#the q word

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Hot take that isn’t actually a hot take so much as it is a joke: EddieAna is all Ravi’s fault because he said the q word and started off the “Jinx” shift of insanity

[itsmalachitenow]

I fully believe Mad Mod is bisexual, but prefers to just identify as queer and leave it there.

thank you for your time.

[lenbryant]

He was the old-school, OG Q-word.

[externalmemorycomic]

Happy Pride everyone!!! (Thank you Emily Gwen for designing the sunset lesbian flag) I love my trans sisters and siblings very much Image description: a cartoon cat and mouse march across a rainbow carrying flags. The cat's flag is the sunset lesbian flag with the words "happy pride" written on it and the mouse's flag is a black flag with three white question marks. It's a bright, cloudy day and the sun has a smiling cartoon face. End ID

[shisasan]

April, 1932 The diary of Anaïs Nin [Volume One: 1931-1934]

[cube-cumb3r]

while im at it neopronoun opposition is weird to me as a swedish person.. the whole debate is so anglocentric that they assume every language landed on the same solution they did, to reuse a plural pronoun as a gender neutral one and then they think any other solution is absurd or unheard of. what do you mean you just made another pronoun up you cant do that!! etc

coz its like here in the 2014 the swedish academy accepted 3rd person pronoun "hen" (as opposed to hon/han) like officially into our word list after it gained some popularity in the 2010s. like that is a NEOPRONOUN that someone just Came Up With in like the 60s and then people just started using it and now its just a recognized part of our language. sure we could've also reused our plural pronoun "de/dem" as a gender neutral one but we just made up a new one instead. and to like imply that mainstream use of a neopronoun is just UNHEARD OF and that neopronouns is something the mainstream could NEVER GET USED TO EVER!!! is... your perspective is very limited to the english speaking world is all i can say

[coldalbion]

Deeply important. When purity-consciousness overwhelms a movement, it often ends up doing its enemies work for it. Direct link to thread below, above images screenshotted for posterity:

[beforevenice]

have the courage to transform yourself, my darling, to what you desire.

// clarice lispector

[rivers-for-me]

You are sunlight through a window, in which I stand in, warmed.

-Jessie Burton, The Miniaturist

[vvampirelust]

thinking about hooking up with shane mccutcheon…

warnings: smut, top!shane, fingering (r!receiving), thigh riding (kinda), dirty bathrooms, not proof read

It’s typical. 

“Can I bum one?” that gravel-like voice asks the question which started it all. Your eyes flick from your freshly-lit cigarette to her. Holy shit. Instinctive alarm bells blare at the mere sight of her. She was hot. hot . hot. The straight-up definition of heartbreaker right before your eyes. And she had sauntered over to you, with a lilt of allure in her tone and a darkness in her half covered eyes, framed by the shaggy locks both jutting out and poking against her face. 

You take a drag yourself whilst digging out the pack from your pocket and handing it over to the strangely attractive stranger. “Thank you,” she nods, “Really. What’s your name?” the stranger asks, taking out a cigarette and pressing the end between her lips. You tell her without a second thought and her expression softens instantly. It’s a well performed move. Almost unnoticeable. That smile is so convincing, it's as if this girl has fallen in love simply by hearing your name. And who knows, maybe she has. At least for the moment.  Any other instance and you would have obeyed the waving red flag above her head. But tonight, it seems to be working for you. “That’s very pretty.  Suits you” she flirts, trading the pack with your lighter. Skin meets skin for a wavering moment. “I’m Shane.” 

Oh, yeah. Even if you wind up as just another name in an endless cycle, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

It's fitting. 

The dimly lit, sleazy, bathroom of the bar you were outside. The countless cell phone numbers and names stained on the previously dull walls give a hint into the amount of sins committed inside this bathroom. If only walls could talk. 

You hope this sin is cherished. 

Shane presses you against the nearest surface found since stumbling through the door. Her hands shamelessly wander your body, running up your back, squeezing your waist, hoisting your thigh up to rest at her hip. “You want this?” she breathes against the corner of your mouth. You nod as you let out a sigh of her name. Sweet on your lips. A hushed secret. Your hands run up Shane’s clothed chest, circling her shoulders on your fingers path into her hair. Shane hums,  eyes seeking yours at the call of her name, so attentive in their search of your expression. 

