James Tiberius “sunk all his points into improvised weaponry and bluff” Kirk, space bard.
Commander “charisma is a dump stat” Spock, space wizard
Lieutenant “wait, can we use supplemental materials for this?” Sulu, space duelist
Lieutenant Nyota“lockpick and detect trap are literally always useful skills guys come on” Uhura, space theif
Lieutenant Commander Montgomery “definitely going to blow the party up with that flask of Greek fire” Scott, space alchemist.
Ensign Pavel “Does not know how to tank” Chekov, Barbarian
And finally, to round out the party, Leonard “I can’t believe not a single one of you motherfuckers took a single rank in healing, I should pick rogue just to spite you,” McCoy, space cleric.
don’t have anything in common with me anymore, and are bored by the things i post
feel obligated by whatever personal reason you may have to keep following me, even if literally any of those above things apply
this applies to mutuals as well. your dash should be your happy place, so no hard feelings and i wish you the best in life
I’m adding here that I don’t actually check my followers list ever - I only ever check the number if I’ve had a rash of new follows - so if you’ve got any anxiety about offending me, don’t worry, because I literally won’t see. Your dash is your safe and happy spot, and if my content doesn’t jive with what you want to see…that’s fine with me.
sometimes u go on google searching for a reference image and you just find something that is totally not what you are looking for but is better than anything u could have ever dreamed
Can you say more about why you consider Erik to be broken/a monster?
Yes I can. Now, first and foremost: I really like the character of Erik Lensherr/Magneto/Max Eisenhardt/Magnus/other stuff (I’m going to go with Erik since that’s the name he usually uses), I’ve really liked his character in a writerly ‘look how interesting this shit is’ since I was a tiny wee critter who had mostly only read the weird 60′s comics with the ridiculous costumes and over-the-top dialog and batshit plotlines. I was raised Jewish until I converted and part of my family is Romani, so the Holocaust-survivor-decides-he’s-done-with-humanity thing rang pretty true because I was raised to have immense respect and grief for the event in question. So…like…none of this reflects on that, and in fact I’d say most of this is why I like his character so much. Also I’m a comics nerd at heart, so this may be pretty hit/miss on movie canon.
All right, so, here’s the thing about Erik as a truly broken person. Ever since I was little, Magneto struck me as a deeply, thoroughly traumatized individual, which, obviously, is true. He survived the Holocaust as a child, which…like, that is enough to really fuck someone up, on a permanent and severe level. In addition to the prejudice and prosecution related to his Jewish faith/heritage (have I covered my aggravation with the movies not dealing with that? it’s real), he’s been dealt a pretty awful hand on the subject of being a mutant, and been persecuted for that up to and including the murder of his wife and daughter. So…like…he is a seriously traumatized person, it’s just totally beyond debate. He has been treated as inhuman, as less than human, for almost his entire life–is it any wonder that he started making the declaration himself that he’s not human? (Let’s be real, the division between ‘homo sapiens’ and ‘homo superior’ is almost certainly a lot blurrier than Erik makes it out to be.) I’d say no, it’s actually pretty textbook psychology, it’s real, that’s part of the reason he’s such a compelling character.
And the other thing about Erik is that he’s scared. He is clearly terrified of humanity, no matter how much he might grandstand about how superior he is and how tiny they are to him. He is an animal in a trap, that’s how he sees himself, and he reacts like one. He lashes out, he tries to hurt humanity before they can hurt him. I’m of the opinion that quite a few supervillains exist out of terror, but Magneto is probably the best example I’ve ever encountered.
Like, is his trauma and terror at all an excuse for the shit he pulls? No. It’s a cool motive, but he still makes regular and alarmingly effective attempts at mass murder. People break, it’s what we do, and what dictates who we are is where we go from there, how we deal with the experience of being broken. And that’s where Erik gets really interesting.
Because listen, just. Listen. Hear me out here.
