omg there’s a dog in my yard this is the best day ever
hello fuzzy baby friendNOT A DOG
NOT A DOG
BEAR
ABORT ABORT ABORT
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
You don’t have to be grateful that it isn’t worse.
read that.
read it again, and again, and again.
somebody, somewhere, always has it worse than you. there is one person on this planet that has it the worst of all, and that person is NOT the only person allowed to be unhappy with their lot.
if things are bad for you, they are bad for you. period.
(via clockwork-mockingbird)
As a public service to anyone offended by the Harriet Tubman $20 bills, I am willing to accept your unwanted $20 bills, and I will ensure that they are properly disposed of. This offer is open indefinitely, and any amount of $20 bills will be accepted. Thank you.
(via clockwork-mockingbird)
I’m taking that creative writing class and I just. Okay. Guys. Explain me a thing. WHY have I read two stories in this past semester about rape? I mean, I guess the one was more about abuse followed by murder (see my rant here), but still, Christ. Honestly I’m going to meet with the teacher about the most recent one, which I’m supposed to critique for Thursday, and just be like, “I fucking cannot do this. I am not objective enough to say shit about this girl’s writing. This is pages upon pages of a girl who witnessed the rape of someone she considered a friend and did nothing, and I have spent way too much time on the wrong side of that equation to be objective here.“ I just. Do not understand why rape is the thing. Like, guys, it’s not like it’s edgy and cool, okay, I promise, people have been hideous to each other since fucking Ur was nothing but a twinkle in the eye of some random ape. They’re not treating it as a very deep trauma and dealing with the fallout and handling it with as much care and compassion as possible, it’s not even fucking productive, it’s just annoying, Christ, fucking STOP.
Also, I honestly don’t care if it makes me a cultural heathen, I don’t like weird abstract writing that’s intended to ‘push the boundaries of what we think of as prose.’ Like, no. It’s not a failing on my part if I want to read fantasy novels with, oh, I don’t know, plot and characters and literally anything other than obsessive navel gazing. The next time I have to read the literary equivalent of that very famous piece of modern art that’s literally just a piece of plywood painted uniformly blue, I am going to scream.
FUCKING UPDATE.
So I got out of responding to the rape story, but I still had to go to class so that I could respond to the OTHER story we read (see above re: fucking abstractist writing that I still hardcore do not like). And I was like “All right, I can live with this, I got my iPod, I got my Fall Out Boy, I got my writing, I can do this.” But I forgot that the classroom is really small and my seat is very close to the teacher, so I couldn’t, like, crank my music to the point where I couldn’t hear anyone talking and so I ended up listening to the talking. And fuck me I’m angry.
Pro tip: as a teacher at a college that specializes in taking people out of like sophomore year of high school (I dropped out and started college at 16), it is your goddamn job to express clear ethical and legal boundaries. Admitting that rape is wrong is awesome, but it is ALSO WRONG to abandon a rape victim when you have every opportunity to help them. You should not ever be talking about how well a student puts the reader into the mind of a witness and makes their decision to not help understandable.
Also, there was a lot of talking about “Well, I feel like there was some confusion about consent between the boyfriend and the girlfriend.” Let’s be clear here, folks, if I wave a knife at you and you say “Oh no, don’t stab me,” and then I stab you thirty-five times in the chest, the cops are not going to be like “Well, I feel like there was some confusion between the stabber and the stabee.” That’s not how it works. If the girlfriend says no, pushes the boyfriend away physically, and reaches out to a bystander for help, that is not ‘confusion,’ that is pretty fucking clearly not consent. Like, you know what, if you’re going to make me fucking sit through this story, you’d better at least have the stones to admit that your student turned in a story about rape and you forced the rest of the class to read it.
I’ve reached this point of universally being furious with everyone in my writing class. Even the people I like. Literally just existing in the class is enough to make me angry with you, by, like, transitive properties of loathing. And my teacher can fuck the entire way off and not make snide remarks about my writing anymore just because I don’t fucking turn in weird abstract rape stories.
FUCKING EDIT: Did I forget to mention that it’s actually literally illegal to do nothing to aid the victim of a rape? LOOK AT THIS. You can be charged as an accessory to literally whatever the perpetrator is charged with.
The Empire told stories about Leia Organa.
They started off simple: calling her a simple-minded fool. Leia Organa was a silly little princess throwing a tantrum over her planet being punished for its treachery. Pretty but petty, and ever so vain, Leia Organa was just a spoiled little twit spitting rage for not being given the power she wanted and having a fit over being caught at a crime.
