Can I just say this weird social media push of "girl cat boy cat" pisses me off there was this girl i overheard who was petting a cat who was showing her a lot of love and talking about adopting her but when she found out she was a girl cat she was like "I don't like girl cats" like what the fuck are we doing misogyny against cats now
Meowsogyny
caving as an extreme sport is sooo unfathomable to me why are u as a creature of the daylight doing that. were u born without the dread in ur bones or something
come 9 year olds let us sleep in the hell fissures where time goes to suffocate
you don't "hate kids," you hate being forced into a caretaking role.
you don't "hate kids," you hate censorship passed off as family values.
you don't "hate kids," you hate the constrictiveness of the nuclear family.
you don't "hate kids," you're just not used to occupying fully age diverse spaces so you're not used to the noise or the many different kinds of needs.
you don't "hate kids," most public spaces just aren't built for kids, and so the few kids you see are always uncomfortable and distressed.
you don't "hate kids," you hate the intense social rules assigned to kids and anyone who interacts with kids.
You don't "hate kids," you hate how society reproduces its most restrictive elements and how kids are powerless to resist it.
You can be talking to someone and she'll be like, "Oh I made a silly mistake. Women don't deserve voting rights teehee." And you'll be like, "What." And she'll be like, "Oh I'm sorry! That must sound so bad out of context. No it's this Tiktok meme where, if you're a girl and you do something dumb, you say 'Women don't deserve voting rights teehee.'"
And you'll be like, "That sounds bad." And she'll be like, "No no. It's totally not that bad. It's just a meme. Men say it too. Like if a man does something silly he'll be like, 'I am like those women who do not deserve to vote.'" And you'll be like, "Does that make it better?" And she'll be like, "Well there was one guy who tried to make 'Men shouldn't vote' a popular meme. But it never caught on and also he got yelled at a lot."
And then you drop it there because like, you're harshing the vibe.
God this makes me think of this screenshot:
"it minimizes you as a person" really wraps up my entire discomfort with the whole "oh but i'm just a girl" thing when used in most situations.
RGU handles the topics of grooming and sexual abuse well imo, in particular I think that Utena being groomed by Akio was scarily realistic. The way she misinterprets her own feelings of uncomfortableness and fear as being in love, how she begins losing sight of her identity, how she loses her appetite and hesitates to share what's going on with her friends, the way it portrays the very real feeling of "I feel uncomfortable and scared around this person, but I don't know why because they're just so nice to me, they care about me, it's not like they're hurting me" and as a former victim of grooming its just. OUGH. It's simultaneously scary to feel so seen but also very cathartic
A little boy just looked at me and went “woah! That girl is so tall!! I didn’t know girls could get that tall!” To his grandpa.
Grandpa talked to him about how he had tall women in his family and how pretty tall girls are and the boy said he should ask me out 💀 so grandpa was like “she’s probably already married”
Listening to this exchange was so cute and so gender affirming bc not once did either of them imply I was actually a man I’m gonna cry this was so sweet.
Just like. Grandpa didn’t try to “um actually” correct him about me being trans just went instantly into giving him respect women juice lmfao
I was bracing for the kid to get corrected on calling me a girl but when it didn’t happen i felt such a relief instantly. At no point did it become A Problem for me to deal with, grandpa just gently had a convo about how women come in all sizes and how the boy has really tall family members too and I’m just sitting here trying not to cry (positive) bc gender euphoria mixed with it just being such a cute convo to listen to.