Erik Lensherr is not good at being a villain and I will tell you why. I don’t mean that as “poor misunderstood baby just doesn’t know how to deal” or anything, like, look, Magneto has tried to commit genocide more than once, I have no illusions. I like his character, but…um, he knows what he’s doing. When I say he’s not good at being a villain, I mean exactly that. Monstrous, yes, Magneto is excellent at being monstrous, anyone who has a reputation for indiscriminate murder is a monster. Cruel, dangerous, antagonistic–yeah.
But when Magneto believes he’s killed a mutant child, Kitty Pyde, with his own hands, he unravels spectacularly. She’s an X-Man who was trying to stop him, who has shown readiness to die or kill him if it’s necessary to save lives and protect her teammates, and let me tell you something: someone who was good at being a villain would have dropped her body and carried on with his rampage. There are plenty of excellent villains who face the X-Men, whether because they’re too far gone to have a conscience (Dark Phoenix arc) or because they never had one to begin with (Apocalypse arc) or because they’re aliens (like…this is a theme), and they move right the fuck on from killing people. But Erik sends a massive jolt of electricity through Kitty and believes he’s killed her–a thirteen-year-old girl, not much older than his daughter, who was trying to save her friends–and he comes fucking unglued. Like. Storm finds him holding Kitty and crying. That…that’s not the act of a villain.
Another good example would be the fact that, more than once, Erik has been presented with a golden opportunity to just…do nothing and let Charles Xavier die. Like, he would be completely able to say “Sorry, I have to go grocery shopping” (presumably he has to go grocery shopping) and not have to lift a finger to have Charles, the primary hindrance to his plans, out of his hair. And yet he doesn’t. Erik is a deeply, deeply fucked up man, and sincerely monstrous (see previous re: attempted genocide), but he needs a Villainy for Dummies book. I’m sure the Marvel multiverse has a few going cheap.
Aaaaand yeah. Those are my feelings about Erik Lensherr/Magneto as a villain, as a monster, and as a man.
Ghostbusters made $46 million on their opening weekend.
You know who else made $46 million opening weekend? Jurassic Park.
Women aren’t the problem. They’re the solution.
keep reblogging this, straight white men can’t accept the fact an all-female cast of comedians made a successful movie
You may like the movie but do no not come here and lie to me that this movie was a financial it. Because as far as I’m concerned. It wasn’t.
Like many in our country, you seem to have an aversion to math. Luckily, I’m a producer. So let me explain something to you.
The new Ghostbusters cost $144 million to make. That was their budget. (It was actually green-lit for $154 million, but they came in under budget – always good for a studio whose concern is upfront costs, especially Sony who is trying to slash the cost of new films, and especially good for the viability of getting a sequel or franchise made. Wink wink.)
For it to be a financial hit, it would have to not just make all that money back, but go into profit. Simple enough principle.
As of August 2, Ghostbusters has grossed $109.6 million in America, and $51.7 million in other territories.
109.6 million + 51.7 million = a worldwide total of $161.3 million.
They made their money back. They’ve gone into profit. It’s a hit. Not a colossal hit, but a hit. (And this is without video on demand, streaming, DVD or Blu-Ray sales, and other options factored in, which will only keep the profits rolling.) It took them less than a month to get there, and on top of that, they came in so hot from the start that there will likely be a new franchise built from it.
And even if the initial post is totally wrong about its figures, as many of the notes point out, its basic point is still intact: it was a hit, on a par with many classic movie blockbusters like Jurassic Park.
I will close with what has frequently become my catchphrase on Facebook in the current political climate: “You don’t have to like it. You just have to DEAL WITH IT.”
