criminy

[lesbian-art]

Winton Kidd (twitter)

[rambling-wanders]

credit @symphony_sonata on instagram with permission

[nietp]

I went to a bookshop and I got dizzy at the amount of books on stuff like “astrological feminism” “reclaiming womanhood through numerology” and all that shit…… One was called “cosmic fanny” or for my french speakers out there, “foufoune cosmique”. I think the fight against patriarchy is going really well

[tepot]

“But I didn’t and still don’t like making a cult of women’s knowledge, preening ourselves on knowing things men don’t know, women’s deep irrational wisdom, women’s instinctive knowledge of Nature, and so on. All that all too often merely reinforces the masculinist idea of women as primitive and inferior – women’s knowledge as elementary, primitive, always down below at the dark roots, while men get to cultivate and own the flowers and crops that come up into the light. But why should women keep talking baby talk while men get to grow up? Why should women feel blindly while men get to think?”

Ursula K Le Guin, from What Women Know

[yvesdot]

One night we had a thrilling summer storm… We hadn’t been in the house long, and it was the first time in this house we’d had to close all the windows. In the morning I smelled gas, strong, unmistakable. “I smell gas,” I said to my husband. “I don’t smell it,” he said. He had a friend come over. “Why are you having a friend come over,” I asked, “when it doesn’t matter if he can smell it or not, and none of us can fix it?” His friend didn’t smell it, either. I called the gas company. The gas company employee didn’t smell it, either. He waved his reader around and it blasted off in three places, substantial leaks behind the stove and in the basement. “Always trust a woman’s nose,” the gas company employee said.

Yes, I thought, believe us.

Then, No, I thought, I’m not a fucking witch. Believe anyone who smells gas. If someone smells gas, believe them.

– Jane Dykema, What I Don’t Tell My Students About “The Husband Stitch”

[commiepinkofag]

Women Often Mistaken For Men In Public Restrooms

Marchers in Pride parade on Capitol Hill, Seattle, June 27, 1993

This photo of the 1993 Pride parade shows a group of women, some wearing t-shirts printed with “I’m not a BOY,” carrying a banner reading “Women often mistaken for men in public restrooms.”

📷 MOHAI, Seattle Post-Intelligencer Photograph Collection, 2000.107.19930627.4.5

[roxy206]

ACLU South Dakota post

[fromthecrypt]

she franken on my stein til i 'hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemlance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.'

[sabertoothwalrus]

I have to draw finn and jake periodically for my health. please understand

[beidak-art]

Danse Macabre... but it's The Terror 💀 Commission for @/definitely_a_he/Twitter

[robsheridan]

Before Barbenheimer, there was “Apocalypse in Pink,” the August 1983 theme of fashion/culture magazine SPECTAGORIA. The issue’s controversial imagery of Barbie-esque models attempting to stay gorgeous and glamorous amidst nuclear annihilation sought to, in the words of editor/photographer Sera Clairmont, “revel in the morbid absurdity of the new American condition,” an “anxiety vibrating underneath all our plastic smiles.”

“It’s The Hot Pink Cold War,” Clairmont wrote in her introduction. “It’s ‘Material Girl’ on the radio and ‘WarGames’ at the drive-in. It’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ interrupted by the emergency broadcast signal. We’re told to look sexy, dress fashionable, make money, and spend money, but be sure we’re just the right amount of terrified about the bomb. Get that Malibu dream home, keep working on that perfect body, sip cocktails by the pool in your little pink bikini and watching the stocks go up — but STAY VIGILANT! and for God’s sake vote Republican, because that dream home could melt into a pink plastic inferno at any given moment. Just don’t stop smiling as the blast liquefies your skin into bubbling ooze like a Barbie doll in a microwave - it’s bad for the economy.”

---------

NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[spookshowvixens]

Don’t you just hate it when you give in to your lust for blood and you sink your fangs into a robot by mistake?

[critcrockett]

The vampire equivalent of the “accidentally ate the fake fruit” faux pas.

[cuprumbao]

some rough sketches. i want to draw the shit out of tma so badly but i have no fckn time ;-;

[sofiaruelle]

Maru on her day off, working in the lab and part time at the clinic.

[meradorm-archive-deactivated202]

*sits down to write a smut fic* The plot of this smut fic is that Character A believes himself abandoned by God.

[natalieironside]

Fun history facts: One of the 31 people arrested at Stonewall on June 28th 1969 was American folk singer Dave Van Ronk, who was not at the Stonewall Inn at the time and was cis & straight as far as I'm aware. He'd been eating dinner at a nearby restaurant when he noticed a riot happening, said "Well I suppose I should go see what the fuss is about," stepped outside, and immediately started throwing bricks at the cops.

[breawycker]

I love this quote from an article I found:

A friend asked him how he came to be arrested in the 1969 riot when New York police busted a gay bar, the Stonewall Inn. "I was passing by and I saw what was going down," he said, "and I figured, they can't have a riot without me!"

He hated cops so anyone fighting against the cops was a friend to him. The police grabbed some protestors, including him, and dragged them back inside the bar and barricaded themselves in. They beat him almost to the point of unconsciousness and then handcuffed him to a radiator and charged him with assault.

A true ally.

Dave Van Ronk: Ally at the Stonewall Uprising - Village Preservation

Dave Van Ronk has been called a “folk singer’s folk singer.” He personified the image of the Greenwich Village artist and musician as the “l

[carnivalseb]

This is an illuminating usage of that term, 'ally'. It seems to have become polite to append the label to any person who is lukewarm or better toward your existence as a member of a minoritized group (as opposed to being actively hostile to that existence), but that's not really accurate. A disapproving bystander to you oppression isn't meaningfully in an alliance with you, they're at best a neutral party and as we know from Desmond Tutu, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” The very concept of alliance is one in which, definitionally, when an enemy comes to attack you, your ally attacks them right back to stop them in their tracks. For this reason we have recently seen the distinction drawn between lukewarm allies and red hot accomplices. I would like to say that in order to be worthy of the title our allies must make themselves actively complicit in the actions necessary to create and maintain our liberation, like our man Van Ronk did on Christopher Street. Happy Pride.

[becuzitisbitter]

I wish I lived outside the economy like bigfoot

[powerburial]

doctor: I think theres something wrong with you, man, thats making you act all fucked up

[wormbus-art]

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape