#other lgbt stuff

[thedisablednaturalist]

We need to talk about how so many queer spaces are inaccessible and even actively hostile to physically disabled people.

[stil-lindigo]

patchwork canary.

a comic about two girls, fate, and a powerful man who felt entitled to something that wasn’t his to own.

support me on patreon (if you’d like to see more comics like this one)

[booasaur]

Special Ops: Lioness - 1x06

[thearoacealastor11]

I’m curious…

Oh, and if you want, you can specify what it is if it is under ‘other’. You don’t have ta do it if ya do it.

[yrsonpurpose]

QUEEN CHARLOTTE: A BRIDGERTON STORY (2023) Brimsley & Reynolds + height difference

[hiya-im-mary]

Here’s my hot take!!

When people try to make sexualities into Oc’s or characters,they always make their interpretation of asexuality a sad,serious,low energy “emo kid (derogatory)” ,while all the other sexuality characters are happy little goobers…it honestly irks me a lot >:(

Here’s an illustration to show what I mean!!

I’ll just say this!! If you’re gonna try to force the diversity of a single sexuality into one characterisation…

LET 👏 ASEXUALS👏BE👏GOOBERS👏👏👏

(Please <3)

[violetvulpini]

Proto kept saying weird shit and one day Roll decided to start demanding explanations. It did not clarify things.

[Transcript below because my handwriting sucks]

Roll: Alright, time out!

(Mega: Do you mind?)

Roll: What does that mean? Do you even know what gender means?

Proto: Heh, duh! Gender is just some dumb things human made up. And totally not my problem!

Mega: ...What? But you're a boy. That's not made up.

Proto: I'm a robot.

Roll: Okay, but you call Mega brother and me sister. Why's that?

Proto: Easy! I want to kill Mega, and you want to kill me.

Mega: No-- okay, what gender are Dr. Light and Wily? They're human.

Proto: They're scientists. (nods nods)

Mega: UGH

(Roll: hmm)

Proto: Can we fight now?

Roll: One more: What do you think humans made up gender for?

Proto: Psh. Movies, obviously.

Mega and Roll: Movies???

Proto, triple threat: I'm going to kill you.

[rythyme]

really not a fan of boston very explicitly saying "I want to be exclusive romantically but not sexually" only to be told "You're lying to yourself. I think you should be alone."

[abstractpenny]

Im not demiromantic, I just require a friends to lovers arc.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Me watching the LGBT community who almost never rarely gives black women and girls, asexuals, or aromantics genuine respect, pretend we’re all friends and have always treated us right the minute it’s June 1st and want to use black women(mainly darkskinned) and girls as their little poster girl:

[cactusprincewrites]

awesome writers room!!!

🙏 writeblr gods please see this, shine down upon my post from beyond pls 🙏

my boyfriend and i have recently taken over the discord server we met in and are trying to revive and grow the community there -- its a lovely cosy server open to fans of writing, art and character design, anyone who wants to make new friends to create and explore their imaginary worlds with or find peers to review and read their work

we also now have the facilities to post your own long-form stories, comics, galleries or blogs for other people to enjoy and react to in our own community hub (but truth be told rn, just between you and me, it's a lil bit empty -- and we'd love to have your incredible creativity to fill it)

it's very lbtq and poc friendly, and we hope many of you will make it your writing, art, and creativity home. it's also (drumrolllll) RIGHT HERE GUYS: [insert discord invite]

[booasaur]

Special Ops: Lioness - 1x07

[alexhasalotofthoughts]

One time I suggested watching Dan and Phil Games to someone because I genuinely thought they would like it and they told me they wouldn't ever watch dnpg because they don't want to be "one of those gays."

The blatant homophobia in that sentence??? And that was clearly a jab at me?? Ugh.

Pls just let me live my life, thanks xxx

[cineresis]

Angels in America

It's amazing how fast an evening at your favorite club can be ruined by someone keeling over and frothing at the mouth. The band never quite gets back into the swing of things afterwards.

