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My sister sent this to me, and as a lesbian in MA I can't say anything lmao

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happy lottery day girlies!

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reblog if you’re a sick fuck

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need someone so obsessed with the scent of me that they moan and whimper and nuzzle closer whenever they bury their face in my neck

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It's okay to have blatant double standards that favor women

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what if we were sisters and i followed you to college and we ended up sharing a dorm and exploring new things together and then later we got an apartment and then one day a house with a little garden and then had a family of our own and everyone just kinda knew what was up but didn't really mind and we got to be sisters together forever?

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you bring your mommy GF home for the holidays, and it's a little awkward. neither of you really like that you have to call her your girlfriend while there, but your parents wouldn't understand. If they'd understood you maybe you wouldn't...

...

It's not worth rehashing right now. You go home because you always do. Your relationship with your parents is a bit tense, but it's acceptable. and this is what people do, right? go home? you do it because you're supposed to. because they'd be upset if you didn't. because going is easier then dealing with the fallout...

maybe.

they're pleasant, but interrogative. They can't stop asking questions. details, personal things of your partner that they have no right to know. you try and interfere, but you don't know how to tell them no. you never have. But she's strong. her strength, her will, is part of why you love her. she withstands their barrage with more dignity then you would've. she doesn't seem bothered. they're not the first.

That first night wears on, the alcohol getting everyone through the uneasy tension that seems to linger just out of sight. you feel small. its one thing to deal with them on your own, it's another to be witnessed. it's another to see your little home world through your partners eyes. none of it is quite what you remember anymore.

as the night winds down, the first slip finally happens. it's not you or her, but them. one of them makes a comment, something so casual and offhand that by the time the last word has left their lips they've forgotten the rest. but it lodges in your heart. it slowly creeps through you brain and traps you in a tiny cage. a pattern, a cycle present all your life, a fear you know you can't show because they couldn't understand. because they put it there. you change. you shut down. you keep talking, but there's nothing left in your voice.

they don't see it. they do, but they don't know. it's normal. it's you. it's what they know of you. it's how you react when words are said, and in their eyes it means nothing anymore. She sees it though. suddenly the person she came here with is gone and this weird, timid, joyless shell is babbling on next to her. Her hand on your back roots you again, and you fall quiet as the others talk. She winds the conversation to a close, prompts a goodnight from the room, and gently guides you back to your room.

it's changed. it's not yours anymore. if it ever was. it never really felt like your space, they were always in and out, it was really just the room where you slept. anything that was yours was hidden, tucked in the backs of drawers or shoved under your mattress. privacy was earned through subterfuge. Now that you're gone, that you've been away for years, it's just another space. an office, a den, some quiet space. it's completely different. it's exactly the same. it's just as much yours as it ever was.

she helps you undress and lays you down on the fold-out couch where your bed used to be. you can still hear them outside. the walls were always thin. you learned to cry silently. you still do. you're doing it now. she pulls the blankets over you both and holds onto you tight as you cling to her. you forgot. you forgot that this is what is was like. you knew it was bad, but the nostalgia of childhood is still powerful. you forgot how much it hurt to go home.

her hand glides gently through your hair. it traces little circles on your back and drifts back and forth across your shoulders. the lights are off, the sun is set, the world is dark. it smells like her. you cling to her as your mind begins to float through that abyss. she leans in to you. her breath is hot against your cheek. her voice soft in your ear. her whisper a bare mote above silence.

"I would've raised you better."

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I am so sick and tired of seeing the trans women around me being slowly hot coaled into the closet and into essentially being forced back into "Men who would really love being women but Can't because they Aren't". It is so painful stop fucking doing this to our trans women. Stop forcing them to be "Fine" with being called dude bro man he and biologically male stop it stop it stop it you are killing her. You are killing her.

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Yeah actually the usa is the worst place to be trans we just have doctors who give us hrt and we can get surgeries very easily and there's lots of us and large communities of us Yeah basically it's the worst no one has it worse

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dogs might look like their owners but cat people always have a cat with the same mental illness as them

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the entire budget of the US military should be reallocated to insect research

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once you realize that the political ad cliche of "[opposing candidate] has never run a business... and yet they want to run a whole city???" is code for "people who aren't part of the bourgeoisie shouldn't be permitted to hold office" you never stop seeing it.

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In the locked tomb. straight up “rolling it”. and by “it”, haha, well. let’s justr say. my rock

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funniest thing dark matter did in its whole runtime was use the yellow-orange Mysterious Barbaric Foreign Country filter for a random town in wisconson. i think more canadian shows should commit to that bit and start treating america like american shows treat mexico.

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Dark Matter (2015) // S03xE09 // "Isn't That a Paradox?"

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Dark Matter (2015) // more five & six

i've made this point before but finding out that six is a divorced dad late in the show does just Immediately track with his behavior. put this man in the vicinity of a child (or teen, as the case may be) and he will dedicate his entire life to making sure he's their Favorite Person and that he's keeping them safe and happy (he's not so good at the happy part though)