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porterdavis

thererisesaredstar

by studiosalud (2024)

gallusrostromegalus

Let’s Have Another Bullet Point Story, Courtesy of a Friend

So I have a friend that used to be in the tumblers troupe at the renfaire as a contortionist

We were chatting online and she told me to tell you all this story.

I love Kat dearly

but she forgets that she’s stupid strong and hypermobile

so one day she throws her back out

bad enough that she needed painkillers and couldn’t stand upright

“But also I needed Tampons and like. A Burrito, real bad.”

she’s flat on her back in her apartment when she decides this

and, in an

impeccable

leap of reasoning, decides

“I can’t roll my back forward to sit/stand up like normal.

But I can ARCH my back just fine.

SO

I’m going to do that and get on my hands and feet in a stomach-in-the-air this-shit-belongs-in-a-horror-movie-type pose,

And amble on down to the 7-11”

“And get me that Burrito”

It is,

for context,

after midnight in July during a wildfire so it’s hot as satan’s own asshole and the moon is red and shit’s already generally cursed.

Imagineyou are some poor sap working nights at the world’s deadest 7-11, and you hear the door jangle but you don’t see anyone’s head over the counters.

Whatever.

Except you keep hearing noises like there’s someone in the next aisle over.

Fucking around in the burrito section

It’s also worth mentioning that Kat

1. sings whatever earworm is currently running through her head when she’s not paying attention

2. sounds EXACTLY like some kind of creepy child from a horror movie when doing so

tonight’s song is something from veggietales.

DUDE ACTUALLY STANDS HIS GROUND

and/or is really fucking high and isn’t sure if he’s tripping balls or notanyway

Kat goes up to pay for her burrito and tampons

She realizes the counter presents something of a challenge, and then demonstrates for me on her kitchen table at 4AM during a different july wildfire,

exactly

how she used the shelves to climb up the counter

like one of the boston robotics beasties

dude stares at her for like, five minutes and says.

“Register’s broke.”

“Oh No!” Says Kat. “Just Take ‘em.” “Really? I can leave cash-you don’t have to give me change I don’t want you to get in trouble with your manager.” “…Nah.” “Oh! OK! Thank you!” “Yeah ok bye.”

Shortly after she arrived back at the apartment, she got a text on her phone from the campus security about "A Suspicious Individual” at tle 7-11.

It took her

FOUR

FUCKING

YEARS

to realize she was the suspicious individual

ethanrayne

every time this crosses my dash, all i can think is “i’d love to hear this from the perspective of the cashier who encountered some sort of demon buying a burrito on the night shift”

sar-kalu

to be honest, that’s just how 7-11 night shift be

curiousobsession101

I can’t help thinking the register was actually working just fine…

cocophee

katara!! 🌊🌊🧡

I'm still new to these dynamic poses :') sorry if it's a bit off

please do not repost! ⚠️

reblogs are welcome 🧡

movedtowhiteworms-deactivated20

this is a transgender zone you either support trans rights or you die dude

vidlamode-deactivated20180423

steampunktendencies

Stained Glass, 1890s Chartre, France

huebucket

assyrianjalebi

Bell, Book and Candle (1958)

aplaceforthewritings

July 2017 - 2 years later

I have a tongue as full as the moon We were taught devils howl at. I wish I had trusted the honest devils, before you.

Dressed in gold and paper, you’ve picked at my skin. In fact, You picked at my eyelids, So that even views of darkness Have the shadows of your hands.

After you, came the child friend, Whom loved me out of loyalty, And I loved as a tenuous connection to home. A home which deserted me long ago but still became the clay between bricks I chose.

The third flattered me. I did not know I was so vain.

The fourth I met in hot weather, You seduced me through the salt and sand, Less than your hands. In fact, it became apparent I was a lucky guess On a vegas style romance. You were dating someone else and Hoping neither of us knew.

The fifth was a man. The first I had tried. I liked dating boys apparently. I didn’t hear from you for a month. Your friends were only friends If they posed a mystery.