"Angel," sighed one of the men, or nearest approximants, at the table next to mine, "why is it that I can never go anywhere with you without stumbling across a body?"

"Oh, come now," said his partner, a soft, fluffy confection in caramel and cream, rising hastily to make his way toward the source of the commotion. The first gentleman, dark, lanky, and excruciatingly chic, got up to follow him. "It's hardly every time."

I stayed where I was for now, casting my gaze around the room as I went over my memory of the past twenty or thirty minutes. Too many people passing close enough to slip something into the victim's drink, too many others to watch at the same time, too many more opportunities to poison him outside my field of view. I was a detective, not God.

"Stumbling upon, once. Literally. Do you know what it's like to have to clean up after that sort of thing? It takes a personal toll."

"Hush, Crowley," chided "Angel". "People can hear you, and you know how queer they get about these things. Ooh, yes, that's strychnine, all right," he added cheerfully, pulling a small vial from his vest pocket and tipping it into his handkerchief. "Nasty stuff."

I got up. As I approached, I caught the faint, unmistakable chemical sweetness of ether fumes and gave them a wide berth, choosing instead to inspect the victim's plate and glass before turning to scan the room from this perspective.

"Now, just what might you be doing?" drawled Crowley.

I looked him over, too, while I was at it. In Crowley's case, this involved a lot of looking and not much over; he was easily more than six feet tall, even while slouching rakishly. The snake tattoo on his right temple suggested certain things about him. The dark glasses that he hadn't removed since he'd entered just suggested questions, since I highly doubted he was blind. "I'm a detective," I said, leaving the obviously at the end of that sentence to implication. "What are you doing?"

This response seemed to delight him. "So are we," Crowley answered, and grinned. "But if you want to get specific about it, I'm keeping you distracted while my friend saves this man's life. Let's see your license, then."

As I took it out, keeping at least one eye on him and his partner, Angel called out to the rubbernecking crowd around us, "I need someone here to run and call the nearest hospital, and a couple of strong men to help get this poor fellow someplace dark and quiet to rest. Best use one of the tablecloths for a stretcher," he added to the first volunteer who stepped forward.

Crowley leaned in closer to study my license. "Drake Silas Donovan," he read off. "'Silas', really?"

"What about it?"

"I've just always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Silas."

"The kind who had a grandfather named Silas," I replied coolly, snagging my license back. "Your turn."

He obliged. Anthony J. Crowley, it read, licensed in London since 1905, the year before mine. I wondered how long he'd been at this; he looked too young for his apparent age, but then I looked too old for mine. "A. J. Crowley," I read his signature aloud. "Get asked if you're any relation every time, or just most?"

There's a certain motion a person's head makes when they roll their eyes. Crowley's was making it. "The man's an embarrassment to the side," he griped. "I made my name legitimately."

"And your friend?" It wasn't as if I couldn't put two and two together. There's a certain type of person who's got both a nose for trouble and the brains to prepare for it; if it walks, talks, and thinks like a dick, it probably is one. It was just that I wasn't in the habit of trusting people, and I'd be a real schmuck to neglect basic due diligence on the guy purportedly surrounded by bodies. 

Detectives are no better or worse than any other person. They just think it's usually more interesting to solve crimes than commit them.

"Oh, he's as legitimate as it gets." Crowley turned to his companion, who was getting to his feet, brushing his clothes off fussily. Beside him, the two volunteers hoisted the unconscious victim onto a tablecloth spread across the floor, momentarily dislodging the ether-soaked cloth before Angel caught it and laid it carefully back in place over the victim's nose and mouth. "Aren't you, Aziraphale?"

Angel — "Aziraphale"? — looked up, startled. "Pardon?"

"Mr. Donovan here wants to see your detective's license," Crowley explained, enunciating his words with malice aforethought.

"Oh! Yes. Of course I always have that with me. Now just where did I..." He started patting down his pockets, stopped suddenly, and took a lovely calfskin card holder out of his coat. "Ah. Here it is."

Beaming, he passed it to Crowley, who passed it to me with the comment, "You'll find everything in order, I'm sure."

I glanced down at the card, then back up at Angel. "Am I supposed to call you A. Z. Fell or Aziraphale?" I asked, pronouncing the Z correctly as zed.

"A. Z. Fell is how 'Aziraphale' is pronounced in the King's English," said Crowley blandly, affecting a cut-glass Oxford accent on the last phrase. His partner seemed pleased by this comment, rather than annoyed.

"I'm afraid my progenitor bestowed me with a rather unwieldy given name," Fell admitted, raising fascinating questions about just how many syllables the British peerage could fit on a birth certificate when they really tried. "Aziraphale just sounds so much more euphonious, don't you think?" Crowley was right; I couldn't tell whether Fell had meant to say A. Z. Fell or the de-accented gloss. He'd lengthened the half-syllable between zed and Fell to a full vowel, but some people said zetta.

"I wouldn't know," I replied, handing the license back to Crowley, who was nearest. When Fell didn't take my bait, I added, "Lucky that you happened to have ether handy. I wouldn't like to imagine what might've happened if you'd decided to stay in tonight." I also lied when I said sorry, and when I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Little white lies are the oil in the gears of civilization.

"Oh, I always carry that, too," Fell explained earnestly. "One gets into the habit after one's first run-in with strychnine, and of course ether has so many useful applica—"

"I wouldn't, angel," Crowley interrupted, sounding very amused. "Mr. Donovan thinks you're the one behind this."

"Oh," said Fell, nonplussed. "Gosh. Well, I — I suppose I can't blame him. He doesn't know me from Adam, after all, and has no reason to trust me — I did warn you about giving people funny ideas, Crowley, honestly. Of course," Fell turned to me, laying an elegant hand across his chest, "if you were to search me, you would find only a small collection of antidotes — oh, but a habitual poisoner would probably carry those, too, especially if he were the sort of voyeur with a penchant for playing the hero. I certainly wouldn't be convinced of my innocence. Yes, I can certainly understand whatever suspicion you might feel towards me, however misplaced it may be."

Crowley watched this thought process with an expression somewhere between fascination and agony. "Well, at least now he probably thinks that if you'd done it, you'd have been caught by now," he remarked, presumably because he was thinking the same thing. "You'll have to excuse my friend," Crowley added to me. "He still believes that the innocent have nothing to fear. Somehow."

"First time visiting?" I guessed.

Fell's bemusement answered my question before he did. "Pardon?"

"Never mind."

[megacharicific]

asexuality is being unable to taste the sugar in ice cream, alright?

some people learn that ice cream is supposed to be sweet, so the first time they have it, they figure out what's up. other people aren't ever explicitly told, so they only know ice cream is supposed to taste good. maybe they will eat ice cream many times, and they'll say that yes it's good, although they don't get the big deal and aren't sure it's worth its cost.

some people like ice cream anyway because they like the unique creamy, cold texture, even though it tastes like water. some people will eat ice cream because they find the chocolate syrup and the sprinkles toppings sweet. some people will share an ice cream with their partner because it makes their partner happy and it's not like eating water-ice cream bothers them.

some people will share ice cream with their partner because they like it when they get to chomp on the ice cream cone, and while yes you can buy a box of ice cream cones, it's rare to find a partner willing to only eat ice cream cones with you.

some people have seen pictures of or heard the concept of ice cream and it doesn't appeal to them and they don't ever want to bother trying one, because they know it'll taste bland, and that's okay too. some people can sometimes taste the sweetness of ice cream, and sometimes can't, and that's okay too. some people only taste the sweetness of ice cream when they're having ice cream during a special occasion and that's okay too.

you can say it's a shame that some people can't taste the sugar in ice cream but there's a lot of foods in the world and a lot of them taste good, and a lot of them taste sweet, so personally i don't ever feel like i'm missing out.

[jenthetranskitsune]

Why am I so obsessed with this ship recently