I tried to argue that Ophelia resonated because Shakespeare had made an extraordinary discovery in writing her, though I had trouble articulating the nature of that discovery. I didn’t want to admit that it could be something as simple as recognizing that emotionally unstable teenage girls are human beings. …
When Ophelia appears onstage in Act IV, scene V, singing little songs and handing out imaginary flowers, she temporarily upsets the entire power dynamic of the Elsinore court. When I picture that scene, I always imagine Gertrude, Claudius, Laertes, and Horatio sharing a stunned look, all of them thinking the same thing: “We fucked up. We fucked up bad.” It might be the only moment of group self-awareness in the whole play. Not even the grossest old Victorian dinosaur of a critic tries to pretend that Ophelia is making a big deal out of nothing. Her madness and death is plainly the direct result of the alternating tyranny and neglect of the men in her life. She’s proof that adolescent girls don’t just go out of their minds for the fun of it. They’re driven there by people in their lives who should have known better.
reblog if you’ve ever written a fanfic just to spite the existence of another fanfic somebody else wrote
Funny story. Robin McKinley once wrote an entire book like that. Her novel was The Blue Sword, and it was in response to the horror that is The Sheik by Edith Hull (trigger warnings for rape, stockholm syndrome, and virulent racism). McKinley stated that it took her about 6 months to draft The Blue Sword, which was at that point the fastest she had ever written a novel.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you that fury can’t sustain you through a giant artistic fuck you.
I have heard that “Lord of the Flies” was written in response to a book with some English public school boys getting stranded and having just a jolly very civilized time. I feel much better about that book knowing it’s supposed to be not a indictment of human nature but a commentary on English public school boys.
That book was The Coral Island, FWIW. It’s basically about rich English boys getting stranded on an island and having a jolly good time while fending off cannibalism and rape from “savages”. William Golding read the book repeatedly as a boy, but disagreed with it as an adult, and apparently stated that the Lord of the Flies grew out of the “rotted compost” of his memories of the text.
The other things The Coral Island inspired were Peter Pan and Treasure Island, which just goes to show sometimes the fanfic outlives the original.
you don’t even need any factual backup to headcanon a character as autistic tbh. they don’t need to have whatever you consider to be “common autistic traits”. if an autistic person wants to headcanon a character as autistic because they identify with that character, or because it makes them feel good, or for whatever reason, let them.
I’ve seen allistic people reblogging this post and that actually makes me really happy. thank you for listening to autistic voices stay tolerant and stay lovely
Ghostbusters feels like a love letter written to all the girls out there who wondered why Arwen couldn’t go to Mordor, who cheered when Éowyn pulled off that helmet. It’s a love letter to all of us who gaped as Claire Dearing ran in heels through the entirety of Jurassic World, imagining the blood pumping out of her feet as she did. It’s a love letter to those of us who watched with raised eyebrows as Gamora’s fighting skills in Guardians of the Galaxy seemed to fluctuate depending on how good they wanted Peter Quill to look. It’s a love letter to we who watched The Avengers and asked why on earth Black Widow was wearing wedges. It’s a love letter to fans who watch bitterly as Jupiter Ascending is called plotless nonsense, while Kingsman is “boyish fun” and getting a sequel. This movie is a love letter to all of us who watched and wished we could see ourselves as the point man, the wise guy, the demolitions expert, anything but the goddamn lone squadette who inevitably ends up making out with the lead male even though they spent the movie sniping at each other.
In a shocking turn of events which surprises exactly no one, I have Feelings About Ghostbusters.
It was pretty great watching girls make raunchy jokes and kick ass while not looking like walking advertisements for their own cootches, while having a hot boy secretary in need of rescuing who’s only there to be eye-candy. Thank you, people who made this movie. It was everything I didn’t know I wanted.
Plus, AMEN about Jupiter Ascending vs. Kingsman. That is ON POINT.
This is pretty much my feelings about everything. (Also: HOLTZMANNNNN)
It’s a love letter to fans who watch bitterly as Jupiter Ascending is called plotless nonsense, while Kingsman is “boyish fun” and getting a sequel.
Person without ADHD:
I know ADHD is not a real disorder because I read an edgy article about it online. The only symptoms of ADHD are hyperactivity, distractability, and forgetfulness, which everyone deals with.
Me:
*constant pacing and bouncing, no concept of time, often forgets to eat and sleep, poor impulse control, loses everything, has panic attacks because of sensory overload, unpredictable mood swings, strong urge to touch everything I see, forgets topic of conversation mid-sentence, gets so invested in trivial things that I literally cannot hear people talking to me, sometimes physically cannot stop talking, etc*
Same person:
WHAT THE FCUK IS WRONG WITH YOU
Me:
I have ADHD
Same person:
..about it online. The only symptoms of ADHD are hyperactivity, distractability, and forgetfulness, which everyone deals with.
