Seeing baby “boys” and “girls” as distinct, immutable groups from birth and treating them differently as such for any reason, is a fucking sickness that has infected large parts of humanity from TERFs to Evangelicals.
We’ve got stacks and stacks of science, biology, anthropology, sociology, and history to “prove” it is not “natural” or “innate” to view life like this and we should all be fucking over it by now.
But if you’re a product of modern white supremacist, colonial, cis, misogynistic culture you probably have been infected and if you don’t treat the wrongness you’re doomed to believe the lies 🤷♀️
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We have the same opinions on ellabs and Ellie, it feels so good to find someone who agrees 🥳🥳
dw everyone around here knows by now that i’m the biggest ellabs hater of all time 💪🏽
(the way that’s how @glowstickfracture and i became mutuals in the first place too LMAOOOO)
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dramione to marauders convert. wolfstar 4ever. cali. she/her.
I write wolfstar to feel alive
🌙 Boot Scootin’ Baby, 21k: Cowboy Remus, Sirius in a mini-skirt, inappropriate use of a cowboy hat and love at first two step.
⭐️ All’s Fair in Love and Trivia (WIP 5/10, 63k): Trivia taken very seriously, ex-sex, friends to lovers to enemies and back to lovers in the messiest way conceivable.
⭐️ Good Enough to Eat, 22k: Alpha Remus/Dr. Moons, Omega Sirius/the afflicted, biting, breeding, a/b/o yummyness + mutual pining, written for my cricket @waxingrunes.
🌙 Just a Little Bit of Magic, 25k: Music journalist Remus Lupin, Model Sirius Black, Esctacy, EDM, and falling in love by NYE.
⭐️ For Research Purposes, 15k: Dr. Remus, leashed up good girl Sirius soul mate sex in a lab (idk either)
🌙 Wolf Insctincts and Primal Proclivities, 9k: Near transformation Remus, blood kink related fun stuff
🌙 Pretty Little Grays, 12k: Posessive Remus and secret relationship Sirius turned semi public sex at a Gryffindor party
I wrote a 270k dramione thing once, too.
current projects: a/b/o part two, priest remus three-shot, and trivia fic ofc
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If you wonder how long I'll be faithful
Well, just listen to how this song ends
I'm gonna love you forever and ever, forever and ever, amen
I'm gonna love you forever and ever, forever and ever, forever and ever, forever and ever, amen
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. . . Forever And Ever, Amen —George Miksch Sutton
A very little time shall pass ---
A white-crowned sparrow’s song or two, a rustle in the grass ----
Ere I shall die: ere that which now is grief and sense of loss
And emptiness unbearable shall vanish
As curved reflections vanish with the shattering of a glass.
By the wind I shall be scattered
Up and down the land,
By strong waves strewn along the farthest shore;
No part of the dear world shall I not reach and, reaching, understand,
No thing that I have loved shall I not love the more.
No leaf of sedge nor cattail blade shall push
Up from the dark mud toward the open sky
But I shall be there, in the tender tip,
Experiencing the steady surge of growing.
No drop of water shall move upward, cell by cell,
No sunlight fall on any opening fern,
No breeze send waves across the yellowing grain,
But I shall be there, intimately learning
All that all things know and, knowing all, discerning
The full significance of suffering and pain.
No bird of passage shall fly north or south
Breasting the stiff wind or pushing through the fog
But I shall be there, feeling the deep urge
That drives it otherwhere at summer’s ending,
And otherwhere once more with spring’s return;
Ever so thoroughly I shall learn
The signs a bird must travel by,
The many ways in which a bird can die.
Knowing the fierce drive of hunger,
Day after day, season after season, brown in summer, white in winter,
With the slender weasel I shall hunt, and with the rabbit die ---
I at the place where the sharp white teeth
Pierce the skin and the tearing hurts,
I, too, shivering while the hot blood spurts.
No vainly croaking, vainly struggling frog shall feel
The water snake’s inexorable jaws
Moving over and round it, slowly engulfing it
But I shall be there struggling too, and crying
An anguished, futile protest against dying.
With the snake too I shall die:
Clutched by sharp talons, borne swiftly upward from the shallow creek,
I shall look down bewildered and surprised
By this new aspect of a familiar place,
Writhing, twisting, striking at the claws which hold me fast
I shall feel the hooked beak closing on my neck at last.
With the hawk, too, I shall die:
I shall feel the hot sting of shot, the loss of power, the sudden collapse,
The falling downward through unsupporting space,
The last swift rush of air past my face.
No creature the world over shall experience love,
Drying its wings impatiently while clinging to the old cocoon,
Leaping the swollen waterfall, yapping to the desert moon,
Looping the loop above some quaking bog,
Pounding out drum-music from some rotting log,
But I shall be there in each sound and move ---
Now with the victor, now with the vanquished,
Now in the parted mouth, now in the feet,
Now in the lifted nose, now in the bloodstream,
Now in the pounding heart’s accelerated beat ---
Experiencing the tender, quiet joy of mating,
And blinding ecstasy of procreating.
A thousand thousand times I shall suffer pain,
And that will be a mere beginning.
A thousand thousand times I shall die,
Yet never finally, never irrevocably,
Always with enough left of life to start again: to be born,
To grow, give battle, win, lose, laugh, cry, sing, and mourn,
To love, hate, admire, and despise,
Never quite losing the feeling of surprise
That it is good to live and die;
Learning to forget the word “finally,”
Learning to unlearn the word “ultimately,”
Learning, the long stretch of eternity having just begun,
That joy, gladness, grief, and suffering are one.
[from Audubon magazine (September, 1985, pp. 86-87).
If the poem is quoted, it should be in its entirety with full credit to George Miksch Sutton.]
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procrastinating on original fiction by working on fanfiction and procrastinating on fanfiction by working on original fiction and so on and so forth ad infinitum
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