The Dreamer Born Into A Court Of Nightmares

RING TING TINGLING TOOOOOOOOOOOOO

COME ON IT’S LOVELY WEATHER

FOR A SLEIGH RIDE TOGETHER WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

“You’re too pretty to be single” Why is one person’s idea of ideal aestheticism A basis for a relationship status And furthermore What is so goddamn shameful or pathetic about being single anyway Is confidence and comfort in being by one’s self intimidating to you

“Swearing is unladylike” Bullshit Swears are only words And these words do not negate my intelligence, or passion, or define anything about me as a person or my character Men are never told not to swear Swear as much as you fucking want

“Your standards are too high! Just give him a chance” No You are invalidating a woman’s right to say no She doesn’t need to explain herself to anyone She doesn’t owe anyone anything Ever Everyone should have standards for themselves, and not feel like they need to lower them to please anyone Or be shamed for leading someone on when they know it would never work Because that happens too

“If you dress like that, boys will get the wrong idea” What idea might that be? That women might actually feel beautiful and confident in their own bodies? Heaven forbid Because obviously women’s bodies belong to everyone else except themselves

“Don’t frown - someone might be falling in love with your smile!” Why Is it my responsibility to always smile no matter how I feel I am a human being who is allowed to experience pain, or confusion, or sorrow, or boredom Men are never criticized for having “resting bitch face”

“Short hair makes you look like a boy!” This is assuming That there is one certain way for “boys” and “girls” to look Not so Some boys have long hair, some girls have short hair, some people who are both or neither also have hair Hair has no gender Humans are allowed to look different from each other and express themselves how they like Gender identity and gender expression are not the same

They aren’t “real” girls because they were born with a penis Anyone is a girl who says they are a girl Stop trying to undermine someone’s identity They know themselves better than you do Anatomy and identity are different, and sometimes separate Why are you so obsessed with other people’s genitals anyway

“You’re going to break a lot of hearts one day” Why would you ever Ever Say this to a girl A young, impressionable girl Breaking hearts is not a compliment, or a goal Coming from someone who has broken at least one From simply being honest and being myself It is a burden - a guilt that has been (mis)placed on my shoulders since childhood I never wanted to be labelled a heartbreaker simply for existing

“You don’t want kids? You’ll change your mind one day” No I won’t Even if I do, one day, that doesn’t make my opinion right now any less valid or deserving of respect Stop disbelieving people about their own life choices Also, having children is not a necessary milestone for a successful or fulfilling life

“Don’t have sex before marriage - boys really want a virginal girl” Sure they do And are boys ever held to that same expectation To stay virgins until marriage? Because as women are shamed for “impurity,” boys are applauded for “experience” I love the smell of double standards in the morning

“You shouldn’t wear so much makeup” The natural look is great The makeup look is great The anything you feel like doing or not doing to your own face look is great Let people do whatever they want to their own bodies Whatever makes them feel good Why do you care

“Selfies are just for attention” Maybe Maybe not What’s so wrong about liking attention What’s so wrong about feeling beautiful and confident in your own skin And wanting to share that feeling with others We were taught for so long to hate our bodies What is so threatening about finally loving them

“Cat-calling is flattering! Learn how to accept a compliment!” “I like your hair” is a compliment “You’re a really talented writer” is a compliment The gross, vulgar things that men shout at women they don’t know on the street Are not compliments They are harassment - meant to imply ownership and dominance and even violence Compliments should not make people fear for their lives walking home Compliments should not actually get people killed

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.

i talk really fast

i mumble

sometimes i talk really fast and mumble at the same time

sometimes the words from my head don’t transfer right to my mouth so i sometimes just speak nonsense and im the only one who gets what im saying

have fun trying to understand me

If you are facing new challenges/obstacles, then you’re going the right way.

No one blames you if you have to check the map.

Always come prepared.

Everyone is worth talking to.

Even if you don’t get money for something, you always get experience.

Explore!

The places that are hardest to get to always have the best rewards.

The best way to become someone’s friend is to actually talk to them.

If you want to be someone’s friend faster, also give them food.

Don’t hold on to too much crap, you’ll fill up your inventory.

Don’t be deterred if a challenge was too much for you; go back, level up, increase your skill, and try again.

You don’t learn anything if you get someone else to do it for you.

Don’t feel like you have to plow through the main story. The best content is sometimes in the side quests.

If you’ve tried and failed 30 times, you probably missed something. Go back and look around.

Never judge someone’s skill solely on their achievements; you don’t know how they got them.

When you succeed after multiple failures, you feel so much more accomplished.

Take full advantage of character customization.

Emma Watson beatboxing as Lin-Manuel Miranda raps about gender equality

One day, I read this prompt: “After years of ‘my old friend’, darkness is sick of being friendzoned.” and decided to write a short Snowbaz fic about it. Enjoy.

(English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry for possible mistakes.)

Sighing, you sit down on your bed and put your head in your hands. This day was probably the worst this week, even though it’s hard to tell because the whole week was fucking messed up anyway. University is keeping you up all night and fighting with your genius best friend who usually gets your back when you don’t understand something in class didn’t help. And now, you’re sitting in your dimly lit room, knowing you really should be studying for tomorrows classes but you just can’t push yourself to do it. It’s a disaster.

