What I love most about Gandalf big naturals is how much it eases my chest dysphoria. I can sleep without a shirt on now because of Gandalf Big Naturals. Knowing that the artist made the original image while recovering from top surgery and said the image was like a final parting gift from their boobs makes me feel even better about the image’s effect on me. Men with big naturals makes me feel much more good about my body than those old posts on here that were like “trans men! Some men have pecs!!! So don’t feel dysphoric <3”. It’s much more meaningful to see a hairy, bearded man with a huge H cup rack not letting his tits get in the way of his masculinity.
Most of all, Gandalf Big Naturals helped me love my body the way it is instead of hating something that’s a part of me. Of course I still want top surgery but the fact that I can live with my own big naturals until then without wanting to guillotine them off is really important.
for the entire time Baldur’s Gate 3 has been out, not to mention early access, I have not seen a single correctly colored tiefling, so I suppose I have to do everything by myself around here.
that poll going around asking how often you smoke weed and almost a third of ppl saying they’ve never smoked before, and that poll that revealed that over a third of tumblr users have never kissed anyone before, proves to me that stoners who have gay sex are a small but imperative part of the tumblr ecosystem. Keystone species
op you do realize that “nearly two-thirds” is not a small amount right
It drives me insane how many people dont realise how often they break the law and that if the full force of it was ever applied life would basically be unliveable. Like between traffic violations, petty workplace theft, account sharing and piracy alongside how common it is to have been in posession of some illegal drug at some point in your life. People still manage to get away with thinking “criminals” are people who commit crimes not just populations that are surveilled enough to be routinely prosecuted
When I’m out with Deaf friends, I
put my hearing aid in my purse. It removes any ability to hear, but
far more importantly, it removes the ambiguity that often haunts me.
In a restaurant, we point to the menu and gesture with the wait
staff. The servers taking the order respond with gestures too. They
pantomime “drinks?” and tell us they learned a bit of signs in
kindergarten. Looking a little embarrassed, they sign “Rain, rain,
go away, come again another day” in the middle of asking our salad
dressing choice. We smile and gently redirect them to the menu. My
friends are pros at this routine and ordering is easy ― delightful
even. The contrast with how it feels to be out with my hearing
husband is stunning.
Once my friends and I have ordered, we sign up a storm, talking
about everything and shy about nothing. What would be the point?
People are staring anyway. Our language is lavish, our faces alive.
My friends discuss the food, but for me, the food is unimportant. I’m
feasting on the smorgasbord of communication ― the luxury of
chatting in a language that I not only understand 100% but that is a
pleasure in and of itself. Taking nothing for granted, I bask in it
all, and everything goes swimmingly.
Until I accidentally say the word “soup” out loud.
Pointing at the menu, I let the word slip out to the server. And
our delightful meal goes straight downhill. Suddenly, the wait
staff’s mouths start flapping; the beautiful, reaching, visual
parts of their brains go dead, as if switched off.
“Whadda payu dictorom danu?” the server’s mouth seems to
say. “Buddica taluca mariney?”
“No, I’m Deaf,” I say. A friend taps the server
and, pointing to her coffee, pantomimes milking a cow. But the damage
is done. The server has moved to stand next to me and, with
laser-focus, looks only at me. Her pen at the ready, her mouth moves
like a fish. With stunning speed, the beauty of the previous
interactions ― the pantomiming, the pointing, the cooperative
taking of our order ― has disappeared. “Duwanaa disser wida
coffee anmik? Or widabeeaw fayuh-mow?”
“Everything was going so well,” he says. “The waiter was
gesturing, it was terrific. And then I just said one word, and pow!!
It’s like a bullet of stupidity shot straight into the waiter’s
head,” he explains by signing a bullet in slow motion, zipping
through the air and hitting the waiter’s forehead. Powwwww.
Hearing people might be shocked by this, but Deaf people laugh
uproariously, cathartically.
“Damn! All I did was say one word!” I say to my friends. “But
why do you do that?” they ask, looking at me with consternation and
pity. “Why don’t you just turn your voice off, for once
and for all?” they say.
Hearing people would probably think I’m the lucky one ―
the success story ― because I can talk. But I agree with my
friends.
Do people in other countries get constantly bombarded with scam calls, junk texts, etc as well or is that another thing that I assumed is universal but it’s actually just a small collective of countries in the global north if even that who deal with it
Well, shit dude. How is it so hard to do something about this if it’s so global
ALT
