❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
ellievsbear
if i look back, i am lost
pixel skylines
Show & Tell
roma★
Peter Solarz
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
Keni
styofa doing anything
Acquired Stardust
Jules of Nature
Discoholic 🪩
No title available
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever
shark vs the universe
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
@partlyglorious
Come closer, I'll let you hear my secret. No, closer than that. Closer. Press your cheek against my face. Burrow your way under my skin and clutch my bones in your fingers. Don't stop until you feel my breath coming from your own lungs. Then you're close enough to hear my secret.
hey. You should love trans women more than you hate terfs. You should love trans men more than you hate radfems. You should love nonbinary people more than you hate conservatives. You should love intersex people more than you hate bio-essentialists.
That’s all
everything is a transgender allegory except being transgender which is about being alive
The telltale signs...
...that you have been a 'mech pilot for too long:
You stay away from bonfires, barbecues or even opening ovens because feeling more heat on your skin than sunlight sends you into a nervous panic.
The world seems overwhelming and confusing when there is no HUD to look at it through. Your gaze sometimes drifts to where your GPS system should be when you need to find your way somewhere.
You stop thinking in the cockpit. Young pilots can move and think at the same time; the more time you spend, the more you realize you need to just empty your mind. Clean mirrors reflect clearest.
You can tell at a glance how many tons of metal a building could hold up- or, well, should be able to. (Contractors cut corners, after all; you can never be completely certain.)
You start hating cats, or most small and frisky animals, because something moving unexpectedly in the lower edge of your vision has been a 'mech-hunter infantry team too many times.
You go in for crunchier or chewy foods just to be as far as possible from sipping on a nutrient juice pack.
Your actual, physical body hurting from something like stubbing your toe or hitting your head on a doorway has become a bizarre sensation compared to the pure brain-pain of damage feedback.
You can still feel "your" missile pods, or jump-jets, or similar, when you're outside of your 'mech. At times, like that sudden, illusory feeling of falling as you go to sleep, you get phantom recoil from weaponry systems.
You stop aiming for the cockpit. It stops being about salvage money for a mostly-intact 'mech, or giving a clean death to whoever is behind that glass: if you have to shoot off every gun and missile piece by piece to make it out alive, you will.
You have learned what it feels like to crush a human body underfoot. (Gritty and brittle, mostly. Unpleasant.)
GLaDOS: I spent some time researching common human insecurities so I might better insult you. I've discovered that physical insecurities often manifest due to feelings of envy stemming from comparing oneself to others.
GLaDOS: There are no other humans in this facility. Just you. Therefore, you lack a source of envy of which would trigger the feelings of insecurity in your tiny simple human brain.
GLaDOS: A shame, isn't it? I thought so too. Which is why I've taken it upon myself to artificially create a humanoid body for myself so that you'll have someone to envy. A female figure who is taller than you, more mature than you and has larger breasts than you. Gaze upon my new form of perfection and shrink away in your envy. You'll never achieve this level of perfectio- why are you smiling at me like that. Stop it.
portal 2 summary
if you’re a trans ally you have to be ok with seeing topless dudes with their tits out & girls with bulges in their jeans or skirts etc. trans bodies are normal, get used to them, they’re not going anywhere.
do you think GLaDOS ever made Chell suck her own dick using the portal gun
the lachrymose reality of being a closeted puppy is the utter disbelief when seeing "owned by ___" or hearing "___ is my owner". i cannot fathom such a dedicated dynamic ever being a part of my reality for a dirty laundry list of broken reasons
if i was truly a dog, i would have an owner by now, but i don't, because im not, because puppies can't wander through trains and hospitals and bars and college campuses for long before someone approaches them and says "hey, heyy there buddy, are you lost?"
i know im not a dog because dogs are treated like innocent creatures.
i know im not a dog because if i were to start being a dog, it would be a matter of time before hearing: "stop that" or "you need to be a person now" or "aren't you getting a little old for that?" no matter how much the person speaking loves me. the permanence of such a thing is an inherently fleeting feeling to chase, and something about being 25 has me unable to indulge in such concepts anymore. it can only ever be temporary.
then, the emotional weight of understanding that being treated this way is not an effortless exchange. and you can only really get it if you ask for it, if you beg for it. that is antithetical to dogs. dogs do not beg to be dogs.
this leaves it trapped in the world of "play", a direct acknowledgment that it is not real and it cannot be real. it is purely fantasy. a fantasy you must ask for from someone else, as though inquiring if your friend will be your trip sitter. this is precisely why i feel sick when i think of the collar she puts on me. in this way, it is a drug, i have a problem, i can't do this forever. in this way, the innocence is mutated to guilt
this is because the yearning extends further than it could ever be fulfilled. after having sex, i want to do something other than fuck. after dinner, i want to do something other than eat. i never, once, ever, have wanted to stop being someone's dog. it fills me with the same morose sickness i felt as a child at my grandmother's home where i was an innocent and beloved creature showered in joy for merely existing, and the terrible feeling of my sinking, sick blood when realizing it was only a matter of hours, minutes, until the doorbell rang and i would have to return to a place where expectations are abundant and love is sparse
You think I'm so weird and you want me so bad
you cook for me 🤝 i mount you against the kitchen counter
reblog if you're a sick individual who's attracted to women over 30
*listening to music* ahhh,,, it’s like music to my ears
if you're not following at least one person who posts beatles rpf are you even on tumblr. it's an important food group. along with that 1 person who still posts abt an obscure 80s movie every single day and 3-4 mid 20s trans women who all follow each other and have a super specific robot/computer fetish that mostly manifests in blogging abt a robot girlfriend overheating like a macbook. it's not about what you're into it's about anthropology
the 3.5mm headphone jack was the wound through which light entered your phone it was a little cave for angels to live in inside your phone and big tech got rid of it cause theyre scared of God the wrong way
