#which is not in reference to the lesbians

[nerdygaymormon]

Happy Pride

I want to wish a happy Pride to:

Vests

The vest is an iconic lesbian wardrobe staple. For a long time, lesbian fashion has incorporated staples of working-class men's clothing because they are practical and unpolished, which is not typical of women's fashions, and therefore it challenges gender norms. Vests can be formal or casual, they are familiar yet subversive when worn by women, thus making them a lesbian standard.

Frog and Toad

These cottagecore gays are good role models of a loving queer relationship. The first Frog and Toad book was published in 1970. In 1974, the author Arnold Lobel came out as gay to his family. Arnold's daughter has said, “I think ‘Frog and Toad’ really was the beginning of him coming out” because they're “of the same sex and they love each other.” So yes, Frog & Toad are a gay couple.

Cake

In the 1990's and early 2000's, a popular dessert was the Better Than Sex Cake, which was a rich chocolate cake. Well, when you're asexual, the name of that cake hits a little different. In 2004, asexuality.org (AVEN) started using cake as a symbol of asexualness since they believe cake IS better than sex. Asexuals may not have much of an appetite for sex, but that does not mean they have no appetites, thus the popular phrase "I'd rather have cake."

Limp Wrists

Why do we associate a limp wrist with male homosexuality? The ancient Romans viewed limp wrists as effeminate, and the association was further strengthened in the 17th & 18th centuries as one hand with a limp wrist and the other hand placed on the hip in an "I'm a Little Teapot" pose was seen as something men in the royal courts would do, and that sort of leisurely life was considered unmanly. In the modern era queer men have been seen as effeminate, so the limp wrist became associated with them. This association was embraced and reclaimed by queer men, and the wider queer community as a whole.

Unicorns

Unicorns have been used in art since the 4th century BCE and it was the Victorians who firmly linked unicorns with rainbows. In 1978, Gilbert Baker created the rainbow flag as a joyous symbol of the queer community. Given that rainbows and unicorns are so intrinsically linked, it’s unsurprising that the mythical creature started to also be used as a symbol for LGBTQ+ people.

Pansies

“Daisy,” “buttercup,” and especially “pansy,” are flowers which have been used to mean a “flamboyant gay man.” Sometimes the word "pansy" has been positive, sometimes definitely not. In the 1920's & 1930's, the underground clubs of the Prohibition era became a hotspot for queer nightlife with drag queens becoming hugely popular entertainment even among the straight clientelle, and this became known as the "Pansy Craze" in reference to the colorful clothing the performers wore. In 2013, because of the association the pansy has to queer people, a group of people in Atlanta used them to block out hatred by putting cardboard pansies on poles tall enough to block the protesters’ signs, and voila, the Pansy Patrol was born.

Queer Sitting

Improperly sitting is one of many seemingly arbitrary traits (like walking fast and being unable to drive) that the online queer community has claimed as part of queer culture, but it's deeper than it seems. Girls are often taught to sit like a lady, such as keeping their knees pressed together, therefore an act of rebellion can be a woman sitting incorrectly. By not sitting properly, it's a rejection of rules about what we can do with our bodies. In movies & television, for decades censorship codes worked to silence queer voices, and creators developed sophisticated ways of coding queerness through body language, such as the way a character sits. Queer sitting resists the process of assimilation and instead says: do what feels right, do with your body what you would like, not what you are told is proper.

RuPaul's Drag Race

Many of us in the queer community take RuPaul's Drag Race for granted with its 15+ seasons, multiple Emmy wins, spin-offs like All Stars & Secret Celebrity, 15 different international versions, a successful Las Vegas show, and the many memes and catchphrases that have come from the show. It’s easy to forget in the 2000's things were very different. There were gay characters on TV and reality shows like Survivor had openly gay contestants, but until RuPaul’s Drag Race premiered in 2009 there wasn’t a truly successful series made by queer creators, starring queer cast members, and made specifically for a queer audience.

