#jesus.#orpheus and eurydice#as a poem#using a poll#this is probably the greatest exploitation of mediums i have ever seen op#every reader has the chance to become part of the text by voting#not the subtext#the TEXT#and i love me some ephemeral works in concept#you had to be here for this one week#and then the text is locked#(barring any edits to the original post of course)#and i just think that's so beautiful#beauty springs from the simplest things viewed askew#and all you need is a poll that accepts long enough strings (via couchcrusader)

I’m absolutely obsessed with the poem created by putting the results in order, including my own display of failure of faith (or perhaps more accurately: ultimate commitment to the story I know). How slim the margin of victory.

Waiting for spring. Photo by Igor Gnevashev, USSR, 1980s.

women need gnocchi

many are saying this

So ive had this saved in my drafts for a while now- but theres a point id like to make about butch/femme identity and expression and think this is ready despite the crap i might catch for it

On my days off and when i go out for fun, lots of times i look like this vvv

And other times, especially because im a blue collar dyke, i look like this vvv

The thing that both these photos have in common is that, regardless of how i may appear, i am a femme lesbian. I am not magically butch at work just because i have to wear jeans and work boots for safety. On the clock I am often mistaken for a man and harassed for using the women’s bathroom, people call me sir and damn near keel over trying to correct themselves. I understand that people will look at me as masculine because im in a mans trade.

And yet im still a femme!

You know why? Because being femme is not about how i dress or how long my hair is or the job i work or the body im in, but who i am, how i love, and how i want to be loved back. Its my reclamation of my gender and sexuality and romantic life.

Theres this idea that femme lesbians are “the girl” lesbians and butches are “the boy” lesbians. Femmes are stereotyped as straight passing hyper feminine (and often times cis) girls. But if youve ever met a femme thats not always (in my experience- USUALLY) the case. We often are nonbinary (hi! Also me!) and/or gender nonconforming even in our femininity- taking the things that cishet society hates the most in women (ie body hair/body fat/masculine jobs/deep booming voices- etc) and owning those characteristics in ways that make us feel free and most like femmes 💕

I personally feel most comfortable being feminine off the clock and covering myself in glitter and being a tacky fat furry muppet because its how i feel best recognized by the butches i adore so much! But i get to reclaim womanhood or whatever adjacent, gender-fucked, lesbiany, thing ive got going on, and that doesn’t change when i wear jeans and work boots.

Femmes get to be whatever the hell we want- being broad shouldered and deep voiced and fat and furry and in a trade are not traits that magically make me incapable of being femme- and im over this whole ordeal where y’all assign butches and femmes as either “the boy” or “the girl” of the relationship and expect us to be exclusively feminine or masculine and never cross or mix- just recreating useless gender roles that we have zero reason to uphold.

(And this goes the absolute same for butches/studs who express feminine traits and DOUBLE for trans butches/studs/femmes)

So there’s this terrifying statue currently touring England called KNIFE ANGEL that’s apparently supposed to raise awareness about knife crime or something but i cannot get over how the ppl organising events around this thing have absolutely no idea what tone to go for. Like what sort of Nightvale shit is this

REPTILES!

PONY VISIT!

K N I F E  A N G E L

siobhan's game changer debut is everything. she rocked in that outfit. she cursed every three minutes. she smashed and kicked furniture. she used years of playing video games to control toy car to knock over those pins and managed to get it back up even when it flipped. she asked brennan and lou to get brunch while sam was screaming inside the bathroom. when brennan threatened to throw sam down the stairs she even gave him a push from behind as if they aren't scary enough already. she looked at sam as if she wanted to set him on fire as he danced in front of them. she is so real.

idk if it’s the mental illness but sharing literally any information feels like oversharing. i’ll be like “i skipped breakfast this morning” and immediately im like “i might as well have told them where i buried the money”

florence welch on yellowjackets