"The Trannies Should Be Able To Piss In Whatever Toilet They Want And Change Their Bodies However They

Platinum Bones week day 1

[Dance] / Winter

It’s Bluey time

it’s disability pride month so i want to talk about one of my least favorite stigmas around celiac disease

in lots of media, being gluten free is played as a joke or something someone is to be annoying/pretentious. the amount of times i’ve heard jokes like that is honestly disheartening.

it also doesn’t help with the general population’s belief that celiac disease/gluten sensitivities are not serious. i’ve been diagnosed with celiac disease for 3 years now, i’ve been gluten free for about 4, and it has substantially improved my quality of life. i can’t afford risking cross-contamination because it leaves me sick for days. nearly every time i have a reaction to gluten, it’s hard for me to even drink water the next day because my body is an absolute mess. i’m miserable and fatigued for days until my body heals. not to mention the long term effects that have left me unable to stand/walk around for extended periods of time because my joints are pretty weak.

being gluten free NEEDS to be taken seriously. it’s not a choice i’ve made because i’m hoping on the latest fad, its not a preference, it’s an autoimmune disorder.

The most basic thing to say ever but Lloyd’s childhood has affected him so heavily as he’s grown up. When he was trying to imitate his dad, back when he was “bad” and “evil,” he was totally alone. He was basically ostracized that entire time during and after Darkley’s. It was only after he got taken in by the team and becoming a “good guy,” the destined “green ninja” that he was given even a little bit of support and love. Which is like pretty good, right? He stops being a little menace and gets the support and the guidance he’s so desperately needed his whole life.

These early experiences completely inform his perspective on things though, maybe at a more subconscious level, I guess. I think it all gets interpreted in his brain like this: When I’m evil I’m sad and alone, and when I’m good I get to be safe and happy and stuff. Which again like, maybe those are the kind of associations you’d want to instill in a child. But Lloyd really, intensely does not want to be left alone again. And he feels the only way to ensure that this does not happen is to be as “good” as possible; pushing down any kind of bad feeling or impulse he might have. Lloyd feels like he has to be “perfect” or else everyone will leave him. And anytime he does end up losing someone he interprets it as him somehow not being good enough to save them/help them/whatever. Which is obviously illogical cuz he is just some guy at the end of the day and that means he’s gonna do things that are considered “bad” sometimes!!!! Its the abandonment issues + the perfectionism I’ve cracked it I’ve cracked what’s wrong with our boy (<<< is repeating what ppl have probably been saying forever)

memories and dreams

Hello nexo knights fandom, here's some Claytro

Emira: we thought you were dead

Amity: takes more than an exploding Titan's head to get rid of me

Blight Siblings Reunite After The War

Our feather means death poster🏴‍☠️

I want to do something with the all of them since a long time!

And more should come!!

( Roach and the Suede are my fav by so far❤️‍🔥)

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

I don't want my cellphone to have AI I want it to have 3 days of battery time. I don't want my computer to have AI preinstalled I want it to have seven usb ports and high ram at affordable price. I don't want my games to have AI built levels I want them to be so optimized I could run them on a nokia.