ScrufflePutter

Why did the chicken cross the road? To escape the oppressive cis-rooster aviarchy. The situation was fowl; the egg-snatching birdeoisie was hentrifying the hen-house she called home, making omelettes out of her heritage and poisoning her GMO-free worms with harmful pesticides. If her chicks were to escape the inevitable onset of McCawtism, she would have to leave this cock-smothered place and its amoxicillin injections far behind. ------------- Welcome. I might have a problem. Stick around to find out.

[hippywhippy]

I was at an LGBT+ event last night and a very nice lesbian saw me standing alone and came up to talk to me and she was telling me about her wife so I said, “You’re so lucky. I can’t wait to have a wife.”

She then proceeded to tell me about how her wife is the most annoying person in the world.

Anyway I can’t wait to have a wife.

[everythingbagels]

I just read this super sad post about this girl who’s asexual and married and everyone is basically telling her that she doesn’t deserve her husband/she’s just a prude/she should just do it anyway. So I want to tell you all right now that if people tell you this, or if they tell you you’ll never have a relationship, it is BULLSHIT. My husband is asexual and I’m not. He’s sex repulsed, we don’t have sex, we never have. And it doesn’t matter to me. You know what does? He does. His mental health and wellbeing matter to me. Because he is my best friend and he’s one of the smartest, kindest, funniest people I’ve ever met. And he’s had people tel him that he’s broken and it makes me SO ANGRY because they are WRONG. Being different doesnt mean you’re broken. If you don’t like sex/don’t want it/etc. Do not let anyone tell you that you’re inferior because you’re not. Do not let anyone convice you that you’ll never have a relationship because they’re wrong(if you want one). You are not broken, and it will be okay.

[onyxjuniper]

This made me feel really good. Remember this, for all my ace spectrum friends out there

[auditorycheesecakes]

#it’s really reassuring to hear from the partner #the one who’s not ace #but is totally cool with having no sex #loves her husband anyway #is in a stable and happy relationship #it’s such a relief when you discover that asexuality is a thing #that you’re okay #but then you start to wonder if it means your only chance at not ending up alone is finding someone else who’s also ace #but no #turns out it’s not #that’s really good to hear #so #thanks #so ace #so space

I hope you don’t mind me reblogging your tags but these are my feelings EXACTLY

I’m always a little nervous that I’m not “good enough” for a “real relationship” because sex isn’t on the table. So yeah, these stories are reassuring

[intj-confessions]

The amount of pressure from society to have sex is incredible. We’re told it’s linked to relationship health and if you’re not willing to do every damn thing you’re labeled a prude. It’s incredibly disheartening, especially considering how one’s libido can change over the years even if you’re not ace. Nice to see a supportive piece from a partner.

OK, kids, buckle up it’s story time.

When I got married, I hadn’t had sex yet.  Waiting until marriage was important to me, so that’s what I did.  My wedding night was the first time I had sex.

It sucked.

I figured, ok, this is new for both of us, it’s probably going to take some practice.

A year later?  It still sucked  We tried a lot of different stuff.  A lot  of different stuff.  It sucked so bad, we even bought a copy of “Sex for Dummies”.

(it didn’t help)

I started working late so I didn’t go to bed at the same time as my husband.  Every time he would travel for work, I’d be grateful that I didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of avoiding his advances when I went to bed.

He didn’t think it was healthy for a newlywed couple to have sex less than once a week.  So we scheduled it.  Repeat, scheduled intimacy.  I thought I was putting on a brave face and doing what I needed to do to maintain a good relationship.

Because I had no idea that asexuality was a thing.

I talked to my husband, told him I didn’t like sex.  He didn’t understand.  I lost track of how many times I said: “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you.  I don’t want to have sex with anyone.”

So it was established, Amber doesn’t like sex.

But we still did it.  Because I wanted my husband to be happy.  Sometimes halfway through, I’d start crying.

And he’d always be supportive, and apologize.

After he finished.

So when I found out about asexuality, and told him how I felt, he suggested I go to a doctor.  Because obviously there was something wrong with me.

