#lesbian event

[nodssalementriche]

I can’t even fully digest it YET, I have so many words soon. This night was incredible, healing, and HAWT HAWT HAWT

[villowstar]

Boop!

Happy April booping everybody!!!

[lasttarrasque]

While the world's attention was stolen by celebrities decked out in $10,000+ outfits and Sudanese blood diamonds, Israel used the distraction to begin its invasion of Rafah. The scenes of celebrities who have failed to use their extensive platform to mobilize against this genocide contrasted with fathers begging the remains of their slaughtered children to wake up. These people could use their platforms to levy significant pressure against Israel, yet so many of them chose not to. We need to presser them to stand up for what is right; here is how:

[piizunn]

butch/twink

2024

quilted white scrap fabric text on a black shirt that reads “BUTCH TWINK”

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[sluttynfemme]

catch me mouthing off? tell me to shut up and bend over. then take my panties off, expose myself to you. inspect me and ensure i’m nice and wet like i’m supposed to be. make me say thank you, sir. then shove my panties in my mouth.

good sluts don’t talk back

𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ashleyeveerson]

Haven't been able to think about anything other than the victorian/edwardian/WW1 twink and his 80's punk almost-boyfriend for a week, send help

[whim-prone-pirate]

hey guys what do you do when you dream about a girl who doesn't exist. you meet her, she lives in your building, you and your other friend start to get to know her. your friend is kind of a dick, but that's just how he is. as you get closer with this girl, you start to convince yourself that you like her—you don't. you think she's gorgeous and you think you're supposed to fall in love with her, but you haven't. and in your efforts to love her, you do something that hurts her, your friend egging you on, trying to get you to go further, double down, and the girl pulls away from you. she doesn't look at you like she used to. she won't stand close to you and her new boundaries are clear—she needs you to keep your distance and you're not going to be able to fix this completely, not ever. and you understand that, and you're a kind person, so you are as respectful towards her as you know how. again, your friend is a dick about the whole thing, which doesn't make you feel better at all. maybe you shouldn't feel better. because you started it. you told yourself you were going to love her and you didn't and you did it wrong. and now that you've fucked it up for good, you feel yourself starting to look at her differently than you did before, just like she's doing now. but you're looking at her with shyness and gentleness and from six feet away, shrinking into yourself with a tiny glint of light in your eyes, while she stands stoic and tall, her eyebrows tensed and her mouth flat as you fumble your way through an attempt at aftermath-themed small talk, her responses short and clipped and knowing. she knows what's happened to you. she knows why you're looking at her like that. and she knows that you know that you lost your chance and you're not getting the same chance back and definitely not in the same way. and when she asks you for a small favor or wishes you well, you skip away, your voice soft and light and far too gentle, so fucking gentle, and you know that she hates you a little bit. and you know that now, only after, you love her a little bit. and then you wake up. what do you do then?

[surreal-duck]

some business to take care of

[veilfemme]

Casually calling your butch a good boy while they're doing something and watch their brain speed run from confusion to flustered to being completely turned on.

[thuesdaynightdykelife]

forever and always, a butch leather dyke

[aman1taverna]

what the actual fuck? all of the comments were supporting this dude even after this disgustingly misogynistic comment. I feel so bad for the women at that event.

"I don't even act like a man" yes you do. you're just completely delusional. @redditreceipts

[frenzyarts]

I haven’t read A Series Of Unfortunate Events but I did watch the Netflix series. I enjoyed it but it wasn’t my most favorite show in the world. Despite that I’m often tempted to watch it again and it’s because I’m seriously down bad for Esmé Squalor. But can you blame me?!?! I mean like

And my absolute favorite, the I ❤️ freaks look, cause SAME

[tensecretsandakiss]

I’m in that dozy, half-asleep state, vaguely dreaming. my body is warm, pliant and need. I’m dreaming of you, your hands grazing my body, your lips on my neck. I can feel myself getting wetter, and the vision of you moans.

The feeling of your fingers gently rubbing my clit is so real. I grind against it, searching for more friction, and the sense of sleep begins to fall away. I’m awake now, aware of you still sleeping gently beside me, your arms wrapped around me. I let out a shaky gasp when I realise that your touch was not a figment of my imagination, that in your sleep your hand has found its way between my legs, your other hand wrapped around my breast and squeezing gently. I struggle to stay still, afraid that if I jolt you then you’ll move away. You touch me lazily, fingers tracing my soaking pussy, and I bite my lip as you let out a groan. Your other hand tightens and I can’t hold back the whine of pleasure.

“Fuck,” You murmur, hand beginning to move faster. You grind against me, a leg hooking over mine, holding me in place. All instinctual, all driven by pure desire and longing. I want to touch you, to run my hands through your hair, to kiss you, but you have me trapped against the front of your body. My hips roll back to meet yours and your voice becomes clearer. “Don’t stop baby.”

“I won’t,” I breathe, feeling the knot growing in my stomach as you bring me closer and closer to the edge. Your lips meet the curve where my neck and shoulder meet, kissing before biting down and pulling a shuddering moan from my throat. I look over my shoulder to see you, fully awake, your eyes sparkling with lust. You slide your fingers inside me, my hole stretching around you so perfectly.

“So fucking tight.” Your words are enough to push me right to the edge and I ride your fingers as much as I can from this position, desperate for release. “That’s right, just like that.” The orgasm washes over me, my body trembling in your arms as you draw out the sensation, touch slowing, become gentler and gentler. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

With your grip loosened on me I turn to face you, kissing you softly. I don’t have the words to describe how good it felt, but you kiss me back and I know you understand.

~~~

* this is about queer sapphic sex. men and minors dni*

[girlbossdean]

fridged - a poem about thee mary winchester for sapphicnatural week 2024

day 1: bury your gays

dedicated to my sappicnatural besties ola @mrcowboydeanwinchester and K @roublardise <3

transcript under the cut

fridged

they say I got fridged

which sounds cold and clean

but you wouldn't believe

the hot mess of the scene

there I hang from the ceiling

your lady in white

with my long golden locks

am I doing this right?

blood stains the fabric

you watch it spread

it burns like the flames

and it ends with me dead

- no, don't be sorry

it's alright, you see

there are no happy endings

for people like me

and I know there are others

'cause it takes two to fuck

truth be told I indulged

'til the end of my luck

good girls want a boy

so this bad girl gets shot

arrow straight through the heart

it's all part of the plot

so now I hang from the ceiling

your dutiful wife

serve my motherly purpose

a life for a life

guess it's not bury your gays

when heaven long buried mine

so if you need a term

she was fridged will do fine

[emilydickinsonsghost]

Can’t believe they gave Cressida and Eloise the classic gay divorce arc tm where one asks the other to run away together, but they refuse, leading to a messy, dramatic breakup.

It’s giving very…you know….

Now some might say Creloise is over, but to me this means they’re basically endgame. Source? My delusions!