Simon would NOT be an engineer in bloodymary swap aus. That motherfucker typed in “password” and then “password1” in the damn computer
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@percypatterns
Simon would NOT be an engineer in bloodymary swap aus. That motherfucker typed in “password” and then “password1” in the damn computer
happy birthday luffy! ☀️
Does Ryan Gosling know that his pull within the neurodivergent queer community has just been boosted 10000000% more than his role as Ken ever did?? Does he know?? Does he know we’re all over here barking and foaming at the mouth at his autistic aroace little fuckin scientist guy who’s twins with himself and in love with Markiplier? Or in a qpr sandwich with two rocks?? Does he know he has reached #1 blorbo status for like 1/5 of this website??
Nobody should ever tell him. Nobody needs to add tumblr icon to his long list of accolades, he’s got too many already
it gets to a point that is just weirder if they didn't fuck
you did all this and it was not even because you wanted to bang him? weirdo
field trip cancelled
Based off hit tumblr post:
A fanart of Franky with Robin using a cool photo I found on pinterest as reference, I love them so much 😭😭😭
I’m just delivering on Mr. Mark iplier’s vision
obsessed. also makes sense when you remember than butterflies drink blood
Simon as Ophelia 😋
I find it so funny that people are shocked and freaking out that Mark knows about the bloodymary ship as if he wasn't saying shit like this on this very site back in 2015
happy pride month
THE BUTCHER / THE BUTCHERED
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
Space guys
hey bi people
imagine youre maya jayashtri. you've had a long day and there's 7 minutes left til the store closes, when two middle aged gentlemen, carrying a basil plant and a single sweet potato and who are obviously in a fight make small talk at your register. they say they're new in town, that they bought your partner's childhood home from the shitty company that stole it from her.
you finish up your work and meet them outside. you insinuate that they're a couple and one of them starts screaming at you to watch your mouth. you apologize and they snort a line of coke from the handlebar of their broken electric scooter.
they tell you they want to improve this town and they have nine (9) buses. you have to see it to believe it so you follow them home.
you get there and see that they do in fact have nine buses, as well as an additional four roommates. you ask what their relationship is and they reply "dual male income household" and "San Fransisco," as if that means anything.
they invite you to hang out sometime but tell you that they have just moved and have no furniture, but you can meet them at the bar they somehow already co-own. before you leave, one of them runs at a superhuman speed and tears off the height chart from the wall of your partner's childhood home.