Planned Parenthood is fucking amazing, y’all. I haven’t been there yet…but just talking to their HRT line on the phone…
They used my respected name right off the bat. Called me Riley all the way through. Used he/him pronouns. Didn’t slip up once. Asked me and “What’s your legal name? I’m sorry I have to ask that.”
Then asked me “Now is it okay if I send things with Riley Roswell to your home?” not wanting to out me accidentally and then “Is it okay if I send stuff with planned parenthood labels on them or do you want me to be discreet about it?” knowing there are people who could get in trouble with family or partners or others for going there.
OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO CRY AND THEY DIDN’T JUDGE ME AT ALL
THEY WERE TOTALLY ACCEPTING AND ANSWERED ALL MY STUPID FUCKING BASIC QUESTIONS ABOUT HRT ABOUT WHAT THE APPT WAS GONNA BE LIKE
AND SHE WAS SO KIND AND SO UNDERSTANDING
AND SHE RESPECTED ME SO MUCH AND I WAS SO HAPPY
I CAN’T BELIEVE PEOPLE LIKE THAT EXIST IN OUR WORLD.
OH MY GOD.
AND I’M GOING TO BE GOING TO THIS WONDERFUL PLACE ON THE 29TH!!!!!!!!
Pooky and Ukulele! 😺 littlemunchiepooky : “We would play ukulele for Pooky to help her fall asleep when she was a kitten. So she grew up loving the music and still comes to listen whenever I play 😊”
#mm. their chemistry in this movie is stupidly scorchingly electric#when they dance the landler and maria breathes “…..I can’t remember what comes next” like SAME MARIA#I WAS ALSO DISTRACTED BY HOW GEORG WAS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE HE WANTED TO EAT YOU#I WAS MOSTLY IMPRESSED BY YOUR ABILITY TO REMAIN UPRIGHT#he’s so frustrated by her entire existence and isn’t that the dream? to frustrate and arouse a very hot wealthy man who hates nazis?
Giethoorn in Netherlands has no roads or any modern transportation at all, only canals. Well, and 176 bridges too. Tourists have to leave their cars outside of the village and travel here by foot or boat by. So you can probably imagine how peaceful it is here.
So, that sure is some policy change we just saw there. Bit of a wild swing from left field. Bit of a shark jump, if we’re honest. Really a solid Nice Job Breaking It, Hero! episode all around. Enough egg for everyone’s faces.
Tumblr hasn’t really been friendly towards fandom, or queers, or any of us dodgy corner-case dwellers for a while now, really. Your friendly neighbourhood Serpents will still be around for a bit - @ariaste, @fahye, and @telarna will put up information on their whereabouts on their own blogs. But meanwhile, listeners, here’s the thing. Tumblr’s just a vehicle. For us, for you, for all our stories, for the interwoven delivery of myths and morals and mutual support. And we’re still here. Home is what you carry with you. We might be sneks, but we can learn from snails on this one, which is to say:
Come join us. Come join us, listeners, & readers – we have 160+ friendly fen on our discord and growing, we have so many channels brimming with recs and meta and argument and advice. We’ll post the link here, and all are welcome:
https://discord.gg/2qnfRhB
This is, first and foremost, an omni-fandom newbie-friendly queer-centric sf&f discord for folks who liked what they heard or read of this podcast, Be The Serpent. If you’re new to us – welcome, and please come on in; but you may wish to listen to (or read!) one of our episodes, to get a feel for what we Serpents are trying to do. We think you’ll like it. It’s about respect for fanworks, about striving to do better, and about preaching hopepunk – small acts of kindness in the face of shitstorms like this one.
We recommend the first one:
Episode 1: False Utopias and… Robot Sex??
Be excellent, snakelings, and always remember: We are a fandom of deep, deep literary merit. Let’s keep digging.
During the Victorian era, fancy dress balls were one of the grandest and most fashionable ways for a society hostess to make her mark. These magnificent, costumed affairs were widely reported in 19th century newspapers, with a great deal of attention paid to who was wearing what. Guests dressed up as historical figures such as Marie Antoinette or Napoleon. They also wore more creative costumes—many of which were recommended in fancy dress advice manuals and costume books.
Following up to this post, here’s a fantastic look at Victorian “fancy dress balls”–they were all the rage at the time, but really picked up in the later half of the century where the focus was more on self-expression than hiding oneself, as was the case at 18th-century masquerades (Phantom hearkens back to this earlier tradition, but the idea of a masquerade hiding one’s true identity also works perfectly for its theatrical setting).
