just started to do this when she wakes me up in the morning
ままあるですね
It often happens to us
we call this “corporal cuddling” :3c
Anonymous asked:
Nobody is obligated to write femslash as "activism." Actual feminism doesn't involve policing what women choose to create in their leisure time. That is actual misogyny.
pcktknife answered:
Wrong writing femslash is actually mandatory and the only way society can progress forward
I was recently reminded of another WoW wrong I had always wanted to right, and that’s the cover art for Stormrage.
Everyone who has read it knows it should be this: Tyrande covered in bug guts and absolutely feral.
The title is Stormrage because that’s what she’s yelling, angrily:
Reasons the creature AKA Adam Frankenstein did nothing wrong
- He's wonewy
- He's just a wittle baby
- His daddy didn't wuv him :(
Did you people read the book?!
Rather than attacking his creator directly, he kills multiple people who didn't do anything wrong in order to pressure his creator.
i think youre forgetting three important facts
- He's WONEWY
- He's just a WITTLE BABY
- HIS DADDY DIDNT WUV HIM!!! :(
i keep misreading this first point as 'he's ONE' and this is also TRUE. he's literally neurodivergent* and a minor
*having a recycled nervous system i think must count for this
i dont think light necessarily needed the death note like his ass was building pipe bombs in his bedroom i seriously think if he didnt find the death note he would have just become the unabomber or something. you cant tell me that if he didnt find the death note he wouldve lived a normal life. light was going to be blowing up buildings.
good evening. tonight i will be abandoning a long held and deeply interrogated belief because someone agreed with me in a way that was annoying.
government reeducation program where they clamp your eyes open like in a clockwork orange and make you read nothing but tweets agreeing with you in a stupid and embarrassing way
Does anyone have that pic of the three cats lined up and the black one has a really stupid look on its face
You mean this one???
Yes thank you
This is my favorite picture
you only die once! when you do, make sure to make it as intentionally traumatic for everyone else around you as possible!!
cant wait to see the blorbos that people tag this post with
imagine the most meanspirited, unlikeable, rude, bitter, self centered, negative person you can think of. not a rapist, not a murderer, not an abuser. just a charmless, tactless, dyed in the wool asshole you wouldn't want to spend two seconds with. now assume they get sick, not with the flu, but with a long term, serious illness that limits their ability to provide for themself. a society in which that person is left to die alone because nobody likes them on a personal level is a failed society.
and the thing is, no matter how likeable or charming or cute you are, peoples' patience runs out. the friends who drop everything to rush you to the ER the first time you shit blood tell you to stop being so tmi the fourteenth time. people might give you a couch to crash on the first week after your shitty ex kicks you out, but by week eight, you better have another place to stay. people run out of time, patience, money, compassion, energy. there needs to be an impersonal option, a real safety net that isn't going to dump you when you become inconvenient
you’re twelve years old and you break your father’s hand when he hi-fives you. the first thing you learn is that the smallest slip up can hurt the people you love. your (foster) father smiles and says it’s okay (it’s not).
your parents are not your parents. the idyllic farming community that raised you is not your home. you’re a You-Don’t-Know-What from You-Don’t-Know-Where. all you know for sure is that you’re not human.
so you can fly. so you can run fast. so you can lift cars. so what? why do you even have this power? what should you even do with it?
your father said do what’s right, so that’s what you do.
you stop a robbery. the man’s knife shatters against your skin and you see the same fear in his eyes that you saw in your father’s when you were twelve. you catch a falling child before it can hit the water. his mother looks at you like you’re a god.
they love you, even though they don’t know you. the most powerful man in the world hates you because they love you.
you wanted to write when you were younger. you wanted to tell stories that needed to be told. you never wanted to star in them. you never wanted super-geniuses and demi-goddesses looking to you for advice; like you have any idea how to handle threats to reality itself. you’re just a kid from smallville who’s trying to do the best he can with what he’s given.
you try and get back to the farm as much as you can. it feels normal being back among the open wheat; where everyone smiles because you’re that nice Kent boy.
when you were younger, you pretended to fly, hands out to your sides and running through the tall grass by the river. it doesn’t look as beautiful from on high; the details get lost and the colors of your hometown blur together from a mile above ground.
the problem with flying is that it puts you so far above people you care about
“oh but Superman is such a boring c-“ shut up shut up shut up forever.