said another.
"I don't even see what you're talking about," said a third.
"Yeah," they all said. "Those don't even look like tooth marks to me. Those could have been made by rocks, or birds pecking. You're worrying about nothing."
Once upon a time, there was a boy who led his reluctant neighbors to the riverbank. They picked their way through the mud, grimacing, until the boy stopped and gestured at the ground.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" said one villager.
The boy said, "It's a footprint." He pointed. "And here's another and another. Lots more."
"Lots of animals leave footprints," said the second villager. "Doesn't mean they're wolves."
"You guys told me specifically to watch out for wolves and signs that wolves are around," said the boy. "I went and studied the tracks and sign of every animal around here, under the best trackers and trappers, because you asked me to. This is wolf."
"Yeah, but," the third villager said. "Listen, kid. We can't just go running off on a wolf hunt with only circumstantial stuff. It's lambing season. I've been awake for nineteen hours. I left my boys fixing that hole in the fence so the ram can't get stuck in it again. I'm already behind schedule, and I took time out of it to come look at some mud."
The other villagers nodded. "Yeah," they said. "Yeah, we're busy working hard. We can't be dropping everything every time you see a shadow. You better have something real the next time you raise this kind of alarm."
Once upon a time, a boy awoke a sleeping village.
"What do you want?" they grouched.
"Do you hear that?" the boy said.
The villagers listened for a moment. In the middle distance, an eerie howling rose, held, and fell, only to be picked up by another and another.
"That's disturbing," said one.
"What do you think it is?" asked another.
The boy pointed to a pattern of prints outside the village gate. "That's wolf," he said. The pointing finger moved along the line of the fence. "That's wolf spoor," he said. He raised the finger to the sky. "That howling? It's wolves." He led them to a place where dirt had been clawed out from under the fence. "I came and woke you all up because I found a wolf digging under our fence. Here's a tuft of its hair. Here's where I hit it with my knife and shed its blood. If you get close to the fence, you can smell its musk. There are wolves in this valley, just like I've said from the beginning, and they're getting closer to the village sheep."
The villagers looked at the tracks. They looked at the scratches and the fur. They wrinkled their nose at the spoor. "Gross," one said.
Finally, from the middle of the group someone muttered, "Well it's not here anymore, is it?"
The others made 'good point' faces and murmered along.
"I mean. Crisis averted, right?" the speaker continued. "Nobody's sheep actually got got, right?"
"Yeah, because I was here watching and chased the wolf away," the boy began.
The speaker gave an apologetic grimace. "I don't know, bud," he said. "I've never seen one of these wolves with my own eyes."
"Yeah," said another. "No offense, but you are our wolf watchman. So you'd have an incentive to maintain the narrative that wolves are at our doorstep."
"What? But they are!" The boy gestured at the dig site. "You told me to watch for wolves. You sent me to be trained to track wolves so we'd all know I wasn't imagining or misinterpreting things. You asked me to stay up at night to watch for wolves, and now that I've seen one and chased it off, you don't believe me?"
"Hey, we're just saying none of us have ever actually seen a wolf," said one of the villagers. "Only you. And you do objectively have a bias towards wolf-spotting."
Once upon a time, a boy sprinted screaming across a pasture. He held his sword two-handed, braced against his side. The blade was deckled with crimson. Ahead of him a shadowy hackled body lurched and limped, yelping. In the wake of the two figures, a ewe lay dying, crashed to her knees but still holding her heaving body between the retreating predator and her lamb.
"Holy shit!" their shepherd hollered, running up to his animals. "My sheep! What the hell? I thought we were supposed to be safe from attacks here!"
The boy stumbled to a halt, unable to catch up to his nemesis. He panted, staring after it into the trees.
"Yeah, what the hell?" the other villagers agreed, gathering around the stricken sheep. "Look at this! Are you kidding me? What do we keep you around for, man?"
Wearily, the boy trudged back to the little group. He swayed as he walked. The sword was chipped, the grip worn. He wondered when he could have last been truly called a boy.
"This is the fourth attack this week," he told them.
"Yeah, buddy, it sure fuckin' is!" The villagers surrounded him, red-faced. "We can't keep losing sheep like this! This is unacceptable!"
"It was wolves again," he said.
The villagers threw hands in the air or rolled their eyes. "Oh, give us a break. Always wolves with you."
The boy stared back at them. "Okay, so what do you think it was? It had four legs, right?"
"Obviously. We all saw that," said one.
"And it was hairy?"
"Don't be insulting," said another. "You could see the hair a mile away."