Those stories didn’t work very well.
The repeated success of such a tiny and ragtag group of rebels proved that there were clever and cunning folk behind the Rebellion. For a silly twit, Leia Organa slipped out of too many traps, stole too much information and too many supplies, shot down too many Imperial forces, and succeeded in her command again and again.
It didn’t reflect well against the Empire that a spoiled princess kept foiling them over and over again, even if sometimes by the thinnest of hairs.
And everyone who’d ever met Leia Organa could never believe them, and Leia Organa had met many people as she negotiated and coerced more and more allies for the Rebellion, and many people before when she pretended to exist under the Empire’s rule. I met Leia Organa once, traders and governors and senators many others across the galaxy would say, and she’s nothing like they say she is.
Leia Organa is pretty and a princess, but her eyes are sharp and her words are sharper still, and she is made of kindness and cleverness and grief and rage. She has little patience for anyone who believes the Empire’s stories about her. Anyone who can look into her eyes and think her shallow must be blind to miss the death and hopes and dreams of an entire planet; there is nothing simple about any of the last children of Alderaan and everyone knows it - as deep down as the scream that echoed through the galaxy.
The Empire switches tactics - took them long enough - and calls the simple-minded fool and silly little princess a masterful illusion. She’s a lie, they say, and a liar. Leia Organa is a beautiful temptress, a demoness feeding on the chaos of war, a front for the Rebel cause, hungry for power and revenge and the deaths of all she can lure to her weak, pointless, useless cause. This princess who should have died is only a campaign strategy hiding under a pretty woman’s face.
Some stories say that Leia Organa is dead. She died with Alderaan; her silly support of the rebels killed her. What exists now is a sick, twisted figurehead invention of the Rebellion to gain support - a lying lie. A ghost, a demon, an undead enchantress and seductress who weaves pretty and terrible falsehoods and deceptions.
Leia Organa hears these rumors and instead of scoffing like she did at those that proclaimed her a brainless twit, she laughs. Then she scoffs. And then she goes back to work. The Empire can say what it wants, that won’t make it true that the Rebellion isn’t gaining ground. (It hurts when people believe the stories, but Leia’s scale for pain is fairly skewed now, against the hole where her heart used to be.)
A similar reaction goes through most of the Rebellion, those who don’t scoff with disgust burst into laughter and laugh until they cry. Oh yeah, Red Squadron agrees, wiping actual tears off their cheeks, that’s the princess, alright, seducing men left and right. Yep, there she is now, standing on a box and yelling like a howleroo in General Solo’s face again as he yells back. Hair frizzy from working all night and wearing Skywalker’s ugly yellow jacket again, that’s the true picture of temptation and enchantment.
Luke laughs so hard that he falls to the floor and can’t get up for fifteen minutes. (Anyone who so must as suggests it might be true in front of him quickly learns the true meaning of fear, but otherwise) Luke nearly dies because he keeping cracking up and almost hits his head on stuff, and Wedge has had to repeatedly drag him off to Medical to check if there’s something wrong with him.
(The tests keep coming up negative but Wedge doesn’t understand how anyone can find their own intragalatic Imperial reputation as a dangerous religious lunatic absolutely hilarious. There’s something in the sand on Tatooine, you mark Wedge’s words.)
Han Solo can’t believe what he’s hearing when he hears the rumors, and doesn’t even laugh. He teases Princess Leia about it, of course, but everybody quickly learns not to joke about it in his presence because suddenly the smuggler’s all you wanna repeat that, buddy? And nobody wants to have their arms torn off by a Wookie.
The Empire can tell all the stories it wants, it still loses in the end.
About twenty years later, the First Order tells stories about Leia Organa, and it’s the same old story all over again. (A son of Skywalker has fallen, the Jedi have fallen with stragglers scattered across the stars, someone building another giant super-weapon, and the Organas are fighting back against an Empire.) Demonize and dehumanize.
The only difference is that they acknowledge the existence of the Force again, saying she uses it to twist minds and hearts and souls, and they don’t call her beautiful anymore.
Leia Organa pretends to be a kindly old woman, but she’s really a cunning old crone. She’s a bitter old hag who can’t let go of rebellion, who wants to tear the galaxy apart because she wants everything but her wrinkled hands can’t handle it all. A small and sickly, but deadly and devious and dangerous and ugly witch.