RuPaul's Drag Race brought drag performance to a large audience and presents topics traditionally considered taboo on television, such as that it's okay to not conform to societal expectations around gender and sexuality. The show has spread awareness and acceptance as it provides positive representation of queer people and humanizes us as it showcases the struggles of gay, lesbian, gender-nonconforming and transgender people and as the contestants tell stories of coming out, being affected by HIV/AIDS, being rejected by their families and attacked in the streets.

Quiche

in Anglo-American culture, French cuisine is not viewed as "manly" food, which is the first mark against quiche. During the 1970s, quiche was served at brunch spots frequented by gay men which led to it being seen as a quintessentially queer dish, another mark against this food. Quiche became seen as so effeminate that a 1982 best-selling book satirizing masculine stereotypes was titled Real Men Don't Eat Quiche. Instead of the French name "quiche," if it had been called "scrambled egg pie" it likely wouldn't be considered a food for women and the gays, which just goes to show how lame it is to think of food as gendered in some way, but as long as they keep serving it for brunch, we'll keep eating it

Tumblr

Tumblr is known as "queerest place on the internet" and as a platform that "queer[ed] an entire generation." According to Tumblr, the people who use its site are 193% more likely to be LGBTQ compared to those on TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Reddit, Twitter, and Pinterest. Tumblr estimates that 1 in 4 of its users identifies as LGBTQ. An important reason for this is that Tumblr does not require identity cues to be featured, such age, gender, location, relationship status or legal name, which allows users control over their self-presentation and makes it far less likely family and friends may discover their Tumblr account. This privacy allows queer people on Tumblr to feel more comfortable exploring and expressing their queerness.

Tumblr has been a place of important contributions to queer culture. One example is the large number of queer Pride flags which were first introduced and adopted on Tumblr:

In 2010 Jasper V. introduced his design for a Pansexual flag on Tumblr.

The Polysexual flag was created in 2012 by a Tumblr user named Tomlin. 

The Genderfluid flag was created by agender Tumblr user JJ Poole in 2014.

The Agender pride flag was designed by Salem X in 2014 on Tumblr.

The Aromantic flag was created and posted by Tumblr user cameronwhimsy in 2014.

The omnisexual flag was designed in 2015 by Tumbler user pastelmemer.

Tumblr user 2Sanon posted a 2 Spirit flag in 2016.

In 2018 a nonbinary lesbian Tumblr blogger named Emily Gwen introduced the Sunset Lesbian flag to be inclusive of butch, trans, and enby lesbians.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[robindaydream]

A Few Days After, Part 1

(some small SLARPG spoilers contained within)

(Part 2)

[wakeupandchooseviolets]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

i think one of the funniest and most iconic things Edwige Feuillère ever did (other than her saying in an interview she preferred theatre when she was attending the Cannes Film Festival) was dress in very loud sapphic-coded style for a photoshoot after her divorce from her ex-husband

[blairpfaff]

we're getting an andrew thirst tweets vid and the teaser is him reading a plea from a lesbian to run her over with a bin lorry i have dreamt of times likes these

[gideonisms]

Tbh I judge book podcasts by whether they understand what ann leckie is doing with gender in ancillary justice or not

[rena-yume]

Everyone talks about Tooth Fairy owning a Subaru and stuff but I've never seen anyone mention her wearing a thumb ring

[i-mybrunettelady]

a gravitational pull

Summary: Renira goes on a date with a very singular woman. Content warnings: sensuality/making out (M) Spoilers: None Note: Happy Lesbian visibility week! I may not be a lesbian but Ren is and I wanted to write this for ages now but just.. didn't, so here's one for a ship that could've been, but never was. Ft Babymander Nyra.

Renira doesn’t ordinarily meddle with targets that don’t concern her current mission. The Vigil, as far as her orders go, are allies and not people whose secrets she should be focused on. A secret here and there is fine, but there is a line that the agents can’t cross. Not when there’s General Soulkeeper and Warmaster Kernsson on sight as two high ranking officers. The Warmaster, maybe, if she were daring enough to attempt to spy on him again at such a time, but the General? 

