#hate my community

[iftheworldimplodesmybad]

as a queer westerner, the queer western community should have never gotten a hold of Dungeon Meshi. I can’t stand these people. Just shut up.

[hamoodmood]

[shitbl0gger]

[mosslingg]

my contribution to the selfshipping community 🫡

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[nightmarish-fallen-angel]

There's something especially biting about people telling transmascs specifically to unpack their misogyny.

After so long of being yelled at or berated by my mother. Looked at with disgust for not shaving my legs and yelled at when I cut my hair, guilt tripped into wearing makeup, and being told any masculine dress was "not socially acceptable." All things that actively hurt gnc women as well as trans people. All things that are misogynistic to imply women have to do.

Every time I try to come out as trans: "I wish you weren't ashamed of your femininity, I'm so heartbroken that you hate women. You're only trying to become a man because you think women are inferior." Following it up with a "why can't you express yourself as you are and just be a gnc woman..." As if she didn't just mock me for those exact traits.

My mother, and by extension TERFs (as my mother is one), constantly imply that the only reason transmasculine people exist is because they are poor little girls who struggle with internalized misogyny. They need to embrace being the gnc women they truly are~ And the gnc women need to fix their internalized misogyny by being more feminine~

So imagine my frustration when the communities I assume to be safe for trans people (both irl and online) hit me with the "transmascs need to unpack their misogyny :/" "a surprising number of transmascs are misogynistic actually :/"

Everyone needs to unpack their misogyny dipshit. The fact that transmascs are singled out specifically leads me to conclude one (or both) of two things:

You have encountered a shitty transmasc person and have taken it upon yourself to decide that the entire transmasc community is like that. I'm not saying misogynistic transmascs don't exist, but if you see someone with a bigoted worldview and go "well this is indicative of the entire community" you are the problem.

You think transmascs are misogynistic for getting gender dysphoria around things that are feminine or conversely, they are misogynistic for getting euphoria around masculinity. This is just straight up punishing trans people for being true to themselves.

Both of these are transphobic arguments and are common TERF tactics to discredit trans people. I do not trust you if you hold the opinion that misogyny is more prevalent in transmasculine spaces than in society at large.

[catmask]

furries everywhere i love you

[aalexan]

I hate to break it to you friends but the excessive hate campaign of white women is, at it’s core, misogynistic.

[frogfacey]

"this new generation is the dumbest and laziest ever because ai is ruining people's ability to learn!!! Why are you using ai to write emails and cover letters when you could instead LEARN this beautiful, important and valuable skill instead of growing lazy and getting ai slop to slop it for you?" oh my god. oooooh my god. oh my goooooood.

[mechorrhizae]

I had the uncontrollable urge to animate a skeleton breakdancing so here is Harrow animating a skeleton breakdancing

[kavumas-blog]

My Life as a Queer Refugee: A Story of Struggle, Survival, and Hope

As a queer person, I once believed I could live authentically in my home country. But as I came out, everything changed. What I thought was a community that might support me turned against me, and I found myself in danger, rejected by family, friends, and society. Forced to flee my home to seek safety, I traveled to Kenya hoping for asylum, only to face even more hardship. Now, living in yet another country, I continue to struggle, not only with the trauma of being a refugee but with the daily fight to survive as a queer person.

My journey as a queer refugee has been one of immense pain and loss. When I left my country, I was running from violence—both physical and emotional. In Kenya, I hoped to find protection and safety, but what I encountered was indifference and exclusion. I wasn’t safe there either. Once again, I had to flee, moving to a neighboring country in search of refuge, but the discrimination followed me.

Living as a refugee is already incredibly difficult. The lack of basic necessities—food, medication, housing—is a constant strain. But being queer adds another layer of struggle. I often find myself isolated, marginalized by both the community I seek to integrate with and the very system that is supposed to protect me. There is no safety net, and the fear of violence or rejection is a constant presence in my life.

The systems in place often fail us. Many refugees are denied the support they desperately need, not because they aren’t worthy, but because their identities—especially their queer identities—make them vulnerable to further discrimination. The global refugee system has not yet adequately addressed the unique needs of LGBTQ+ refugees, and this is why the suffering continues.

What’s worse is that it’s not just about the physical survival—it's about the emotional toll it takes. Every day I fight to exist as myself, but too often, the world makes it feel like that’s a fight I can’t win. My story is not unique. There are countless queer refugees who face the same struggles of survival and the constant question: "Where can I go to be safe?"

But there is hope. This struggle is not just mine—it's shared by many, and it’s through awareness and action that we can make a difference. We need to advocate for better protections for queer refugees, for policies that take our unique struggles into account. We need organizations to provide not just shelter, but the mental and emotional support necessary for survival. And we need the wider public to open their hearts, understand our pain, and help us amplify our voices.

I urge you, if you’re reading this, to take action. Donate to my fundraiser. Advocate for policies that protect us, and raise awareness about the discrimination we face. Share our stories—let us be heard. The world must understand that queer refugees are not just statistics, but human beings fighting for the right to live openly and safely.

The fight is ongoing, but with support, it’s one we can win. I am more than my struggle, and together, we can ensure that every queer refugee has the chance to live without fear, to be themselves fully, and to survive with dignity.

[vcaart]

In the comfort of the arms of a fallen angel or smth (I lied and finished it)

(sketches and pre render:)

[shitbl0gger]

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

“Violet was so annoying in Iron Flame” yeah? Cry about it. After the shit she went through, she can complain about whatever the fuck she likes.

She got betrayed by the man she loved, had her entire world turned upside down, almost died, almost died again, was pushed to burnout, drugged and tortured, manipulated and belittled by her boyfriend’s ex, had her heart broken at the discovery he still didn’t trust her after everything they went through together, watched her mother die and one of her closest friends literally lose his leg, and you’re whining because “oh, she should be able to trust Xaden without knowing everything.” Shut the fuck up. Violet Sorrengail would eat you for breakfast. Grow up and develop some critical thinking skills.