"Big teeth?" the boy asked, gesturing at the lamb's wounds.
"Well it didn't kill it with a hammer," the shepherd said caustically.
"These tracks," the boy said. "Canine, would you say? And these clumps of fur, are they thick and grey?"
The group scoffed and chorused variations on "duh."
The boy looked around at them all. "So all that adds up to...?"
"Lost revenue," the shepherd said loudly. "I can't afford another one like this. Hell, I can't afford this one."
"But what was the animal that dug under your fence to sneak into your pasture to kill your sheep, that we all saw, that had four legs and thick gray hair and had big teeth and left canine prints?"
One of the villagers clapped a weighty hand onto the boy's shoulder. "Kid," he said, "that ain't nobody's job but yours."
"It was a wolf! The last three times were all wolves! It's always been wolves! I've been showing them to you for years! I am your wolf watchman and I am telling you right now that wolves keep getting in here to kill the village sheep, because none of you are listening to me!"
The villagers straightened, drew together. Faces hardened. "Don't you dare take that disrespectful tone with me, boy," said the one who felt he was owed the most deference. "If you want listening, you ain't gonna get it by ranting and shouting."
Once upon a time, a boy stared from the grinning faces of his neighbors, to the animals panting alongside them, and back to the neighbors.
"They're going to protect our sheep," said one of the townspeople.
"Yeah. Fight fire with fire," said another.
The boy found his voice. "You're going to put wolves... in your flocks... on purpose?"
"Hey now, these are different. They're our wolves."
The other shepherds nodded and said things like "Yeah!" and "Our wolves!" One of the wolves was staring, drooling, at a young ewe.
"How do you know they won't, oh I don't know, just eat all your sheep the second you turn your back? As a random, non-specific example?" the boy asked them.
"They're not for eating sheep, they're for defending them," said one. "Totally different."
The boy raked his fingers through his hair. "How are these different, exactly?"
"Well, we're using them, obviously," said the first villager who had spoken. "They're totally legal. The mayor got the council to write it into the town charter. Every shepherd has the right to protect his flock."
One of the wolves was stretching its jaws wide, seeing if it could fit them around the head of a lamb. It noticed the boy watching and hesitated.
"Are you guys seeing what that wolf is doing right now?" the boy said, pointing at it.
The wolf made a split-second decision. The jaws snapped shut and it dragged the lamb away, behind its shepherd's house.
"What the hell!" The boy looked back up at the shepherd's face. "It literally just snatched that lamb out from under your nose! It did it in front of everybody!"
Another shepherd patted the shoulder of the one who had just lost the lamb. "Tragic," he said. "It always hurts, losing a lamb. I'll pray for you."
"What do you mean, pray?" The boy drew his arm back and pointed even harder in the direction the wolf had vanished, as if by gesturing violently enough he could make them react. "The wolf is right over there! We could go chase it or kill it!"
"Whoa there, son," said the prayerful shepherd. "Just because tragedy's hit us today doesn't mean you can just take away our sheepdogs."
"They're not sheepdogs! Who told you they were sheepdogs?"
"Dude, I thought you would be on board with us protecting our sheep from wolves," said another townsperson. "There's no need to slander the business who hired them out to us."
"Which business?" the boy demanded.
"Wolves R Us." The townsperson raised both hands in a placating gesture. "I know how it sounds, but the guy who runs it is totally legit."
The boy strode up to the speaker. "Who? Who runs it?"
"Chill out, dude. It's the mayor."
Once upon a time, a boy fell against the double doors of the town hall, shoving them open. Dust swirled in the shaft of sunlight that slanted into the gloom from the doorway. Every curtain was drawn tightly closed, blocking out the light. He staggered inside, towards the shadowy shape of the mayoral desk at the far end of the hall.
"Sir," he called as he went, "I'm sorry to interrupt you. I know the council told me never to set foot in the town hall again, but this is urgent." He grimaced, glancing down at the hand clasped to his middle. "They're inside the town walls. I don't know why, but they just invited them in like - like nothing would happen." He braced himself with his free hand.
"You're bleeding on my desk," said the voice from the mayoral chair.
The boy blinked. "I was attacked on the way here."
A deep sigh. "Well, son, I'm sorry you feel that way, but you have to admit you sure do rile people up around here. What did you say to provoke them this time? Let me guess - it was wolves all along."
"What? I didn't - sir, I'm the wolf watchman. I watch for wolves and raise the alarm when I see one. That's my job," he added. "I don't think I deserve to get attacked for doing what the town asked."
