Praying that $1500 randomly comes to you when you need it the most this year.
Okay inflation is crazy.
We bumping up the price to $15,000 for 2026.
oh I'm supposed to think it's Weird when people draw me looking like a total badass rocking out on stage with my titties out? I'm supposed to be appalled, ashamed? hell no that looks fucking AWESOME dude. that's the coolest shit I've ever seen. god i wish I could just post it on main as is without tumblr getting up my ass
Security Culture: A poster
This poster introduces the basics of security culture—a set of shared practices designed to minimize risk for everyone. Please distribute these at demonstrations and post them in community spaces.
"Because what they don't know can hurt them!"
@cafefoxtale told me to post this, this is all her fault i mean come on
A Successful Hunt
sometimes i wonder if we have forgotten that sharing creative work is, fundamentally, a bid for human connection. like I'm not posting art or fic for 'engagement' i'm posting it looking for other sickos to play with! i'd be making it anyway for my own gratification because there's something wrong with me, i'm sharing it hoping we can have something wrong with us together <3
🩸 I have this real sharp memory of a writin class I took late in college where I wrote what felt like a pretty normal critical analysis of this short story collection that involved a lot of themes of futurism and body modification and the politics of identity without a word to say about queerness, race, disability, even gender in a collection that had a lot to say about the human body and normative gender presentation.
The story I really honed in on was one of those "everybody is in virtual fantasy bodies instead of experiencing Real Life" joints. The scene that really stuck with me was this kinda tonally out of nowhere sex scene where two cishet characters fuck each other's avatars and the text gets real locked in for bit on all the "weird" extra genital configurations they've given their bodies like tiny, functional dick earrings or a pussy in the folds of their knee. It was clumsy and full of transphobic undertones, plus some outright dog whistles like wondering if the woman the MC is fuckin is secretly just "some fat hairy guy getting off" or some shit, but the fascinatin thing was that both of these aggressively normative characters experimented with havin different kinds of genitals. It was a binary understandin of gender and sexual characteristics that got real heteronormative in its presentation but from a narrative view it was no weirder for the cishet male MC to get penetrated in his thigh pussy with his affair partner's knee boner than if they were up to lights off shirts on missionary on a honeymoon. There was so much goddamn potential in this strange scene if you dug past the surface, and I got real excited because I got to see the author at a Q&A event so I could ask his thoughts on creatin the scene. I wanted to know if there was anythin bigger about queerness and presentation he was tryin to dip into in that moment.
The response I got was somethin like "Oh I can't write about that sorta stuff, I don't know about it, I just thought it'd be weird and funny." I wasn't too surprised even though I was kinda disappointed. What did surprise me was when I turned in my paper about the whole thing and these two guys started in on me about makin assumptions about the author, that there wasn't anythin "political" about the story and it was just a scene. It's the kinda argument you hear all the time now but it blew my goddamn mind at the time. See I'd argued with people about interpretations, I'd been yelled at by bigots, I'd done more tours than I could count in the trenches of authorial intent and critical ethics. They weren't arguin that the scene said somethin different, though They were full on ragin at the idea that the scene said anythin at all. Real front line adopters of the whole "the curtains are fucking blue" mindset that was gettin big at the time.
I think about that moment of first contact a lot when I read commentary like this, cuz the OP is 100% right. Creation is communication, and like all communication it might not say what you want or be received like you expect, but it always says somethin. The most beautiful, powerful art to me is art that's created because it's the only way somethin inside of you can get out, this desperate volatile thing that grabs the audience by the shoulders have beggin and half commandin to perceive somethin in its creator they can't show you any other way.
The idea that audiences are lookin for that thing and respondin to it, even if they don't know it, ain't a part of how we talk about mainstream art anymore. We didn't forget it though. It was dragged out and shot in the street. There are movements, at least in the fuckin capitalist fascist shit hole that is English dominated Western culture, that think tryin to see communication in the things we create might as well be a goddamn extinction level event. They don't want you to see each other. They don't want you connected. They don't want you to know you're not alone.
