33 year old butch doing their best. (Pronouns are anything that isn't cultural appropriation)
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Wait, a version of Romeo and Juliet where Romeo was originally engaged to Tybalt would be delicious.
Romeo is clearly heterosexual! He has a whole speech about his first female crush. Romeo duels his fiancee because Romeo got too flirty with his betrothed's cousin! He kills him!
The prince as a replacement engagement for Romeo? Well hell, Juliet killing herself over it carries a lot of different connotations, doesn't it? Her beloved is going to get queered up even though they love each other, how tragic. Romeo would rather die with her than marry the prince?
The prince's speech in the last act would be absolutely gut-wrenching.
I love me a pseudo-historical arranged marriage au but it always nudges my suspension of disbelief when the author has to dance around the implicit expectation that an arranged marriage should lead to children, which a cis gay couple can't provide.
I know for a lot of people that's irrelevant to what they want from an Arranged Marriage plot, but personally I like playing in the weird and uncomfortable implications.
So, I've been thinking about how you would justify an obviously barren marriage in That Kind of fantasy world, and I thought it'd be interesting if gay marriage in Ye Old Fantasy Land was a form of soft disinheritance/abdication.
Like, "Oh, God, I don't want to be in this position of power please just find me a boy to marry", or, "I know you should inherit after you father passes but as your stepmother/legal guardian I think it'd make more sense if my kids got everything, so maybe consider lesbianism?", or "Look, we both know neither of our families has enough money to support that many grandkids, so let's just pair some spares and save both our treasuries the trouble".
Obviously this brings in some very different dynamics that I know not everyone would be pinged by, but I just think it'd be neat.
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Did I drive 5+ hours today to attend my friends dance recital? Yes.
My friend was wonderful, and talented, and I was really happy for her! (and I brought her flowers and bought her a post-show snack and drink), but dear g-d.
I am exhausted in a cheap motel room where I have seen at least 3 sex workers. No shade, ladies (and one gent), I delayed the cops while you snuck out the back, and I would do it again, but if you could gag your johns so I could sleep, I would appreciate it.
Gent, your silky whatever it was was fabulous and I am very salty I didn't get to ask you where you got it. Ladies, sorry, but I have hotter outfits collecting dust in my closet. Do better. If my butch ass has better lingerie than you, you need to re-evaluate.
#I can source lingerie#and makeup#better than most people#but I WANT gents robe thing#It was so pretty#I might also be so sleep deprived I am loopy
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RIP Andrea Gibson.
You were the first spoken word poet I ever heard, and kicked off my interest in spoken word poetry. I won an award or two for it.
I memorized your poem "I do" and I performed it at every open mic night in college. The poem is about wanting to be there when your lover dies, because back then, queer people were routinely denied access to their dying partners.
I performed that poem at least two dozen times.
The day the US Supreme Court legalized gay marriage, I was on a plane to my friends wedding. As I was on the train to my friend's wedding, "I do" came up on shuffle, and I burst out in noisy sobs. That world had died while I had been on that early morning flight, and a new, better one had formed.
I realized I was never going to hear you perform that poem, because it belonged to the world we had just left behind. That was the most beautiful disappointment I have ever experienced.
You died this week. And I am sad about that, even though I never met you. But, whenever I think I am in the darkest timeline, I am going to think about the line in "I do" I've quoted a dozen times.
"But I do... want to be in that room with you. When visiting hours are for family members only, I want to know they'll let me in... to say goodbye."
And I will remember in tears and with gratitude that you passed like this:
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While we’re warming up here I’m gonna tell you the best story that you’ve ever heard in your life. So I met this woman, and I went home to her house with her, already a great story. x
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what if instead of having a fake name for internet personal-life purposes we could have a fake name for professional work-life purposes
#Oh hey#this is my real life#I have between 6 and 8 names#I use them in various situations#And I dare say there is no one who knows them all#plus a secret name (not one of the listed names)#Lets see: A. A. E. L. N. P. P. V.
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Due to various life circumstances, my kitty cat has had an adjustment in what time she is fed in the morning. Her breakfast now comes approximately three hours later (exactly 12 hours before she gets her dinner).
This has resulted in behavior I have deemed 'aggressive cuddling'. Full on sprawled between my hips, purring like an engine at 5 AM, trying to get me to wake up.
Like, no thank you ma'am. You are not the pussy that belongs between my thighs.
Side note, I think my cat might be a lesbian.
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i am the best rules lawyer in all the land and sea. genies consult me on the regular
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every person can feel freddie’s presence in their souls when they sing MAMAAAAAA UUHHHH, I DONT WANNA DIE, I SOMETIMES I WISH I’VE NEVER BEEN BORN AT ALL with all the air in their lungs i’m not joking
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It's important to remember that Luigi Mangione is being framed for murder. The "evidence" they have on him is absolute clown shoes absurd.
They're trying to win this by swaying public opinion. That's why they're doing movie deals about it and staging ridiculous photo ops.
They're gonna try to give this kid the death penalty to cover up for their own gross incompetence and in the hopes that they scare the working class out of trying to fight back.
Please don't help them do this by using his name as a synonym for political assassinations. Please do not perpetuate the idea that he's guilty.
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Is this all speculation and rumor? Yes. Is it also really fucking funny to think about one of the most poisonously anti-immigrant men in the US losing his wife to an immigrant?
Also yes. That may actually be funnier than when Miller's childhood rabbi publicly disavowed him.
https://www.nytimes.com/2025/05/28/us/politics/elon-musk-trump-doge.html


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And one amang, an Iyrysch man,
Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?
It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.
Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.
Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.
I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.
Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?
At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.
And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?
Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.
At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.
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Oh this is real. The C-PSTD causes us to look for emergencies everywhere, and when we actually have a crisis to deal with our brains kick into high gear.
I personally can handle anything for however long as I know what I need to do in the next five seconds. Once I am free to relax, I puke from adrenaline coming out of my system. But I can weather minutes, hours or days at peak efficiency. Like James Bond handle it, right up until its handled.
I also spent most of today shaking because my cat knocked down a plant.
does anyone else fall into that weird cptsd state of being where in a very direly stressful situation you’re the one with a cool head who’s able to calm everyone down and act rationally but on a day to day basis im like anxiously scared for my life for no reason. just shaking like a chihuahua
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#fuck 'em#they'll get me if they get me#but fuck 'em if they don't have to find me first#I'm jewish and queer and that means if they want me dead#they pay the price to do it#I can be *gone* in 43 seconds
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so um. ariana grande like. understood understood the assignment
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reblog this and tag with a food you no longer have access to (closed restaurant, state you moved away from, ex’s mom’s cooking, etc) that will haunt you until your dying day, mine are the spicy chicken sandwich on the employee menu at the fine dining restaurant I was a prep cook at, and the onion bagel from the kosher place down the street from my house when I lived in the city
#Butter chicken from Masala#I have begged and begged and begged the old owner for the recipe#Sadly#no dice#Also the tuna carpaccio#from Boule in idk 2004?#christ but that was the tastiest thing I have ever eaten#I still dream about it
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