in my head the star wars equivalent of tswift is some human woman named tay’lor spiff or something and her stans are losing their minds over theories that she’s secretly a jedi singing about the horrors of war, even though she’s from a neutral system that hasn’t seen so much as a moral panic in 50 years

Pangur is taking over my broken leg pillow

My local queer bookstore is being threatened with eviction over their free narcan and fentanyl test strips, free store for the unhoused, and free narcan trainings.

Bluestockings is an incredible worker-owned community space that has been apart of the Lower East Side for 25 years. But in the last couple years, they've faced increasing harassment from the wealthier neighbors moving in and complaining about the presence of unhoused people around their store front. Despite all their community work being allowed by their lease, the landlord is pushing for an eviction.

Please help support Bluestockings! Visit them (if you're local), order books online, donate! We need more queer and community-oriented spaces, not another overpriced coffee shop or chain franchise.

Still reeling from the realization that bullet journaling was essentially created to be a disability aid and got legit fuckin gentrified

usamericans do really love making posts about parking lots. i met god in a parking lot. fighting my ex in a parking lot. it's like their main biome

he definitely fucks but there’s no way he fucks normal

support trans people.

the only good innovation from facebook was the poke feature. tumblr needs the poke. when a cute girl is mass reblogging me and i don't wanna call them out to their face but i wanna go hey. i see you. being cute. rubbing your face on my blog like a cat. that's what the poke's for

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

when ur mutual hasn't opted in yet

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

touch the nose

"Me booping my mutuals-" no. That's not enough. I am booping literally everyone I see on here with the boop button beside their name, mutual or not. There is no escaping. I will find all of you