So I went to a doctor.

(surprise, surprise, I’m perfectly healthy)

Then I told my mom.  When she suggested meds to improve my sex drive, I broke down in tears.  I told her there was nothing wrong with me.  And my mom has been 100% supportive of my orientation ever since.  When people ask if I’m a lesbian, she teaches them about asexuality.  

But anyway back to my journey of self-discovery

So I tell my husband, I’m asexual, I don’t want to have sex.  You are not asexual, you do want to have sex.  One of us is going to be miserable in this relationship, and I’m tired of it being me.  I love you too much to make you miserable for the rest of your life, but I love myself too much to be miserable for the rest of my life.  We might have to face the fact that we’re not right for each other.

So his immediate response is “no, I can change, I’ll do anything, divorce is not an option, etc”

But I can’t exactly ask him to stop wanting to have sex.  Because that’s not how allosexual people work.  And he can’t seduce me into wanting to have sex, because that’s not how asexual people work.

Anyway.  He cries, I cry, we decide on marriage counseling to help our comunication.

Because we’d been married for almost 6 years by this point, and had been together for 3 years before that, and we still can’t really talk about what we want (or don’t want) in regards to sex.

So we go to counselling for 6 weeks.  The first 3 sessions individually, and the last 3 together.  During the together sessions, the therapist would prompt us with a question, and we’d talk to each other, being completely honest about things.

During (what turned out to be) our last session, I’d finally had enough.  I’d had enough of being embarrassed about what anyone else would think.  Enough of the gender roles I was being forced into.  Enough of paying someone to watch me talk to my husband.  Enough of pretending to salvage a relationship that I had been increasingly avoiding over the past 2 years, and I said:

“Josh, I love you.  We have communication problems, but we’ve been together almost ten years and I’m willing to work through those if you think we can make it work.  But I am never having sex with you again.”

(At this point, the therapist who’d been trying to get us to communicate put down her notebook and said, ok I think we’re done.)

Then and only then, did he agree to file for divorce.

—————–

I say all that to say this:

Don’t you dare fucking tell me that asexual representation doesn’t matter.  I would have six years of my life back if I had known.

And if you’re in a relationship, talk to each other oh my God.  About everything.  What dream you had last night.  That song from scout camp that randomly gets stuck in your head.  The reason you don’t like sweet potato.  That embarrassing thing you did in third grade that still makes you mad when you think about it.  If you and your partner can share these tiny, intimate details, talking about sex is no big deal.  And it takes practice, so practice.

————–

On a happy note, now, 3 years after the divorce, I am in a happy, stable relationship with another ace.  And if you happen to ask my mom how I’m doing, she’ll tell you “I’ve never seen my baby girl happier.”

It gets better.  But it’s up to you to make it that way.

[handsofmydas]

@theonetheonlyjordanelizabeth please read this ❤️ I may be sex repulsed but I know that I love you and thats what matters ✨

[pansexualfaithlehane]

I know this is already really long and really informative, but I also wanted to add a partner’s perspective. I too, have an ace fiancee. I knew about it before our relationship. I didn’t know it was a thing until I met her, and that was huge to me because I learned something new and also came to understand an old friend a little better.  I, on the other hand, am not ace. I am at the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I am pansexual, and she has a hard time I think coming to terms with the fact that I don’t want to make her have sex. Like, ‘Really?’ you might ask me. Like really is my only reply. I have loved her for a long time now, and being we met over Tumblr and we knew one another before the relationship, sex isn’t a big deal in our relationship. and I can think of at least ten of my friends who would feel the same way right now. 

ASEXUALITY IS A REAL THING, LOVING, SWEET ACE RELATIONSHIPS ARE REAL! Just because your partner wants sex doesn’t make you broken. Just because you don’t want sex doesn’t mean you should have to force yourself to do so. 

Just be honest with one another, love one another. If a relationship can’t survive a healthy, honest conversation, then it wasn’t a very strong relationship to begin with.  TL;DR People who can’t see past sex as a ‘core’ in a relationship with someone ace/sex repulsed is an asshole.

