Need some help! My friend, who’s an older woman, doesn’t really believe that there’s a whole community of young(ish!) queer women who find older women attractive, and would pursue a relationship with them that’s not based on financial gain. She thinks we’re all out for Mummy figures or a sugar mummy. Do us a solid and link me up with a couple of things I can show her that sums it up, pretty please??
So I’m keeping up with @nekojitachan ‘s All For The Game AU fic “Armies” And I’m not gonna say much because what’s the fun in that when you can just read it; but it does involve: -Europe -Andrew & Neil wearing ~*Very Nice Clothes*~ -Andrew driving a ~*Very Nice Car*~ -Andrew & Neil doing~*Not So Nice Things*~.
So I wanted to draw them in some formal wear. The one in pencil was first- it was a rough start so I improved it with MORE knives. Ink was done second. <3
(I need a pair of monk-strap shoes for myself or at the very least some wingtips UGH) (Ignore my lumpy car please.)
Nearly a year ago now I wrote this post about bi erasure and biphobia in fandom. Lately, it’s something that has been on my mind a lot again, especially since I’ve had some new experiences with the subject. And so I wanted to expand on that post as well as talk about the way in which certain aspects of “romance culture” can and often do intersect with biphobia and the erasure of various identities in fan works.
My tag game bookmarks folder is getting ridiculous again, so I’ll try to catch up this week. (I don’t think I’ll ever actually catch up lol) I’m not entirely sure how many people tagged me in this one because there’s a few variations of these questions, but I think I was tagged by @rainbow-pages@enasroterfaden@embarrassingwriter@madmooninc@summerkiska and @mistymountainsgay I’m not tagging anyone because I have no idea who has done this, but if you haven’t and want to, consider yourself tagged! :)
Star Sign: Cancer
Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff
Favorite Animal: foxes and house cats
Average Hours of Sleep: probably about 8, but it tends to vary between 6 and 10.
Dogs or Cats: cats. I mean, I like dogs, but I like cats better.
How Many Blankets I Sleep With: Three usually (a sheet, a weighted blanket, and a regular blanket)
Dream Trip: I’d love to go to Ireland and New Zealand.
Dream Job: Hell if I know. I’m in my mid 30s and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I guess author is it because writing is the thing I want to do most.
When I Made This Account: Early 2015 I think?
Why I Made This Account: Originally it was a blog where I shared my art because I still had my Etsy open at the time, but I haven’t really made anything in years so it became my writing blog.
Number of Followers: 825. I have no idea how many are still active or how many are legit blogs, though
Reason for url: It’s the alias/nickname I’ve been using for about 15 years.
Lucky number: 3 and 14
Instruments: never learned any
What I am wearing: NaNo tshirt from 2015 (most of my clothes are NaNo tshirts lol), comfy pants with flowers on them.
How can one get over nervous pooping?? I'm serious. I get so embarrassed and I'm at uni for 10+ hours and I can't keep holding it in. 😔
This is going to come down to three major things (imo):
Necessity. At some point, you’re just not going to have a choice and you’re going to need to find a bathroom.
Finding a favorite bathroom. I know that sounds kind of weird, but that’s what I’ve always done. I find one bathroom on campus or at work and use that bathroom whenever I have a choice. Maybe it’s cleaner than the others, maybe it’s off a side hallway and doesn’t get as much noise, maybe it’s slightly out of the way and doesn’t ever have a line. Whatever your reasoning, picking a favorite lets you feel a little more comfortable in a public bathroom simply because you use it with frequency.
Recognize that no one really cares what you’re doing in the bathroom. If you’re someone that does care, you need to grow the fuck up because we all know what’s happening in there and we all gotta do it at some point. It’s just a part of life. If you gotta poop, you gotta poop. No one is going to spend their day thinking about you pooping and you should not feel embarrassed for doing something that everyone has to do.
I’m not sure if this will be particularly enlightening to anyone, especially because I’m still pretty new to seriously practicing witchcraft in general, but as a scientist, I had a lot of trouble reconciling magic with my life at first. I tried to convince myself that it was just “fancy psychology” or sheer luck that the spells I cast worked, and the more I doubted, the more unbalanced I became. I felt a calling, but I didn’t know what to do with it.
I finally decided to experiment with glamour magic, the magic I was most comfortable with at the time. It was logical, I figured. I did my makeup as usual without any magic, just telling myself that I was beautiful and witty and going about my day like that. I got a few more smiles, a scrawled heart on my coffee from my barista, but nothing spectacular.
