i need wicked shipping in this trying time
I am ridiculous. I am not Mavis.
I'm Frances, in fact. I have a particularly redundant degree in Ancient and Medieval History, a Lego pirate ship and a terrible addiction to Coca Cola. I play Guitar Hero very ill indeed.
i need wicked shipping in this trying time
Man, don’t do the thing where you claim that movie A is “unoriginal” because you can make it sound exactly like movie B with a carefully worded synopsis. With sufficiently perverse phrasing, I can make The Silence of the Lambs sound like Care Bears: A New Generation.
Well? I’m waiting.
"An ambitious young woman, desiring to overcome the skepticism of her peers and excel in her chosen field, seeks out the assistance of a man with a monstrous reputation. He demands quid pro quo in return for his help; though put off by his unsettling demeanour, she agrees. Her initial victories are short-lived, however, when it transpires that her new mentor is simply manipulating her in order to pursue revenge against an older authority figure who’s been watching over her. In the end, all possible allies having been taken out of the picture by a wild goose chase orchestrated by her ostensible benefactor, our heroine must confront a terrifying enemy in an underground lair where he imprisons the innocent for his own twisted amusement."
willow + fucking ridiculous hats
Here is the thing about Anne Shirley: the reader has to anticipate her heterosexuality. There is a certain narrative structure to heternormativity:
- A girl is strange, loud, gender aberrant, uninterested in boys, or too interested in other girls.
- Said girl, in order to become a woman, must adopt more traditionally feminine traits, one of which is explicitly an interest in only boys.
Which is to say that heterosexuality, normative gender behavior, and “adulthood” are, for many children’s book heroines— and for many little girls— inextricably intertwined. The reader thus associates Anne’s queerness— here I’ll focus on her “passionate” love for Diana— with Anne’s childishness and silliness.
Anne’s relationship with Diana follows to the letter the traditional structure of romances. Anne fantasizes about having a “bosom friend” and then meets and falls rapturously in love with Diana. They swear to their love, but are cruelly torn apart by Marilla’s currant wine, and finally, after Anne’s feats of heroism with ipecac, are tearfully reunited. Diana sends Anne a card saying “If you love me as I love you / Nothing but death can part us two.” And they are so joined— Diana as Lancelot kissing Anne’s Elaine, Anne and Diana swearing that they shall never marry and remain old maids together, Anne “smiling affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near her own”— until Anne goes off to Queen’s and must reassure a reproachful Diana that although Diana heard Anne was “infatuated” with Stella Maynard, Anne “love[s] [Diana] more than ever.”
And yes, it’s funny! It’s funny and overly dramatic like most young love is. But it’s also unbearably confined and dismissed by the confirmed expectation that Anne and Diana both grow up to love and marry men. And, when you think about the ways that queer women have taught themselves to confine and dismiss their own feelings because of the choices and vocabulary they had available to them, it’s also unbearably sad.
Anne’s Diana-related fantasies reveal her own awareness of her circumstance: she fantasizes both about giving her own life for Diana’s and of being left behind at Diana’s wedding. (Interestingly, these fears and fantasies start only after Diana first mentions Gilbert Blythe to Anne.) Anne is fully aware of the enforced behavior that adulthood entails, and she despairs of it. Her found community of kindred spirits, her persistent storytelling, the entire world she renames in Avonlea, are all not insignificant acts of revolution and self-creation.
But still, she is made to grow up. Anne says towards the end of Green Gables that she has found it is “nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one’s heart, like treasures” because she doesn’t “like to have them laughed at, or wondered over.”
And so Anne learns to keep her queerness to herself.
Stonewall was colored folks, poor folks, transsexuals, femmes, butches… a little bit of everybody. But the narrative that gets sold to people is that it was all these ‘A-Gay’ white normative people. That’s not who riots. Sorry.
"that’s not who riots".
THATS NOT WHO RIOTS!! so perfect
Let’s play a game.
Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.
It’s so tough writing a scene between two women because when it’s a male and a female, it’s all “he said, she said” or “he took her hand” but when it’s two females everyone’s a she and I don’t even know who’s holding whose hand anymore, like goddamn.
Didn’t even get to close the search string before I was told I was wrong.
This is appalling. What the hell, Google?
It’s not Google. Google just reflects what people search. It’s society that’s the problem.
I didn’t believe this was real until I tried it myself just now. I even got the red squiggly.
“chuffed doesnt mean what you think it means”
it means exactly what i think it means its just some stupid word that literally has two definitions that mean the opposite thing
what in the shit pissing fuck
This makes me really chuffed.
This post is quite egregious
Well I’m nonplussed by this whole post.
I love autoantonyms.
The Wicked Witch of the West is the most iconic villain in film and maybe in American popular culture on the whole, so where is all the scholarly work on her?
When my otp has a near kiss experience I have a near death experience
The absence of women in history is man made.
I wouldn’t mind leaving myself behind if I could, but I don’t know the way out.
— Elphaba Thropp, from Gregory Maguire’s Wicked. (via to-kill-a-mockingjay20)
You want a time machine, don’t you?
Because one in 10 Americans do — at least that’s what they said when Pew Research Center asked what futuristic technology they would like to own.
That’s a notable percentage of people, especially when you consider that survey respondents came up with “time machine,” unprompted, out of every possible future invention they could imagine. (Naturally, flying cars were popular, too.)
The curious thing is that Pew found people’s level of interest in time travel had a lot to do with how old they are. About 11 percent of 30-to-49-year-olds said a time machine was the one futuristic device they’d want to own, but only 3 percent of people older than 65 said so.
And looking across demographics of the entire study group, people under 50 were way more into time-travel than people older than 50.
Why is that?