It was an act of Whimsy......

It doesn’t interest me… what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me… how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me… what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know… if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know… if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me.. if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know… if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know… if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, Yes.

It doesn’t interest me… to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done…

It doesn’t interest me… who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me..where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know… if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Oriah, “The Invitation” (via wordsnquotes)
You promised me forever. You gave me five years. The bitter taste of the goodbye you never said still lingers on my tongue, and I can still hear your sickeningly sweet words in the middle of the night as the wind whispers them into my ear. There are still people who question why my words are not laced with disgust when I speak of you. There is no correct response to their questions besides, “you weren’t there.” They weren’t there when you gave me hope, and reminded me that life always goes on. They didn’t hear every “I love you,” “please don’t ever give up,” and “you’re worth it.” You helped me save myself, showing me that I can do this on my own. Even though I miss you, and the hole in my chest continues to grow everyday you’re not here, I’ve finally realized that you did keep your promise, you gave me forever; you see, because of you, I won’t give up, and I will go on to leave my mark on the world, and it will last—forever.
"Forever" (148/365) by (DS)

Isaac Newton once said:
matter can neither
be created,
nor destroyed.

Every fiber of your being
has a story to tell.
You are an embodiment of
something greater than all of us;
you are made of history,
and you will create the future.

Our bodies are only temporary,
mere placeholders of the
greatness that we will
go on to create.

So when you tell yourself,
“I don’t matter,”
remember this:
you are made of the
very matter that created
the universe.

(138/365) by (DS)


Ah yes all that sweet sweet bisexual privilege.

Like having more psychologists attribute your mental health to your indecisiveness.

or doctors not believing when you’ve become sexually active

or the government believing your ~~**straight marriage**~~ to be tax fraud

or having the biggest demographic in the LGBT community next to the trans community be homeless and suicidal

and then having nasty little monosexual queers dictate your own identity to you like you’re the fucking problem.

because that doesn’t add up to an entire life spent doubting your own identity so badly you can no longer, not even for a second, trust your own attractions romantic or sexual or otherwise.

until you feel so fucking messed up inside you think you’re lying to yourself and you have no way to validate who you are or how you perceive others.

because you’re straight enough
you’re not straight enough

you’re queer enough
you’re not queer enough

you’re nothing
you’re greedy
you’re lying you just want attention

so much privilege

look at it all




Dͬͫ͊̎҉҉̛̬̣͚A̱̫̩̣̫̎ͫͤͨ̂̆̋͘͜Ņ̷̣̱̇ͤ͗͛̚C̛̞̜͕̖̤̥̱ͤ̚È̡͓͚ͯ́ ̣̩ͬ̀̋̐̿́ͨͧ̀͟W̛̼͇͍͕̄ͨ̓̅ͬ̔ͮ̃͘͠Ȋ̷̶̧̳̖ͫ̎͑̿͊̚T̨̳̬͙̥̆ͧ̂̒ͅHͦ̽͐̀̿ͫͧ̌͏ͅ ̔̊̈͐͗͡͏̜͓̀Ư̡̛͈͕̯͕̹ͪ̎͆S͇̗͕͚̳̻͒͐̍̄ͯ̒̚͠,̷̢͎̥̻͗͗͌͌́̀̚ ̟̺̟̜̼͔ͨ͒̒͟H̯̆͐͡U̅̀̽ͦ́ͥ́͆͏̦̰̙̲͔̟͜M̡̭̫̰̰̭̘̬ͬ͑̍ͮ̄̓A̯̫͕̲͗ͩ̏̊̔͛Nͤ͏̷̞̩͎̦̱.̵̟͔̟̓͒̾͡







Dͬͫ͊̎҉҉̛̬̣͚A̱̫̩̣̫̎ͫͤͨ̂̆̋͘͜Ņ̷̣̱̇ͤ͗͛̚C̛̞̜͕̖̤̥̱ͤ̚È̡͓͚ͯ́ ̣̩ͬ̀̋̐̿́ͨͧ̀͟W̛̼͇͍͕̄ͨ̓̅ͬ̔ͮ̃͘͠Ȋ̷̶̧̳̖ͫ̎͑̿͊̚T̨̳̬͙̥̆ͧ̂̒ͅHͦ̽͐̀̿ͫͧ̌͏ͅ ̔̊̈͐͗͡͏̜͓̀Ư̡̛͈͕̯͕̹ͪ̎͆S͇̗͕͚̳̻͒͐̍̄ͯ̒̚͠,̷̢͎̥̻͗͗͌͌́̀̚ ̟̺̟̜̼͔ͨ͒̒͟H̯̆͐͡U̅̀̽ͦ́ͥ́͆͏̦̰̙̲͔̟͜M̡̭̫̰̰̭̘̬ͬ͑̍ͮ̄̓A̯̫͕̲͗ͩ̏̊̔͛Nͤ͏̷̞̩͎̦̱.̵̟͔̟̓͒̾͡


The thing that’s so disgusting about the murders of Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Sean Bell etc (a very long list) is that it’s not like we’re trying to figure out who killed them. We know perfectly well. We’re just trying to figure out if that black kid deserved to die. They’re humanity is put on trial, like being a person wasn’t enough. Black people literally have to prove that we’re worthy of living.



It’s not the fact it exists, but that two stakes are missing

…some stories are best left unspoken. This one is going to drive me crazy, though….



It’s not the fact it exists, but that two stakes are missing

…some stories are best left unspoken. This one is going to drive me crazy, though….






Calling it now Chef Ramsey is going to be the 12th Doctor

“get in the fucking tardis GOD”

“this planet is disgusting; bland, wet. it’s embarrassing” 

doctor, where are we?

“in the shit.” 

I’m okay with this

When facing a Dalek

“that’s not how you fucking use a whisk”

“that’s not how you fucking use a whisk”

Why isn’t there fan art of this yet? I’m disappointed.


Yes, lets go fight magneto. in my metal wheelchair, via my metal airship, with my metal wolverine to protect me. i see no way this could ever go wrong.

I can’t really be suggesting that heterosexuality is somehow taught, can I? That it is somehow part of the curriculum?
I would argue that it is very much part of what schools aim to teach. Why else would educational institutions so enthusiastically promote social norms which exclude queers? My own teaching colleagues have criticised my decision to tell my students my partner’s name, Emily, as it’s too much information about my sexuality; straight colleagues wear wedding rings or take the title ‘Mrs.’ Facebook memes celebrate ‘mums and dads’ kissing in front of the kids to show them what loving relationships are like; television programmes depicting same-sex kisses are firmly placed in later timeslots to ‘protect children’. Kissing my partner in the supermarket attracts disgusted glances from people who steer their children quickly away; a family wedding with children present can include more than one gently ribald reference to the wedding night or the honeymoon. In short, heterosexuality is relentlessly advertised by those who practice it; queer sexualities are always taboo in ‘family friendly’ spaces.




“Is it push or pull” I panic to myself as the doors come closer

panic! at the doorway

well at least someone closed the goddamn door


trying my mediocre hand at paneling

I WORKED HARD ON THIS OK so I want you all to read it


game of thrones s4 challenge
day 4 - favourite scene

Also known as “That time a bisexual and an asexual had a grown-up conversation about sexuality on an extremely popular television show and I lost my shit”

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