Then, I did magic. I put sigils in my foundation, charmed my lipstick, enchanted my eyeliner- you get my point, I basically blasted “SEE ME AND WEEP.” When it was all done and blended out, nothing looked out of place, but something had changed. Again, I’m new to this, and this was maybe the seventh time I had performed a glamour spell, and I’m sure it wasn’t extraordinary or any out of the ordinary when it comes to witchcraft, but my sigils had power, my lipstick had power, my eyeliner had power. And, when I walked out of my house, heads turned. It was unsettling; I felt as though I was magnetic. That wasn’t psychology. That was magic.
I very fervently believe in magic. Still, I understand those who are having trouble with really, truly, believing. It can be hard, but it can also be so easy. While one witchling’s glamour spell might mean next to nothing, I can tell you that in a little less than half a year of practice, I have had real tangible results. Before you put magic/witchcraft down out of fear, please, please, try. Tell your brain to shut it, because it can be scary to do what you think is illogical. Or, as I did, feed your desire for the analytical. (I learned a lot of protective wards and spells that night, though, and spent a long time after that working on grounding. It really was unsettling.)
A Coliver 3x02 coda… (note: check tags for warnings) - ao3
He’d forgotten about dinner.
Oliver flipped off the burners with a flick of his wrist and, with a touch of apprehension, lifted one of the pot lids. He found that the sauce had been simmering so long it had started to crust on the sides of the pan and a check of the other pot was no better. The pasta inside was a mushy, overcooked mess.
Turning on the sink, Oliver grabbed potholders and poured the mess of pasta down the drain. He flipped the switch and let the food processor deal with the mess of it all, using a wooden spoon to shove down the remaining bits of food. The sauce followed suit and, once the processor was down pulverizing all of it, Oliver dumped some dish soap in the pan and filled it with hot water, letting the mess start to soak.
You made dinner for you and your ex. Isn’t that just darling?
Ignoring the thought, whispered in a voice that sounded entirely too much like Oliver’s own, Oliver dealt with the salad next, pulling out plastic wrap and tupperware on autopilot.
Wow, the voice whispered darkly. You really made a lot of food. Who exactly did you think was going to eat all of this? Or were you planning on sending your ex-boyfriend off each day with as kiss on the cheek and leftovers for lunch? How quaint.
Pushing the voice away again, trying to shove it deeper back this time, Oliver opened the fridge and put away the salad and leftover vegetables. And there in the door was the chilling bottle of champagne. Oliver closed his eyes and hung his head.
Doesn’t Connor have a substance abuse problem? Wasn’t buying champagne a bad idea? Or were you just too focused on pretending everything was still fine and making sure dinner was perfect that you forgot about that small detail?
Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, Oliver let the fridge door close with a slam. Fuck it all. He’d deal with the dishes and the mess tomorrow.
He walked over to the couch and sat down. Absently picking up the remote, Oliver turned on the TV. He needing a distraction, something dumb and mindless to keep his brain from thinking so fucking loud. He flipped through a the channels and tried to watch a few minutes of something stupid on Bravo but quickly turned it off. He wasn’t in the mood for…well for anything really.
Standing, Oliver looked and walked around the room, around the space, and saw Connor everywhere.
Imagine this: A Camp Pining Hearts movie gets announced. It’s a reboot because the original cast is too old to reprise their roles. Peridot is fine with this. She keeps up with the news and doesn’t see too much to worry about.
Then the first trailer gets released.
It looks absolutely awful and lacks everything appealing about Camp Pining Hearts. The writing is the worst and the set and costumes are laughable.
Peridot is torn. On one hand, she loves watching terrible movies with Amethyst and making fun of them with her. But on the other hand, Peridot loves Camp Pining Hearts and really wanted the movie to live up to the TV show.
The movie comes out and has a horrible rating on Bruised Apples. Peridot watches it with Amethyst but it wasn’t even enjoyable garbage. There was nothing really worth making fun of.
When they get back to the barn Amethyst suggests they marathon the TV show to hopefully cheer Peridot up. Amethyst doesn’t actually like Camp Pining Hearts but is willing to put up with it for Peridot.
About eight episodes in Peridot is absolutely fuming because the movie was terrible and just starts ranting about it. At the end of her rant Peridot actually did feel a bit better. Amethyst knew Peridot was mad because she wanted the movie to be good. Amethyst decides to quote a couple scenes she found pretty hilarious. After a few quotes and re-enactments Peridot started to giggle and joined in on it.
By the end of the night Peridot’s mood was pretty lifted. She was still a bit displeased but at least could find a couple things to laugh about with that travesty of a movie.
Her and Amethyst didn’t quite finish that marathon. Steven came into the barn a few days later and found them sound asleep and cuddling with the credits to an episode rolling.