I know many of you artists - whether you draw, write, or compose - are frustrated that your original work, especially your dream projects, aren’t getting the responses you were hoping for.
I feel the same way.
But some of you express your frustrations completely destructively and blame the world for not giving you the spotlight.
When you do that, you’re blaming your problems for existing rather than adjusting and compromising to solve them. You’re making excuses for your mistakes. You’re demanding the world to change but you are not willing to change with it.
This is the perfect mindset to NEVER succeed in anything, ever.
You need to accept some basic truths of art before you can go any further:
Your art should teach you as much as or more than it teaches others: If you claim your art opens horizons and widens minds, yours should be the first priority. You cannot speak without listening. You are not a righteous prophet enlightening the heathens with the true word. You are one humble person and your art is one humble person’s story.
There are no new stories, but there are always new storytellers. That amazing idea you have that nobody’s ever thought of before? Someone has. But nobody has told the story your way, or drawn the character your way, or sung the song your way. Art is not about being new. It is about being you.
Popular art is all about the beholder. All these shows and games with so much fan art? They got to that level because they command a personal investment from and serve the viewer - they have worlds their fans want to be part of, and your canon will be swept aside along the way. You the artist are not a god or a wise sage. You are a guide and a footman. To be an artist is to be humanity’s servant, not its lord - and there’s no shame in that.
Most of your fans are not artists or art critics. While there will be a good number of them in your fanbase, the vast majority are not going to be super-open-minded creative thinkers who value every single opinion, outlook, and story just because it’s done technically well. They will be ordinary people with ordinary, selfish interests, and they will care about your content more than your talent. You have to balance what you want to draw with what everyone wants to see.
But the most important part of being an artist or really a person at all is to understand this:
Nobody owes you success.
Nobody is under any obligation to pay anything you produce a second glance or support or promote it in any way.
Nobody is spiting or robbing you by not giving you a like or a reblog or a follow.
Every single gesture of appreciation you receive from someone is a courtesy - a gift that you earn, not a right you’re entitled to.
It is not the job of your audience to love your work. It is your job to make it lovable. And just because you are working really hard does not mean you are working in the right direction.
I know that thousands upon thousands of artists put hours or months or years into a project and feel like they get nothing in return. Sometimes it is not how hard you’re working but what you’re working for that is the problem.
Sometimes you need to slow down and think, “Do I have to have this just so? What would the kind of person interested in my work be looking for, and where can I address it? Am I maybe taking myself and my work a little too seriously?”
And a lot of artists don’t realize that as an amateur, you are the sole proprietor - you are your art. Whether people like you determines whether they like your art.
And that’s why when you blame everybody else and post ungrateful, catty garbage like this:
… you don’t subsequently become the next Toby Fox.
The simple fact is that people will pay you attention if they think your offering + your hassle are worth their attention.
You need to create a world that someone other than you will have fun in and you need to be a good host to everyone who visits.
You need a world that will welcome your fans with open arms.
You need to build a world people can live & play in.
And you and your world need to appreciate your fans just for showing up.
Because this is exactly what the big fish do.
because they spread your work around to more people without shanking you on credit and who gets the likes
because they make your work show up sooner & more often on searches and are simply a nice gesture
because they take time out and pay good money to listen to your story and make you from a pauper into a prince
because if you appreciate no one, no one will appreciate you, nor should they
This resonates with me in a big way. I used to get really fucked up when I spent 10 hours on something and a dumbass sketch I did in 15 minutes outstripped it in exposure but… you know what I grew up… that’s cool
I appreciate the likes
I appreciate the reblogs
I appreciate you just hanging out here with me having a cool time
Like, do I sometimes wish that my original writing got more attention? Sure, everyone does. But like, shit, I got 200 notes on a Star Trek AU, those are still people liking my writing, it’s fine if my original stuff gets six notes, I appreciate all of y’all who leave me nice comments in the tags and shit.