She cannot risk it; not as a Lightbringer. Not when her squad relies on her in this way. 

Yet when Kernsson’s pretty apprentice starts chatting her up and asks her for a date, Renira is all too quick to agree. There is no shortage of pretty women, but there is a shortage of time. Now, after that whole business with Ajax Anvilburn is done with, she can take a break for one evening. It’s nothing serious, after all.

Then again, Renira does wonder if digging up info on your date before you even go out is standard practice for anyone who isn’t of the Whispers. Probably not. Alysannyra Ainsaph’s name has popped up here and there - starting with a file in bold, red letters called the Hero of Shaemoor. She has family here in Ebonhawke. And now, apparently, she has joined the Vigil and bears the title of Crusader. 

That’s where she makes herself stop. There need to be conversation topics. She cannot know everything in advance. 

“Nice dress, by the way,” Alysannyra says with a slight curve to the ends of her lips. “I see you’re taking cues from the locals.” She then pauses and joins her hands before her. Her lips, full and pink, are slightly parted. “I think it suits you, personally. We’d wear it belted in Rurikton, for the waist emphasis, but it looks good like this, I think. And I think the flower I chose works well with it? As if I’d known!”

Renira takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” she says and accepts the flowers - a vibrant yellow to match the pink of her dress, just as Alysannyra said - and gently holds them in her hand. Then Alysannyra offers her a hand and off on the streets of Ebonhawke they go. 

She looks good tonight. They look quite the pair, unintentionally so. The thought makes Renira smile. Nyra looks rather good in the traditional Ascalonian embroidered shirt and a jelek. The shirt is open enough to reveal her collarbones and the tightness of the vest makes her chest look pronounced. Her hair is long and loose, brushed but only barely, alternating between brown, red and blonde in the dying light of day. Her face is bare. 

Renira hasn’t seen eyes as blue in a while. Or maybe the lack of romantic attention in recent times finally reared its ugly head. While not that common, blue eyes aren’t exactly a rarity either. 

“Your hair changes color in the sunlight,” Renira says, by way of observation. Their footsteps fall in rhythm.

“Only the wisest of men know what my actual hair color is,” Nyra supplies, and lifts her eyebrows. “It has been foretold, certainly, that one who guesses it right will win my hand in marriage.” 

“Should I keep looking then?” Renira laughs. She likes the way Nyra talks. The dryness of her humor is refreshing. 

“If you like. I like to be looked at. If you guess right, you might get me to pop the question, Ascalonian style.” 

“Oh? I assume your heritage allows you for more insight on that particular topic than my few months of living here does?” Renira leans in - rather, down. Nyra’s hair smells of fresh herbs. 

Nyra lifts her head to meet her eyes. She holds her gaze. “I could show you, if you’d like,” she says. 

Renira hums. “There is time, Nyra.” She masks the extent of the excitement the response leaves in her. Nyra is a woman of the court, and she knows the art of conversation just as well as Renira does, yet not everyone acquires the charm needed to get to be as good as it can be. 

No, it’s not charm, not really. It feels like she has something of a gravitational pull that makes Renira unable to look away. The steadiness of her gaze, the warmth of her hand, scent of herbs and a hint of perfume, all coupled with her head held high, tempts Renira to bend down and kiss her then and there. When has she grown attracted to muscle on a woman? That is a new development. 

Not that she minds. 

Nyra’s smile is lopsided. “Enough time to squeeze a second date in?” 

Renira laughs. “Maybe. If I don’t make up my mind by the end of this one.” She pulls her closer. The eye contact breaks when she snakes their fingers tighter together and runs her nails over Nyra’s knuckles. “We aren’t even at the date location yet. The night is young.” 

And indeed, the sun has just set. The moon is just peeking through, an invited, observant figure to  the chatter of people and their joint hands. By the end of this, Renira thinks, she could have Nyra in her bed if she wanted to. And where would the harm be, if she has a willing participant? 

Nyra nods, pink in the face. “That is for you to decide, but in the meantime, I think a delicious meal awaits us.” 

