“how dare you say we piss on the poor” is honestly like. a god tier post of all time. beyond a world heritage post. it is on par with like, the old testament. to me
I honestly think that the lack of non-sexual nudity in public spaces has done horrific damage to American society.
We deeply struggle to understand the natural diversity of bodies because we only see naked bodies in a sexual context. We are taught that seeing nudity is somehow inherently harmful, especially to children. We struggle to differentiate between sexually suggestive and sexually explicit material.
It fucks up the way people think about and talk about sex ed. It fucks up the way people think about and talk about breast feeding. It fucks up the way people think about and talk about queer folks. It feeds into fatphobia and ableism and is all rooted in this deeply harmful puritanism.
Like, I need people to understand that seeing a bare titty in public is not going to hurt a child. Seeing a man in a banana hammock isn’t inherently traumatizing. I would argue, in fact, that adults treating those things as dangerous and gross and scary is going to do way more damage to a kid’s psychology than seeing the nudity in the first place.
These type of additions are vexing. Ostensibly supportive but can’t help but make sure you know they’re also Weird about nudity by making it about consent, doubling down on the idea that there’s no such thing as nonsexual nudity, it’s an action that willing partners need to consent to first. Does the breastfeeding parent need my consent to feed their child? When you see someone wearing practically see-through yoga pants, is your thought that they should have asked your consent before going outside? this is an exact example of how it fucks up the way you think, that you could read all of op and instinctually start thinking in the language of sexual assault, as if this post was about flashers
the ancient and noble art of Hating must remain distinct from the dogmatism of the moral crusade. hating has no greater goal. it is not about engineering change or imposing one’s will upon others. to hate is a complete act in and of itself
i would kill for the confidence of novelists who write genius-poet characters and then actually write samples of the “genius” poetry in the book. if i were a novelist writing a genius-poet i’d just be like “trust me, the poetry’s real good.”
You can ship characters for happily ever afters, sure, you can ship them for tragically-then-happily, you can ship two or three or four or more, you can ship endless combinations of personality types and relationship dynamics
but you can also ship characters under very specific circumstances, or for a certain period of their life but not for all of it, or only in a certain universe. You might say “I ship these characters” and what you mean is you think they are fascinating together and could have a story together. That story could be any kind of story.
Sometimes it means you want them together for the rest of their lives. Sometimes it means something different than that.
I don’t know about you, but for me, “I ship it” means “There is a story in this ship and I am interested in that story.”
for me, “I ship it” means “There is a story in this ship and I am interested in that story.”
Thank you for articulating this. Yes. Exactly.
And sometimes that story’s a tragedy, or a black comedy.
It doesn’t have to be healthy or happy to be a good story.
depression or whatever is soooo embarrassing oops i ruined a large chunk of my future because i just didn’t feel like doing anything for a while . Epic Cringe babe…
“Life never plays fair with people like you and me,” Tuco sighed, shaking his head. “There’s always two kinds of people in the world, my brother. Those born with the good luck, and those who have to earn it.”
He grinned, raising his brows.
“But the ones born with the good luck… heh, you see, they’re the unlucky ones. You and me, we got it all. Smart, clever, tough, and good looking. That’s why the women line up at our feet. You ever seen him with a woman?”
He shook his head and smirked.
“Can you even believe that smug, two-faced snake thinks he’s better than us?” He scoffed. “Treats us like some kind of…” He briefly paused, trying to think of a comparison, and squinted. “Wet dog.” He shook his head rapidly. “Like we need his pity!”
When he didn’t receive a reply, Tuco tipped his head back and downed the glass bottle of thick, rancid-tasting whiskey in his hand.
“He’ll stab us in the back one day,” he sighed, still looking at the ceiling. “That’s just how it is for people like you and me. We got it all. So we’re lonely.”
He closed his eyes and shrugged.
“Too bad. Good looking guys like us? We deserve all the glory, not that…”
“Where are we going again,” said Blondie’s voice, just behind him. Tuco nearly jumped completely out of his skin, cursed under his breath for not hearing him come in, and spun in his barstool to face him anyway. He grinned, as did the wanted poster just behind him.
“Nice try,” Tuco said. “The graveyard.”
Blonde didn’t blink. “Which one?”
Tuco chuckled. “You mean the one with the gold? Well… you keep following me! You’ll get your grave.”
Blondie stared past him, at the wanted poster.
“Seems like it,” he agreed, without looking at Tuco. “Real paper thin plan.”
Tuco looked behind his shoulder at the wanted poster to see if he was missing something, then back towards Blondie.
“Did you just make a joke?” he said, grinning again.
“Don’t really like to speak ill of people’s mothers,” Blondie said, turning on his heel and walking back out towards the entrance to the bar.
For a long moment, Tuco just stared at Blondie’s repeating back. Then he leaped to his feet and stormed towards him, yelling at him, far in the distance.
“Get back here! What’s that supposed to mean?!”
Blondie stopped walking.
“You’re smart enough,” Blondie replied, before continuing his stride. “Think a man like you can figure it out.”
Tuco grunted in frustration, tossed his empty whiskey bottle against the ground, and walked as fast as he could to keep up with him.