What about a Star Trek AU, but with Les Mis characters
Aaaaaay, hell yeah, I fucking live for Star Trek AU’s.
All right, so I’m
going to take this to mean that one AU where the fair ship Revolution is out on her five-year mission under the command of Captain
Lamarque, a steely-eyed woman with a reputation for even-handed care of her crew
whether they support her or not. Her
first officer, Commander Enjolras is a communications specialist, beyond his
command training, and everyone who knew him before his commission jokes that he
chose it because he always wore bright red anyway. Those jokes are mostly made by his two
closest friends from the Academy, both of whom went out of their way to get
assigned to the same ship—Combeferre, the youngest out of the three doctors on
board (and half-Betazoid who will cut you
if you ask about his species’ “sensuous nature”), and Courfeyrac, the ship’s
counselor (technically a non-com, but still part of the crew).
when i was a freshman in college i was so nervous about the first day of school and i got to all of my classes half an hour early but now it’s my first day as a senior and i didn’t know when my first class was until an hour after i got to campus and i also wore my shirt inside out all day without noticing and i think that says a lot about the person college has made me
Just wait until grad school. I’ve showed up at the library still drunk and still in my pajamas like at least twice this year.
okay so i think i’ve told you guys this before but my coworker is a lesbian ex nun and for some reason i never asked how she met her wife but today is one of my last days so i asked her and holy shit you guys it’s like a fanfic they met in the convent and decided to escape together im screaming
okay sorry for the wait we were gushing about our fun home tickets like gay nerds but okay so they were ROOMMATES IN THE CONVENT!! what kind of fanfic shit… but anyway so it’s like a dorm room and a curtain is down the middle that separates the roommates from each other. and also i guess in the convent once you’re in your room you’re not allowed to talk? so they would pass each other notes under the curtain and like when lights-out happened at night and the head nun lady went to bed they would sit at the curtain with a spiral notebook and have conversations by just passing the notebook back and forth. so they did this for a few months but they were miserable in the convent and decided that enough is enough so they ran away together and my coworker’s now-wife like left first and then my coworker waited a day and snuck out and they met up at the closest gas station and then a month later they moved in together and they’ve been together ever since like 22 years and honestly if there is a better example of ‘it gets better’ idk what it is
“if you want to adopt kids at an older age, that’s just lazy and you’ll miss the important developmental years. you won’t be able to connect.” okay but consider this:
1. I will not be able to handle a baby, but I will definitely be able to manage and guide an older child
2. no diapers. hallelujah
3. As a foster child gets older, their chance of adoption plummets. Adopting an older child gives a late break to someone who would have otherwise had to age out of the system
4. my plans for adoption are none of your concern
Holy shit people actually say that? Inviting a kid in need to be part of your family is ‘lazy’?
Being there for the ‘developmental years’ is so important not having it is a dealbreaker?
‘You won’t be able to connect’ with another human being unless you’re there for their formative years, imprinting on them?
…people who make that argument should probably do a LOT of soulsearching before they consider getting a toy baby adopting a younger child.
I had a sociology professor once and both he and his wife were registered social workers (in addition to him teaching), and after a couple of years married, they started talking about adopting a child. They’d seen the system up close, they knew how hard it was for some kids to get adopted. So when they sat down to start the fostering process, they told the agency to give them their toughest, most difficult case. If anyone could handle a kid who’d been labeled a “problem child”, it was these two people.
The agency paired them up with a 12 year old girl – the oldest they had, far, far too old to be considered for adoption typically. This girl’s birth parents had had drug problems, she’d been in and out of a couple dozen foster homes, no one able to handle her, she ran away frequently and had diagnosed behavioral problems, she was surly and defiant. When she first met them, she was clammed up tight, snarky, unwilling to trust them or anyone – and really, who could blame her?
