@aqueduck / aqueduck.tumblr.com
in th computer lab i heard the man behind me chuckle and say “ooooh….Yeah Babey” and whrn i turned to look at his screen he was looking at the wikipedia page for aqueducts
i feel like i shouldn’t believe you but i absolutely do
The Cult of the Crowned Raven
between tiktok and youtube slop, kids these days are subjected to possibly one of the worst media diets in the history of mankind. unlike me who was raised on the same 10 commercials for corn syrup products cycling between variety shows, as nature intended
sleeping with a knife beside me in bed, not because i’m afraid but because it is like a lover to me
i think its so funny that alumni from schools like harvard and columbia that were there during the protests in the 60s-80s are expressing support for students currently protesting against the genocide in palestine, and random zionists that were NOT at these protests in the 60s-80s have the never ending audacity to tell these alumni "well thats different, what you protested was good and what they're protesting is bad." as if protesters against the vietnam war and apartheid south africa were not also demonized, arrested, brutalized, and even killed for their activism. history only remembers them fondly after the damage has already been done.
this is literally THE lewdest saint sebastian painting i've seen yet (including contemporary paintings) and it's from 1610
thinking abt this painting again and how it's simultaneously a representation of being penetrated and of having a phallus and how much ecstasy he's in
this is truly the gaysex of paintings
Being a young adult is so strange. You enter a coffee shop. The 20 year old girl waiting behind you cried all night because she just came to a new city for university and she feels so alone. That 27 year old guy over there works a job he is overqualified for, he lives with his parents and wants to move out but doesn't know what to do about it. That one 24 year old dude already has a car, a house, and a job waiting for him once he graduates thanks to his dad's connections. The 26 year old barista couldn't complete his higher education because he has to work and take care of his family. The 28 year old girl sitting next to you has no friends to go out with so she is texting her mother. That couple (both 25 years old) are married and the girl is pregnant. The 29 year old writing something on her laptop has realized that she chose the wrong major so she is trying to start all over. We are not alone in this, but we are actually so alone. Do you feel me
• Orgasms
• Receiving money
• Receiving compliments
• Pretty privilege
• Being smart
• Dressing up
• Menstrual cycles
• Emotions and being sensitive
• Expressing our sexuality
• Resting and relaxation
• Asserting our sexual needs
• Maintaining our standards
• Saying No
• Wanting or having children
• Choosing to be childfree
• Our body count
• Our nude body
• Wearing makeup or not wearing makeup
• Having boundaries and protecting ourselves
• Our spiritual practices
• Using witchcraft
• Being ambitious
• Going to college
• Being a housewife or stay at home mom
• Loving who and what we love
NO photo taken by me
these guys look like theyre fighting over how to make a soup
"hey can i put this in"
"NO ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME IT'LL RUIN IT"
someone inside this tunnel calling my name softly. gonna go in and check out what's up 👍
"but you need gender labels! what if someone asks?" ill lie to them. i'll lie to them all. Everyone will have contradictory views on my gender and it will be beautiful.
bedroom prayers, Dante Émile
[text ID:
Let me speak of angels once more.
The rickety fan pointing towards my bed is one of them, I’m sure of it. // I seem to always know things like these. // An angel is anything that will scream for your absolution. // I leave it on all night, the constant murmuring of blades almost mystic. // Its wings are too fast to catch, a bruise is the only tangible thing it can give you. // Saint John lies comfortably on my year old flat chest; he has built a little cottage atop of my crooked scars. // He tells me to pack my stuff & start walking to Santiago, & one day –as long as it’s not too hot out– I'll listen. // Angels & saints, you see, they are like honeybees: // leaving their dusty fingerprints in everything they touch.
On my way back from the doctor I cross paths with the parish’s new priest. Tall, young, handsome, he pays in cash at the corner stone. // I want to ask him about the bees, which is to say I dream of dropping by the church one day, unannounced, just so I can look at him. // The air is full of silence & incense & just a touch of last night’s rain & he’s there– cleaning the pulpit, rearranging the chairs, sweeping the floor. // I want to drop on the cold marble, sink my knees into it, & start to cry. I want to ask him so many things, mainly if there is a place for me amongst it all. // Me, with my chemically induced simile of masculinity. Me, a furtive lover of that which mirrors. I want him to understand that I am beyond fixing, if there is fixing to be done. Most of all I want to be told I’m not evil.
Back home I pray to a piece of paper nailed to my wall. The fan still sings. // I keep trying to find these answers myself. & if God is watching He’s cheering for the courage it took me to get out of bed this morning. // If God is watching She’s suturing every one of my wounds with care. // If God is watching They’re marching with me down las ramblas that one oppressive day of June, // boots tightly laced, voice loud & proud, & rainbow in hand. /end ID]
this alpha dom dating coach guy is fucking killing me
ah yes, the three Woman interests: psychology, bdsm, and body language
HELPPPPPPPPPP
