10/10 would graveyard smash

*prolonged silence* “oh my…”

“sir…sir how will we make first contact with them? surely we…we cannot refuse this handclasping ritual, they will take it as an insult, but what vulcan would agree to such a distasteful and uncomfortable ritual??”

Bonus: here’s a screencap of Solkar doing the “my body is ready” pose right before he shakes Zefram Cochrane’s hand:

That’s why he’s so slow in doing it, and so sensual. A part of Solkar can’t believe this is happening, despite it being a perfectly logical thing to expect from a human, and the rest of him can’t believe how good it is.

I bet that if the camera zoomed in any further we would see the dilation of Solkar’s pupils and a quickly-repressed shiver of delight. Cochrane’s firm, businesslike clasp is probably (in sexual terms) being perceived as a deliciously carnal display of dominance.

the gender ratio for azurill is 75% female whilst for marill it’s only 50%.

Happy Pride 2025. This post is 5 years old, and I’m in equal parts proud of it, and annoyed by how chaotic and tacky it is. So I’ve decided to make a new version: one where all the additions are in a single reblog, and with integrated image descriptions (thank you @oddler14 for providing most of these back then!). I would love it if people reblogged this version instead, even if I understand the previous version is much more widespread on Tumblr.

I am one of the people who, for a long time, didn’t feel queer enough. Specifically, as a nonbinary person, I struggled for a long time to believe I was trans enough to even deserve to label myself as trans. This post was the start of my journey unlearning that shame and guilt, which was caused in part by the gatekeepy rhetoric that was predominant in many online spaces. Today, I am confident and joyous in my trans, nonbinary, queer body and mind.

To my 20-year-old self, and to anyone else who might need to hear this: you are queer enough. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And always, always remember:

"dad" I say, my eyes barely open "it's Colonel Sanders" while pointing down the hallway. He looks, and at the end of the hallway, there's a portrait of an old man, the donor who paid for the wing of the hospital I'm recovering in.

My dad explains as much to me, and goes "I mean the guy *kinda* looks like him, but why would Colonel Sanders pay for a hospital wing Mississauga Ontario? I think those drugs might me messing with you"

Then the nurse comes out of the room. I go "hey, who is that picture of?"

She looks at the portrait. She looks at me. She looks at my dad. She looks at the painting. She looks at me again.

"you don't recognize the Colonel??"