The chair squeaked as the figure within shifted position. The boy frowned, suddenly realizing something was off.
"I wasn't born yesterday," said the mayor. "We all know something's wrong in this town. People are afraid. Sheep are dying. It's bad for business. But your way isn't working, is it?"
"That's because-"
"Would you let someone else do the talking for once?" the mayor growled. "If you really cared about this place, you'd stop hogging all the attention and just admit you haven't been able to solve anything. I'm handling the problem now. I love this town, and I don't want to see you causing a panic by making a bunch of wild accusations."
The boy sank slowly into the visitor chair across the desk. "Sure, Mr. Mayor," he said, unable to muster the energy for sarcasm. "What a big heart you have."
The mayor's grin gleamed all the way up and down his muzzle. "All the better for running a town with."
"So what's your plan?" the boy asked flatly.
The mayor readjusted his bifocals with a dewclaw. "Fortunately, son, you won't have to worry about that," he said. "It's become clear to me that you and I aren't going to be able to work together. I'm going to have to let you go. Consider yourself terminated, effective immediately."
Later, the boy stood over his threadbare bed, wondering if there were any point to packing his things. He didn't own much; there had never seemed to be enough time to get a proper house built for himself, let alone accumulate possessions. It had been years since they first settled the valley. Tiredness pounded in his sinuses. His knees creaked, his wrists and elbows twinged from long use of his guardsman's sword. He would have liked to have been able to retire. Or at least take an apprentice. Or at least feel like anything he did mattered at all.
Outside, the town had been gathering. Their stares were accusing and their murmurs hostile.
"I heard he's actually been a wolf this entire time," he distinctly heard someone mutter to someone else.
He felt his shoulders tense. He expected rage to boil, but when he turned around he suddenly realized if he went postal now, the rumors would only be worse.
"There are wolves in your flocks," he told them. "They're going to continue killing your sheep until you decide to do something about it. I'm not going to tell you again."
The crowd parted for him, bipedal and quadripedal members alike. They watched him go.
One of the villagers broke the silence when he turned to look at the wolf next to him. "Get a load of that guy," he said. "What an absolute killjoy."
This reminds me of the time that my violin tutor talked me into performing in a recital only about three months after I had started playing; but she didn't tell me that almost everyone else performing was a kid. And there was some seven-year-old playing the same piece as me, but he screwed it up and I was like "Yeah!!"
since becoming a barista i have noticed a few very distinct typologies among my customers. such as:
the woke left: young and fashionable. visible tattoos. often enjoys matcha, lavender flavoring, oat milk, and cold foam. pretty decent customers.
sweet old man: drinks very sweet iced lattes, pays in cash, puts all of his change in the tip jar. sometimes orders hot coffee and i get scared that his shaky old man hands will spill it and he'll get burned but that has not yet happened and god willing never shall.
evil old man: only wants drip coffee and declares it ridiculous that any other form of coffee exists. some variants only want americanos and these variants are even scarier. watch out.
sweet old woman: might need her daughter's help to order but is very bubbly and open to trying new things. compliments baristas freely and frequently.
evil old woman: does not want coffee and only wants sweet tea or soda. will not tip even if she spends three hours in the shop repeatedly asking baristas to fetch things for her.
errand husband: either stiltedly recites an order to you or shows you the order in their texts/notes app. needs to step out of line and make a phone call if you ask any follow-up questions.
grindset girlie: always wearing scrubs, an apron, and/or a name tag. orders the exact same thing every day and knows the exact change she'll need to pay for it. her regular order is both extremely caffeinated and extremely sweet.
#mamabear: is actively wrangling two to four children while ordering. order changes repeatedly because the children cannot decide if they want a muffin or a cookie or apple juice or chocolate milk etc. for some reason these women are always wearing an article of clothing or carrying some personalized item that says "mama" on it.
schoolchildren: band of two to eight adolescents hanging out after school. extremely indecisive but generally quite polite and tip well.
amnesiac in love: grown adult who needs their partner to tell them what they like. gets asked a question about their own preferences and turns to their partner to answer for them. generally acts like a shy child looking to their guardian for behavioral cues if you try to interact with them and only wants to talk to mommy i mean their wife.
this of course is not an exhaustive list but those are just some of the most consistent Types i get. ok bye xoxo
Thirty-year-old Tamara Rees shows us what trans empowerment looked like in 1954. She fought Nazis, taught parachuting, and traveled the world... but her biggest challenge came when the press learned of her identity.
1950s news coverage of Tamera Rees' transition shows a time before the trans moral panic. Most stories regarded her as brave or heroic for her openness. National newspapers even celebrated her wedding in 1955.
