Tumblr Is Known And Also Spoken Of By Its User Base For Its High Proportion Of Lgbt+ Users, But I'm Curious

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE DOGS

9 million people fucking love dogs

Creaking though

Stop holding your breath.

Stop holding your breath.

Stop holding your breath.

I know you know.

I’ve made friends

With the voices.

In my head.

As for the demons.

Under my bed.

Including the monster.

Watching through the glass.

And for the hands.

Coming though.

The walls.

They’re the one.

That.

Well.

We don’t get along.

We just don’t get alone.

I know you think I’m crazy.

Well the way things been.

Going.

You’re not on the wrong track.

I don’t think it’s fair.

That isn’t really.

There.

But still stair.

And very a-wear.

That you say they are not there.

My mind is starting.

My mind is starting.

Is starting to stair.

And I’m fully a-wear.

But I’m no longer scared.

No longer.

No longer.

No longer.

Scared.

Because I have unbound energy.

That everyone sees.

When I make it to this time.

I allow myself to fly.

Because I feel so alive.

As fast as a shooting star.

I’m not sure.

How far.

How far.

I’ll fly through the night sky.

As I shine.

O-o-o-o-o-o-oh S-o-o-o-o-o

Alive.

But it’ll fade.

When given time.

And I’ll become blind.

When I collide out of the sky.

I hope that I’ll be able.

To shine bright.

Through.

The night.

As I fight.

As I take.

Flight.

O-o-o-o-oh.

All night.

Like a diamond going into the night.

I’ll hold tight.

bring back the habits that made you happy as a child. there’s no reason you should ever have to give up harmless things that bring you joy. you don’t have to age out of having fun. finger paint. write mediocre fanfiction and questionable poetry. put chocolate chips in your waffles. sing in the bath, and while working in the yard, and while washing your hands. hammer tunelessly on a piano. spin in circles until you fall down. climb a tree. just because you’re now in charge of your life doesn’t mean you’re expected to give up on the things that make life feel worth living

!!!

Why the heck not I've got nothing to lose

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

Dear friends of Tumblr,

Today at my school we had an assembly about internet predators and when I had said that most of my true friends are over the internet and they gave me a lecture about how “I don’t know who I’m talking to” blah blah. So please, if you aren’t a predator in any way, please reblog so i can prove a point.

That was beautiful, and I'm trying not to cry.

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

The Chrises are killing me