this space available

as another perspective on queer sexual openness in gaming spaces (and this is not really a counterpoint but an additional wrinkle): it can actually be pretty demoralizing to try and work out your identity within hyper-sexualized spaces if that’s not what you’re personally tuned for

so as vital as it is for queer women/NBs to have countercultural spaces to be openly sexual, it is similarly important for queer women/NBs to have spaces available that aren’t hypersexualized (especially when you have older/younger people intermingling in those spaces). this isn’t a zero-sum thing, both are great and needed. distinguishing between public/private and setting fair boundaries is how I think you get there

when you add co-option by cishet dudes and the publications they run entering the mix, and suddenly “im going to fuck that” goes from a private joke to the defining mode of progressive games culture, I think you see queer women/NBs land on a few distinct positions

  • “Well, this is the kind of thing we collectively need to be able to express”
  • “It’s messed up that cishet dudes get to bite our style while being more boldly horny than we’re allowed to”
  • “It feels stifling when the entire community is this pervasively and publicly sexualized all the time”

and I’ll be upfront that as everyone who knows me can probably tell, hi, hello, I’m in the third camp. I’m pretty private about my sexuality, and I can be known to vent about culturally-ingrained Horny to the point where I can come off as super sex-negative (I’m really not, I swear). but I don’t see myself as existing in opposition to the other camps; we’ve just gotta… delineate our spaces right, I guess?

and I mean, the cis dudes probably aren’t gonna do it

anonymous asked:

Do you have any tips on how to store the herbs you use for witchcraft? My room is quite small and I don't want to place my witchcraft herbs in the kitchen for my family to use. Any ideas?


If you’re pressed for space, I’d advise going minimalist on your practice as a whole: small spells in small jars, if you get my drift. Sure, a giant fuck-off fire fueled by a huge rosemary stem is satisfying, but it doesn’t have to be that way. If you do your spells in small batches and use small amounts of herbs for each spell, it will all be generally easier to store in a small space.

As for the storage itself, this really depends on your whole situation - can you buy stuff, or are you pressed for cash as well, what space/furniture you have available… stuff like that.

Still, you may want to try:

  • Small ziplock bags. They are airtight and will keep your herbs fresh, they take up very little space and you can see what’s in them without opening. The downside is that some people might assume you have drugs in them because people are like that.
  • Matchboxes. They also take up little space, they’re practical, and people are not likely to snoop in them. They’re likely to grab a box expecting actual matches, though, so there’s that. Also, possible sulfur residue means you’d best not use the herbs stored in matchboxes for eating or cosmetics, though of course you can keep a plastic bag inside the matchbox.
  • My DIY pouches made from leftover cotton pad packaging. Absolute hit.
  • Any small jars you can get your hands on - leftover cosmetics packaging, pill bottles, things like that.

I know this is all pretty generic, but not knowing your situation I have to be. Still, hope some of this helps!

The Middle

Written for @spnpolybingo​. This fills the “Who is the middle spoon?” square.

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Cas change their sleeping arrangements after a scary experience. Takes place after 12 x 12.

Warning: 12 x 12 spoilers, Wincestiel, mentions of smut

Word Count: 545

A/N: This one is short, but I hope you like it! Only tagging @justanothersaltandburn and @purgatoan because I’m not sure who else wants to read the poly. XOXO

They fall asleep wherever they land in their gigantic bed.

Sometimes, they’re exhausted from a hunt- or worse, injured from one- and they gingerly settle into the first available space on the mattress. Whoever is best able is the one responsible for getting all three of them undressed, Sam pulling off Cas’ tie or Dean gently working Sam’s jeans down his legs, both Sam and Cas helping Dean stretch out with bruised ribs as he cusses at them. Once the injured party is taken care of, the others just fall in where there’s room, contorting their large bodies if necessary, never sleeping like ordinary people.

Keep reading

Though the term manspreading is a recent addition to the personal-is-political feminist lexicon, the posture itself has a history that spans centuries and continents. Compare Michelangelo’s David, extending his marble leg in nude confidence, to the Venus de Milo, coyly angling her knee toward her other leg. In ancient Greece and Renaissance Italy alike, the bodies of men have expanded to fill available space, and women have folded themselves inward.