The New York Daily News, which now hosts daily anti-trans editorials, ran a shockingly respectful series on trans people in the 1950s. Tamara Rees's narrative was among the longest and most detailed. She thoughtfully implored the public to respect not only her identity, but also other trans people like her.
Tamara wasn't the first famous trans woman of the 1950s, nor was she the best known. However, she had a unique opportunity to share her own story. You can read Tamara's 1955 autobiography, Reborn: A Factual Life Story of a Transition from Male to Female, at transreads.org/rebornÂ
On Monday Nationals MP Alison Penfold introduce this private bill to federal parliament in an attempt to reshape the Sex Discrimination Act to target trans people while claiming not to target trans people
Helpful information
Text of bill
First reading: Text of the bill as introduced into the Parliament
Third reading: Prepared if the
Please help spread this petition far and wide for visibility
The above reactionary bill was made in retaliation towards a trans woman winning a case in federal court against transphobes so now they're accellerating to hurt us all (Giggle Vs Tickle)
Hands off our Protections Our communities are facing some of the most serious attacks on our rights and protections in many years. Right no
Please sign that petition if you can, this bill is worse than it seems. Its primary purpose is to exclude trans women from women's spaces, including bathrooms, prisons, homeless shelters, and sports. It also cements transphobic, intersexist, and acephobic beliefs that are already somewhat present in Australia's law.
It is worth noting that this bill is being pushed by the National party, one of Australia's main right-wing parties. The party currently in power is the Labour party, our biggest left-wing/centrist party. The party pushing for this bill does not have the votes needed to pass it, and thus either needs to convince centrists to agree with them or are doing this to curry favour for the next election or some other goal.
When it comes to the bill itself, they are defining anything relating to one's sex in terms of the sex binary in a way which excludes intersex people in many ways. They also are changing the definition of sexual attraction, and the main change this makes is an exclusion of non-binary people in attraction. However, it is also worded so a trans woman lesbian is considered straight, and their definition also doesn't properly include asexual people. Those wording issues are already present in the original law, however.
They are also explicitly stating that it's okay to discriminate against transfems in women's spaces of any kind, including prisons, bathrooms, homeless shelters, and sports. That is the main change being pushed for.
Keep reblogging this please to help gain attention to the issue! Labor, the majority government, have been especially quiet about this issue while right wing media has pumped out tons of anti-trans political puff pieces while only one Greens member and one Independant member have spoken up!
Email or call your local MP if you can and tell them they need to publically push back and press them on the harm this bills mere existence is causing! Lately Labors silence on issues is not a good one and they are far from being functional enough for the people since doubling down on right wing policy.
A simple reminder: Labor is not your friend, they're bought out and working for someone else
You can also email and call your state member, not just your federal one as if they get enough complaints they may additionally bother the federal MP on your behalf! Make noise at all levels of government!
If you don't know who your member is you can use this link to look up both state and federal members, just use your postcode or suburb to check.
Remember when Lil Nas X beautifully explored his sexuality, seduced and killed the devil to the banger of all time, and instead of cheering on this openly gay and proud Black artist for his artistry and fighting back against respectability politics, suddenly said respectability politics was all the Queerest Place on the Internet cared about? Hm. Wonder what happened there.
Anyway I miss him and hope he's doing better with his mental health đđŸ
people have this tendency to believe that fandom discourse exists because people in fandoms are Stupid Nerdy Losers, but in fact fandom discourse exists because anytime you get a group of more than 100 people together, they will start creating interpersonal bullshit. fandom is not special in this regard
There is sports discourse. There is yarn discourse. There is food discourse. There is academic discourse (dear sweet god is there academic discourse). If there are people out there collecting brass buttons specifically from 1921, they are going to have discourse about which buttons are trash and whether Person A cheated person B. To be human is to engage in pointless wankery sometimes.
When I was in grade school I used to send emails to biologists and zoologists asking them questions to get answers to include in school projects I was working on, and would cry when they did not respond because I thought I was stupid for thinking that some random kid would ever be deserving of a response from someone who does something as smart and cool and important as *checks notes* studies frog fungus.
Now, at 29, Iâm lowkey having a panic attack because my academic email is filled with middle schoolers wanting me to answer their questions about pygmy raccoons and I keep putting off answering them because Iâm so overwhelmed with all the other raccoon stuff I have to do.
Anyway, greatest apologies to any scientist I ever emailed as a child and also an adult.
how do we live through such tiny freedoms @inkxplashes - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
