(no subject)

There's a tweet going around twitter at the moment: RT if you want Stephen Fry to come back to twitter.

For those not in the know, Stephen Fry came out with some quite ridiculously ignorant misogynist comments and then blew them off as 'humorous' and 'misquoted' before dramatically flouncing off twitter when people took him to task over it. Not the best way of dealing with things.

The problem with being Stephen Fry, of course, is that he's white and male and rich and educated, plus a well-loved celebrity to boot; he's also gay, and in that respect hasn't had it as easy as many, but the intersection of all those privileges in all likelihood means that he's really not used to being told he's wrong, very often. He rather makes a career out of not being so. So I understand that hundreds if not thousands if not millions of tweets suddenly pointing out that he'd made a bit of a tit of himself might have been rather jarring, but the way that he dealt with it was graceless.

So yeah, what probably started off as a helpful note that his shoe was untied turned quickly into mockery and disappointment and possibly even anger that he'd never learned to tie his shoes properly, but that's the internet for you. When he fell publicly on his face and then got angry and blotchy and huffed off... well. Frankly he's nothing to do with me. I'd give him a brusque dusting off, certainly, but I'm not kissing it better and no way am I begging him to come back and play.

(no subject)

LMAO nearly twelve hours since my last post and I don't even have to skip 10 on my flist. You can really tell Nano's started.

(no subject)

NO. And a big FUCK YOU to all the things that are grinding me down right now. I CAN DO THIS, even when it's hard as hell and the paperwork requires crampons and everything I own hurts. I fucking can.

(no subject)

Oh my GOD I just worked up a sweat doing something I ENJOYED. It says way too much about my life that that may have been the first time, right?

♥Just Dance♥

100 words

“Happily ever after is claptrap anyway,” said Aziraphale, placing the rejected Grimm’s back on the shelf. “I realise it’s the height of irony my saying it, so you needn’t comment, Crowley,” (Crowley endeavoured to look just as innocent as a man in snakeskin shoes can look, which is to say, not really at all), “but the prospect of eternal happiness is at best monotonous and at worst – at worst it’s itchy.”

“Itchy?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

It was astonishing how well Crowley’s chin fit just exactly against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Ever after, though?” he said.