But these two adults poured every bit of their compassion and training into this one child, into getting to know her, earning her trust by listening to her and treating her like a person who mattered. And slowly, slowly, she came around. Slowly, they built a relationship with her, and she came out of her shell. It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but having these two adults who were utterly unwilling to give up on her, or see her as the problem, let them work through each issue as it arose, and slowly they started to see this other side of her personality emerge. She joked around, she grinned often, she got excited about sports games and yelled at the tv with her foster father, she was making friends at her new school and doing better in her studies.
One day they sat her down and told her they loved her and they wanted her to legally, officially be part of their family. But they thought she deserved a say, too. If she just wanted to be fostered for the next five, six years, they could do that too. But they wanted to adopt her, they wanted to keep her for always. Did she want them? Yes, she said. Yes, I want to keep you, too.
My professor came into class one day with a grin that just would not go away, bouncing on his toes. We all wanted to know what was up. The adoption was finalized today, he told us. Today I have a daughter! And he showed us pictures of his brand new 12 year old daughter hugged between he and his wife, the three of them grinning at the camera. I’ve been her dad for awhile, he told us, but today it’s official, today we’re finally really a family.
I heard that story in the spring of 2001, when I was 20. This girl just 8 years younger than me, the age of my younger siblings, this girl who everyone had given up on. But these two people, they knew they had enough love and training to handle whatever was thrown their way, these people stayed true to the commitment of being parents, didn’t give up when the going got tough, proved slowly and methodically that they loved her, that she could trust them.
That girl must be in her late 20s now. She’s had parents for more than a decade and a half. She hasn’t had to face this scary century alone. She has parents who went with her to her freshman orientation for college, I’m certain of it. If she’s gotten married, I know her father walked her down the aisle, that same grin splitting his face, the same grin as when he announced that he had a daughter, the same grin he wore every time he talked about her. If she’s had kids, her kids have the best grandparents.
They are a family of choice built on commitment and trust and love. You can’t tell me that isn’t bonding, you cannot tell me that it’s lazy, that that was somehow easier or less worthwhile than diapers.
It’s the sixth grade. Somehow, I had come across a catalogue for the store they bought all the school store crap from. You know, the smelly erasers and dumb keychains that they sell for like a buck apiece. So I somehow got this catalogue, and little old entrepreneur me was like “I should buy something from this and sell it at school for an absurdly high price to gain basically pure profit.” As sixth graders do. So I bought two huge tubs full of these keychains called Jellybears. This is what they look like.
So I bought a metric fuckton of these assholes for about 20 cents a piece. I start selling them at school for a buck fifty. Like I said, pure profit. 6th grade me was brilliant. I broke even in like eight seconds of me whippin these bad boys out at school. Saying these are were a hit is an understatement. They were like a home run triple, or some other sports metaphor. People are buying this shit at lunch time, between classes. Shit, one girl even admitted to selling the ones she bought off me around her neighborhood for like five bucks. I was happy to be the middleman, but I digress. The point is, not only did I gain entrepreneurial skills, I also made a pretty penny. However, a month into my brilliant business, I get a call down to the office.
I had never been called to the office before. I was such a goody two-shoes you wouldn’t believe. This was in a school that boasted like two fights per week. The ratio of cops and administrators to students was like 1:3. And there were 1700 people at this school. That’s a whole lot of authority figures for a whole lot of miscreants and ne’er-do-wells. And here I was, reading large pretentious books and wearing polo shirts, with a gigantic backpack and in an advanced math class. I was, and still am, a lame weeny. Just wanted to put that in perspective.
Anyway, I was called down to the office that day. Literally shaking in the huge chair they had for me, facing down the terrifying vice-principal, she pulled out a Jellybear.
It was the DIVA one, if I’m not mistaken. I was then given a good lecture about how I’m not allowed to sell things on campus without explicit permission, yadda yadda, the whole spiel. Except I felt there was something fishy about the whole thing. Maybe it was how she held the Jellybear in her hand, perhaps it was the way she confiscated the rest of them.
After asking around with the intense gossip network of middle school, I discovered the real reason the administration confiscated the Jellybears.
They had reason to suspect I was filling them with vodka.