Suddenly, one corner of your room starts to go darker and darker, swallowing every streak of yellowish light coming from the lamp on your bedside table. You watch it spread over the walls and floor out of the corner of your eye, already sensing what’s happening next. You’ve witnessed this enough times to know the process by heart. “Hello darkness my old friend..”, you murmur sarcastically, already feeling the cold radiating from the corner.

“What’s going on with you?!”

Your head whips up at his sharp, demanding tone.

“Bad week, bad day, y’know.”

He looks right at you through black, lifeless holes in his face where his eyes are supposed to be. Skin grey like faded ashes, pitch black hair, swirling like smoke. His cheekbones are sharp as knives, as well as his jawline and collarbone. He’s looking deadly handsome, leaning against your bookshelf with raised eyebrows. “You look miserable.”, he spits out and you laugh, rubbing your eyes.

“I feel like it too.”

At this he snarls: “Why do I even put up with you, you annoying crybaby?!”, and rolls his eyes. You grin, feeling slightly dizzy because of his scent. It works like a drug. Some go insane form it. “Oh come on, I know you are enjoying my company. Or you wouldn’t come back here so often.”

He’s moved from the bookshelf to the middle of the room and the footsteps he’s leaving look like ink, black liquid on dark wood. “I come to every room, every night, you plonker.”, he says, sitting down next to you on the bed. You’re shivering, but it’s enjoyable and exciting.

“But not in person, darling.”, you coo, trailing your hands through his hair. He closes his eyes, exhaling, but leans away after a heartbeat. Your hands prickle, the cold piercing them like icy needles. Touching him always sends chills though your body, but the cold is addictive. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, all this fingertips-business. Hovering, hands gliding through hair or over thighs, almost but never fully touching. You don’t even know why you are doing this, but you suspect that he’s enjoying this as much as you are, even though he looks troubled sometimes. But there seems to be a secret border, something that stops you both from going further, from going from doing to talking, from actually confessing. Suddenly, he’s standing, backing away, holding up his hands. “Stop- just…stop.” His voice sounds like acid and the cloud around his body impossibly darkens.

“What’s the matter?” you ask, still smiling cowardly. Just his appearance has lighten up your day, which is funny because he’s the darkness himself. You stand up and take a step towards him, but he growls and it almost freezes you. “I-I can’t take this anymore. You’re always close to me, touching, mockingly whispering sweet nothings, doing things you don’t mean. Surely you have found out how it tortures me but you do it anyway. I don’t understand this, just because you don’t feel this way doesn’t mean you have to shove it down my throat!”

He stops, looking angry and terrified at the same time. Your jaw’s basically dropped and you’re staring at him with wide eyes. He did it. The wall is broken. What used to be just friendship suddenly turned into something deeper, something more vulnerable. Every step could destroy it. “You mean-“ you start, voice sounding hoarse because your throat is as dry as a desert. He stares right back at you. “What?“

You swallow, take a step towards him, then another, until there’s less than a foot space between the two of you. “Simon..” be breaths and it comes out more like a plea than a warning, so you decide to put him out of his misery. And you kiss him.

When his lips connect with yours, it feels like all warmth is sucked out of you. Everything goes dark and for a moment you feel like an empty well. But then he pushes back against you and you tilt your chin a bit and suddenly, your warmth is back and it’s not like he’s sucking it out of you anymore, but rather like it’s flowing through him, filling him, like you make him feel alive. He feels almost transparent under your hands.

You’re kissing something that isn’t really there. No. He’s not transparent, he the darkness. He’s not just the darkness, he’s a boy. You’re kissing a boy. You’re kissing the darkness and it’s incredible.

His bottom lip scrapes your teeth and you bite down on it, electing a groan form him that sounds like heaven. He feels like a black hole, constantly drawing you in. You pull away slowly and he locks eyes with you, his cold death-stare seeming softer than usually. “Why did you do this?”, he whispers, voice like a blow of icy wind on your face. “Because I wanted to.”

Your hand finds his and you squeeze it, looking down to watch as the smoke he’s giving off mixes with your skin. It makes it look like a silver shade of bronze. It’s like he‘s blurry at the edges, you never know where he starts and where he ends. For a couple of minutes, you just look at him, searching for emotions in his dark features. It seems like you’ve unlocked a secret feature in him, his smile. Also, his colours have changed. He’s not only black and grey, he consists of numerous shades of blue, grey, black and even purple now. Even the holes where his eyes are supposed to be seem to be twinkling. A question pops up in your head as he leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Can we be together? Even though you’re the darkness?”

He smiles, you can feel it on your collarbone. “We’re going to find a way.” You’re both silent for a second, before he adds: “I have a name, you know. An actual name. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I feel like you should know it.”

You grip his hand tighter, whispering: “Tell me.” There’s a pause, then he does.

You roll his name around in your mouth. It tastes like smoke and bitterness, it burns you and slices the sides of your oral cavity. When you say it out loud, he shivers violently and when he looks at you like you are made of light, it’s your turn to shiver.

It’s all you can think of for the rest of the week.