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She's got the right attitude here

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by  ardor_of_aboreality.art

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we were talking about the criminalization of homosexuality in class and my professor (who as far as i know isn't in any way queer) said something i quite enjoyed in that. well the exchange was more or less this: a student asked a question (doesn't really matter what exactly just know that i was rolling my eyes So hard internally) and the prof looked at the student and was like (i'm paraphrasing here this conversation was not in english) Do you have any queer friends? and the student went Uhhhh in a manner that made it clear the answer was probably no and the prof said Actually statistically speaking you most likely do. If I had to divide this room into two groups the way to do it would not be "people with queer friends" and "people without queer friends" it would be "people whose queer friends are out to them" and "people whose queer friends aren't". And if you're in the latter category you should consider why that is--if maybe your behavior is indicating to the queer people around you that you're not safe to come out to. to come back to your question if you really want to know about queerness there's a very simple way of doing that: you make yourself a person queer people feel comfortable talking to about their experiences and then you fucking listen to them when they do (the fuck is not paraphrased) (there was a fuck involved) (frankly king shit)

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i’m going to start saying “happy pride” throughout the month of june during casual interactions the same way people say “happy holidays/merry christmas” etc

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huge shout out to this little kid for writing my favorite poem

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Kirei Kotomine, is that you?

one time, as a kid, I watched someone make an omelette. after stewing on the idea for a full day, I asked my mother how it worked, got a basic lesson, and then proceeded to spend the next three months in the omelette mines making 3-5 omelettes every single day (depending on how many of my siblings were left with any tolerance for eating them) until I felt I had really truly certainly gotten a grasp on the concept of the omelette

I then repeated this every time I learned a recipe, which is funny because I didn't even like cooking beyond a passing interest, I was just really interested in the idea of being able to max out the skill or something

as soon as I demonstrated mastery over something, I immediately dropped it and moved onto the next thing, and this was an understood pattern to the point where my siblings would try to prompt me into spending a period of fixation on whatever they wanted to eat at the time, and then they'd have several servings of it a day until they got sick of it and started to hate it

but them enjoying it wasn't really the goal. largely tangential. I mostly just wanted to get it down and then move on.

moral of the story: none

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Whatever you want, baby

i keep getting fines for “excessive water consumption” it’s not my fault that the basement prison cells all need their own toilets and showers. and like the prisoners are not pulling their weight AT ALL. all they do is sleep and be scared of the rats all day instead of painting with the easels i provided so the fines are really putting a financial strain on the household. if i didn’t need them for their plasma i would have killed them all already because this is nottt as financially lucrative as i thought it would be

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this is my son Red Panda Isopod

I birthed him this morning

Look at him go

(My first time using Blockbench, and after a long, long time of not utilizing my 3D modeling lessons I got in college. Pretty proud of this little guy)

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The House

The timbers creaked and moaned at the vibration of her saw, the rhythmic back and forth of each stroke cutting a little lower on the cladding, until the teeth screamed against the stone foundation. She chained the snatch and tackles tight to the oak tree in the front yard, and with hooks in every door and window of the old farmhouse, she began to pull. Each step took all her strength and moved the facade a fraction of an inch, but her pace, though strained, was unrelenting. Her feet dug into to the soft dust of the earth with silent ticks paced once for every two seconds, steady enough by which to set the grandfather clock in the living room as it now faced outwards to the midday sun. By the time she took her final step, that sun hung low in the sky and seemed to peer in through the great bisection, the faceless house nude before the evening air with guts and veins on full display. The front yard, between the dragging of the houses half and the steady flow of water from the mangled pipes had turned into a muddy wreck, long streaks left in the structures path softened by the deluge. The motley green pipes still shone brighter then their vacant surroundings in those last rays of light, twitching and shaking as the good clean water poured from them, and the heavy cast iron tunnels of the drainpipes in the walls did echo with every tap and shift and change in pressure. The copper of the wires hung in tangled hairs from in the walls and ceiling, their incompleteness rendering the remaining rooms in long, stark shadows, and the timbers that still clung together well enough to keep the farmhouse standing did so with great yeering protest, their fibers strained beyond imagining as the pulled and clawed to keep the thing together. It was a home no longer. A house in name only. The abomination was bisected as a corpse beneath the knife of a mortician, and in those defaced walls she could see the rot that clung within its core. The fleshy tendrils snaked beneath the floorboards and up throughout the walls, sealing shut the attic door and filling out the halfway empty space within. Inside that open space adorned in untouched moving boxes and the refuse of decades of her life the thing filled out the open air like honeycomb, great sheets of mucus in the flesh grown inches from each other until the air that passed between them was itself a kind of breath, passed through the gills of the house beast. The flesh shook, and shivered in the cooling evening air, it’s growths seizing up and clinging to the houses frame. She new that if it could have made a sound itself, it would be screaming at the work she’d done with the teeth of her saw. The tool dripped with a bluish red that clung between the little points and filled out every dimple in the blade, slicking it as though to make the job go faster as it passed inevitability. The house was barely even host to the parasite inside, and still it quaked and shuddered to see what had occupied its frame. All three of them could do little else but wait, and hope, that death would arrive before the morning.