Insofar as there is a scholarship of manspreading, German photographer Marianne Wex is a seminal thought-leader. Her 1979 book “Let’s Take Back Our Space: Female and Male Body Language as a Result of Patriarchal Structures” is one of the most extensive pieces of visual research into men taking up way too much space ever published.

So here we are.

Originally I had planned to close out the run by taking a picture of every page laid out in plain view, but then I realized that my apartment literally isn’t big enough to lay them all out, even if I made a video and walked around. The final stack of drawings ended up being more than six pounds and nearly two inches thick.

You can see how I started out drawing really small, getting in the habit of drawing larger and using all the space I had available was something I had to pick up as I went. For instance, Necrozma was a little bigger than my hand if I laid my palm out flat with all my fingers spread. There were a few times when I had to use Photoshop tricks to get colours right (including drawing Cubchoo, Beartic, and Cryogonal in green because my blue markers were all either dead or dying), but I drew the final Bulbasaur with the exact same markers I started out with.

I’d like to thank everyone who’s been supporting me, either on my Patreon, by being there for me in my personal life, or just by looking at my drawings very day. Doing something every day means doing it whether it’s rain or shine, and sometimes it rained pretty hard. At times like that, I’m most grateful for you.

Well, looks like I’ve got my evenings back!

(Kidding. Tune in tomorrow)

EDIT: wow, tumblr really shrank that down a lot more than expected, huh? The text in the corner is just copyright info, you’re not missing anything.

anyway cis women have been dominating these spaces for all of history. these uterus drawings and vagina power slogans go way back. to act like trans women have to wait and take a backseat in the discussion of reproductive rights and womanhood (when it has been the norm for decades lol) is fucking exclusionary, no matter how much yall wanna word vomit about how it’s not lol. trans women have the right to be suspicious and reject this genital-specific rethoric in modern libfem spaces because it is harmful! and what we collectively NEED to do in order to properly represent and respect womanhood as a whole is to stop! centering! it! around! genitals! lol! 

if all these cis women with these slogans and drawings KNEW and didn’t center the whole conversation on their genitals as the One True Expression of womanhood and respected trans women as their equals, uplifted them and let them take their rightful place in the conversation instead of taking up all the space available with their bullshit rethoric then we could BEGIN talking about respecting the ‘multiplicity of womanhood’. but that ain’t the case so i don’t see how this argument is that different from the terfy ass “u don’t have a vagina so u don’t get a say!!!!111” bullshit i see on the daily lol. but i’m sleep!

like i don’t get why it’s so hard to understand that for this multiplicity to be respected equally, understanding and inclusion must come first. we need to take a step back and evaluate ourselves collectively. trans women need to be at the front too, not behind yall shitty signs and cissexist chants, waiting until the o’ holy vagina is done speaking so they can have a say. while genital-specific talk is important, it doesn’t need to be at the expense of trans women. yall can take a rest and stop acting like they’re villains for demanding inclusion in these talks and calling yall out on your shit lol.  

queerenbian replied to your post: vaspider: queerrussetpotato: Kira Nerys is the…


Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is available in its entirety on Netflix!

Get ready for:
* Asexual Representation: ODO IS ASEXUAL but not aromantic, and this is confirmed by the writers, who have said they wished they could go back in time and explicitly call him out as asexual.
* Loving Single Black Dad Captain Who Is Close To His Son AND His Father And Also Cooks: It’s like the writers decided to punch as many stereotypes as they could in the face right at once.
* Genderfluid Beings: A Trill’s host may be of different genders.
* The Wacky Adventures Of Julian And Miles: best friends? Almost boyfriends? YOU DECIDE. P.S. Miles does love his wife a lot though.
* Best Frienemies: The Odo and Quark Story
* You Can Be A Flake And Also Kickass: The Leeta Story
* Ferengi? In MY Starfleet???? It’s More Likely Than You Think!
* Why It’s Shitty To Lock Neurodivergent People Away From The World (even though the portrayal of some of them is pretty shitty because this was the nineties).
* Yes, Virginia, There Can Be Religion In Star Trek
* Colonialist Attitudes: Kira Nerys Starts Punching Them In The Face The First Episode And Never Stops
* Garak: The Spy Who Sewed Pants.
* Hating Dukat: It’s a Sport AND A Hobby!
* Moral Quandaries!


