Seeing racist/homophobic X-men fans is like seeing those guys in your class who practically make out with each other and then go and bully someone for being gay.
Recently found I might be idemromantic. Now to figure out if I'm actually polyamourous or I've just confusing all the feelings I have for my friends.
I'm not dating said friends I just feel very intense affection for some of them similar to what I feel for my partner and can't tell if it's platonic or not. I can't even tell if I actually have crushes because I'm not really sure what it would feel like to have a crush.
LISTEN UP AGAIN KIDS
STOP REBLOGGING THIS FUCKING GARBAGE POST. IT IS 100% FUCKING BULLSHIT AND CAN AND MOST DEFINITELY WILL LITERALLY KILL.
DO YOU NOT SEE WARNING LABELS THAT SAY “DO NOT INDUCE VOMITING”? THEY AREN’T FUCKING AROUND. YOU CAN FUCKING BURN THEIR ESOPHAGUS BY CAUSING VOMITING, CAUSE CHOKING, DROWNING, OR MAKE IT WORSE!
AGAIN DO NOT FORCE ANYTHING DOWN ANYONE’S THROAT. THEY. CAN. DROWN.
IF SOMEONE IS LOSING CONCIOUSNESS ALL THE CHIT CHAT IN THE WORLD WILL NOT PREVENT IT AT THAT POINT THEY ARE IN SERIOUS DANGER.
“Buuut i don’t wanna take them to the hospital!!!”
WELL SUNSHINE GLAD YOU’D RATHER HAVE A DEAD FRIEND THAN A LIVING ONE BUT YOU’RE IN LUCK
CALL FUCKING POISON CONTROL. THEY ARE NOT THE COPS. THEY WILL HELP YOU.
AND IF THEY SAY GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL YOU GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL. NO EXCUSES. 0. NONE.
I have seen this shit cross my dash SO MANY TIMES so PLEASE fucking reblog this and prevent some well meaning idiot from accidentally killing someone they love!
Poison control may advise diluting the toxin somehow like with water or milk, otherwise do not give them something to drink and take the empty pill bottle/ blister pack with you to the hospital.
Happy pride month. It's now your time to abuse your gay powers and demand a family member to give you $10. Or $20. Maybe more. You get the point, go queermax.
Non-binary people can't use they/them because they're only one person. Non-binary people can't use it/its because it's dehumanizing. Non-binary people can't use neopronouns because they're too confusing. Non-binary people can't use he/him and/or she/her because that's not gender neutral. Non-binary people can't use no pronouns because that's too hard to use.
No matter what pronouns a non-binary person uses somebody will get mad at them.
(this might trigger some people, tw for suicidal thoughts and sh mention) There's no word that can express the genuine disgust and anger I feel when I see some bitch post stuff about how we should "bring back bullying." Clearly you haven't felt that ache in your chest when you hear your friend talk about how they want to kill themself because everything fucking sucks. Clearly you haven't laid in your bed at night thinking about whether or not you should live another day. Clearly you've never cried in your room because you can't stand the thought of going to school and seeing those assholes who apparently find joy in making you miserable. You've never thought about what the least painful way to die would be. You've never inflicted pain on yourself because stress became too much. You've never had thoughts that something must be genuinely wrong with you because of how you've been treated. You don't wonder if people would miss you if you were gone. Why do you want to fuck up people's mental state just because you think they're a little weird? You think it'll make them act in a way that appeases you? What are you gonna do when they end their own life because you decided to be a prick? Maybe you just don't care enough.
CW: gender dysphoria, trans reader, t4t, reader is jealous of Soap's surgery, second person, short hurt/comfort I'm writing this all at 12am okay cut me some slack
John had transitioned long before you started dating him. His scars were fully healed and he passed really well! You're happy for him, of course. How could you not be? You love him to bits and he loves you just the same.
That doesn't stop the gnawing feeling in your gut whenever you trace those nicely healed scars. The ones you kiss with the biggest smile on your face without hesitation. You're still pre-op and have to use a binder. While you look fairly masculine and can usually pass, it still eats at you to look in the mirror and feel like the person staring back at you is incorrect in some way.
You sink into the couch cushions, wrapping the throw blanket around yourself as you let out a heavy sigh. Today just happened to be one of those days. You're tired, thoughts are spiralling, and all you want to do is sink into the floor and never come out. That one annoying co-worker keeps calling you a she, feminizing you in any way possible.
"You should try makeup sometime"
"Ladies first"
"Girl, you're so pretty"
He'd say things like that constantly. He knows what he's doing. It's been grating your nerves in the worst way possible.
A familiar Scottish lilt interrupts your thoughts.
"How're you, handsome?" John smiles softly and sits next to you. It looks like he's just showered, only wearing loose pants and no shirt.