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GRRM fans should do this so they can stop waiting for Winds of Winter.

Wonder if anyone's memorized both the entire Bible and the entire Quran

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Doll that sees a cheap service advertised as "no frills" and is immediately disinterested

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I remember being a child at school in the 90s and early 00s, in shadow of Thatcher's Section 28 that made the presence of LGBT experiences in schools illegal. My entire friendship group having to avoid locations in school homophobic staff members were known to frequent. I remember that experience feeling like an insanity.

I remember getting into political activism in 2010. Speaking to sanity, just asking for the truth of the experience of myself and queer friends felt powerful. In 2004 Tony Blair's Labour had repealed Thatcher's Section 28, and had implemented the Gender Recognition Act that meant a trans person would count as their acquired certified sex for all legal aspects of life. More recently, that same year of 2010, Gordon Brown's Labour government implemented the Equality Act, insuring that LGBT folk couldn't be denied employment, healthcare or residence on the grounds of being queer.

I remember starting my transition in 2014/15 and how optimistic the political climate now felt about trans rights, the Tories had been in power since 2010 but as a collision with a liberal rights party and the prime minister of the time, David Cameron, was trying to rebrand the party away from it's reputation as "the Nasty Party" and in that name a gay marriage was legalised in 2014. The party was financially choking the country and it's public services, but they were at least allowing queer experiences to live freely within that choke hold. As if picking on the queers had somehow become unimaginable.

I remember 2016 felt like an omen. A year prior the Tories somehow obtained a majority government and no longer had Nick Clegg's Liberal Democrats hampering them. Trump had been elected across the pond and was immediately speaking disgusting things about trans folk. David Cameron had blindly led the country into a vote to leave the EU that even the victors didn't seem all that keen on actually implementing. Our international relations was some of the strongest safeguards to the legal documents protecting the lifestyle of me and mine. The Equality Act, and the European Carter of Human Rights it was built on was at the centre of EU relations. I continue to be a political activist, but it feels more desperate than I remember it to be.

David's successor, Theresa May, received a study that says the trans people of the country was under supported and reforms were required to make transitioning legally easier. Theresa advocated for this publicly and consistently, but all anyone wanted to talk about was Brexit and infighting within the Tories was constant. Boris Johnson was rapidly building a populist faction within the party in the hope of ousting Theresa to get Brexit done rapidly and reap public goodwill. Naturally the Gender Recognition reforms were an easy target for them. By 2019 Boris Johnson supplanted Theresa and the reforms were scrapped. Bojo promoted anyone within the party who agreed with his populist Brexit take into cabinet and suddenly the Equalities minister was an out and out TERF by the name of Liz Truss.

I remember 2019, standing in the centre of my living room on a call with my mother trying to explain how suddenly terrifying being trans in that political landscape was. Trying to get her to understand.

I remember two weeks ago in 2025 being sat in a team meeting at work and hearing that my employer would be ensuring that people are using the correct bathrooms and changing rooms for their birth sex, Keir Starmer's Labour Government are saying nothing in defence of the Equality and Gender Recognition Acts their party predecessors implemented. I'm having to make plans with myself about what buildings I could frequent where my gender identity wouldn't be questioned. I remember the hiding I did in school over two decades ago again.

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extremely underrated subgenre of tumblr post: when someone makes a general statement about something, and another person offers a counter-statement that's just completely nonsensical, and the OP just agrees instantly even if it makes no sense at all

examples:

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kink is truly amazing in ways that I think you need to open yourself up to because what is weird and taboo in your taste and your sexuality can reveal a lot about the world and your world that you couldn't realise before. people make fun because this is a blog with the word ntr on it but I've often expressed on here that my interest in cheating is very political. why do people cheat, what really is cheating, why are these things done this way. you should question more about everything you like and believe in or else you will fall apart like lego minifigures losing all their health

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the turbines turn into the wind… is this not clear?