[fragmentedink-archived]

@aesterea @lux-scriptum

[scruffleputter]

okay but also

remember that not wanting your partner to change goes both ways

some people require the type of intimacy sex provides to feel loved and wanted

some people will never be happy without it

some people will never be happy /with/ it

the bottom line here is talk to your damn partner

be honest

be forthcoming

you never know what might work

and just as importantly

you never know what might not

...

don’t waste your time; don’t waste theirs

there is someone for you out there

[artwoonz]

Art by: Gaku Carving Instagram: @artwoonz

[liraelclayr]

No, YOU’RE crying

[vaspider]

If you just needed something nice today, here it is.

[benkidu-deactivated20240822]

Oh my.

[geekandmisandry]

Onions…these damn onions

[scruffleputter]

Haaaahahaha yeah no I wasn't

ten weeks left of grad school

my body is ready

[sassy-un-classy-blog]

When the scene isn’t turning out like it’s supposed to but at least you’re writing

[scruffleputter]

               He left the hospital in the dead of night.

               It was against medical advice, to be certain. The long streak of seared flesh along his ribs was severe enough to warrant a day or two of oversight. It hurt like a son of a bitch, too. Just getting out of bed had felt like a herculean feat, and the trip to the Uber was excruciating. It was the only way, though – the only way to sneak out without Brendan, and by extension everyone else, knowing. They meant well, but more than anything, more than the pain and the nausea and the splitting headache, the notion of a friendly face dug deep.

               Job sank into the back seat of the car with a long, pained hiss. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He saw dark feathers and unliving eyes, heard an otherworldly scream, and his heavy eyelids fluttered back open.  

               “You okay, man?” The young driver looked concerned, glancing up in the rear-view before turning to face his passenger. “You sure you’re good to leave?”

               Job blinked, jumping a bit as his tired gaze met his driver’s. Pedro – that was the name from the app. “Long, uh… long night. I’m…” He paused, his thoughts drifting to another place, another time. A world buried in the twisted roots of an ancient tree. “…I’m fine. It’ll heal. I just need some sleep.”

               Pedro stared for a moment before turning back to the road. He shook his head, threw his car into gear, and pulled away from the hospital.

               It was a short trip, or at least it felt that way. Short, or maybe all too long, and he wasn’t sure he knew the difference, anymore. It was subjective, anyway. Fake. One more opinion in a sea of meaningless experience. What was it for? To protect life? Ignorant, chaotic life – not blissful, no, for he’d seen too much cruelty to believe in that tripe. People were wicked and spiteful, content to lash out at the first sign of contention, like bickering animals fighting over more than enough food.

               The car stopped, and he leaned forward with a low groan as he fumbled for his seat belt. He shut his eyes for a moment, but the sound of a door slamming jarred him awake. His door opened, and he looked up to see a pale hand extended downward. It took him a moment to realize his driver was helping him up.

               He took the hand with a muttered platitude. He took a weary step as he stood, but wobbled a bit, and he felt his arm being slung over a shoulder.

               “You’re a real dumbass, man. I should take you back.”

               Job felt himself smile, just for a moment. “You’re really earning that twelve bucks.”

               “Yeah, yeah. You live here, or you squatting? ‘Cus there’s some way nicer places to crash, if you need one.”

               His free arm pointed across the street, down a side alley littered with broken wood and bags of garbage. “I’m renovating, see? Gentrification in action.”

               Pedro smirked but said nothing. With some time and effort, he managed to get Job down the alley, past the piles of mess and up to a recently replaced door.

               Job winced as his arm was released. He leaned against the wall, fiddling in his ripped jacket’s pocket for his keys. The lock was new, and it took a minute for him to thread the key into the deadbolt. The door gave way, revealing more piles of garbage, some half-demolished walls, and a recently installed bar counter. A few hastily constructed stools lined the front, a nearby pile of boxes waiting to become new seating.