Here are some wackier costumes from fancy dress balls. I’m in love with this one:
And look! A bee!
Here’s a fashion plate with some costume ideas from across the centuries (and of course, we wouldn’t be in the Victorian era if there weren’t a bit of tone-deaf cultural appropriation with the Native American costume.):
It was actually common for women to wear shorter skirts at these balls so they could show off their fabulous boots (as you see above, and as is the case with Christine’s stage version of the Star Princess dress):
Depending on your host, masks of all kinds were welcome, so you were free to be as unsettlingly disturbing as you wanted while you lounged by the punch bowl and made rabbit eyes at the eligible young heiress whose hand in marriage comes with fifty thousand pounds a year and a lifetime of resentment because women’s rights didn’t exist yet:
Suppose you can’t make it to the most fashionable balls London or Paris this season. If it’s 1883 and you are Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt and happen to have $6 million of disposable income at your fingertips, why not throw your own fancy dress ball for New York City’s elite (and spend millions on champagne alone)? And why don’t you one-up every single one of your guests by dressing as that most wondrous of new inventions, Edison’s electric light? I defy the Rockefellers to steal your spotlight when the spotlight in question could very easily electrocute them.
Like flowers? Of course you do. Like spring? Oh, my God, do you ever. Like pretending you’re but a mere shepherdess, giggling and flouncing away from the advances of the blacksmith’s apprentice? GOOD LORD, YES. Like the 18th century? HELL YES, OH MAN, GIMME THAT ROCOCO SPRING FLOWER EXPLOSION:
BUT WAIT! You’re not gonna let that Rococo Spring Flower Explosion HARLOT flounce away with your suitor, are you? HELL NO, YOU ARE NOT. Which is why you are prepared to send her running dressed as a GORGEOUS FREAKING BUTTERFLY:
But where would a butterfly be without a lovely flower upon which to perch? Enter your secret lesbian lover, the Rose:
Or, if you’re uncomfortable with NOT being the center of attention every waking moment, you could just pull the equivalent of one-upping the bride at a wedding by wearing white and come dressed as the DAMN SUN:
But maybe you’re more of the goth persuasion. Might I suggest a tasteful sorceress?
A dainty Batman ensemble to match your wife’s delicate moth angel gown?
Vampire mistress of the night, perhaps?
Actually, bat motifs were an extremely popular costume option, not just in the 19th century, but also at 18th century balls:
But if it’s 1880 and you want to carry on grandma’s bat tradition, this might be a more modern take on a pocket-sized blood-sucking demon:
Or this:
You are so thrilled to attend the costume ball like the goth nightmare you are, you can hardly contain your enthusiasm:
Here is a tastefully acceptable take on Satan. Might I sample your punch, Mrs. Higgenbottom, before I make away with your soul?
“Oh, Ella!”
“Yes, Constance?”
“Oh, I do so love your seagull gown.”
“Oh, why thank you, my dear friend!”
“But I’ve not the slightest idea what I shall wear to the ball!”
“Why, Constance, it is a simple matter of identifying something near and dear to your heart and then adapting it into a suitable costume. I, for example, find solace in the sea, particularly in the birds of the sea, and most particularly when they nose-dive into and defecate upon the boat, shrieking like banshees in heat. Hence, the seagulls adorning my gown. What do you like the very most, Constance?”
“MOTHER-EFFING LOBSTERS.”
Or, maybe you’re just a shameless ho and don’t give a brass farthing about showing your ankles, your calves, your thighs, or your hoo-ha at the Embassy Ball, in which case, blaze it:
It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.
Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise (via beeghosts)
ELWES: André said, “We big people don’t live long.” He had that thing you come across with people who are terminally ill where they have a secret most of us don’t get: they understand that life is precious and you have to cherish every moment. He really imparted that to me. He was so filled with life and fun and so sweet, such a truly gentle soul. I mean, for a guy who could crush you like swatting a mosquito, he was so incredibly gentle. I made him tell me his whole life story. He grew up in a little village in France. He couldn’t fit into the school bus even when he was 12 and the only person in the village who had a convertible who could drive him to school was Samuel Beckett — which I think is another movie: Waiting for André.
The Princess Bride: An Oral History, Josh Rottenberg
(via magdaliny)
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