You mutter something unintelligible and lean against him. You don't give a proper response. One of your hands come up and you gently trace a finger over one of his scars.
It's silent for a few minutes. John lifts a hand and gently interlaces his fingers with yours, frowning at the expression on your face.
"Hey," he murmurs and gently takes your hand away from his chest. "What's wrong?"
Your brows furrow just slightly as you let your hand fall to your side and you sit up properly.
"It's stupid, really." You scoff, staring at your lap. The lump in your throat feels worse than before. How could you be jealous of your partner's body?
John's frown deepens and he squeezes your hand, "talk to me. I promise I don't consider anything you say stupid."
"Really? Because I do. I find it very stupid." Your jaw clenches as your fingers grip in your pants. Suddenly you feel naked. Your throat tightens as you force out your next words, "it's not fair."
"What's not fair?" John shifts to face you better.
"You're so effortlessly," you pause, trying to find the right word. "Manly. I dunno, it's just..." You gesture to your own chest.
Before you can stop them, tears prick at your eyes. Great.
For a moment, John simply stares at you. Then, he sighs softly. His hands cup your face and turn it so he can look you in the eyes.
"None o' that," he scolds gently. "You're perfect. You're the most amazing man I know, tits or not. You're still my amazing boyfriend and an even more amazing person."
He kisses your forehead, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. "If you really want to get surgery I promise I'll help in any way I can."
You sniffle, wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand. Exhaling softly, you pull him into a hug and bury your face into his shoulder. John wraps his arms around you in return, pressing another kiss to your brow as he moves one hand to cradle the back of your head.
Im actually going to lose my shit after seeing the mw4 trailer. WHERE'S GAZ?? WHERE IS MY PRETTY DIVA? PLEASE I NEED HIM I'M NOT PLAYING IF HE'S NOT THERE!!
If you tell neurodivergent people they need to "get comfortable with being uncomfortable" I am putting gravel in your shoes. No you can't take the gravel out. You have to deal with it. Dealing with it makes you a better person. What do you mean "pointless suffering".
To add on to this I'm going to make it so you have to put on socks that were just dipped in water. You'll have to walk in the wet socks and on the gravel in your shoes until you can learn to be comfortable with being uncomfortable
things I won’t let ai take away from human writers
em dash
“not x, not y, but z”
short sentence stacking as a stylistic choice
none of these belong to ai. these are all what human writers have been writing since day one, way before ai was invented. ai was trained to mimic how human writers write — so em dash, not x not y but z and short sentence stacking would never have been used by ai at all if ai hadn’t learned and mimicked them from human writers.
no, you are not “fighting against ai” by accusing every work that has em dash, not x not y but z or short sentence stacking in it as ai-generated, you are helping ai harm the writing community by engaging in witch hunt and scaring human writers away from creating/sharing their works for fear of being wrongly accused of using ai.
speculations, accusations and ai witch hunt harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
You know what fuck you! Ghostroach fic where roach has a drug problem that only started AFTER he got with ghost. Ghost blaming himself because he feels like the common denominator with every person he loves having a drug problem. So he starts to spiral But reality is that roach just can't cope with everything. Idfk man
Fuck you too! Ghost developing a drinking problem which makes him feel even worse because it reminds him of his father and he thinks he's disappointing Roach!
Oh you wanna go? Square up! Ghost knowing he should go home, it's their anniversary after all but he just stays at the pub till closing. He just can't bring himself to face roach. Roach isn't even the person he fell for anymore. He misses the old him so much. Maybe it's the alcohol talking but he's growing to hate him...or maybe the anger he feels when he sees roach calling him is the alcohol. His father was always an angry drunk and ghost told himself he would never be that but humans are hypocrites . Eventually after maybe the third call he picks up, he doesn't even remember what he said but he knows he regrets it as soon as he hangs up. Him stewing the entire walk home, only to open his apartment door hours later to see roach on the couch, limp and unresponsive.
Oh, I see how it is. Ghost sitting in the hospital waiting room, staring at the floor and holding his hands together in his lap. He can feel them getting clammy and can't stop bouncing his leg. When the doctor tells him he can come in, he doesn't even rush. The dreadful feeling in his gut keeps him silent. Once he's standing beside the hospital bed, he can't even tell what he's seeing. Roach isn't awake just yet, laying still on those cursed blue sheets. Ghost brushes his trembling hand against Roach's knuckles. Eventually, when they go home, Ghost can't stop himself. He lashes out, and it turns into a whole yelling match. Something was broken and hurtful words were exchanged. The door gets slammed and Ghost is sitting in their shared bedroom alone in the dark. Against his better judgement, the barrel of a pistol meets the underside of his jaw.