vulnerability is like so hard, if I told you anything sappy please know that I had a hand to hand combat with seven layers of embarrassment and repression
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@roxannaamberlynn
vulnerability is like so hard, if I told you anything sappy please know that I had a hand to hand combat with seven layers of embarrassment and repression
Sometimes facebook is hilarious
wine drunk is the best drunk. makes u horny & intellectual. a lust-filled academic
from “that’s my girl” to “that’s my wife”
from "come over" to "come home"
art of the beloved club q victims (daniel davis aston, derrick rump, raymond green vance, ashley paugh, kelly loving) by jen white johnson, jtknoxroxs on ig
everytime I remember that lesbian couple that have a marble statue of the two of them embracing and sleeping on a bed together over where their graves will be because the artists didn’t believe they would be able to be married before they died, so what they couldn’t have in life they could have in death, I fucking breakdown
memorial to a marriage; patricia cronin
“on july 24th, 2011- the first day that same sex marriage was legal in new york state, particia cronin and deborah kass got married. that same year the marble ‘memorial to a marriage’ was replaced with a bronze version. rainwater pools in the space between their two sculpted bodies, and falling leaves catch on the metal in the autumn. the two women sleep peacefully through snow and ice, and the scorching days of summer. over time the hands of cemetery visitors will wear down the bronze, burnishing it into a smooth shine. one day this will mark the final resting place of the two women. and someday people will have to remember that there was a time, long ago, when this was a memorial to a marriage that two women never thought they’d have.”
- Caitlin Doughty, on the Death in the Afternoon podcast
For those curious:
Here’s the real-life couple in 2019 💖
happy 20th anniversary (nov 3, 2002) to patricia cronin’s marble sculpture that furthered art, advocacy, and lesbian breakdowns everywhere
idk whats funnier: that tumblr got people to spend multiples of $7.99 to add fake verification checkmarks to their blog to ""make fun of"" twitter's latest fuckup, or that these checkmarks literally do not show up for mobile users and thats why i had no idea this amazing feat of opportunistic capitalism was even happening until just now
there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter
tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on
truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that
Reblog and put in the tags how often you “clean” your tumblr account, deleting old posts.
Tumblr actually has an auto clean function! Where the search function immediately forgets tags and posts making them un-findable
yall are a little too good at replicating the old tumblr fandom posts please stop i feel like a veteran on the fourth of july
sometimes plushies make me cry because it’s like. they’re little guys made to be loved. their only purpose is to be held and hugged and loved. we made them because we love making things and we love loving things. and they’re so cute
Years back, I was working at a specialty store, and we got this HUGE crate of plushy toys. They were all insanely cute and squishy. I knew kids would go nuts for them, as it was the first week of December, so parents and grandparents often had kids with them while shopping for furniture, lamps, cooking equipment, lights, etc.
One night, I was working my last hour of my shift covering the Customer Service desk, which meant when I wasn't busy, I was supposed to help clean up around the cash registers, including taking back items people changed their minds about at the checkout. Earlier, I had witnessed a kid carrying thos cute plushy toy. It was a brown and white hedgehog. The kid, at the checkout, saw a remote control car and he told his dad he qanted it. The dad told him, "The plushy or the car- you can't have both" (by the way, I respect boundaries with kids and parents sticking to their guns about it), and the kid picked the car.
So, I'm cleaning up, have less than an hour left of my shift, and I see the little plushy hedgehog. Somehow, he never got put back nor had anyone else seen him and decided to buy him. He was just sitting there, slumped to the side, unattended.
It's Christmas and I'm a sentimental old sap at heart. My brain starts replaying the scene from RUDOLPH where he's on the Island of Misfot Toys, and is told a toy is never truly happy until it is loved. I picked him up and quickly took him back to the bin with the plushies but... It was empty. He was literally the last plushy toy and my boss was about to wheel the bin out. We weren't getting any more toys till November, so that meant any toys left at this point needed to sell or they'd be sent to the dump.
I brought the little hedgehog to the front, figuring someone would see him with the candy, candles, & Christmas brick-a-brack, and fall in love with him. When I finished my shift, I went to ask my manager a question and as I passed the Christmas candle display - there he sat, the sad little slumped over hedgehog plushy. No one had bought him, or even moved him.
My manager, Phillip, saw me and the hedgehog. He asked how the hedgehog got there. I told him how I'd put him there when the bin got sent back, and he was the only plushy left. Philip had kids, I figured he'd probably get sentimental and buy it for his kids. Nope. He shrugged and said he'd send it back to be disposed of.
That night, I came home with a plushy hedgehog in my passenger seat. My mom saw him and just thought he was the cutest little hedgehog and asked what I wanted to do with him. I told her the story, then added I didn't know exactly what I wanted to do with him.
My mom is a child psychiatrist, specializing in children with PTSD and brain damage that results in learning problems/issues with processing their emotions. She asked if she could have the plushy hedgehog (even offered to pay me for him, she didn't expect me to just give him over), so kids could hug him when they were upset in session.
Murphy, the plushy hedgehog that still slumps a little to the left when seated, has been hugged by hundreds of kids. Little girls have held him tight while explaining about bullies, little boys have held him tight while crying over their panic attacks, younger siblings have held him to whisper secrets while elder siblings and parents talk about self-soothing techniques, teenagers have hugged Murphy while talking about the worst day of their lives. Murphy has also been hugged by kids excitedly chatting about a new friend at school, a teen girl excited to be called by her name instead of her dead-name, little kids proudly saying they've mastered their ABCs, and even staff members who just need to come chat over a case they are having trouble with.
Every now and then, my mom brings Murphy home for a weekend. He gets washed (she calls it a Spa Weekend, to her coworkers, all of them laughing), dried, and sits outside with my mom in the sunshine to get aired out, then on Monday, they are back to work. Some kids even just ask to hold Murphy while they talk, no matter their mood or what they want to talk about. They just want to hug Murphy.
So yes. Plushies are made for one purpose. To be hugged and loved. To be a comfort.
there r so many emojis i always stumble across something like 🗜 and i think who the HELL would ever use this emoji. and then i think abt some guy who probably works w those things all the time n hes so happy he can use this emoji. and im happy for him
My dad has started using them regularly in conversations to make the underrepresented emojis feel included, which is very cute in theory, but it means I get texts like:
Anyways this is the only correct way to use emojis have a very 🪔 day
reminds me of this interaction I had with my parents
they were in the same room and apparently when they got my explanation text my dad threw his phone down and said “how the FUCK does she expect me to know that”
Punjabi but in a southern accent
The accent makes me think I should understand what he’s saying is this what a stroke feels like
Hearing languages in accents they Should Never Be Spoken With both entertains and causes psychological damage.
It hits the same spot that Simlish does in my brain because it sounds like language I should know but it isn’t.
have to thank tumblr for romanticizing absolutely everything. i'll be washing dishes and peeling oranges thinking of love languages its insane
heye every one.
i have on important announcemen t to make.
sam.