“Please kiss me.” 

You watch Shane’s mouth curl like the flick of a cat's tail. She’s looking at your own mouth, leaning closer in search of the feeling of your lips. Shane kisses you hungrily, expertly. Her lips are surprisingly soft, and warm suckling on your bottom lip, tongue peeking out, already desperate for more. She wastes no time in sliding her tongue into your mouth, moaning lustfully when you meet her with a fierce passion. 

Tongues dance and swap spit as Shane pushes your dress up around your hips, fingers teasingly skimming the skin above your lacy waistband. Your fingers tug on her hair, eliciting more huffs to mould with your breathy whines. “Mm fuck” Shane mutters,  saliva connecting your mouths as she tilts her head down; Shane’s eyes dart continuously between your face and her hand sliding into your panties, “You’re so fuckin’ hot, and wet.” She cups your cunt, gasping in unison with you, “S’that for me?” 

Your chin dips, burying your face into Shane’s neck. You pepper kisses across her skin, becoming hooked onto her scent while playfully mumbling, “No shit.” In truth, you’re shielding your composure, breath not-so-secretly hitching as Shane’s long, slender finger teases your hole in slow circles, tempting you with the fantasy of her just stuffing you. 

Shane doesn’t seem too pleased with your response, chuckling softly, “Oh, is that how it is?” she asks with a layer of sass within her tone. You spot a foxy smirk on her lips, looking up at her with hazy eyes as Shane sinks two fingers into your cunt, cooing “yeah?” her voice rasps in a way that makes your tummy flutter, clenching tightly. And she can feel it. 

Hot breath fans over Shane’s neck - casting a shiver down her spine - as you moan loudly, latching your teeth into her as if you were a vampire. She sets off at a relentless pace, finger-fucking you in the bar bathroom the way she’s expected to. 

There’s no denying, she knows what she’s doing. 

It’s evident in the amount of pleasure pulsing….everywhere. Shane’s hips rut in time with the pace of her thrusts, making the experience that much more overwhelming. Small whines escape as you pant against her neck, tongue lapping in the motions of a french kiss. 

The sounds are driving her insane. Shane’s clit throbs in her too tight jeans, out of time with the pulsing of your silky walls around her fingers. Non-stop feeling. Shane huffs, shuffling her feet around yours so that she can rut her crotch against your thigh, allowing her jeans to squeeze her nub perfectly. “Ah- shit!” 

As your head falls back, your hand drops down to grope at Shane, cupping where the crease of her ass and her thigh meet. Shane chases you, lips finding yours once again to feel your pathetic moans passing into her mouth. Her thumb is bent at just the right angle in her palm to rub your clit as she curls and pushes her fingers deeper into you. If it causes any discomfort, she shows no sign of it. Too focused on making you reach your peak. 

She sucks on your tongue, savouring your taste in her mouth. It's messy.  Frantic. Slutty.  but it's winding you both up faster than you thought possible. You subconsciously rise onto your tiptoes, tingling from the intense stimulation. “Don’t run, baby,” Shane’s free arm wraps around your waist, holding you close to her, her fingers refusing to give up on that spot inside you. 

Shane groans in annoyance when a sharp knock manages to overpower the music and your moans. “Fuck off!” she shouts over her shoulder, head whipping right back to you. 

“Y’close, babe?” her tone changes like a switch, throaty coo back in her voice, “Your gettin’ tighter…” 

You hate how smug she is. But there’s no shame to admit she’s not wrong. The risk of being caught seemed to set your nerves on override, dialling your body heat to the fullest. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop” you chant, “please. gonna cum, fuck fuck.” 

A moan slips from Shane’s mouth into yours, hearing the mix of how wet you sound along with how badly you want release. She’s right there too. Humping herself on your thigh is about to have her making a mess of her cotton panties. Most likely soaked through and through. 

“It’s good, yeah? Cum, babe, cum with me,” she mutters out through pleasured grunts, forehead pushing against yours as euphoria threatens to crash into this random room. Shane can feel your slick pooling in her palm and she lets go, cursing huskily and trembling. 

Your orgasm causes your body to still, wave after wave of pleasure coursing frantically inside of you. Arms hugging Shane close, you ride out your highs together, panting into one another’s mouths. Speaking in a tongue of lust. Moans passing back and forth, heads growing fuzzier as the music thumps through the walls of the bar. 