The last was so kind. So gentle. So soft under my tongue. So willing to tell me its okay that the words drove me numb He liked me so honestly and simply, That for a while I was willing to be vanilla calm. He was safe and I could trust him.

But I couldn’t love him.

You took that away from me By the scars on my eyelids. By the bruises on my arm. By the cold in your words. By the pierce of something

I did not give.

You took that

When you said that I would drown in the same depths as my mother. When you said that I was terrifying to love. When you said I was the Minotaur of youth. When you said that to love me was to swallow a thousand knives

And that I was in debt for even asking you to try.

I was alone

Until sad songs sent an ache into my chest Until I raced down whiskey with wine Until I got scared of the youth in kindness Until I could only look at the moon

And wonder when such a light decided to forsake it’s daughter

To a mere man.

tryingmybestdotcom

September 2019: a reply

Perhaps his greatest victory

Was to convince me that love

Could not exist past rape.

Arrogant fucking fool.

I lie night by night

In warmth wrapped in heart felt affection

For myself and for another.

I smother agony in earnestedness

I hold a kind man’s heart and hand and feel no fear.

I wake to softness and reminders I can outshine

Every dark thing said or done

By a monster whose name does not even factor in the shining tapestry of our adventure.

And when night terrors arrive in weighted form

I have someone to breathe life into me

And I breathe back love.

Better yet, I have a steel backbone

That held me through these terrors and now fights

Fights every reminder and hurt and small time belief

That lends me strength alone and together.

Happiness, love, to be loved, to find a soul mate

They were never taken,

Only time.

princessesfanarts

By FDASuarez

thebootydiaries

Tears fill my eyes as I read the words on my screen. The world seems to stop spinning for the slightest second as I re-read the anonymous message over and over again, gripping on to the hope that the words will magically disappear. But they didn’t. Anon had done it; they’d figured out that the only way to make me take off my hijab was to call my hair ugly. My one weakness.

A tear streams down my left cheek.

Eight years of academy hijab training…wasted. I had to prove this extremely relevant and good-looking anonymous person wrong, I cared too much about what they thought. How could I live my life knowing that there is one person out there who thinks probably my hair is ugly maybe? How could I look myself in the mirror? How could I face my family? My shoulders shook as I cried silently, and my chair squeaked ever so slightly at the vibrations; as if it, too, was crying in sorrow.

It wasn’t until that moment that the second part of the message dawned on me… how would I prove them wrong without breaking the rules? Was it really against the rules? I reach into my hijab and pull out a scroll. At the very top, in cursive jet-black inked letters, the word ‘Rules’ stares back at me. My heart is racing as my eyes frantically read the scroll.

‘Rule #1: no killing people,’ it reads. I let out a whimper. There go my evening plans.

Suddenly, my eye catches the next words. The scroll is rustling in my trembling hands as I turn my face away, tears spraying out of my eyes like the spit of a white person as they try to justify racism. The cursive words felt more like a curse of words, vivid and refusing to disappear as if I were still staring at them even through my closed eyes.

Rule #2: don’t show ur hair girl it’s ugly lmaooooo

equivocations

University of Washington, Capitol Hill, and Denny Triangle — Seattle.

slayerbuffy

porcupine-girlier

… Was this just Kate McKinnon doing an improv riff on her feelings about Gillian Anderson?

fannylikes

“She a 10 outta 10.” by @nenthe on Instagram http://ift.tt/1WZgSEO

refinery29

This is what a real, qualified OBGYN will tell you about what women feel when they get an abortion

Dr. Willie Parker, who is trained as a gynecologist and OBGYN, is a hero for the pro-choice movement because he’s honest about the undiscussed aspects of getting (or not getting) an abortion. Watch how he gives a consultation.

afunnyfeminist

That last statement about regret is so important, because so many people don’t understand what it is or what causes it. Anti-choicers exploit this by manipulating pregnant people and creating doubt, which only increases the likelihood of regret, no matter what decision the pregnant person makes. You know what is best for you, even if it takes some time to figure it out.

profeminist

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