And the food is good, admittedly, the kind both humans and charr would enjoy. Well done meat with kajmak, chopped onion that neither of them are touching, reflections of the bright yellow flower in the little rakija bottles. Turns out Nyra isn’t a fan of it. She takes one sip, swallows like a battleworn hero she is, and places it down with all the grace of a woman of the court. Renira downs hers in one chug. Nyra lifts a brow, as if impressed. 

And maybe alcohol did lower their inhibitions, but they’re kissing in a dimly lit street later, with Nyra on the tips of her toes and her hands around Renira’s shoulders. She’s a good kisser, it turns out. 

“Billiard rooms,” Nyra explains in between kisses. It’s a rather silly high society excuse to stare at people’s asses and steal a kiss. 

Renira slides her hands down and squeezes Nyra’s ass. She doesn’t need any overpriced rooms. “Were there any bets?” she asks, curiously. A part of her laughs, almost; is she as cocky as someone like Nyra can afford to be, to place a bet to be the best she’s ever kissed? She doesn’t voice it. 

There are many things she hasn’t been able to afford herself. There’s something so very aristocratic about the way Nyra carries herself, the way she grabs attention and stamps her seal all over it. Even now, red in the face, with lips darkened by kissing and lipstick, she knows she looks good, she knows the world should be watching her. 

Arrogance, Renira thinks. Arrogance that’s hardly ever faced a pushback. Arrogance that makes her want to fuck her against that very wall, in this very street. What a luxurious thing. 

“Nothing that went beyond tongues,” Nyra replies after a thought. “My parents have always been of the old, Ascalonian cut.” 

Renira tilts her head and licks at Nyra’s lower lip. “And you?” 

Nyra looks visibly distracted for a moment. “I’ve never been to Ebonhawke before,” she says. “Is that good enough?” 

“More than enough.” Enough to write in your file later. Tastes divine, is hardly in touch with where her parents came from. Looking to reconnect. Doesn’t care about the way things are done here. She places a kiss on her jaw. Nyra’s nails dig into Renira’s skin. She then kisses lower, to her exposed neck. 

Then, she then feels Nyra’s hands pushing her face away from her neck. Just as Renira was about to ask to leave her a little bite. Rude, she thinks and smiles. You arrogant, rude, sexy aristocrat. You just need to be in charge. Did the world see that? Or do you keep these things to yourself?

“I know a place where we can have more privacy,” Nyra says in a voice that doesn’t invite questioning. A command wrapped in a statement, and the quietness of the tone doesn’t take anything away from its force. She slides her hand down so it rests on Renira’s hip. “It’s not that far away. Come.” 

She then takes Renira’s hand and goes down the street, lipstick stains on her face and neck be damned. She walks like it all belongs to her, like she’s the queen of the fucking world, with her head held high. Without shame. Arrogant. 

Not arrogant. Proud. 

It takes Renira a lot to fall in love, but maybe this is a closer thing. Or maybe it’s the rakija, and the kissing, and the moon whispering in her ear, and the Ebonhawke and its pressing history and its proud descendant that’s holding her hand. 

Whatever it is, Renira slides into the night with her. 

It is, after all, a call she can’t say no to. 

[ctl-yuejie]

ramblings on Li Ming (and Heart) and homosexuality

moonlight chicken has so many things to offer in terms of technical beauty and interesting themes but what i cannot stop thinking about is the different ways they approach homosexuality in the story.

we have Wen who has a rainbow flag on his desk and pictures of him and Alan on the wall. Wen, who openly flirts with Jim and has no qualms talking openly about his one night stand. Wen, whose step father knows about his sexuality and is close enough with him to discuss his love life.

Kaipa we don’t know too much about. But his mom knows and is supportive and some of the vendors and the chicken family seem to know. But if anyone was questioning in what reality this show is set with all the class discussion and corona featuring, his part of the story shows that homophobia exists and he is worried about how he fits in with his own family, the expectations of his mother and possible the awareness that he makes the family he has “different”.

