i like how in a theatre time and space are necessarily metaphorical. i don’t like how plays always have to begin with someone walking onstage and talking. too many directors try to work around this by having someone walk onstage and brood in silence for a moment before talking. this is worse.
If you were directing a play, how would it begin?
bagpipes at the back of the auditorium so everyone turns their heads and when they’ve turned back around the play has already begun
Yall do NOT hop on a cosmetic surgery hate train during an ongoing campaign against trans Healthcare I am fucking begging
My tits didn’t smaller themselves, fuckos. Either you believe in bodily autonomy or you fucking don’t.
The sacred bond between trans people who’ve had plastics and cis people who have had plastics is fucking sacred and I will not tolerate anybody in the queer community trash-talking plastics no matter what it is and who is getting them and for what reason!!!
I want there to not be a line between ‘costmetic’ and 'necessary’. If there’s a line, then insurance companies and whoever-the-fuck-else will decide everything is 'cosmetic’. That happened to me with getting my jaw rebuilt when I was A CHILD. 'oh it’s cosmetic’ My insurance wrangler lady and the surgeon had to write SEVERAL LETTERS to the damn insurance company detailing out just how graphically I would DIE if I did not get my face rebuilt before I was 18! If 'we won’t pay for cosmetic plastics only necessary ones’ wasn’t a thing, that wouldn’t have had to fucking happen!
So you know what? I don’t want to hear the word 'cosmetic’ out of anyone’s mouth. it’s ALL just plastics. And all plastics are still 100% the person’s choice to get, I don’t care what the reason is, all reasons are your business and should be honoured and that’s as it should be. As Sweaterkittens said, you either believe in bodily autonomy or you fucking don’t.
Signed,
A Transman who has had exclusively plastics for all FOUR major surgeries throughout his life.
crying-over-really-dumb-things:
gotta Google something
ok yeah this is funny
Watching my 60 year old uptight southern white teacher brace herself to say it to a room full of ninth graders is one of those memories that remains crystal clear even years after the fact
Twilight fans: Haha the cast HATES twilight that’s hilarious
POC (especially Natives): we hate it too
Twilight fans: hey :(
Granted, I never read Twilight but…is this referencing some racism in Twilight or is there something I’m missing here?
Twilight literally caused so many myths & misconceptions about Native & Quileute people that the Quileute tribe had to put up an entire site dispelling the shit Stephanie Meyer caused. I literally cannot begin to explain how insanely racist twilight is as a series with the number of bullshit that happens to not just the Native characters, but other characters of color (but Stephanie Meyer targeted Native Americans specifically)
Here’s the site so you can research the specific ways Twilight has harmed Native Americans & specifically the Quileute tribe.
Or you can look at my #Twilight anger on main tag to see me talk about how bad it is.
The Quileute tribe is currently attempting to relocate their community outside of the active tsunami zone they currently reside in and have an ongoing fundraiser. First thing they are trying to move is their school, which teaches kids from multiple tribes in the area. They have had no support from anyone involved in Twilight, not even the funny cast who hates it. I know times are tough, but anything helps.
The devil walks into your work on a Thursday.
“Hi,” you say, “welcome to McDonalds.”
The devil clops up to the register, red eyes sliding from the cartoonish picture of Grimace, to the Coca Cola drying in the grout, to the ketchup stain on your pale blue button down.
“What can I get started for you today,” you prod when he continues to stare.
“Uh,” he says. “I came for your soul?”
Your smile slips for a moment before you can pin it back in place. Thank goodness your manager is on their lunch. “We don’t sell that, I’m sorry. Have you tried a Big Mac?”
“I know McDonald’s doesn’t sell souls,” the devil says. “Your parents sold your soul. Before you were born.”
“Oh,” you say. That would explain…a lot, actually. “Well. I’m at work, so…can you collect later?”
“I’m owed your soul on your 18th birthday,” he says.
“It’s my birthday today?” You glance at the register. “Wow. I forgot.”
“That is so fucking sad,” the devil says. He punched the bridge if his nose. “When is your shift over?”
“3am.”
“Jesus,” the devil says. He turns on his hoof. “I’m going to go buy you a cake or something.”
“Wow,” you say. You press a hand over your heart. “That—that actually would make my week.”
“And that’s sad,” the devil calls over his shoulder. “See you at 3!”
Now you have a reason to look forward to getting off work.
2:30 am rolled in at such a snails pace, but you kept that plastered mask on the whole night.
