heauxistan:

the moon has acne scars & she is still beautiful so

animationfanatic:

-You have to be up by 7 am tomorrow morning. You set your alarm for 5:55. You wake up at 4 am because your kidneys are screaming for release, and by the time your head hits the pillow again your alarm is buzzing. It’s 6:55. You could have sworn you set it for 5:55. You panic. It doesn’t matter. Your first class doesn’t start until 9.

-Your literature class has twenty-five students. You raise your hand often in that class. Only four other people ever raise their hand. Somehow, everyone else has found a way to remain silent for the entirety of the semester. You don’t know the sound of the girl’s voice who sits to your left. There is no girl who sits to your left. You are the only one of two students sitting in the front row. You are an island in a class of silent eyes.

-It is possible that your upstairs neighbors are actually sumo wrestlers, or perhaps professional clog dancers. You’ll never know. The RA on duty has never been around in time to check. The upstairs neighbors remain faceless. But never noiseless.

-Everyone’s schedule is so busy that every time you make plans with friends they ask to take a raincheck for next week. Next week never comes. It is always this week. “Next week” is just an empty promise.

-A student whose age you could never guess walks down the street on his way to class. He wears a t-shirt and worn leather sandals. It is thirty degrees outside. You don’t question it. No one does.

-It is raining today. Classes are not real. No one speaks of happy things. You all wonder when the sun will shine again. If it will shine again.

-There is a new building under construction this semester. There is always a new building under construction. You have never been in a single new building. You plan to take a look in one of them at some point. Something tells you you never will.

oswinstark:

writing-prompt-s:

You walk in a room to find that the only way to escape is by writing a name of a real person on a piece of paper. This will kill that person.

You wake up in a room. You have no idea how you got there. In front of you is a door. You get up and try and open it but it’s locked. Panicking, you take in the rest of the room, but the only other thing in there is a table with piece of paper and a pen laying next to it. Suddenly, a sinister voice comes from some where above you.

“Welcome. You are trapped in this room. As you already know, your exit is sealed. However, you can get it open, but in order to do so, you must write someone’s name on that piece of paper. Doing so will then kill that person. Now-wait. What are you doing? You can’t-no you can only write ONE name I-what the fuck? Okay, I mean, you want to kill both the president AND the Vice President? Oh and the chief advisor…okay AND the Attorney General. Right, look, okay, I’ll let you out just-who the fuck is Milo Yiannopoulos? Look, okay, obviously this plan was not well thought out just….just go. Leave. Stop writing names and just get the fuck out. Jesus…”

cypheroftyr:

seananmcguire:

dubiousculturalartifact:

goharley:

luxwing:

luxwing:

Beauty and the Beast but they’re lesbians

And the Beast is still this 8 foot tall hulking monster with horns and massive claws and fangs and when she turns back into human she’s still buff as shit and her girlfriend is small and they open a library together also the candle and the clock are gay

This is what people mean when they talk about the “gay agenda”

if you want a story about gay people make your own don’t steal someone elses idea

Alright, listen up you sorry excuse for a burnt crepe

The animated version of Beauty and the Beast is dedicated “To our friend Howard, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful.”

Why?

Because the lyricist for the movie was Howard Ashman, a gay man who died of AIDS, only a few months before the release of the movie.

The version of the story you love has always had queerness in it.

It’s a story written by a gay man dying of AIDS, of someone who was cursed, whose time was running out and their death was coming, and the world wanted to hasten it along instead of helping, instead of loving him and understanding that he was never truly a monster.

It’s never belonged to you, not all the way. The soul of the Beast is queer.

“Oh, but the original version of the fairy-tale”

Fine, fuck you.

Gay version of the Little Mermaid, then.

You know, the one which was written by Hans Christian Andersen, a gay man who watched the love of his life marry a woman.

The original version story ends in tragedy, but with the idea that while the mermaid could not be with the man she loved, she does eventually gain a soul and find peace, when he was a gay man in a time when that felt denied to him.

Disney changed the ending of the Little Mermaid, the lyrics of which were also written by Howard Ashman, and gave her a true happy ending.

Now, let’s honour the inherent queerness of the story and acknowledge that we are in a time when gay people can be happy, they can be with the ones who we love, and make that the story.

Damn right that’s part of gay agenda. Gays in space. Gay mermaids. Gay Beasts. Gays goddamn everywhere there’s a good story, because it’s about damn time.

Watch as we take over every story that you thought belonged to you and make them delightfully, blatantly, queer, just to fuck with you, specifically.

Happily ever after.

Also:

Fairy tales and Shakespeare cannot be stolen.  (An argument can be made, given the way Shakespeare magpied his way through folklore, given the way his narratives have slithered into Western consciousness, that at this point, they’re the same thing.)  They are works transformed by the telling.

Would you tell Disney they stole all their stories?  How about Robin McKinley?  Stephen Sondheim?  Me?  All the people who work in fairy tales, who use them as building blocks, as common ground to set a stage, we’re not stealing, we’re continuing a grand and human tradition.

This isn’t “the gay agenda.”  If anything, this is “the straight agenda.”  Laying claim to a thing that human nature itself says has to change and shift and flux and grow to survive, and saying “oh, no, if you change this one thing, this load-bearing thing, the story is destroyed.”

Fuck that.  Ain’t nobody strong enough to kill these stories.

you sorry excuse for a burnt crepe

I am no more good after that. Also I must use this at some point.