fuck, now i wanna watch ds9

*turns off what they were watching, turns on ds9*

‘Tourist in an American Suburb’ Gothic

  • You go for a walk, but there are no places to cross any of the roads. There are cars, and cars, and more cars, but you cannot see any drivers inside of them. You retrace your steps and turn into a residential area because there are what the locals call “sidewalks” there, and somewhat less cars. You get lost and find yourself again at the entrance to a dead end – a cul-de-sac – only to turn and see that behind you lies yet another cul-de-sac. There is no escape. They have you now.
  • You walk into an empty store in an empty strip mall at random, wondering where all the people have gone. Inside it is bright, too bright, with every colour imaginable crammed into any available space. Six identical employees are there, and they greet you as one. They do not say anything else, and they do not move. You realise they were waiting for someone, but that someone was not you. You back out of the building slowly. You regret ever leaving your car.
  • Another residential area. You want to call it a ghost town, but you have been in ghost towns. Ghost towns are deserted, yes, but they are run down, unappealing, covered in dirt and smoke and graffiti and grit. They appear lived in and long-abandoned. You want to leave them as soon as you enter. This, this is not a ghost town. It is clean, and orderly, and wants you to think it is a good place. Every home is exactly the same. There is not a blade of grass out of place. It has eyes. But if there are people, you cannot see them. It welcomes you. You do not feel welcomed. It wants you to stay. No. It never wants you to leave. It is a trap, and you know this. It knows you know this. But there is nowhere to hide.
  • Somehow you stumble, exhausted, into the largest building you can find. A Wal-Mart. Or is it a Target? The walls are red, but you are not sure that that is paint. You cannot see the ceiling for lights, nor can you see where exactly it is that the aisles end. You do not remember moving, but your feet carry you further into the store regardless. This is the first time you have seen people in three days. They do not see you. You shiver. It is the air conditioning, you tell yourself. It is not the air conditioning. You get the feeling that the eye-wateringly bright light and the strong scent of clinical clean penetrating your senses are covering something up. The shadows hiding in plain sight agree. You do not know what the underlying scent is. You do not want to know.
  • As you leave town, you do not look back. Every traffic light you come to is frozen at amber. You stop at a garage six hours into your journey. Back home, you would have been in another country by now. The man attending the kiosk in the garage asks about the town you visited. He has never heard of it. Now you come to think of it, neither had you. You also do not recall how you got there. You drive on. Eight, ten, fourteen hours later, you stop the car to find a place to stay. In the dark, you do not realise it is the very same town you started in. The sky splits into a grin. You do not look up.
Slytherin Things (Part Two)

Wooden bookshelves filled with old books, the smell of rain, candles protruding from every available space, fineliners, wooden desks, jewelry hanging off driftwood attached to the walls, expensive rugs and bedsheets, fashionable scarves, boots under the bed, hollowed-out books with forbidden spells on notepads inside…

bluelibby7  asked:

Headcannons about artsy Gryffindors? Like crafts and art and such?

  • when they start a new project they take up every space available to them like every bit of floor is covered in stuff
  • lying down by the lake in the summer and painting the mountains
  • having chats with the fat lady about different art techniques and eras of paintings
  • which ends up being super useful because she’s much more lenient when you show up in the corridor past midnight and the password’s been changed
  • talking to dean about how much you both love art while seamus rolls his eyes and starts tapping his wand on the table
  • which very nearly sets fire to your painting and you never let him live that down
  • painting on the dormitory walls
  • and then deciding to try and enchant the paintings to move because how cute would it be to have a little snitch flying around the walls??
  • but then the spell turns out to be more complicated than you thought
  • and long story short there’s now a square foot hole in the dormitory which MCGONAGALL MUST KNOW NOTHING ABOUT


hey if you buy a young fish, one that is not it’s adult size yet, it is extremely important to do frequent water changes, even if the water quality would normally be fine.  fish that are still growing release a growth-inhibiting hormone into the water.  in the wild this hormone would hardly affect the fish, given the space it has available, but in a tank this hormone accumulates and stunts the fish’s growth greatly.  frequent water changes remove the hormone and ensure that the fish will grow normally.  if the fish’s growth were to be stunted it would develop deformities and it’s health would be compromised. 

anonymous asked:

Could I get number 7 with xiumin? For the drabbles? Thanks anyway

I swear, if I see that damn slip of pink paper on my car one more time-

You were fuming as you walked across the parking garage.

The source of the problem began two months ago, when the apartment complex you were staying at released an announcement that they were undergoing significant ‘improvements’. And by improvements, they really meant that there would be a newly renovated list of demands and restrictions from the Residents’ Board. One of these ‘improvements’ was the implementation of a new parking policy; one that said that there would now only be five parking spaces available for each floor. With five separate apartments on each floor, this would normally be a non-issue.

However, it became an issue three weeks ago, once your imperious new neighbor, Kim Minseok, decided to move into the empty apartment on the floor of which you currently resided in: the fourth floor.

Your first impressions of Minseok were rather positive. At least, they started out that way. It seemed as though every encounter you had with Minseok aside from the courtesy introduction was one of malcontent, leaving you infuriated more often than not.

The animosity you held towards him originated once you travelled down to the parking garage three weeks ago to find a small, pink slip tucked neatly against the windshield-wipers. It read promptly:

     “Ms. (y/n) (y/l/n),

We regret to inform you that you have violated the official Resident Board’s protocol initiative #0083, stating that a limit of five parking spaces are permitted per resident floor. Each floor is assigned their respective parking spaces. It has come to our attention that your vehicle is not parked in one of the assigned spaces, and the following fine will be sent to your address accordingly.

     Signed, The Residents’ Board”

Well no dip, Sherlock, of course my car isn’t parked in the assigned spot.

There was a simple reason why you couldn’t park your car in your own spot. And this reason belonged to Kim Minseok. Or rather, his moped. Because not only did Minseok own a black sedan, but he was also the resident owner of a rusty, ancient scooter that you were pretty sure could have been invented in the late 19th century.

A scooter that he believed deserved its own parking spot.

In essence, you had been booted from your own parking spot, and now, the Residents’ Board had so kindly taking the initiative to fine you for not magically replacing the rackety old moped with your car.

For the first offense, you brought this conflict up with Minseok calmly and professionally. If handling measures professionally entailed writing your own letter and sticking it to his moped, then yes, you considered yourself a professional. The first note you sent was thoroughly formal and respectful, as you assumed the receiving party to be understanding and cognisant.

Well, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be here facing the same dilemma as you have been for the past three weeks.

Minseok had been kind enough to respond to your note with one of his own. Put in simple terms, he denied your request up-front. He apparently valued this moped so much that it deserved its own space. As far as you knew, he never drove the damned thing: you’ve never seen him so much as touch it. He was permanently stuck on his high horse, and considering the way he talked about it, this moped could have been one.

The two of you had been passing heated notes back and forth since the issue began. Each time you would explain the selfishness apathetic nature of his actions, he would respond with such a haughty attitude that you had to physically restrain yourself from walking right up to his doorstep and blowing a fuse. Despite the childish nature of the notes the two of you had been passing back and forth, you liked to consider yourself more mature than that.

But this was where you drew the line.

You had received the fine for ‘erroneous parking’ seven times now. You didn’t know how much more of Minseok’s ceaseless arrogance you could take.

So here you were, stalking angrily across the parking garage’s cold, concrete floor as you spotted the little pink dot plastered to your car in the distance. Once you made it to the front of your car, you snatched the pink paper away from where it had become quite comfortable. It was another fine.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tore the piece of paper in half, continuing to rip it into fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths, and so on until the floor had been coated in tiny pink lint. In the midst of your heinous fit, you decided it was a good idea to kick something.