Jim is arguably even more visibly gay than Wen in terms of what we see throughout the show. He opened the shop with his ex, they prayed at the temple together and even though he objected due to proprities sake eventually they loudly declared their love to each other and the whole neighbourhood knows. Wen somehow feels like he is living in the remnants of a bubble: his circle of friends seems very queer, his closest friend and the whole gym seem to be all part of that as well. This only might change now with him questioning his work and breaking up with Alan: some gatherings he won’t attend anymore apparently.

And finally, we have Li Ming. At school he doesn’t seem to open up to his classmates on most things and additionally is in the closet. While there wasn’t anything alluding to homophobic rethoric being spread at school we can see how the heteronormativity gets to him and feel that there must be good reason as to why no one knows. And it could just be how Li Ming is judging the situation based on vibes, we don’t know. His mother is or at least was homophobic but at the same time he is raised by his gay uncle who is surrounded by other gay people. And I love how it feels like this might have given him enough security to be comfortable with his own sexuality but how it also isn’t enough to shield him from the world at large.

With so many great shows coming out of Thailand and most of them getting more and more political it just feels so real and 2023 to me that Li Ming is part of a generation that knows who they are but still have to battle with the shadow that homophobia has cast way before they were born.

[saturnisfallingdown]

a big part of the queer online kid to queer online young adult progression for me was losing all interest in labels. not in a distasteful way!! just. losing interest .....

[witchhatgnat]

Jeanette Winterson's Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit is such an amazing semi-autobiographical novel because it is beautifully written, undeniably witty, and deeply sad story about a girl coming to terms with queerness. and it was published in '85. but it's also got so much great stuff about neglectful parents and it makes me shred couch cushions.

the main symbol in the book, the titular orange, is used to represent the neglect Jeanette faces at home. any time Jeanette's Mother is unable or unwilling to meet the emotional needs of her young daughter, she hands her an orange. like, every time. and it's kind of bizarre when and where she'll dole them out. Jeanette gets oranges in the hospital, at church, while walking around town. oranges as a response are so ingrained in Jeanette that when she has gone deaf and can't get her mother's attention, she just takes an orange and tries to sleep it off. like any time she needs a parental figure or someone to help her, she either gets an orange, is given an orange, or goes to someone else because her mother is too engrossed in her evangelism.

and the most depressing thing about choosing oranges as the symbol for neglect is that they have such a hard peel. like of all the most common fruit in europe and america, oranges are arguably the hardest for kids to reasonably open by themselves. even bananas, which also have a peel, are easily opened by most kids Jeanette's age. but oranges require work. you have to spend time getting to the actual sustenance in there. which is an amazing parallel to the way Jeanette's mom takes care of her kid. she provides all of the material goods necessary for a decent life (the family is poor but not destitute by any means), and even some community in the form of church (as toxic as it may be), but she does not provide any labor for her child. she refuses to do emotional labor, which is mirrored by the fact that the oranges are given to Jeanette in the place of emotional intimacy, regulation, and care. Jeanette has to do that part herself. in all ways, she is given the orange, but it never comes pre-peeled. she will always have to peel those oranges herself. she will always need to be the adult in her own life, because she does not have a mother who is willing to do it for her.

[forcedhesitation]

that one bozo who made the gender swapped dame aylin mod: it's unrealistic for minorities to exist in this game because it's supposed to take place in medieval europe!!!!

aasimar, vampires, devils, and dragons aside....

bg3:

[itscoldinwonderland]

Today my coworkers and I were talking about periods. And I straight up told my coteacher "if my period comes back I will call out for the entire week because I will be too dysphoric and too distressed" and she said "I think they (bosses) would understand" ...

Like I have no idea if they would, but hearing my coteacher say that was relieving 😅

Apparently there was an old transmale coworker who DID get his period back and he cried. :( poor thing.

[agenderakali]

I love it when tumblr discoursers talk about the horrors of “lesbian separatists” like I just imagine a bunch of lezzies with heavy eyeliner and red lightsabers. They manipulate the galactic council into believing that lesbians don’t like men. And then they like. Laugh evilly. I didn’t finish the clone wars.