@gilly-laughs / gilly-laughs.tumblr.com
Hi, I'm Gillian a trans latina living in South Texas.
I'm almost out of hrt. Money has been real tight. I thought about going off but the effects of rationing by reducing my dose has been really unpleasant (more so than in the past) so I'm e-begging.
Gumroad - if you want a little something in return I have a couple of short story collections for sale
It's finally out, SPIDER-HERO ACADEMIA
Right here, right now
Dimension hopping Gwen Stacey, better known as Spider Gwen pops into the world of My Hero Academia to test some of the next generation of heroes
reminder this pride month that disabled people in the US on SSI and SSDI do not have the same marriage equality as people not on SSI and SSDI. its called the marriage penalty.
by getting married, a disabled person can lose their income, benefits, and health insurance.
if a disabled person marries an able bodied person, and combined their assets are $3000 or over they will lose all benefits, including medicaid (health insurance).
if a disabled person marries a disabled person, their assistance is lowered 25%.
we don’t have marriage equality until all disabled marriages are equal.
STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]
Reblog In 5 seconds for good luck
this worked last night lets go for round two
our discord unanimously agreed that ratatouille is a mecha and I cried laughing after making this joke
Got stuck in a time loop for three months and straight up didn't notice due to the Sisyphean nature of my daily life
So anyway aromantic and asexual people are inherently LGBT+ and belong in the LGBT+ community
The astronaut, like Menelaus and the Helenes departing for Illium, invoked the autocthonic spirit of Earth, to seek advice before their departure.
“Great mother,” they said, “me and my sisters are leaving you, and we will likely never return. How then should we honor you among the dark and the stars where you are not.”
“You bring me with you,” Gaia answered in great oxygenated exhalations, “in microbes on your skin, in dirt under your nails, in the flora of your gut, little ones.” “Dear mother,” they pressed further, “this will not always be so. Me and my sisters will have children on Mars, on Titan, in different orbits than this space around the sun. How will we respect you when we no longer have the same grime? The same touch of your biosphere?” “You will carry me with you,” Gaia laughed in the sound of sunlight dancing on water, “you will carry bones from Africa, rugs from Arabia, shawls from America. You will carry photos of the way you lived upon me, artifacts made of my plants and animals, the sound of me inscribed on golden records. Everywhere you go you will bring memories of your time upon me.” “Terrible mother,” they entreated, “records break, and photos fail. All artifacts we bring from you will be lost in the great voids of time and space we must cross. How will we speak of you when we have no these things no more?” “You will bring yourself,” she bellowed in the howl of hurricanes, “in your shape, and bone, in the way you walk and think. Wherever there is human there too shall I be.” “Soft mother,” they begged, casting their eyes down in shame for their final question, “our shapes too may change. We will adapt to different worlds, with different forms and different thoughts. How will we remember you when we are no longer human?” “Three times,” she whispered in the growl of slow tectonic drift, “is traditional for questions. Little terre, wherever you go, whatever you become, you will have begun here, and here will be the telling of your story, even when you no longer no of it. Every world you touch will be mine, and every place your hands shape and change will be like Earth to me. Now go, and ask no more questions.”
And the astronauts left, and they took Earth with them, wherever they went.
