“I don’t think we would be able to do what we do if there hadn’t been people before us […] who subversively articulated a queer aesthetic through the mainstream, not-queer-friendly apparatus. The best I’ve ever heard it described was Justin Tranter saying, “You greased the hole from which we came.””
okay is there any photograph in history that deserves to be painstakingly rendered in oils and hung in a gilt frame in the Louvre more than the threesome photoshoot from that production of Twelfth Night with Anne Hathaway tho
like…dude…Caravaggio doesn’t hold a single candle to this shit………
As an autistic person, PLEASE refrain from reblogging content of us where we are aggressively referred to as “pure” and “good” and similar terms.
We’re no more or less good or pure than anyone else, and implying that a developmentally disabled person is somehow pure is incredibly ableist and suggests that we aren’t capable of understanding things that are bad, complex, gritty, or dark because our minds aren’t developed enough to do so.
This is the same type of thinking that enables our abuse, because people think we don’t understand what happens to us when we really do have a conscious perception of the abuse - people who think we can’t possibly know what abuse feels like don’t believe us when we say we’ve been hurt.
It’s especially dehumanizing when attached to a video, because comments like “GOOD AND PURE” are put onto videos of cute animals, and tacking the “GOOD AND PURE” comment on inspiration porn of autistic people - and other developmentally disabled people - is treating us exactly like those animals and no, it isn’t cute at all.
Have enough empathy/sympathy/decency to curate the videos you reblog please, and if a video of autistic people is treated like a video of cute kittens keep that shit off your blog for fuck’s sake.
The portal shimmied into existence and Magnus glanced up, face set into a smile, a greeting on his lips that soon died when instead of his tall, lanky and dark haired boyfriend, he was staring at his blond, cocky, more compact brother.
“Where’s Alec,” Magnus asked as his eyes darted behind Jace waiting for Alec to step through the portal. The portal closed, leaving him and Jace alone in his loft. “I didn’t grant you all a private portal so you can drop in any time you please Wayland.”
Jace shrugged. “Sorry.”
Magnus arched a brow. “Well? Where is he?”
Jace winced. And if that wasn’t enough to give him away, the way his eyes darted about, unwilling to meet Magnus’ eyes confirmed it.
Magnus growled. “No.”
Jace took a step back. “Magnus…”
Jace held his hands up. “Hey. I couldn’t very well tie him down you know. Alec can be quite insistent.”
“Insistent,” Magnus hissed. “He hasn’t slept in four days Jace. Four days. And you let him accept another mission?”
Jace shook his head. “I wasn’t in the institute when he got called out. By the time I got back, he was already gone.”
Magnus pushed off from the seat, a snap of his fingers changing his red draping shirt and jeans into a dark purple military jacket, and black cargo pants that he’d specifically had tailored to fit his body like a glove; his spiked combat boots on his feet. He walked around Jace, ignoring him as he went to the drawers and pulled out his jeweled daggers, a twin set Ragnor had gotten him back during the witch trials, so he could defend himself without necessarily resorting to magic. Ragnor had had them spelled so even when they left him, they always returned to him when he called for them.
He still carried them with him any time he entered a fight.
Saturday, March 24,1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062. Dear Mr. Vernon, We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed. - The Breakfast Club (1985)