TUNA KING CONSPIRACY

nitw:

*jumps up and down waving my hands and yelling in a crowd* DISCORD WAS NEVER MEANT TO REPLACE FORUMS AND WIKIS!!! IT’S JUST EMBELLISHED CHATROOMS WITH MULTIPLAYER GAMING FEATURES AND LOOTBOXES AND SHIT!!! PLEASE PUT FAQS AND MESSAGE BOARDS OR AT LEAST A DIRECT EMAIL-BASED SUPPORT SYSTEM ON YOUR WEBSITE!!! 1GB NEOCITIES DOMAIN ZERO DOLLARS

furryprovocateur:

they should allow you to report posts for being gauche or passé

(via the-clockwork-three)

fallout-lou-begas:

does anybody even have a 9-5 anymore. at some point they started making you work 8 hours not including your lunch break so it’s all 9-5:30s and 9-6s and we should have killed them for it

(via digitalcrayon)

psshaw:

Y'know how they say a child writes the best poetry before they learn what poetry is “supposed” to look like? I think a visual artist makes the best visual art before they learn how well it would sell if they made an enamel pin of a possum saying “be gay do crimes”

wackom:

(via askfordoodles)

targetedknowledge:

(via dungeonmastersconsortium)

femmenietzsche:

Vikings didn’t have horns on their helmets but I bet if you showed them a single modern Viking depiction they’d all start doing it like gangsters imitating The Godfather

(via girlsontanks)

captain-price-unofficially:

sarakipin:

Stained glass and Stone (2019-2023)

homunculus-argument:

I hate the whole pop psychology concept of “addictive personalities”. Like there’s a whole subsection of people who are just magically inherently more prone to wanting to distract and sedate themselves from life, just because of who you are as a person.

I come from a long line of alcoholics. Hell, on my father’s side of the family, every single man was an alcoholic and every single woman was mentally ill (though I will aknowledge that some of the women could also drink quite heavily, and the men were also certifiably insane). My paternal grandparents had three children and outlived two of them, as my aunt killed herself and my father drank himself to death.

Mom always painted my relationship with substance abuse as a seamless continuation of my father’s. He died a few months before I turned 18 and could buy alcohol, so I guess from her perspective it looked just like that. His drinking stopped and I picked up right where he left it. Mom would not talk about my drinking without bringing up my father, saying that I acted the same way as he did while drunk, hid my booze in the same ways, even smelled exactly like he did.

I was taught from a too early age that I come from a family of alcoholics, and that if I ever touch alcohol, I will become one, too. That abstaining from it completely was the only way to be safe. So I spent about a decade being drunk as often as I thought I could get away with, and got caught a lot of times when I couldn’t. Including at work.

Then one winter, three things happened in a row: One day I just realised that I feel just as bad drunk as I did sober. Suddenly there was just no point in drinking - if I’m going to feel like shit when I’m drunk just the same as I feel like shit when I’m sober, then I’m just wasting money. The second thing was getting diagnosed and medicated for ADHD. The sudden surge of motivation and mental energy enabled me to actually start doing things, not just because I had to, but because I wanted to do things.

The third and final one was cutting my family out of my life. That’s a whole separate story, but suddenly I just didn’t have their shadow in my life anymore, worrying about what they think and what they’d disapprove of, and how to avoid telling them about things that make me happy because they’d find a way to drain the joy out of anything. I was free, genuinely free.

Alcohol isn’t a part of my life anymore, in any way. Not because I spend all my time dedicated to self-flagellating ascetic ritualistic purity practices of prohibiting myself all sources of joy, but because i simply don’t enjoy it. I could drink, but I don’t want to. I have better things to do, things that are more fun and rewarding and which I couldn’t do while drunk.

I still have the same blood as my father, same temperament, my sweat smells the same as his did. It wasn’t some inherent and hereditary family curse, it was misery. Being born under the wrong stars doesn’t make a man so miserable he’ll drink himself to death. Being unmedicated and dealing with my family does.