Give An Audience A Canon Gay Ship And They Will Be Entertained For One Season. Queerbait Them And You

it doesn’t matter. you will still have fun baking a distastrous looking bread loaf. you will still have fun painting a technically bad painting. you will get happy brain chemicals dancing like a weirdo. be bad on purpose.

warm baked goods are insane. something so beautiful and almost maddening about absolutely tearing into them when they’re fresh. feeling warm all over after. I really do get vampires for real

using the bus tracker app is like. oh it's going to be here in three minutes. now it's five minutes. oh the bus has killed itself

need 2 dance with someone in the kitchen. homosexually

forbidden neil the rat photos

2007 eBird gem

there should be a tax that youtubers pay where 1.5% of all of their revenue goes back to Kevin Macleod for basically supplying YouTube with it’s own soundtrack.

You should be a little bit in love with your friends, btw

You should let yourself feel and share big feelings and imagine futures together

You should let them see how important they are to you

Don't keep your love in boxes to be metered out in specific amounts decided by predetermined relationship labels

Love your friends loudly, and let them love you back the same

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.