❤️

she/her | 22

[notthe-onion]

[cosmonautroger]

[mysillycomics]

fish fish fish 🐠🐟🐠🐟

[sturgeonposting]

Vundabar

[stringovpearls]

Butterfly's eat rotting flesh, cannibalise each other, drink blood, vomit, sweat, tears and urine, but their wings are pretty and they have delicate little legs so it's okay. They're biblical in nature.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.

[gallusrostromegalus]

This is the axe

My knuckle rests exactly in the triangular plane just above the orange intrusion, and my thumb on the plane with the white patches.

How many hands held it just like that? How many generations was this passed down? Were you lost? or did you fall into disuse when technology improved?

Do you still desire to be held?

[skweebs]

This was the axe that made me ugly cry in the museum. It was created half a million years ago by either Erectus or Heidelburgensis, and was passed down from person to person, long enough that somehow a neanderthal picked it up, and passed it down to their family.

It has now felt 3 generations of human species hands, it's smooth but still sharp except where the very tip has been broken off, but it shows that this axe was loved and taken care of. And it is still being taken care of! It was used to teach archaic children to build, to carve meat, to break bones, and now it is being used to teach us about all those people who came before us and put their hands right where we put ours.

The fact that @gallusrostromegalus and I put our hands on the same place and felt the same rush of emotions only days apart is amazing, but its not new. People loved this axe, it belonged to their loved ones and it's full of all those emotions. And if there's anything to take away from humanity, new and old, it's that we love a good rock.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hello! You and I never met, but I feel like we've held hands now, the same way that we held hands with everyone else who's held that axe, and I think that's lovely :)

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

kind of crazy how overstimulation will turn you into the nastiest most murderous tweaked out bitch in a hundred mile radius and then you'll take some time and calm down and get a drink or somethin. and then you're just like sorry about that. there were too many noises and i became the evil version of myself.

[greelin]

predator animal falling in love with prey animal. You really love to see it.

[greelin]

you’re skittish, of course, and yet you still tilt your head. brush everything aside. give me space to clamp my jaws down on your throat. make the sweetest sounds, too. squirm not to get away but get closer. i could tear you apart. i should tear you apart. you should not be offering this so easily. itching for the slice of teeth that are too sharp. something, somehow, that soothes & delights. doesn’t send you running. why aren’t you running? you should not let me take and take and take. but you do. i could bleed you dry. and i want to. i want to feel your pulse get weaker and weaker while i drink my fill. feel you grow cold beneath me. don’t i?

(why don’t i want to?)

[thatoneconfusedcitrus]

decay sounds more gentle than rot. when something decays, it is gently taken apart in it's comfortable eternal slumber. when something rots, it's violently taken apart with agony. in this essay i will

[thefreewillagency]

Decay sounds passive, just a thing that happens. Rot sounds like there's Something Doing This To You

[stsebastiens]

finding out there's a frankenstein ballet and that it was in october of last year…DEVASTATING

look at this. look at these. im foaming at the mouth

[kaijutegu]

It was stupid good. So good in fact that the bbc filmed a version and put it on dvd when it debuted. I bought that dvd after I saw the show and put it up on the Internet Archive. The audio is not great but the dancing is spectacular. Ever see a pas de deux around an anatomical dissection? You will.

[indiestarlight-deactivated20250]

i looooove characters who are sacrificial lamb coded. characters who have never lived for themselves. characters born to be a tool, a weapon, a sacrifice, all of the above. a character raised by the heroes to save the world, at any expense, even their own health, even their own life. a character raised by the villains to end the world, at any expense, even their own health, even their own life. characters who are denied personhood so they can be used as tools instead. characters who never even had a chance to be people because they were shaped into something else from the moment they were born. characters who were born to die.

[naceless]

The homoerotic relationship between a sword and its scabbard

[naceless]

The sword that cuts all but its scabbard. The scabbard that consumes none but its sword. The sword that is dulled by its scabbards protection but would fall to disrepair without it

[naceless]

The scabbard that cannot kill yet is soaked in blood all the same from holding its sword

[angiesmonologueblog]

THE LAST DAYS OF JUDAS ISCARIOT by Stephen Adly Guirgis

HENRIETTA ISCARIOT:

No parent should have to bury a child… No mother should have to bury a son. Mothers are not meant to bury sons. It is not in the natural order of things.

I buried my son. In a potter’s field. In a field of Blood. In empty, acrid silence. There was no funeral. There were no mourners. His friends all absent. His father dead. His sisters refusing to attend. I discovered his body alone, I dug his grave alone, I placed him in a hole, and covered him with dirt and rock alone. I was not able to finish burying him before sundown, and I’m not sure if that affected his fate…

I begrudge God none of this. I do not curse him or bemoan my lot. And though my heart keeps beating only to keep breaking- I do not question why.

I remember the morning my son was born as if it was yesterday. The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I remember holding my son, and looking over at my own mother and saying “Now I understand why the sun comes up at day and the stars come out at night. I understand why rain falls gently. Now I understand you, Mother”…

I loved my son every day of his life, and I will love him ferociously long after I’ve stopped breathing. I am a simple woman. I am not bright or learn-ed. I do not read. I do not write. My opinions are not solicited. My voice is not important…

The world tells me that God is in heaven and that my son is in Hell. I tell the world the one true thing I know: If my son is in Hell, then there is no Heaven- because if my son sits in Hell, there is no God.

[noknowshame]

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[noknowshame]

[rollercoasterwords]

i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

[furiousfinnstan]

@stvksn on ig

[lesbiantahani]

Jenny Slate, Stage Fright (2019)

[ryebreadgf]

Ugly, Bitter, and True by Suzanne Rivecca

[homemade-ghosts]

John Mulaney on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (2020)

[eugeniedanglars]

“Robin Williams and Why Funny People Kill Themselves” by David Wong

[seravph]

letters from Medea, salma deera

[buttonpoetry]

“Years later, I am seventeen. Half daughter, half apology, all fire and the wrong kind of love. When my mother asks if I am gay, I tell her I am sorry.”

— Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak