Nick (he/him) | TERFS ARE NOT WELCOME HERE THIS BLOG HATES TRANSPHOBIA AND JK ROWLING | armand's defense attorney and loumand's divorce lawyer | posts mainly about iwtv, psych, and leverage
hey all! my friend @instantpansies and i are compiling a list of queer media for a site we're building! we intend to create a comprehensive list of all the queer media we can find, and there's only so much two people can watch, so we need your help!
we're taking a broad range of submissions, but make sure that you specify what makes the media queer. we'll take historical work that couldn't have had canon queer characters/themes if you can explain why it is queer
please no spamming/trolling. we're only two people trying our best
Note: In your reasoning for why the piece of media is queer, there must be Actual Reasoning. "Vibes" won't be accepted as a valid response.
please reblog for reach! we're trying to get as many responses as possible and we need your help!
okay, but not enough people know the details on this. people at pride were upset about gay rights in australia. so they decided to sail 200 miles into the coral sea just ‘cause and put a rainbow flag on a fucking empty island out of spite. and i’m talking empty. no inhabitants. zero. it was a flat piece of land with a bit of dry grass. now it has a camp site and a post office.
they have a declaration of independence that talks a bit about gay rights and then just flat out copies the “life liberty and the pursuit of happiness” part from the american declaration of independence. and here’s the best part: the founding group actually elected their emperor. he was originally going to be called the “administrator” of a republic. their website, however, says that “upon legal advice, his title was changed to that of Sovereign on the grounds that under Australian law a defacto prince trying to claim his crown cannot be charged with treason”. so they made it a kingdom and he now claims to be a descendent of edward ii.
everything about this is glorious and everyone should know about it.
Highlights from the timeline via wikipedia as this thread is from 2017:
As previously mentioned, the idea originated at Pride (Brisbane 2003) in reaction to punitive anti-marriage legislation
“On the 14th day of June 2004, at this highest point in the Coral Sea, Emperor Dale Parker Anderson raised the gay rainbow flag and claimed the islands of the Coral Sea in his name as homeland for the gay and lesbian peoples of the world. God Save our King!”
The campsite/capital Heaven was named after the London nightclub
War was declared on Australia in September 2004
The aforementioned stamps were issued in July 2006 “with the aim of creating a high and distinctive reputation amongst the philatelic fraternity”
They were never recognized legally/internationally as a micronation (and in fact Anderson refused to attend a conference in 2010 because they weren’t actually trying to be a sovereign nation)
In Feb 2017, Abetz was objecting to the flag of a “hostile nation” being flown
The Gay and Lesbian Kingdom of the Coral Sea Islands was dissolved in November 2017 (when same-sex marriage was legalized)
"you cannot have a category of person that stops being a person or everyone that someone wants to get rid of is going to end up being put in that category" and other really fucking obvious and basic observations that everyone ignores in favor of putting people they want to get rid of into a category they think makes them stop being a person
It's really funny how art can be so important and enriching and sometimes downright life-changing but every single piece of art about how important and life-changing art is is the lamest shit ever.
some hyper famous artists like Van Gogh transcend overratedness and become underrated because they're so normalized. Like I'll look at a van Gogh and I'm like wait this really is amazing you guys don't get it
“There aren’t enough hours in a day.” There are actually. The problem is that we think 40 hour work weeks are an unavoidable fact of life.
The problem is that everyone has to work 8 hours, pretty much no exceptions, and with getting ready time + (unpaid) lunch + commute, “8 hours” is actually anywhere between 9 and 12, every single day, with more work to do when you get home because our society and culture was built around having one member of the household home full time and nothing has changed now that almost everyone works.
No wonder Americans are reliant on DoorDash and fast food, there’s no time or energy to cook. No one wonder mental and physical health are in shambles, many just spent all day sitting in fluorescent lights with little to no stimulation. “Just wake up earlier” “Just meal prep”… these are ok short-term, individual solutions, but the broader, systemic issue is obvious. We aren’t built for this. There’s no work-life balance. Genuinely, I think if our culture could normalize a shorter work week, many individuals’ biggest problems would simply evaporate.
I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.
I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.
This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.
Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.
But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.
Here’s who was on the dating roster:
• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.
• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.
• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.
And finally,
• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.
So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.
Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.
She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.
“Do you want it?”
“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”
But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.
So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.
I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.
I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!
What about the table?!
“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”
Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.
There on my doorstep. The table.
It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.
“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.
“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”
“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”
“Make me an offer.”
I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.
This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.
“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.
I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”
They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.
But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.
“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.
With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.
It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.
So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.
I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!
Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”
I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.
For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.
Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.
It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”
“Did you like it?”
“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”
My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.
Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.
“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”
“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.
So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.
Most of us have a gross food at a friend’s house while growing up story but mine was sooooo wild. We sat down to dinner, the side dishes were like white rice and broccoli and the main entree was shrimp. Just shrimp. Unseasoned steamed shrimp. Pink. Not a shred of any sort of herb or flavoring on that thang. I do not enjoy shrimp on the best of days but I can tolerate it, I bit into one just to make sure there wasn’t like a clear lemon sauce or something that wasn’t visible but no, this was really and truly completely unseasoned shrimp. This was a predicament. I was in maybe the third grade, I really wanted to make a good impression so I politely asked if there was any cocktail sauce to dip the shrimp in as that was what I was used to doing. Her dad laughed and said no.
I straight up could not make myself eat it. I tried very politely to nibble on the side dishes and I did not place additional shrimp on my plate as to be polite and not waste food but it was fucking surreal. The whole unseasoned meal combination was not human food, it was like a fancy meal for an expensive dog. Her, her parents and her brother are eating it like unseasoned rice, broccoli and shrimp is a completely normal meal. I feel it is important to note that this was occurring in North Carolina so I’m not used to dealing with this, I had never experienced an unseasoned shrimp with no sauce in my 9 or 10 years of life. I also feel it is important to note my friend is biracial, Black mom, white dad. This is not a midwestern Caucasian mom mealtime disaster, this is 100 miles inland from the fucking coast in North Carolina. Shrimp is not a cheap food so it’s not like they just couldn’t afford to season the protein. To this day, I still do not understand. Maybe they were health freaks, maybe someone in the household was on a low sodium diet but not a single HERB??? NOTHING????? WHY WERE THEY EATING LIKE THAT???????
My friend’s dad mentioned to my dad that I hadn’t eaten at dinner when they walked me home, presumably because he didn’t want my dad to think they had me over for dinner and refused to feed me when I went home starving. My parents taught me to always be polite and gracious and I’d get in trouble for being rude for things I did not completely understand were slights but I knew bonding over food is a big part of the culture in the south so not feeding someone when they’re at your house and/or not eating when offered is considered rude and bizarre. I waited for them to leave and I was sooooo worried I’d be in trouble but I explained the unseasoned shrimp dilemma to my dad and the look on his face was like 😟, he was also truly fucking baffled and I was absolved of all guilt.
I also think that the strength gap is at least partially manufactured women would in fact be stronger overall if little girls were encouraged to do physically taxing games and activities and eat their fill while they’re growing vs having to constantly diet and be sedentary indoors (or god forbid do intense cardio while under-eating). The amount of adult women honestly afraid to lift weights bc they think they’ll get bulky as though bulking isn’t a full time job that athletes have to spend all their time on and anyone on earth gets shredded from just using their adult muscles for their intended purpose, girl your bone density 🥀
if you say women are intentionally nerfed from birth in 2026 people look at you like you’re insane and start condescendingly telling you about how women are just better at different things (but not during their periods haha) but this was a completely basic feminist talking point I grew up with like “girls can do it too! [shot of little girls climbing and running with boys]” nickelodeon commercial tier base level I hate it how is everyone suddenly dumber than the average 7 year old
so i need more desi Armand in my life and they got married so i think i deserve some fancy jewelries from the gremlin... please give them nice shiny accessories....
never. never never doubt me again or tell me im wrong about loumand. God speaks through me to tell you about the promised land of Armand/Louis de Pointe du Lac tag on Archive of Our Own
I didn't think I would get this far @thegroundhogdidit - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