Shane’s body leans into yours, chin falling to your shoulder as her fingers come to a halt within you. The sudden emptiness is gut wrenching but the constant banging on the bathroom doors offers little time for small talk. “Oh my god,” you breathe out, bursting into laughter with the girl who just made you see stars. 

She’s still grinning when she sticks her drenched fingers into her mouth, sucking off your cum. Your own laugh falters, panties feeling impossibly damp impossibly fast. Shane almost snorts, “Don’t look at me like that,” despite her voice sounds serious. 

Head cocked to look down at you, Shane’s free hand reaches up to brush your hair back into place. “This was fun,” you say, tugging the hem of your dress down to where it should be. 

“Yeah,” Shane nods. She licks her lips as she takes what you guess as her last look at you

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

ignore me posting this earlier…

[sadbeautifulttragic]

sweet tea in the summer, cross your heart won't tell no other...

[inkskinned]

it is hard to explain without sounding vain or stupid - but the more attractive others find you, the more you're allowed to do. the easier your life is.

i have been on both sides of this. i am queer and cuban. i grew up poor. for a long time i didn't know "how" to dress - and i still don't. i make my sister pick out any important outfits. i have adhd in spades: i was never "cool and quiet", i was the weird kid who didn't understand how "normal" people behave. i was bullied so hard that the "social outcasts" wouldn't even talk to me.

i got my teeth straightened. i cut my hair and learned how to style it. i got into makeup. it didn't matter, at first, if i actually liked what i was doing - it mattered how people responded to it. like a magic trick; the right dress and winged eyeliner and suddenly i was no longer too weird for all of it. i could wear the ugly pokemon shirt and it was just "ironic" or a "cute interest."

when i am seen as pretty, people listen. they laugh at my jokes. they allow me to be weird and a little spacey. i can trust that if i need something, people will generally help me. privilege suddenly rushes in: pretty does buy things. pretty people get treated more gently.

i am the same ugly little girl, is the thing. still odd. still not-quite-fitting-in. still scrambling. still angry and afraid and full of bad things. of course it became my obsession. of course i stopped eating. i had seen, in real time, the exact way it could change my life - simply always be perfect, and things can be easy. people will "overlook" all the other things. i used to have panic attacks at the idea others would see me without makeup - what would they think? even for a simple friend hangout, i'd spend a few hours getting ready. after all, it seemed so obvious to me: these people liked me because i was pretty.

i worry about how much i'm being a bad activist: i understand that "pretty" is determined by white, het, cis, able-bodied hegemonies. if i was really an ally, wouldn't i rally against all of this? recently there's been a "clean girl" trend which copies latinx aesthetics: dark slicked-back hair, hoop earrings. i almost never wear my hair like that; i can hear the middle school guidance counsellor advising me that i might fare better if i toned it down on the culture.

the problem is that i can take pretty on and off. that i have seen how different my life is on a day where i try and a day where i don't. i told my therapist i want to believe the difference is confidence, but it's not. and when you have seen it, you can't unsee it. it lives inside your brain. it rots there; taunting. i get rewarded for following the rules. i am punished for breaking them. end of story.

pretty people can get what they want. pretty people can feel confident without others asking where they got their nerve from. pretty people can be weird and different. pretty people get to have emotions; it's different when they get aggressive, it's pretty when they cry with frustration.

of course people care about this. of course it has crawled into you. of course you want to be seen as attractive. it's not vanity: it's self-preservation.

[latinotiktok]

Translation:

Teacher, approaching with her books in hand: Good morning!

Girl, running to her with an exasperated voice: Teacher! Teacher! He suffered an accident and needs stitches! ("pontos" in portuguese)

Teacher: Stitches? Where?

Boy (coming out of a box): Portuguese, math, history, geography, philosophy... (referring to the subjects in which he needs extra points to get a better grade, also called "pontos" in portuguese)

Teacher: Go find respect!

[shisasan]

March 18, 1925 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

[soracities]

e.e. cummings, from ‘if up's the word;and a world grows greener’ (in 95 Poems), Complete Poems: 1904-1962

[Text ID: “(for young is the year,for your is the year) --let’s touch the sky:”]