               Pedro peeked his head inside for a moment, paused, and invited himself in. “Wow. I thought you were full of shit. You startin’ a speakeasy, man? This bar looks great.”

               Job limped inside, leaning himself against the counter. “I… yeah, I guess. I like to… make things. Figured I could have a shit bar in a shit alleyway, or build one of the neighborhood’s nicer secrets.”

               His driver nodded approvingly. He looked around for a moment before the awkward silence caught up to him. He checked his phone, a motion that seemed more like his first step out the door than one that held purpose of its own. “Well, uh. I should go. You alright from here?”

               Job shrugged. “I guess. I, um… thanks. Have a good rest of your night.”

               Pedro just smirked. With a gentle pat on Job’s shoulder, he made his way out the door.

               A low groan left Job. He stepped gingerly along the length of the counter, pushing stools out of the way as he moved. A bottle of top-shelf vodka sat perched at one end, and he snatched it as he stumbled toward the stairs.

               Each step was more painful than the last. As much as he could, he put weight on his uncharred right side, leaning heavily on the battered railing he’d been meaning to replace. It held his weight, thankfully, and soon enough he was in what passed as his bedroom, a single night stand and a lone mattress his only real furnishings.

               A bitter stream of curses announced his collapse in the bed, and for a moment, he wondered how the hell he was going to get back up. Lale had lent him more than enough for a proper bedroom set, but every cent that didn’t go toward the bar was going back to her. He’d buy a proper dresser and bed frame when his business made some money. Until then, this would do. It was more than he’d earned, more than he deserved - more than some piece of shit garbage peddler had any right asking for.

How many kids had he helped baptize? How many lies? How many lived in fear of eternal fire? Denied themselves basic respect and decency because of what he'd taught them?

Loathe thy neighbor as yourself.

               Job looked at the bottle lying next to him. It was a gift from Lale, meant to celebrate when the bar opened. He was going to share it with Eli, since for some reason that trainwreck of a kid had latched on to him and he’d been a… surprisingly good help around the bar. Why, he wasn’t sure. He had an apartment to go home to. Better things to do. Better people to see.

               Guilt twisted in his gut as he twisted the cap off the bottle. Eli deserved better. So did this vodka. It was too good for guzzling, yet as it burned its way down his throat, and the fatigue gave way to that familiar blur, he knew he wouldn’t stop.

               There was nothing to celebrate, anyway. He’d met the closest thing to god that he ever would, and he’d put a shotgun slug in its eye.

[spaceler]

[gerbilfat]

purrmaids! A Christmas gift for a friend, two purrmaids harassing an octopus that really just wants to take a nap. It’s painted to fit inside of a 6″x8″ photo mat.

W&N drawing ink, watercolor, and some gouache on Arches paper

[scruffleputter]

A dear friend of my fiancee and I took her own life early last month. I’ve been searching for the words for weeks to explain what she meant to me, but my mind just draws a blank. I’ve got nothing. I think of her and an emptiness sinks into my gut that tarnishes her memory and saps the joy out of our friendship.

This gift was meant for my fiancee, but for me, personally, it serves as a focal point - a reminder of what would have brought my friend joy, and of what I should hold on to.

I can’t express how grateful we both are. 

[bogleech]

there used to be this guy who just happened to end up on every animation community I ever checked out and who had to be banned from all of them entirely because his love of Catdog was just that out of control.

[bogleech]

So in case anybody doubted me:

If this guy was a troll, he kept up this persona for a good ten years across multiple communities without missing a beat. People BEGGED him to stop injecting Catdog into every possible topic. To stop the multicolored, bolded rants. To stop starting whole new threads celebrating the birthdays of bit Catdog characters. He never listened. He never backed down from his burning, immutable Catdog passion.

[yiffmaster]

this is lola caricola if anyone’s wondering

[scruffleputter]

I’ve reblogged this before but I can’t contain myself

[studentlifeproblems]

If you are a student Follow @studentlifeproblems​

[scruffleputter]

can confirm

source: asian wife

[gif87a-com]

View this post on Instagram

[i-must-be-odd]

I am wet

[abkvs]

Gravity whomst?

