Small town culture is knowing that there are Old Folks with strange nicknames but never knowing the stories behind them.
Of course, I made the mistake of asking why everyone calls this one guy Brickaday and it turns out that he worked at a brickyard for 40 years, stealing exactly one brick every day and making no particular efforts to conceal the theft. Nobody thought anything of it until years later he was discovered to have built three houses.
His boss is said to have shrugged and made some remarks about the importance of coming up with a plan and sticking to it.
I‘m trying to arrange my face into an appropriate approximation of silent bafflement and failing miserably.
Let's get real and talk, As a trans man I don't feel welcome in the trans community tbh. there are so many hateful people in our community, that like to gatekeep or project their own shit on people. I'm so sick of other trans people telling OTHER TRANS PEOPLE that they are not trans because *insert reason here*. Honesty SHUT THE FUCK UP! There is no "right way to be trans".
I'm a passing trans man, who has had surgery, and I still get called a "transtrender" by dumbasses. Like fuck OFF!? Who tf are you to dictate who is trans???
Trans men CAN be feminine.
Trans men CAN be masculine
Trans men Can do what ever tf they want.
LET PEOPLE LIVE.
I'm proud to be trans and it pisses me off that other trans people put other people down, just because they are different from them. I haven't even looked at any trans tags in months because there is always someone putting other trans people down.
Worry about yourself and let people live their life man.
gone is gone by mark wunderlich
another elegy ["this is what our dying looks like"] by jericho brown
making a fist by naomi shihab nye
grief puppet by donte collins
letter to my heart from my brain by rachel mckibbens
the song of despair by pablo neruda
where my grandmother hides by caitlin conlon
grief by matthew dickman
kaddish by sam sax
elegy for neal cassady by allen ginsberg
grief work by natalie diaz
poem for jack spicer by matthew zapruder
elegy with black smoke by emily skaja
evening by dorianne laux
letter to my dead brother part 1 by jonny bolduc
drunktown by jake skeets
hunter by bianca stone
blood makes the blade holy by evan knoll
object permanence by hala alyan
people who died by ted berrigan
song of the insensible by andrew kozma
Deity of Class
here's a random word generator--whatever word it gives you is now the thing you are the deity of
hannibal is so funny cause will graham will be like “the chesapeake ripper ... he’s eating his victims” then it’ll hard cut to hannibal in the kitchen like this
"what about people who already paid off their student loans?" then they should get a refund it's quite simple
It really is wild how people who don't understand what consent is really do not understand what consent is. The idea that they're supposed to know how someone wants to be treated, and err to the side of caution or even ask if they aren't sure is absurd when you genuinely do not understand the concept.
"What, you need consent for everything these days?" Literally yes. And not just these days, but always have and always will.
"Do I need consent to kiss my wife in the morning? Do I need consent to shake someone's hand after a business meeting? Do I need CoNsEnT to braid my daughter's hair?"
Yes, yes and yes. A neurotypical person of reasonably passable social skill should have the ability to either instinctively understand when their touch is welcome, or logically conclude when their touch is socially expected. If you truly, literally, genuinely cannot tell whether your own child delights in you playing with her hair or merely endures it, then yeah, maybe you shouldn't touch anyone at all, ever, before you learn how to do that.
"Do I need consent to make eye contact with strangers on the street? Do I need consent from everyone on board before I get on the bus?"
Okay now you're just throwing a tantrum because someone told you 'no'.
(through gritted teeth) i love being out of my comfort zone it is necessary for my personal development
The best/funniest way they could respond to the backlash is to just replace crisp rat's voice lines entirely with Charles Martinet making his standard Mario gibberish noises and change nothing else.
Just play it completely straight, leave all the other dialogue exactly as-is
Peach: And so, brave heroes from beyond, I implore you to save our kingdom. You are the only ones who can.
Luigi: What? No... no, that's crazy, we're not heroes, we're plumbers! Tell her, Mario!
Mario: HEEPITTYBIPPITYBOPPITYBUNO
Luigi: You.. You don't really mean that, do you? You can't, not after everything that's happened!
Mario: WAHOO MAMMA MIA
*Mario straightens his hat and grits his teeth as the camera zooms in on his face*
Mario:
Mario: YIPPEE
So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.
Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.
Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.
Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.
Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.
He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.
He’s doing the right thing.
Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.
And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.
But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.
It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.
It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.
God was wrong to cast out Crowley.
Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.
Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).
Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.
Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.