Bad idea, (y/n), bad idea.

You immediately doubled over in pain as your foot came into contact with the curb of the sidewalk. You could’ve sworn blood was forming in your mouth with how hard you bit down on your tongue to stop from crying out in pain. Falling on your butt, you pulled your legs to your chest and clutched the injured foot as it throbbed in excruciating pain.

“Well, that’s tragic.”

Your head whipped in the direction of the voice.

Your teeth gritted together in a mix of pain and disgust as your eyes met those of Mr. Kim Minseok himself.

“Would you like some help?” You were taken aback at the genuine concern in his voice.

After studying his face, you noticed that where you had expected there to be a look of amusement or superiority in his expression, there was only worry.

“I have nothing to say to the nation’s biggest moped lover.” You huffed, turning your gaze away in contempt.

“Hey, look, about that,” Minseok looked at the ground as he scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t realize it was really stressing you out this much.”

“What did you expect?” You spat childishly, too focused on the intense throbbing of your foot to think about civility. “I’m being fined a hefty sum of money every day you decide your moped is more important than your neighbor’s sanity.”

“That moped is more of a keepsake for me,” He looked back up from the ground to look you in the eye. “But I had no idea that the Residents’ Board kept fining you like that. You should’ve just told me that in the first place, other than angrily scribbling insults, violent threats, and aggressive demands.”

Right… That might’ve helped, (y/n).

“I thought it would be rather obvious, considering it’s the apartment complex’s policy.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize, but I did just move here a few weeks ago. I didn’t see anything about a parking fine in any of the bulletins.” Minseok looked genuinely apologetic, causing you to consider your spiteful attitude.

“Right, well-” You coughed, trying to retain some ounce of pride after being proven the idiot in this instance.

As you tried to stand however, you recoiled almost instantly. It felt as though fire was spreading from the balls of your feet up to your knee.

Minseok immediately stepped close to you, kneeling down and reaching an arm behind your back for support.

“I swear,” You muttered, more angry at yourself than at Minseok, “If I broke a toe or something because of this whole affair-”

“Here,” Minseok cut you off, helping to position you to sit against the door of your car. “Let me take you to the hospital to get it looked at.”

“No, that’s fine,” You lackadaisically shoved his hand aside and sighed deeply. “Besides, it’s all for nothing if you won’t move that damn scooter.”

Minseok sighed and let out a short laugh, running his hand through his hair as he did so.

“I’ll tell you what,” His smile was something you didn’t expect to affect you so deeply, but it did. “We haven’t had a proper opportunity to get to know each other, as neighbors. If you agree to grab some dinner with me tonight, then I’ll rent a spot for my moped and give you back your hard-fought parking spot.”

You blinked several times, speechless in utter surprise.

“U-um… I guess…” You took a deep breath, hardening your expression. “If you swear that I won’t have to see another one of those damn pink papers again as long as I live-”

“Agreed.” Minseok’s smile widened, and you could’ve sworn that some small part of you felt the urge to swoon, coming to the realization of just how abnormally handsome he was. “But first-”

Before you had the chance to utter a single word, Minseok’s arms swept underneath you. In the span of a second, he scooped you up into his arms, securing you in place with more strength than you thought possible. You had no idea how well-built he was, as his figure hid it rather well.

What you weren’t expecting more than that, however, was the mischievous wink he sent you to accompany his amused smirk.

“I really think I should take you to the hospital.”

Originally posted by xiundeer

A/N: It’s still the 26th over here in America!! Happy Xiumin Day!! I sincerely apologize for the fact that here haven’t been any updates in the past two weeks. As spring break, for me, is in a week, my teachers have been piling up the projects and tests and its just been aksdjsftrhldfqdfjsk. Despite this, I have been working on updates, just not enough to complete them ;~;

Thank you so much for continuing to be patient with me! Everyone’s love and support means so much to me and it continues to encourage me to keep writing! I hope this satisfied your request, hun! <3