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“girlcock” this, “girlcock” that. what if I want to watch the corner of her eyes crinkle when she talks about the tv show she likes. what if I want her to be able to confide in me the things she never felt safe enough to tell anyone else.

#OP is so real for this

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currently watching venture bros and i have to say this is my favourite bit so far. the way he just leaves...

#PLEASE WATCH THIS STUPID SHOW #THE FACT THAT HE WAS RIGHT

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dude ive never seen anything like this. howd you even know he was behind that corner.... you know exactly where to flash. here drink this

caveman in a gaming headset at my RGB laden custom pc: Prime Make Grog Head Hurt

well i dont give a shit i need to get into purples

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he works at dust2

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looking good and feeling fine😌

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Salem 🐰🏳️‍⚧️🌙💜

(HE/HIM)

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:3

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#unironically

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Source: https://pin.it/1DOXsTjKZ

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#okay this is pretty banging but #the camera angle shifts make me feel like I'm watching this while doing pushups

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reading customer reviews for sweatshirts with silly novelty prints that say things like "don't overpay for something that will go out of style and look tacky in a year" my friend I am trying to look as tacky as possible at all times, that is the goal

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I am in love w the way pre 2000s films have that hazy feel to them. hd honestly kills the vibe

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For those who were curious, here is a video showing the Salmo bread crash. Keep in mind that this will never occur under normal circumstances, as Salmo never gets any bread.

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So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

#manifesting this energy as my parents are continuing to deadname me exclusively

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