Youre What You Yeet

Stressed, Depressed, And averagely Dressed. 22

[the-muppet-joker]

Ouch my hands got stabbed on nails and now I'm bleeding from two thematically insignificant puncture wounds on each of my hands. Jesus Christ

[the-muppet-joker]

Ever night I lie awake with a pounding in my chest as I remember how temporary this all is. One day I and you and everyone will be dead and then there will be nothing after. I will close my eyes and my memories and thoughts and experiences and feelings will be gone. Where will they go? I am so deeply terrified to not exist. What happens to me when the electric signals in my brain stop firing? I believed that I would find the warm embrace of God after I died. Then, I feared it would be less of an embrace and more of a chokehold as God sapped away my free will and identity into the eternal bliss of heaven and praise. You do not exist if you are stripped of your pain. If I knew my Mother to be in hell and still sang God's praise, I would not be myself anymore. Then, the church reassured me that I was destined for hell, which I took some comfort in. At least I would exist somewhere, screaming in the flames. But no. You do not exist if you are stripped of your joy. Now, I fear that God is as dead as I am to be in several decades or a minute, depending on nothing but luck. Dead dead dead. I am so scared of it all going away. I cry and heave and curse but nothing can be done about it by anybody. At least no one else is as afraid as I am, even if they should be. Afraid afraid afraid. But gods, alive or dead, at least I know Muppet Hole will last forever. When all I know is gone, the worms will still taste the salty necter of my seed which I have planted in the muppet vessel of my desire. This image you sent me has brought me back to my senses. I am not afraid to die! I am not afraid of anything! I am only mad with lust and my erection is filled with knowledge. God bless

[themuppetmasterencyclopedia]

[the-muppet-joker]

Purple suit? He looks like the Joker... how effervescent!

[theartofangirling]

I’ve been waiting a year to post this

[theartofangirling]

it’s that time of year again

[the-muppet-joker]

I will visit one of my followers in their dreams tonight. Keep an eye out for my Muppet Presence...

[pisshandkerchief]

there are corners of this website where the year is still 2013. and sometimes, on beautiful nights when the veil is thin, you can find them . if you know where to look

[commando-rogers]

ok idk if people on here are talking abt this idk if I’ve seen it but one of the funniest/most awkward things about the immediate aftermath of the queen’s death was audiences that night going to see musicals on the west end, specifically Wicked. apparently before the show some official came out and called for a minute or two of silence in honor of the queen. makes sense. silence concludes, lights come down, show begins. the overture begins very loudly with dramatic and fast-moving music, moves to a slower section, and at around the minute mark, becomes a very brassy, loud, cantankerous kind of aggressive melody. and then, after a minute of silence and a minute of overture, the audience is greeted with the first words of this musical, the words that have started the musical every night since 2003, now being sung loud and proud in london on September 8th, 2022:

“Good news! She’s dead!”

[commando-rogers]

seems like as good a time as any to bring this back around. crab rave loading

[hotvampireadjacent]

[celine-deyonce]

[hotvampireadjacent]

[sewerfight-deactivated20250114]

when I was around twelve I used to sit at the family computer and send hatemail to a white french dude named Jacques who was a self proclaimed communist on Tumblr. This was back in the day when you didn't need a blog to send anon hate. I had no real beef with him but I just didn't like his tone. used to send him "SHUT UP Jacques" periodically. and he'd answer every single one of my asks like "who is this?? show your face or I'll fucking kill you" and I'd be like "now now, that doesn't make sense, jacques" all haughty and he'd get so fucking mad at me. One time he posted a selfie and I sent him an ask claiming I was a psychologist and that his hair parting suggested that he wasn't a communist at all. and he took it deliriously serious and went off on a 2,000 word rant. I can remember going to stay at my grandparents over that weekend, so I didn't even respond to the rant until I came back. I could've chosen to end it there, but when I returned, I sent him another ask which was like "psychologist here again: if you were a communist your hair parting would be in the middle. evenly distributed. All behavioural signs point to someone who doesn't take their own values seriously." and he went ballistic. really swearing at me. all caps type beat. he never turned the asks off, btw. which always made me wonder if he didn't know how to, or if he didn't want to cause he was convinced he was fighting a war, and this action would ensure he lost it. anyway this went on for weeks until one day I completely forgot about him like he was some kind of childhood imaginary friend I'd conjured up in my loneliness. but yesterday I happened to recall the whole scenario, because my buddy was like "remember when you were twelve and I came over to your house, and you showed me on the computer how you'd been terrorizing this random French guy for days on end. And you were laughing like fucking crazy. and I said it wasn't funny because he probably had problems, and you were like 'oh.' and you looked a bit guilty for a second, but then you went and got a grapefruit from the kitchen and threw it out of the second story window at my kid brother, who was playing in the street, and then you started laughing again?" Well. when she put it like that, needless to say I felt bad. so Jacques if you're out there I'm sorry I was such a little shit. you had totally normal hair, and you only wanted people to share stuff. If it's any consolation I know every day of my life that I'm probably going to hell for the sick things I have done

[celebrate-lesbianism]

Being Butch

Being butch is embracing the bushy eyebrows my mother used to hold me down to pluck. Thick and dark, they're one of my favourite things about my face.

Being butch is wearing comfortable clothing in my favourite earth-toned colours. Wearing boxers, long ones, and feeling secure and covered even in vulnerable moments. 

Being butch is being practical and helpful. It’s having extra time to sleep in the morning and not being afraid to run, move, or get my hands dirty.

Being butch is making peace with the colour pink, forced on me as a kid, implicitly and explicitly. Now I pair my pink dress shirt with a tie, if and when I feel like it. 

Being butch is taking up space, doing as I please. Dirty looks from men mean nothing when I have all the power. 

Being butch is reclaiming my favourite parts of myself and letting them truly be mine.

[personalphilosophie]

Butch math is "if it's for my femme it's free"

[parme-san]

everybody's got that one homie posting straight from the valley of the shadow of death

[handsomegentlebutch]

This isn't aimed at anyone but it's such a bummer that butches/studs/mascs are expected to bc aggressive and tops. What if I'm soft and subby? Then what? What if I just want to worship my femme at the altar and defy God to please her? What if I want to be used by her? Live to please her? Cook her favorite meals and hold her close to show her she's loved? What if I'm tender and look the most handsome on my knees? If I just want to follow my femmes commands? What if i want us to find home in each other? What if I want to be her stay at home husbutch always ready to please? What if i want to look up at her and see all the love ive always wanted and never thought i was worthy of? What then?

[teathattast]

[teathattast]

we slidin

[urbanfantasyinspiration]

At that point he’s a passenger too

[luulapants]

Happy we slidin season to all who observe

[pathologising]

Also I think we need to get rid of the idea that therapy is just a paid bestie for you to vent at because like therapy is so much more than ranting to someone it's challenging your internal cognitive disconnects and replacing maladaptive coping mechanisms and a whole bunch of other stuff and involves you putting in as much work as the therapist but I feel like that part is lost on people