I’ve been having a lot of anxiety lately as someone who “doesn’t pass” but who’s also extremely Visible due to being 6’2” and having a very distinctive style, but every time I have a younger queer or kid look at me with stars in their eyes because some facet of me that I refuse to hide is amazing to them, it makes me so fucking happy. Like, to this kid I wasn’t some tranny, I was just a Giant Woman and he didn’t realize that was possible until he saw me. 🥹
A giant woman :)
I was 3 when you told us about spiders Georg.
i don't wanna know about this kind of thing
something else i've been thinking about lately is how much more alive houses are to people who experience domestic abuse. some things in the house are protectors - the door to your room that swings shut behind you without you pushing it, the stairs that always creak loud enough to let you know that someone's coming before they get there... whereas other things are alive with malice - the cabinets that slam and the dishes that break, the vacuum cleaner that always manages to sound angry and accusing. the whole house listens, and the whole house remembers, and everything takes sides.
anyway in the alternate universe where i'm a children's book author i'm writing a story about a child who lives in a house that protects them, whose floors swallow up the sound of their footsteps and whose doors lock without prompting, putting space between them and anyone who wishes them harm. the curtains open their arms when they need a place to hide, and no one can find them when they don't want to be found, because the house won't let it happen.
I love this and was inspired for the first time in forever, so I made this:
No one really remembered who had built the house on considine lane, but the house did. It remembered the how it’s walls had been painstakingly painted by knobbly hands, how its porch had been wrapped around it, lovingly, like a hug. How it had been adorned with vines and emerald curtains, and how it had been heated in winter and cooled in summer. How it had been cleaned, not without complaint, but every nook and cranny cared for nonetheless. So the house had cared in return. It had made sure to feel like a haven on nights when the world felt too big. To be wide and expansive to accommodate for the loved ones, to make the couch extra soft for the ones who stayed the night. But those loving hands stilled one day and the house was cleared out. The kettle that had provided warm water for tea to talk over was thrown away on account of being too dented, the rugs met the same fate, and the porch rotted. And so the house retreated in on itself, and went into slumber.
Years later, the house was awoken. New feet wandered in. Two big pairs, and one small one. Ready for loving, the house opened its doors, but no love found its way there. Instead, it was smeared with cold white paint and its vines were ripped out. Every door was slammed, every dish was broken, and even the cleaning was angry. Saddened, the house almost went back to sleep, until it felt small hands brushing its walls, admiring the flowers on the far left corner of the wall, that the white paint had missed. It felt how its porch was now also a castle and and a pirate ship. But it too felt stifled sobs under the bed. Felt blood dripping on the bathroom floor. Felt how its stairs were treaded every so lightly, how its doors were barely nicked shut, until they were thrown open and feet thundered upon the floorboards. The house knew it was not being made a home. But remembering how to love, and knowing how to protect, it decided to care for the one who needed it most. So the castle beneath the porch became a fortress, doors could not open until shaking tiny hands turned the knob, the stairs turned whisper silent for small feet and cacophonous for big ones. Curtains turned into safety nets and rugs would trip angry steps. The couch became so that when it was sat down upon to watch TV, it made you achingly sleepy, and the fridge turned off its light and refilled, so that nobody noticed food sneaked upstairs.
The house protected until hands grew bigger and limbs longer, until feet could walk out. The hard bodies stayed and the house retreated, until they too, left. The house was covered in quiet and desolation, only ever looked at from afar, covered in rumours about what once lived there; maybe witches, or wicked men. The house, having been bruised by love and loss alike, didn’t mind, and retreated once again into slumber. Until it felt familiar hands brush those walls that had seen so much. The hands no longer trembled but rested comfortably. “Hello old friend”, a deeper, richer voice called. Sure steps walked in and the house rejoiced. The walls were decorated with pictures of roadtrips and college graduation, the porch was fixed and made a sunny white, vines were planted, yellow curtains hung up, and the hearth adorned with a twirling mosaic. The doors got special care, lovingly painted with the same flowers that had once been on the wall. The stairs were once again for bounding upon, the kitchen for laughter and nourishing, the living room for warmth, the bedroom for rest and romance, and the porch for watching the sun go down. Finally, the house could love again and was loved in return. After all, all a house wants to be is a home.
Tried to figure out how I've been running these things and I came up with this
SO MUCH THIS. it drives me up a fucking WALL when people call male witches wizards
my take on this
why does he never look at peace
