thinking about that post about how at work, “sick” is a category constructed as a temporary condition with the assumption that when not sick, you’re fully well and at maximum productivity. when i got covid people were very sympathetic. for three days. then they started getting frustrated that i wasn’t keeping up with all my work remotely. now i’m back but i seem to have lasting fatigue. why does “don’t worry about it, your health matters and you need your rest” only apply for three days? i’m literally doing nothing at home, just trying to recover before the next day of work. but because it’s a persistent condition, i’m just supposed to deal with it. it’s not even that they want me to push through, it’s this assumption that if you’re not sick, you’re basically well, so you ought to be performing. this weird idea that a condition can either be debilitating or persistent but not both. and this is less than two weeks after a disease that my workplace fully recognizes as serious. i can’t imagine having a chronic condition that takes some explaining. if someone implied i wasn’t trying just because i wasn’t up to “well” standards i think i’d throw hands

suuuper fucking horny but in an emotional way. i wanna fuck a girl i deeply care about. give her everything she needs. make her cum on my strap. fuck.

Don't worry conservatives I will distract the trans agenda *kisses all trans people*

Gourmand eating a suplexed lizard. Just a sketch this time. Uni has been a lot of work, but slugcat brings me joy.

One of the things that’s struck me about reading “““good”““ poets is how much they use devices that are considered hallmarks of “““bad”““ poetry. Stark, basic metaphors a child could understand or even come up with. Flowery language. Cliche themes. Meandering between themes. I think the conclusion here isn’t that only “““good”““ poets know how to use these blunt tools that would be wasted in the hands of “““bad”““ poets. I think it’s that they’re powerful tools. We exist in the same world and largely pull from the same cultural well. The basic building blocks are for all of us to use. The “““good”““ poets have spent longer using them and figured out interesting ways to use them, but they had to use them bluntly first. We should be writing bad poetry. Using obvious metaphors for obvious themes. It’s a step to writing good poetry, but more so, it’s an acknowledgement of our shared human experience

Kendimize hüzünler icat ettik.

I've finally updated the design!! Yay!!!! 💕

Trust me, I'm not a bot, don't block me please.

I find the "lesser evil" argument for voting for Biden insidious, because it leads to an obvious slippery slope.

If you're willing to vote for the candidate that's 1% less Hitler than the opposition, would you be willing to vote for someone who's 0.1% less Hitler? How about a difference of 0.01%?

You've said that we must vote for Biden even though he's supporting the Palestinian genocide, because stopping Republicans from hurting American queer people is more important; who else are you willing to throw under the bus to keep Republicans out of office?

How much evil are you willing to accept, because it's strictly "lesser"?

(This is its own post because I don't much want to pick a fight with anyone, and frankly I'll probably surrender to the cold utilitarianism next November myself. I'm just kvetching.)

Hal9000 is my malewife my babygirl my boygirlfriend etc

SHE IS SUMMONED

(i made a lil plushie of Emrakul, a cosmic horror from Magic: the Gathering)

tracing my handprints on your hips in marker and writing “perfect little handholds” next to them so you won’t be able to keep the memory of being pulled into me out of your head

Okay wth is this. Adverts are literally saying nothing nowadays. LITERALLY!

Also Mars? Who is doing This? My desire to click it is only overcome by my training to never purposely buy something I see advertised.

If anyone can explain why adverts are the way they are I would be actually interested.

Equine Guides

This is my RDR Online character. I spent many hours messing around with him. Hunting baddies, exploring the terrain, climbing buildings, stealing hats. All the good things. I decided he'd be a great character.

I don't have a name yet, but here's his basic story. He's half-Irish. half...something else. He never quite knew where he sprang from, but it didn't matter to him much. He had his horses, and they mean the world to him. Growing up, he liked to stick to the edges of society. It's hard to survive in the west when you're deaf. Cougars in the trees, bandits on the roads. He had a good eye, but those crooks slinked in the shadows. He worked any odd job, taking up many careers. He saved his money day by day. Normally, a cowboy would use his money on a new gun or pair of boots. Yet he instead spent every dime on horses. A robust red dun overo mustang named Tapir, named after the broad white band around her body. One wasn't enough when he set his eyes on the steadfast chestnut Turkoman, Mandrake. Both breeds known for their bravery and power. A perfect pair for him, acting as his ears and dear companions.

That's the rough of it at least. I'm getting back into the swing of art. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and get caught up in the details. Art should be fun, and I have a lot of ideas I want to visualize.

Below is the flat colors with minimal shading.

“And here we are, two centuries later, faithfully depositing flowers to this most exquisite storyteller, this extraordinary Galatea who refused to be shaped by her circumstances and gave us all life. And we try, in return, to help her creature stay alive. We strive to turn a curse into a blessing.

We hope that in some way, somehow, our gratitude, our love, can reach him like a whispered prayer, like a distant song. And we can dream that perhaps he can stop—amid the frozen tundra and the screaming wind—and can turn his head and look back. At us.

And we hope that he might recognize in our eyes his own yearning. And that perchance we can walk toward each other and find meager warmth in our embrace.

And then, if only for a moment, we will not feel alone in the world.”

-Guillermo del Toro, excerpt from his introduction to The New Annotated Frankenstein

Sorry, what?

#My_post