They had reason to suspect that I, the tiny, stupid haired, braces-clad sixth grader who played a tuba bigger than she was was the head of a sophisticated alcohol distributing cartel in which I punctured and drained the goop from cute keychains, refilled them with straight vodka with a syringe, sealed them off with no trace, and sold them around school.
I’m not sure if I’m flattered that they assumed me capable of that sort of espionage, or insulted that they thought me dumb enough to sell middle schoolers straight vodka for A BUCK FIFTY.
really who did they think i was i was in advanced math for petes sake.
people talkin like “I thought this was supposed to be the future where are my flying cars”
yall do know that surgeons recently 3D printed a new skull for a woman and that we have machines who learn and recognize themselves in mirrors and recently we found a galaxy that SHOULDN’T EXIST
like
fuck flying cars, guys
forreal tho, people barely seem to use their turn signals or give way at intersections. can you imagine that shit in the goddamn sky? the human race would be extinct in a month.
harley being with a man, a black man, is not oppressing anybody, it does not erase her being bi/pan, it does not erase her relationship with ivy (who was not even in suicide squad;the 2016 movie) you having a problem with people shipping her with a black man,
when there’s clear build up to a romantic thing between them in the movie,
is you trying to erase him, not us erasing her attraction to multiple genders.
also, as a white LGBT person i’m telling other white LGBT people this: don’t forget that interracial couples are just as important for representation as LGBT ones. even the ones that aren’t LGBT. it may not be benefiting us specifically, but it’s benefiting someone, it’s making someone feel like they matter, like their love is important and not out of the ordinary, and we need to not only respect that, but endorse it.
on one hand i hate this site and the “culture” of it so much but on the other hand no other site lets me amass all my bizarre interests in one place then stream them straight to my skull at a speed that breaks the sound barrier.
those people who sit with you and help you rationalize all your negative thoughts and never yell or get tired and just stay with you until you feel less sad are the real angels of this world omg
the best part about stranger things is that they can’t solve anything until they put the three groups together because each group is acting within a separate genre
mike, lucas, dustin, and el are in a weird sci-fi coming of age story where the group of plucky misfit kids solve the mystery and test their friendship along the way
nancy and jonathan are in a horror movie where the teenagers have to kill the monster set against a backdrop of high school drama and romance
joyce and hopper are in a conspiracy thriller where the adults have to figure out what shady stuff the government is up to while also dealing with the difficulties of their personal lives
they all approach the issue within the confines of their genre, but none of those approaches work because none of them are seeing the whole picture. it’s only when all the threads start to converge that they can actually get anything done.
goonies/E.T., nightmare on elm street, and close encounters of the third kind all in 1
RIGHT,
so I got Third Eye by Florence + the Machine (also I super love this meme and
more people should do it.) I ain’t even a little sorry. Canon era, motherfuckers, because I can.
Grantaire was arguing
with him again. Most of Enjolras’ mind
was occupied with ripping down the other man’s case, almost enjoying the
familiar pattern, but that quiet part at the base of his skull, the part that
had been getting louder of late, was distracted. It was discomfiting and foreign, as if he no
longer quite knew himself. It did little
to inhibit his argument—they were second nature by now, he could spare that
scrap of attention—but he was bothered by its persistence. Just when Enjolras believed he had shaken off
the strange abstraction, Grantaire would tip his head back and laugh at something
Joly had said, his wild curls falling back from the line of his throat, and it
would return with a vengeance.
He’s
brilliant, the
quiet voice noted now. It was true,
something Enjolras had noticed before.
For all that he dulled its edge with wine and other, stronger spirits,
Grantaire’s mind was as keen as the edge of broken glass, quick and incisive,
and he soaked up information as effortlessly as he did liquor. Grantaire claimed to know nothing—nothing but love and liberty, he had
said—but he could hold his ground against Enjolras, and quote Greek and Roman
writings without so much as a pause to recall.
He spoke rapidly, as if the thoughts piled up behind his tongue and
pressed to be first through his lips, and was prone to winding, tangential
thinking, but his points were good and clear and glittering.