Fuck 'em.
Spit your weird shit and be real fuckin suspicious of anybody who tries to convince you it should never be experienced.
Standardized uniform
me: i sure hope our submarine has the weapons necessary to sink that enemy ship
the reliable and explosive torpedoes:
A few things uou need to know:
- My mother- who was a single parent raising me alone in my early youth- has never believed in baby talk. So when I was born, she started from day one talking to me and treating me like I was an adult.
- As a result of this, I had rather high expectations of other adults from a very young age, and despised being talked down to. The worst was being asked sweetly and stupidly y over and over, “can you say “hello”?” in a way that felt like I was an animal being coaxed into performing a trick.
- In my earliest years, I learned that using certain words and phrases could convince new adults to treat me the way I preferred. So to combat the annoyances of being treated like a subhuman idiot, I began purposefully expressing myself with a broad vocabulary.
- My mother started teaching me how to read when I was three. By the time I was five, my favourite thing to read was Calvin and Hobbes anthologies, partly because I loved tigers, but mostly because in every other book I’d read, kids my age were written as stupid babies with no thought process or agency who nobody seemed to think of as capable of thinking or contributing. Calvin, though, was only a year older than me, and had a rich inner world, and was capable of speaking meaningfully and eloquently while still being a kid. Calvin was a kid the way that kids WERE, not the way adults saw us.
- As a consequence of this, I think, I developed a prematurely warped sense of humour wherein- again, starting around age five- the funniest thing in the world to me was to approach adults and instigate conversations wildly beyond my age range. Like “oh, you’re slowing yourself down for me? Bold of you to assume I’m not already four steps ahead”.
- I imagine this was probably very annoying, as I mostly didn’t actually have the experience or context to fully understand a lot of the subjects I was talking about and was mostly just imitating the persona of a mildly disinterested and somewhat philosophical old woman, but I genuinely understood enough vocab to bluff around the gaps in my knowledge long enough for the funny part to happen.
- My preferences to spend more of my time fucking with adults instead of my peers slowly widened the already-existing gap between me and the majority of my schoolmates, which honestly didn’t bug me much because the two friends I DID have were way more fun than the rest of them anyways. But I was probably a bit emotionally stunted by this point anyways
- Cut to me, age nine or so. Annoying know-it-all, deeply ironic, and the kind of kid who would rather lick a carrot peeler than suffer through the torture of meaningful emotional vulnerability with any adult ever
- First real health class
- We get the Puberty talk
- Skin-peelingly awkward
- Mr. Q, our fifty-ish something teacher, brings out a question box and a bunch of scraps of paper. Says he wants everyone to write down at least one question and he would pull a handful of them out anonymously to answer.
- I cannot resist
- We all submit our questions
- Question one. “What is a vulva”
- Diagram. Clinical and age-appropriate response.
- Question two. “Is love nothing more than a chemical reaction designed to ensure the survival of the species?”
- Long awkward pause
- Teacher clears his throat
- [This is hilarious]
- Teacher speaks
- “Uh…….”
- “Well, um. I suppose… I love my wife. And I love my children. Or I would describe what I feel for them as love.”
- Oh No
- [Dawning realization that I have trapped myself and everyone in this room in a Feelings Talk]
- [Panic and stare directly through the floor until he stops talking about his personal emotions regarding family and society and shit]
- [Pain And Suffering And Hell because this is, in fact, what I signed us all up for, because boarding a plane to Alaska means that you are definitely going to Alaska, no matter if it was a joke or not, because the plane doesn’t give a fuck, because it is a plane and you are a moron]
The lessons in humour I learned that day have stuck with me ever since
- Sincerity always wins
- You Can Press The Big Red Button Whenever You Like But You Cannot Un-Send The Nuke
Sea bnnuy 🐰