You had to deal with a rainbow of people all day. From rich kids looking down on you to that poor homeless guy that comes by asking for your stale fries.
Your boss had watched over you and your coworkers and have scolded you a few dozen times for not upselling, or even appeasing the Karen at max volume.
But now you were doing the one thing no one in a McDonald’s would dare do. You cleaned the mc flurry machine. A rare sight to see and probably the only working one in town.
You hear the chime, the chime of dread, your stomach drops, and you fix that mask turning to face the next customer.
Only to internally sigh in relief. Oh good, its just the Devil.
He walks in with what appears to be a medium sized box. He still looked as disgruntled as before. Maybe even more so as he looks around the dingy Mc Donald’s.
“Welcome back! You’re early!”
“Is… that.. a working mc flurry mechine?” He answers instead looking over you. You nod with perhaps a hint of pride.
“Yes Sir! Just cleaned it. Would you like one?” You can see him staring into your soul. Which, you suppose is his soul now.
“No. Just.. be done already.”
You nod to him watching him clop over to a table setting the box down. Huh… your soul is now his? You didn’t have time to think about that.
Your manager pops their head out from the back. “Hey. Josh said he’s gonna be late. Need you to….” you glance over to see your manager staring at the gargantuan devil sitting there. He looks back causing your manager to freeze in horror. You never seen them so pale.
“Your employee quits as of this moment. Figure out your own issues. Leave.” He said with menacing eyes that flash. Your manager turns around and books it to the back, possibly to pray for forgiveness.
You take that as your cue to clock out. You offer a goodbye to your boss but they won’t have any of it.
The devil watches you slip from out behind the counter now with even more distain. Your pants look… questionable.
“How often do you even do laundry?”
“If I can have a day off that doesn’t involve driving my younger siblings to and from their music classes and tutors.”
The devil stares in disgust now understanding what your parents did.
They sold their first born and invested in the younger siblings.
And they say the devil is the worst..
“Just… damnit just sit down.”
You do as he sets out two golden plates opening up the box to reveal a professionally made cake with a black marble icing and gold flakes. Set on top are black candles that’s wax looks to shimmer like a dark rainbow. The flames flicker and crackle shifting from one color to another. Its beautiful.
You don’t know what you were expecting. You almost expected a cheap sheet cake from the store down the street.
“… happy birthday… make a wish I guess… blow out your candle…”
You smile, you make the same wish you made every year. “I wish for a pet.” You don’t say it out loud. It was out of habit even though you know it won’t come true. Least you now understand why.
You blow out the candle and it gives off a sigh like a ghost had escaped your lips.
You watch this soft glowing whisp floats around you while the devil cuts you a piece of cake. You only look back when you hear your fork be set next to your plate.
“Thank you.. its a lovely cake.”
He brushes it off. “Just.. eat.”
You enjoy your cake as he watches. After a moment he speaks.
“Your parents sold your soul to me.”
“Mmhmm..”
“Meaning you belong to me.”
“Mmm”
“In hell.”
When you clear your mouth you reply. “So, what will I be? Burning punished for all eternity? Slave labor? Dealing with karens?”
He stares at you not sure if he should feel impressed or bothered by the fact you just don’t seem that fazed.
“Souls sold to me become whatever I feel like them being. You…” he stares at you as you enjoy more of your cake.
“Your not even fazed by the fact your going to hell.”
You shake your head. Simply enjoying the sinfully delicious cake.
“You could be tasked with cleaning up hell hound shit.”
“Oh! This mean I can see hells good bois??”
“…… you could be handing out toys for orgys…?”
“Sounds like they be having fun.”
“Cleaning up torture chambers?”
“Have you seen the bathrooms?”
The devil takes a breath to compose himself. Mortals these days… whats the point of hell when theres a worse one on earth?
When your full he closes the box, the plate and fork vanish.
“Come with me”
You oblige following him out of the McDonald’s.
He doesn’t even bother asking about if you have a car. He already knew that answer.
“Your going to be one of my messengers to the other realms.”
You blink looking up at him.
“Really? Nothing nasty like the ones you mentioned?”
“Look kid, if you can keep a straight face serving me, practically live like your in hell, and still be the only few willing to keep a mc flurry working.. I’d rather you go deliver things to and from hell to like… I dont know anubis or Hades.”
You follow along your little whisp still dancing around you.
“Okay… one more question…”
He sighs “what?”
“Can I pet a hell hound?”
“……. yes…. yes you can pet a hell hound.”