-Traditional generation ship folk tale
1. The Roud Folk Song Index lists it as the 39th Child Ballad. Comparisons to be made to Type 425 in the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index, under the entry “The Search for the Lost Husband.” TvTropes.com has more to say on the page titled “Shapeshifting Lover.” A story iterated upon in many forms. A young woman, almost always a woman, sometimes virginal, is wedded, or falls in love with, or is taken away by a man under some sort of curse. He is horse. Or a lindworm. Or a wolf. Sometimes only at night. Sometimes only when the fairies who cursed him make him so. He is a Beast, she must undo whatever evil makes him so, normally through a kiss, true love, wedding him, or, in some of the less sanitized versions, simply sex. 1. The first time they hooked up he cried afterwords, which she didn’t understand at the time. They were sophomores in college. It wasn’t her first time. It should have been casual. It was up until he cried in the morning. She felt so bad that she suggested they get breakfast together, when she had simply meant to leave. At breakfast he calmed, he talked about his life. Quiet, nerdy, hiding in his hoodie. There was something vulnerable there, and she liked it. She gave him her number after. 2. Later thinkers and writers have revisited this trope. Sometimes it is played straight, depicted on the screen by Disney. Sometimes this is (falsely I would argue) called Stockholm Syndrome. Sometimes this is, it must be said, simply used for purposes of sex and titillation. I think, however, that the continued persistence of this motif in media, it’s emotional resonance, demands further explication of its longevity. What about this appeals to us in the modern day, when we (ideally) can no longer ascribe to it a moral of young women being forced to accept arranged marriages? 2. They’re a few months into their time dating, after long arguments about that label, when the crying returns. This time no longer after sex, but she feels the emotion is the same. You should leave me, he says. Break up. You should do it now before I hurt you, he says. And she, not wanting to point out that she is bigger and stronger than he is, gently asks why he says something like that? In there time together he has been nothing if not careful. Thoughtful. Kind. One of the most soft and charming people she knows. He cannot explain it in any satisfying way. He simply insists that there is something dark inside him. Something he has sought to deny far too long, and will not be able to deny forever. That if she stays she will be hurt, simply as a function of loving him. He will one day lose the fight against himself. She does not know what to do but hold him. 3. I think some of the appeal of this trope can be found in reference to another motif of our pop cultural mythos. That of the werewolf. We are used to seeing werewolves depicted from the viewpoint of the hunted. But there is perpetually the question of what such a transformation looks like from the viewpoint of the animal itself. A human transforming into a beast demands of a human audience that we consider what it must be like to monster. To be capable of hurting those we love. And yet, I at least wonder, if we are capable of hurting those loved ones, do we not still hope that they will love us as we transform? As we become different, monstrous in shape and utterly unknown even to them? 3. They graduate. Together. Move into an apartment above a Taiwanese restaurant. She gets a shitty job that has health insurance for them both. He does commission from home. It’s not perfect. There is some part of him he never shares and she does her best to make peace with that. To accept that wherever his mind goes when he is watching her put on a dress, do her make up, whatever he ponders while watching the women passing by the street outside, or after they have sex, that is something he has chosen not to share. But instead they share popcorn. And bills. And shitty inside jokes. And that time they got accidentally drunk at his mothers remarriage to Craig (fucking Craig amiright?) and got found by the staff of the hotel whose ballroom she had rented, having passed out near the punch bowl. It’s a life. It’s their life. She tries to give him space within it. 4. Consider again the Ballad of Tam Lin. The idea of Janet in the woods, holding onto her lover as wicked fairies transform him. To something ice cold. To something burning hot. To a horrible slimed thing writhing in her embrace. To a snarling wolf-monster, a beast of wicked claws and gnashing teeth. Who has, at one time or another, when circumstances reveal that which we keep hidden, felt like that? 4. She gets home unexpectedly early one spring afternoon in her late twenties. Janet from accounting somehow set fire to a microwave, which set off the sprinklers, and no one could get anything done that day. A small treat, and it validates her admittedly flash-judgment of Janet. And as she unlocks the door, flowers in hand, she finds him in front of the closet they share, and understands the secret that has been kept from her for almost a decade. 5. And then of course, the tales and legends end. Normally in the curse being lifted, the lover being returned to normal. Beast is a beast no more, the Lindworm is again a prince, Tam Lin may leave the woods a man. A simple ending to a simple story. But for us living in reality? Outside of the tidy constraints of fiction? Perhaps there is no ending. Perhaps we remain a beast, remain a wolf, remain cursed, and monstrous and strange. Perhaps we endlessly transform into new, and more twisted shapes, and have only hope that our loves will hold us nonetheless. That even if we become something that may hurt them, something they may not understand, they will still love us. 5. It is hard. It would be nice to say there are not challenges. She always thought she was bi, but the label of straight was easy, and she never had to examine it when she was with him. She keeps on stealing her dresses. There are good times too. Times where she looks at this woman still becoming, someone she had loved for a decade and still barely knows, and sees how brightly she smiles, and feels so proud. But it is above all else hard. The crying does not go away. Estrogen works wonders, but cannot stop dysphoria, and hurt, and pain. It is hard to love her. But she is trying. And when the fights over labels and new boundaries and shifting emotions break out, or the dread comes, or the weeping, she does what she can. She holds her partner, no matter the form she takes.
