I do have faith in this website because it’s the only place left on the internet where I don’t have to hear people say very demure very mindful very cutesy over and over and over again like they’re trying to hypnotize you
My cat is a gray tabby, but I'm not biased. I think torties are the cutest! A little black cat is adorable too. 🐈⬛️ But what do you think?
And while you're here, please share and donate if you can to help a mother, widowed by genocide, and her two young children. They live in a tent and winter is fast approaching. Any thing helps ❤️
i'm tired of reading about women having unfulfilling sex with their male partners and religious guilt and how the internet is affecting our ability to connect with each other and ultraspecific references to name-brand products and disaffected writers writing disaffected prose about how disaffected they are and thinly-veiled elite university campuses and conspicuously nameless first-person protagonists and bargain bin nihilism and sparse utilitarian language and marriage plots and conflicted feelings about motherhood and metacommentary and vaguely liberal politics. i want to read just one beautiful sentence
I really appreciate how the sociolinguistics of compounds mean that we have one suffix -vore, -vory meaning "to eat", and another suffix -phage, -phagy meaning "to eat (fucked up)"
i genuinely don’t get cishet monsterfuckers. for context, in the wake of shape of water i participated in this loving-the-monstrous type discussion event slash publishing party wherein i debuted a short story about a woman who “befriends” a cave monster—but that isnt the point. the point is i had to hear straight women talk for hours about how the appeal of monsters is some kind of weird “taming the beast” fantasy—loving a monster until it loves you back, sounding like every bad beauty and the beast take ever.
And there’s my queer ass being like literally none of you get it. this isn’t about power, this is about love and alienation and acceptance. you dumbasses, I’m the monster. this isn’t a metaphor for your shitty boyfriend, this is a metaphor for my own alienation from a society that tells me a the way i am and the way I love are grotesque. this is a fantasy of love free of judgement, separate from societal standards that I’ll never live up to anyway. that ghoul doesn’t care if I’m fat, they think it’s hot that I eat well. that immortal fae creature doesn’t care if the gender on my birth certificate matches the one I use now, they barely have a concept of gender in the first place. that tentacle monster doesn’t care if I shave, they don’t have eyes
monsterfucking is queer culture, everyone else go home
i think all quiet on the western front and the lord of the rings are in direct conversation with each other, as in theyre the retelling of the same war with one saying here’s what happened, we all died, and it did not matter at all and another going hush little boy, of course we won, of course your friends came back
“To the mix I have also added a few pure fantasy constructs — the elaborately shaped "beast" helms worn by Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, and a few other champions of note, wrought in the shape of maned lions, snarling dogs, or what have you.”
me and the boys and our epic impractical furry helms