Do not waste your tears over fascists. “He was somebody’s this, he was somebody’s that”. Michael Brown was someone’s son, and so was Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Emmett Till. Sandra Bland was someone’s daughter, and so was Breonna Taylor, while she slept. Sonya Massey, too, was someone’s baby girl. Latasha Harlins was someone’s baby. Martin Luther King Jr was somebody’s son, husband and father, and yet the FBI killed him. Fred Hampton, Malcolm X, Patrice Lumumba. Hind Rajab, someone’s baby. Khaled Nabhan, and his granddaughter, soul of his soul. Refaat Alareer. And on and on and on, every martyr, every Black and Palestinian person whose been told over and over again how cheap our blood is, how NOTHING our life is. I do not weep over the death of white supremacist, I fucking cheer. One less of them means a Black or brown child can live another day.
My mom just sent me a picture of her friends two kids with the caption “is it obvious which one is the girly girl? 😂😂😂” and it’s straight up just two girls with long hair in flannel shirts. One of them has glasses on and the other one is petting a horse. They’re both in jeans and riding boots. Is my mom fucking with me
actually now that I think of it, seeing as her only experience with raising young girls involved a single barely-closeted trans boy with a baseball team of brothers and a small dog complex who lived in a highschool metal shop, it’s entirely possible her perception of traditional feminine presentations may have become a wee bit skewed
when my shelter cat passes by me, he pauses for a second, and looks up. He is waiting for me to lean down, and touch my hand against his side, so that when he keeps walking, my hand skims across his fur. he doesn’t really need attention. he has his own thoughts and plans. but after more than a year of living in our home, he has come to expect a moment of kindness whenever he crosses my path. if I don’t do it, he will follow me. “where is your hand?” he asks, with his plaintive and impatient eyes. I give it to him. he bumps against it like a balloon before wandering away. this is a poem to me
This post has gone so much further than I expected it to. This is my sweet cat. His name is Eddie Potato.
I hate you two-factor authentication I hate you required-app-codes-only I hate you required apps that require administration access to personal devices I hate you corporate control I hate you websites that log you out every hour I hate you capitalism
A while back my pharmacist saw my deadname on my profile and accidentially called it out, he corrected and deleted my deadname from the system so only my preferred name shows up now. There was a crowd of people behind me, so as he hands over the pills he apologized, in equal tone and volume as when he called my deadname and lied saying it’s been a long day and he didn’t mean to call out -his own- name. I quietly told him it was fine and he didn’t need to do that for my sake.
His response: “No, it’s my name now.”
I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he’s immigrating and in the process he’s changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That’s why he’s now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: “It’s mine now. Not yours. I’m taking.” His tone indicated that decision is final.
Bro literally deadnamed me once, and has committed to flat out stealing my deadname. It’s his now. Legally. Officially. I over heard his co-workers call him by the name.
There’s also an absurd amount of comments that are basically just “FAE!!!!!” And I’m now dying and it’s your fault. My blood is on your hands.
in a better world we’d be able to talk to whales. we’d have giant whale cleaning facilities where we get rid of parasites and treat illnesses for them and in exchange marine biologists would get to interview them about their lives during the cleaning
We will cohabitate with the whale. We will restructure society around whale healthcare. This is basic fucking social democracy, people.
between the seattle mariners etsy witch and the jezebel etsy witch maybe magic is real… im sorry etsy witches the ones who kept stealing protected feathers to sell online really gave you such a bad name
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ariella_feed) wrote2025-09-10 08:51 pm