If I were rich here’s what I’d do with my free time okay Mermaid pranks Let me explain. So, I’d get one of those super fancy mermaid tails, like those sick as hell silicone ones that has the super long thick tail that uses like, toe pullies and stuff to make the fins move in cool and impossible ways. like this
And I would go all fucking out on this fit okay. We’re talking diving lessons until I can hold my breath for 7 minutes and go deep as fuck. Long hair, starfish, scales up to my tits, those funky contacts that make it so you can see under water, all of it- everything I could to make myself look as “thing of the deep but hot” as possible. Then, I’d go get some shiny valuable rocks. Pearls, Uncut gems, like super fuck’n nice ones like diamonds and shit, and ofc some gold coins. Then I’d dawn my mermaid fit and hit public waterways. Rivers, beys, lakes, places where people are around and might be swimming, but where I’m not gonna die via boat propeller, and not super crowded areas where a lot of people are swimming. Then I just prank people by poking my head out of the water and surprising them, then I motion them closer and reach into my hair or satchel or something and give them a fucking emerald, smiling all big the whole time then I just- swim the fuck away. What the fuck they gonna do now!? Keep it as a fun memory of that time a fuck’n mermaid larper gave them a shiny rock? Never know it’s actually valuable? Or do they take it to a jeweler and find out it’s real? How the fuck are they gonna explain that. They gonna tell the jeweler a fuck’n mermaid gave it to them?! I think the fuck not. Gonna pop up at the peir and smile at people and give gold coins to whoever stops. Kids are gonna freak. Put a little wonder back in the world. Flirt with pretty girls. Swim down rivers, pop up and surprise some old lady sitting by the water and give her an uncut diamond then swim away without a word.
Get a reputation as the weird lesbian mermaid who gives out precious gems and never speaks then suddenly stop without warning for like three years to give people time to forget me then do it all again.
If it’s a kid, and only the kid has seen you, act horrified that you’ve been found.
Beg them to keep you a secret, and give them the jewel/coin in exchange.
i swear to god ultra rich people are so fucking boring with their mansions and yachts. ThiS is what i wanna see in the world. Where are the superheroes? The masquerade balls? WHO is gonna invent real farie wings that let you fly??
When my mother forgets a word, she is the queen of coming up with new words. Words that would take a third National Treasure movie to fully decipher. I was talking to her yesterday, and she said this: “You know the time for los jibbities is coming up. You must be so excited!” Oh, is it time for los jibbities already? I must have missed it on my calendar. Are we celebrating something? “Of course! We should all be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” OK, so los jibbities is a happy thing. It’s not like something is giving you the heebie-jeebies, which would have been my one and only guess. “Los heebie-jeebies? Now you’re making things up...and this is my show.” You’re right. The time for los jibbities is coming up. Is this a season? “Yes, the season for love. The season for pride.” OK, los jibbities. “Yeah, sound it out.” Los…jibbities. LGBTs! “Sí, mira cuz you’re gay!” “You couldn’t just say pride season? You couldn’t just… *laughs*
I love Los jibbities
I am watching the Super Mario Bros movie. About thirty minutes in and I feel kind of nothing. The beginning in the "real" world felt oversaturated with references. Once in the Mushroom Kingdom, there was no sense of wonder from Mario. That training montage was so uninspiring that even Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero" couldn't get me excited.
The monkey wears a sport coat and sunglasses so they play "Take On Me". Why?
Unpowered Mario is so useless.
And Thunderstruck just for picking out their karts.
The jump on to rainbow road and "Wahoo" is just them getting on the road. It isn't during an action scene.
Ok I get this is a kids movie and so not really for me but it's not good. There's no humor or excitement. I feel nothing for the characters.
I am watching the Super Mario Bros movie. About thirty minutes in and I feel kind of nothing. The beginning in the "real" world felt oversaturated with references. Once in the Mushroom Kingdom, there was no sense of wonder from Mario. That training montage was so uninspiring that even Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero" couldn't get me excited.
