October202014

Thorns

shwetanarayan:

shwetanarayan:

Once upon a time, in a kingdom in the Global South, a lovely little princess was born.  At her naming ritual, a private and sacred event,  the gathered adults blessed her with grace, thick hair, a good strong singing voice, and other princessly virtues.  Everyone was having a lovely time, when the Ambassador from Europe barged in, furious at not having been invited.

"This barbaric ceremony is just another example of your backward heathen practices," she cried. "We’re going to put you all to sleep until you learn better. Mind the thorns." She cast a handful of magically modified seeds on the ground, and they grew quickly into huge spiky thorn bushes with lovely white roses whose smell put everyone to sleep.

The thorns took over the nation, and the Europeans, armed with hankies over their noses, claimed it in the name of their queen, put the people to underpaid work, and made a tidy profit selling Exotic Sleepytime Scent and Authentic Primitive Thorn-needles.

When she was sixteen, the princess pricked her finger on a thorn and woke up.

Many of the palace people, she found, had been engulfed entirely by thornbushes, remembered only by a stray bone or poem.   But worse yet were the sleepers who still lived, stumbling around in shreds of finery and mumbling things like, “”But don’t you think we’re better off now in some ways?” and “We’d never have a needle business if they hadn’t grown all these bushes for us,” and “How pretty the roses are, so white.”  She tried to wake them, but found she couldn’t; and so she tried instead to escape.

The thorns grew even thicker and sharper around the palace than within, though, and even with princessly grace she could not evade them all. They pinned her by her skirts, her hair, her bracelets. And once they had her nice and secure, they started to grow into her skin.

She screamed.

A prince came by soon after, blonde and smiling. He said “Oh, you must be a native princess! I’ve read about your people, so noble and musical.”

"This is screaming!" she screamed.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Traditional tribal screaming, so powerful!” he said. “I shall record your music and share it with the world!”  So he did that, set her scream to a backbeat, made millions, and went on tours talking about how deeply her suffering had affected him. Since he’d never asked her name, he made one up.
 
Meanwhile, another prince came by. This one had a huge sword, which he swung around rather wildly. “I’ll save you, lovely chocolate princess!” he cried, and set about hacking at the thorns.  But his aim was not the best, and he stuck his sword right into her leg.  She screamed even more loudly.

"Oh stop overreacting," grumbled the prince. "I got my thumb pricked once and you don’t see me complaining. Stop trying to make me feel guilty about being a prince! I didn’t plant these thorns, you know."

She yelled, “GET YOUR GODDAMN SWORD OUT OF MY THIGH, ASSHOLE!”

He sniffed. “Well,” he said, “if you’re going to be so mean and rude you won’t have any allies at all will you.” And he stormed off.

The princess sagged against the thorns, worn out and bleeding.  Soon afterward a nice white lady came by.  “Oh,” she said, “your ritual scars are so cool! I’m going to dress up as a sexy thorn-princess for hallowe’en check out my ketchup blood and oh it’s okay if I do this in brownface right? Because my people are boring and civilized and don’t have a thorn ritual and I want to be accurate.”

"What," said the princess, "the everlasting fuck."

The lady replied, “Look, I’m just RESPECTING your culture, you should be flattered!”  And she flounced off.

The prince with the sword returned with a gang of friends, then, and pointed at her. “That’s the bitch who called me names,” he said.  So they all threw sticks at the princess and yelled, “How do you like it when YOU’re picked on, huh?”

Night fell. The flowers bloomed. The princess fell asleep.

The gardener’s daughter snuck over a little before midnight, a shawl over her nose and mouth, and shook the princess awake.  “Are they the foreigners gone?” she said. “We’re not supposed to interfere with the Authentic Primitive Thorn-needle business, so don’t draw attention;  but if you can keep still I’ll cut you out of there.”

The princess was too tired to do anything else, so very soon she found herself free.  The gardener’s daughter sat her down away from the roses, pulled out the thorns, and bound up her wounds with shreds of skirt.

"Wow," said the princess. "You know so much about all of this! It’s amazing, I had no idea what to do about the flowers or the thorns or anything."

The gardener’s daughter sighed and nodded. “Of course you didn’t,” she said, not without sympathy. “You’re a princess.”

—-

Note: edit at the end of October 2012: changed “they” to “the foreigners” in the gardener’s daughter’s speech, to make it unambiguous that she’s a local and avoid potential white-savior associations.

bringing this back since it’s that time of the year again when appropriation explodes over my dash more than usual

(via evelyn-gloria)

3AM
1AM

queerspectres:

yes the US is awful as fuck but can we stop using that to pretend canada and england are like these holy grails of acceptance

(via evelyn-gloria)

October192014
officialtokyosan:

benigoat:

Press B to crouch.

This is a sneaking mission.

officialtokyosan:

benigoat:

Press B to crouch.

This is a sneaking mission.

(via evelyn-gloria)

8PM

lalivingmuerte:

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i think this could be useful for the people who is not totally sure about spend their money in this movie, it has their good and bad points, but generally is a great movie, so please, let’s show them that “An Hispanic story” can be as good as any other one, or even better!. 

(via evelyn-gloria)

6PM

vivacosima:

cat: places paw tentatively on boob
me: please–
cat: presses paw down on boob
me: don’t–
cat: slowly, agonizingly walks across boobs

(Source: majesdanes, via evelyn-gloria)

4PM
2PM

Sad News

superpredatorsexoticreptiles:

Slim passed away this morning.

Tearing up again. ;_; I’m so sorry, but thank you so much for giving him comfort in his last hours and for doing your best. I am sure he was able to, in some way, recognize your kindness before he passed on.

2PM

theamericanavenger:

theamericanavenger:

Okay guys this is kinda important. GQ just came in the mail and for the first time in a long while it had a really important article…

I just sat here for like the last half hour reading this and I’m incredibly appalled at our justice system in regards to the military. The article interviews about 23 men who have all been sexually assaulted in some branch of the military. The PTSD from sexual assault in the military is more prevalent than PTSD from combat…

If you have a chance I suggest reading this article…and the title is a quote that one of the victims Doctor told him…

Hey guys! I’m very impressed and extremely happy to see this post gaining a lot of speed over the last few days! A few people have requested it, so i’ve gone ahead and scanned the pages of the article for those who want to read it, to read. 

So, here it is!

(via evelyn-gloria)

2PM

nobodyherebutusdustbunnies replied to your post “Life- [[MOR]Two weeks since titration study. No CPAP yet. *sigh* …”

Wow, I really hope you can get some good sleep soon, if not a fix for you apnea. I know I’m a horribly angry zombie when sleep deprived, it’s not fun :/

Thanks. <3 I actually had a decent four hour cycle today but still, sleep deprivation really sucks. I don’t even know how I get through my days sometimes.

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