Against Me! singer Laura Jane Grace says ‘Transgender Dysphoria Blues’ is self-explanatory | Star Tribune

Against Me! singer Laura Jane Grace says ‘Transgender Dysphoria Blues’ is self-explanatory | Star Tribune: “”

(Via. StarTribune)

Book News: U.K. Campaign Wants To Slay Pretty Princesses, Valiant Knights : The Two-Way : NPR

Book News: U.K. Campaign Wants To Slay Pretty Princesses, Valiant Knights : The Two-Way : NPR: “”

(Via NPR.)

Personally I think the headline here is a little melodramatic. The main point of the story is trying to change the way books are being marketed to children, not to do away with Princesses or Knights, valiant or otherwise.

Bella 3 (Continued)

There was nothing, just the glimmering static of eyes focused on nothing, the faintest of light. A spark so easily missed if you weren’t expecting it. Expect it she did, more, she insisted. Every thought a call which would not be denied.

 

From within the darkness filling the space before her, which, in some way stretched far beyond; there came an answer. A whirling dervish of thought and sound. A surging call of recognition, welcome, and happiness which was enough to take her breath away. 

It was a single mote, a tiny piece of crystalline perfection, dancing in the air before her. She couldn’t help but smile at the querying note it sang, tinged as it was with playful accusation. 

“No, dear one, I never forgot about you; I promise.” Bella held out her hand and allowed the tiny creature to tickle the skin of her palm. “How could think so little of me?” She asked in feigned distress, her lips curving upward with each word.

Her answer was a scolding tone which spoke of a lifetime lost to misery and loneliness.

“Really? It has been but a few short months!” Her laughter was light and teasing, filling the air with bell like tinkles of crystal and glass wind chimes on a frosty December morning. The mote seemed to give a sniff of distain and wounded pride.

Relenting, Bella softened her tone and spoke her words honestly. “If I could, I would have you with me all the year long, yet such cannot be. Even this visit is but a brief respite until the world turns once more.”

Bella 3 (A Short Story)

Emerald green was her least favorite color. It brought memories of stifling heat and blinding sun. Too warm skin and air so hot it was impossible to breath.

Give her clear blues and brilliant whites. Giver her air so cold it frosted on the windows and goose bumps on her skin. Give her icy winds and clean cold snow to hold in her hand. Looking out the window was enough to bring a sweat to her brow even with the air conditioning as low as it could go.  

Low enough she could hear the unit straining from across the house, which meant it was almost time for a new one. She gave a little snort, she knew she was hard on the equipment, but really, they simply didn’t build them like they use to. The first unit her mother bought when Bella was no more than a baby in arms lasted for nearly two decades before no one had the parts to fix it any more. She still missed the oversized window unit with all if its rattles and wheezes. 

She sighed, there were something she could do, had done once in the past, though she had promised her mother to never do it again.

Still…

On the other side of the glass, Summer was in full swing, the grasses and trees vivid in the bright sun which was dimmed for but a moment by passing clouds in an otherwise spotless sky. From here Winter seemed a lifetime away, all of her friends and playmates were off frolicking elsewhere. 

Well, all but one…

She returned to the kitchen. To the gleaming perfection of the porcelain white refrigerator which dominated the small space.This too was something her mother frowned on, but had never forbidden her to do. 
She hesitated only a moment before reaching up and slowly opening the freezer door.

 
Inside it looked the same as ever, just a small box containing rack upon rack of ice trays. Cold air swirled out, a frosted river of vapor pouring out. She set her glass on the table. She needed both hands as free as her mind.

Turning again she reached inside and pressed the light switch.

In the dimness she drove her vision and with it her mind, burrowing into the darkness which seemed to grow and expand with each heartbeat until it was all she could see.She barely recognized her own voice as it whispered between her lips, a tiny twist of mist and vapor wending its way along her thoughts and into the darkness.

At first there was nothing, a stillness found only in the heart of a Winter’s night, then faintly, distantly, came a response.