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@scorpeony
i love you fanfiction i love you fanart i love you character/ship playlists i love you gifsets i love you meta writers i love you shitposters i love you transformative works i love you everyone who feels for a piece of media so deeply that it inspires you to transform it into something new and your own and share it with the world
what people don’t understand about how adhd is disabling is that it’s not just getting temporarily distracted from, like, school work or hobbies. it’s getting distracted/being unable to motivate yourself to go to the doctor, eat regularly, do hygiene tasks, etc. it’s not knowing when or how long it will take you to do something, ANYTHING, and in many cases that thing is taking a shower or keeping your house from turning into a biohazard. it’s about being fundamentally incapable of controlling your attention and focus on anything, even and especially things you need to do to survive.
Like we have commodified human connection to a degree where if you go beyond smalltalk you're oversharing and if you talk too deeply about your life you're traumadumping and if you get visibly upset you're manipulative and if you care too much you're codependent and if you want to talk about anything heavy you're expected to go hire a therapist because your friends shouldn't have to deal with that stuff and yet we're all sitting around wondering why so many people are lonely...
«And the universe said I love you. And the universe said you have played the game well»
Happy Birthday, Technoblade! Thank you for everything
monaco gp, 2026, colorized and with captions
God forbid im on the phone
black tortoiseshell
following weird horny furries who are into shit like pooltoys and transformation and stuff is enrichment. the vitamins and minerals of posting
once you get over your ass and realise you will never get some people and that’s ok you are basically immune to right wing fearmongering. otherkin? none of my fucking business
I must not fall victim to disgust. Disgust is the heart-killer. Disgust is the little-death that brings total apathy. I will face my disgust. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the disgust has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
something i've noticed that has become really annoying in the past 10 years or so is this fad of what i've been calling, for lack of a better word, "structural whataboutism." it's that thing where, when faced with a concrete, resolvable problem in your community, your answer is to blame it on a vast, unsolvable issue of structural inequality and then throw up your hands. "there's trash all over the ground in this corner of the park" becomes "well, that's where MEN OF COLOR congregate after their 12-HOUR GRAVEYARD SHIFTS and i'm not going to support a CARCERAL SOLUTION to a CAPITALISTIC PROBLEM. WE NEED TO ELIMINATE POVERTY AND THE SUBJUGATION OF THE WORKING CLASS" and it's like okay but sis. someone still has to go pick up the trash. we don't need a carceral solution, we need more trash cans. you're not going to eliminate poverty and the subjugation of the working class and even if ya did, there would still be trash on the ground. how any of this passes for radicalism within their peer groups i simply don't understand. it's radical laziness more than anything else
I was on a canoe trip once with a river biologist who worked for the county. After we found and removed a car tire, she started talking about the annual river cleanup her department organized. From a water quality or ecological standpoint, removing shopping carts, car tires, and other macro trash from the river really wasn't that important, she said. The real threat to the river was industrial and agricultural runoff.
"But!" she said:
People who see a clean, trash-free river are more likely support laws to curb more harmful "systemic" forms of pollution. People who participate in river cleanups take pride in their work--their river!--and become evangelists for protecting it.
Immediate action leads to systemic awareness, which leads to systemic change.
True hero.
"A German-born admiral spent 6 years in Nazi POW camps and never spoke a single word of German to his captors—not even to his own cousin."
Admiral Józef Unrug was born Joseph von Unruh in Brandenburg, Prussia. He spoke German as his mother tongue, served in the Imperial German Navy during World War I, and commanded submarines for the Kaiser.
But in 1919, everything changed.
When Poland regained independence after 123 years of partition, Józef made a choice that would define the rest of his life. He renounced his German commission, left his homeland, and traveled to Poland—a country that had no navy, no warships, not even a proper port.
He didn't just join Poland's military. He bought a ship with his own money and donated it to become one of Poland's first naval vessels. By 1925, he was Commander of the Fleet, speaking Polish with a thick German accent, building a navy from absolutely nothing.
When Nazi Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, Admiral Unrug commanded the coastal defenses on the Hel Peninsula. Outnumbered ten to one, he fought for a month while Warsaw fell. Finally, on October 2, 1939, he surrendered with honor and became a prisoner of war.
That's when his real resistance began.
The Germans moved him between camps—Colditz Castle, Murnau, Woldenberg. Former colleagues from his German Navy days visited, appealing to old friendships. They offered him rank, promotions, command positions. Admiral Dönitz himself reportedly tried to recruit him back to the Kriegsmarine.
Then his own cousin came to visit.
Major General Walter von Unruh greeted Józef warmly in German, expecting a conversation in their shared native tongue.
Instead, Unrug replied in French.
Confused, his cousin asked why he was speaking French.
Józef looked at him calmly and said: "On September 1, 1939, I forgot how to speak German. I am a Pole and a Polish officer."
The Germans were stunned. This was a man who had commanded their submarines, who understood every word they said, whose family had served Prussia for generations.
But for six years—through multiple camps, countless recruitment attempts, visits from family members—Admiral Unrug never spoke German again. When Germans addressed him, he demanded translators. When they insisted he must understand, he replied only in Polish or French.
Language became his weapon of resistance.
He refused to give his captors even a syllable of recognition. Always correct, always formal, always cold. His fellow prisoners drew strength from his unbending example. The Germans found him increasingly frustrating—he wouldn't break, wouldn't bend, wouldn't even acknowledge their shared past.
In April 1945, American forces liberated his camp. But the news was devastating: Poland had fallen under Soviet occupation.
Unrug chose exile over compromise. He moved to the United Kingdom, then Morocco where he worked on fishing boats, then France. A rear admiral working manual labor rather than accept a communist government or a pension he felt his men were denied.
His final wish was to be buried in free Poland, among his men. But he set a condition: he would not return until his colleagues murdered during Stalinist terror were properly rehabilitated.
He would not return until Poland was truly free.
Admiral Józef Unrug died in France on February 28, 1973, at age 88. His wife Zofia died in 1980. They were buried together in France, alongside other Polish patriots who died far from home.
Decades passed. The Berlin Wall fell. The Soviet Union collapsed. Poland regained sovereignty. The murdered officers were finally found and honored.
And Admiral Unrug could come home.
On September 24, 2018—forty-five years after his death—his coffin was carried aboard the Polish Navy frigate ORP Kościuszko. On October 2, 2018—exactly seventy-nine years to the day after his surrender at Hel—a state funeral was held in Gdynia.
Admiral Józef Unrug was laid to rest at Oksywie Naval Cemetery, among his officers and sailors, in the free Poland he had waited his entire life to see.
He had finally come home.
Sometimes the most powerful act of resistance isn't violence or sabotage—it's the quiet, absolute refusal to compromise on who you are. Józef Unrug never raised a weapon in his final war. He simply refused to speak the language of his enemy.
And in that silence, he said everything that needed to be said.
Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi
First time drawing her
they're still terming random transfems as i type this i see which does make quite a statement doing this today specifically
watched three girls who reblogged its new blog mutual aidpost (made literally 15 minutes ago) already disappear from its notifs. transfems are not included in their pride :/
QUITE the statement to be nuking transfems at the current accelerated pace right at the start of pride month like this, isn't it
This post is no more than two days old as of June 3rd, 2026. All of these blogs were nuked in two days or less.
"Não temo a morte nem a dor"
"E o que você teme?
"Uma gaiola. Ficar atrás das grades, até que o costume e a idade as aceitem, e toda as grandes oportunidades fiquem na lembrança ou na vontade."