[drukhari]

“How do people know that you’re gay?”

[raiona-deactivated20191006]

[Audio Transcription: Guitar music softly in background. Exhale. “So. A lot of people ask, “how do people know that you’re gay?” And I gotta tell ya: I don’t think it’s the haircut. I don’t think it’s the piercings.

I think … 

It’s the sword.”  End Audio Transcription]

[the-movemnt-deactivated20170912]

this is true love y’all (x) | follow @the-movemnt

[screengeniuz]

😂

❤️

[enchantechante]

pls let this be the start of a trend

[warbutt]

retweet this and your dream job will come into your life

[internetsurfing]

ok y'all this is crazy i reblogged this today and i just got offered a job. what the fuck

[ummno]

Worked last year. Give it a whirl, kids.

[flordefandom]

You don’t live in Argentina and you want to know why there’s so much trouble about one guy’s “suicide”? Okay, so as you’re on Tumblr I’m going to assume that you have read Harry Potter. So be kind and grab the fifth book.

What the hell has Harry Potter to do with Argentina? Well, you know Umbridge, that hated-by-all character? That’s our president. Cristina Fernández de Kirchner is the real life version of Umbridge. And our government is full of Cornelius Fudges. They’re exactly like in the book, they spent most of the time attacking media, they have a “you’re with us or you’re against us” mentality, they deny things that are obvious, they cover the truth with half-assed lies, they say that you’re lying when you point out the stuff they don’t want to admit, they try to control every single aspect of our lives and they claim conspiracies to overthrone them all the time.

Now, the thing is that they’re taking it further. They’re killing the people that accuse them. When the news of Nisman’s death came out, what the people first claimed was “They murdered Nisman”. Do you understand how a country has to be for the people’s first conclusion to be that?

Alberto Nisman was the prosecutor who worked for 10 years in the terrorist attack that the Asociación Mutual Isreaelí-Argentina (AMIA) suffered 19 years ago. People from Iran were acussed but to this day there is not a single person in jail for it. Nisman acussed this week the president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner to cover up the attackers in order to have better commercial relations with Iran (aka oil). Today Nisman was going to testify and bring out the more than 300 disks of evidence he had. Instead, he was found dead in his bathroom and the goverment was fast to claim it was a suicide.

You know what they said when Nisman acussed the president? That it was a complot of the opposite media groups to undermine how many people were going to the beach on holidays (as it is summer holidays here). You know what they did now? The goverment network spent the time showing how to do tortas fritas. And all we got from the president was a Facebook letter, that out-right said it had been a suicide. And we’re talking about a woman who comes out on national broadcast every time she fats (on Argentina we have “cadenas nacionales” where the president or a public servant speaks, and all national air networks MUST air them.) Such national broadcast should only be done on cases of emergencies, save that our goverment uses them for everything but emergencies.

Do you know get an idea of what we’re living here?

[randombloggo2000]

I’m rebbloging this because lately, more evidence has been found about Nisman. His autopsy data was tampered to make it look like a suicide. Today, and after the government change, we know more details about his death, he was beaten and shot by two men. 

This is the country we are living in.

[feministpixie]

“Oh, so because I’m straight I’m not allowed to have an opinion on [insert LGBT issue here]”

Listen. 

I’m an english major. I know next to nothing about science, engineering, and astronomy. Sure, I think space is cool. I’m very supportive of NASA’s efforts. I might even have an opinion on where we should send the next shuttle or how much money we should spend on space travel. 

But at the end of the day, my opinion on the matter is not valuable. I’m not going to enter into a discussion about the next shuttle launch with a bunch of trained scientists and expect them to take me seriously. 

Sometimes, your opinion is not valuable. Sometimes, you aren’t qualified to enter a discussion.

And, lets be honest, straight people’s opinions are valued in literally every other situation. Hell, straight people get more awards for lgbt “activism” than queer people themselves.

If you really can’t accept that sometimes your voice isn’t the most important in the room, you might need to get over yourself. 

[lilnympho]