the number if people who wear nail polish and the number of people practicing witchcraft is basically 1:1
i am tired of queer headcanons.
and maybe it’s because i’m self-hating or an assimilationist or i don’t understand the true queer struggle, but i am tired of queer headcanons.
“amab transfeminine asexual neville falls in love with bisexual polyamorous agender luna” and want to scream. because i don’t care, i don’t care. the experiences of my queerness is not summed up by series of labels that i recite to myself in a mirror. labels are important, yes. but labels mean nothing when they are not attached to something. i want to scream.
tell me about amab transfeminine asexual neville.
tell me about how she grew up in a house alone with a grandmother who was distant and could not see her true potential and could not see her. tell me about how she snuck into her grandmother’s closet and tried on her hat with the vulture on the top and the emerald green coat because that was what she had. and then tell me about how she forced the image of her worst enemy into those clothes for the sake of humor and everyone laughed, everyone laughed, and tell me about how she wondered if that’s what she looked like.
tell me about how she fell in love with a person before she could fall in love with her body. tell me about luna whose father supports them to the ends of the earth but wonders what their mother would think.
tell me about how they found love in a twin sized bed when they held each other, just held each other, and stars broke open for them. and how they were so in love and so afraid and so real and yet not real. maybe they live happily ever after and maybe they dont but they triumph and they travail and it is happy and sad and so fucking gorgeous.
tell me about trans man remus who names himself remus lupin. remus lupin. because fuck you i’m trans and fuck you i’m a werewolf and fuck you. FUCK. YOU. tell me about the scars on his chest that he made himself and tell me about how he found the word transgender in a book for the fist time when he was 14 and how he wrote that word on his mirror and then smashed that mirror with a rock. tell me about how he hoped he could find himself in that word and how he found nothing but an empty promise about how that word could make him feel more real. tell me about his smile.
look, i know that people love their queer headcanons and that’s great and fun and whatever, but ”amab transfeminine asexual neville falls in love with bisexual polyamorous agender luna” doesn’t really do all that much for me.
straight people don’t get “straight cis man ron falls in love with straight cis woman hermione,” they get epics about fighting evil and fighting each other and drinking tea at hagrid’s.
the experiences of my life are great and vast and i have triumphed and i have travailed and i have been happy and angry and sad and i have broken open stars.
so help me god if that is summarized by “bisexual genderqueer transboy ari falls in love with label label name.”
Don’t stop reading after the first paragraph, folks. Keep reading!
Some graffiti found in Pompeii’s ruins:
- Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!
- Restituta, take off your tunic, please, and show us your hairy privates.
- I screwed the barmaid.
- Apollinaris, the doctor of the emperor Titus, defecated well here.
- I screwed a lot of girls here.
- Sollemnes, you screw well!
- Theophilus, don’t perform oral sex on girls against the city wall like a dog.
Nice to see nothing has changed.
absolutely nothing has changed
Retweeting again for the joy of Pompeiian graffiti. God, what their texts and tweets would have been like…
tell me one more time how history is dull I dare you
tell me one more time about how ‘humanity has become so vulgar’ I dare you
(via vulpinecyanide)
“But a female dummy didn’t become a mandatory part of frontal crash tests until last year. For all this time, the average American guy stood for us all.
That may have had a substantial impact on women’s auto safety. If airbags are designed for the average male, they will strike most men in the upper chest, creating a cushion for their bodies and heads. Yet small women might hit the airbag chin first, snapping their heads back, potentially leading to serious neck and spinal injuries.
In some cases, according to tests with female mannequins, small women were almost three times as likely as their average male counterparts to be seriously injured or killed. A study of actual crashes by the University of Virginia’s Center for Applied Biomechanics found that women wearing seatbelts were 47 percent more likely to be seriously injured than males in similar accidents.”
—Why Carmakers Always Insisted on Male Crash-Test Dummies — Taming the American Idol (via daily-denial)
ugh
(via stfufauxminists)
I really wish there were a single word that meant “disgusted and speechless but also not at all surprised”
(via stfusexists)
(via slipstreamborne)
It’s -10 outside please stop wearing basketball shorts. We get It you’re straight
(via ticklemehomo)
Destroy Boys 2k14
Please consider donating to my campaign… every penny counts. If you don’t want to donate money, a simple reblog can destroy as many as 2.4 boys
Anonymous asked: IS THIS THE WHACKWHITDIDDLEDYFWUCKFACKFAMOUS MOLLY I HAVE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT? asks a friend of friend
this is probably my favorite 2 page spread from my sketchbook right now
(via fishy-lin)
MY URL DOESNT HAVE BUTTSEX IN IT ANYMORE WHY ARE PORN BLOGS STILL FOLLOWING ME