And that’s not even getting started on what they say about Luke
Leia Organa just laughs, then scoffs. (There’s a pain in her chest, but it’s not important.) And then she gets back to work. She remembers when she used to be beautiful, you know.
(“Used to be,” Han says with loyal disdain, then insists, “Still.”)
These little men can talk all they want to prove what big boys they are, but she’s gone from a pretty-petty princess to a villainous temptress and fabrication to an old and terrible witch, and she’s still kicking.
Those stories didn’t work very well.
(At least, she thinks they didn’t. She hopes so. It hurts when people believe the stories, but Leia’s scale for pain is fairly skewed now, against the hole where her heart used to be. Oh, to think that she could find them both, in the dark and distant places they’ve gone to, and bring them home.)
They’ll prove them wrong again.
JUST FUCK ME UP.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
my boyfriend said he was gonna email me this ~fantasy~ about us, so i’m expecting a dirty email and he just sent it and it starts off with five paragraphs of worldbuilding
i swear to fucking god.
Imagine your OTP
Fuck an OTP; I would do this!
Every smut fest from you ever.
(via littlestartopaz)
When the Nazi concentration camps were liberated by the Allies, it was a time of great jubilation for the tens of thousands of people incarcerated in them. But an often forgotten fact of this time is that prisoners who happened to be wearing the pink triangle (the Nazis’ way of marking and identifying homosexuals) were forced to serve out the rest of their sentence. This was due to a part of German law simply known as “Paragraph 175” which criminalized homosexuality. The law wasn’t repealed until 1969.
This should be required learning, internationally.
You need to know this. You need to remember this. This is not something to swept under the carpet nor be forgotten.
Never. Too many have died for the way they have loved. That needs stop now.
Make it stop?
I did a report on this in my World History class my sophomore year of high school. It was incredibly unsettling.
My teacher shown the class this. Mostly everyone in the class felt uncomfortable.
I have reblogged this in the past, but it is so ironic that it comes across my dash right now. I a currently working as a docent at my city’s Holocaust Education Center (( I say currently because I’ve also done research and translation for them )) and out current exhibit is one on loan from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum ((USHMM)). This is a little known historical fact that Paragraph 175 was not repealed after the war and those convicted under Nazi laws as a danger to society because they were gay were not released because they had be convicted in a court of law. There was no liberation or justice for them as they weren’t considered criminals, or even victims for that matter. They were criminals who remained persecuted and ostracized and kept on the fringes of society for decades after the war had been won. Paragraph175 wasn’t actually repealed until 1994. And it was only in May 2002, that the German parliament completed legislation to pardon all homosexuals convicted under Paragraph175 during the Nazi era. History has forgotten about these men and women — please educate yourselves so this does not happen again. Remember this history. Remember them.
(via lupinatic)
OMFG
So I’m watching this voice acting documentary on Netflix, “I Know That Voice,” and it’s really good anyway and y'all should watch it.
But they have Kevin Conroy on and they’re into a section about being recognized out in public and Conroy tells this story.
He lives in NYC apparently, and after the 9/11 attacks he helped out making meals for people (in a soup kitchen type thing, I’m gathering).
So one day one guy comes up to him and says, “You know I’m a construction worker in my day job. What do you do?”
And Conroy tells him that he does voice acting.
And the guy gets all excited, like, “I knew it! You're that Kevin Conroy, you’re Batman!”
And the guy went out into the dining area and just announced to all of the people there, “You know who’s been cooking your dinner? Batman.”
The room went completely quiet and eventually some guy at the far end of the room called out, “Bullshit! Make him prove it!”
So Kevin fucking Conroy just stood in the fucking kitchen and did the, “I am vengeance. I am the night! I am Batman!” line.
And the guy was like, “Holy shit it IS Batman!” and everyone cheered.
And the guy who originally approached Conroy came back to him to tell him, “How does it feel to be Santa Claus? 'Cause that’s what you just did.”
And that’s one of the best Batman stories I’ve ever heard.
This is the batmaniest thing to ever batman.
(via ailleee)
(via TrollX)
(via amusewithaview)
Student with 8 weeks to live wants you to share this to help save her life -
A seriously ill student has begged for help stem cell donor in the next two months after being told she will die if no match is found.
Final-year Cardiff University medical student Vithiya Alphons , from London, said she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukaemia after falling ill during a lecture.
Doctors have warned her she is facing a race against time to find a donor - something made more complicated by her Sri Lanka heritage.
Ms Alphons said: “I knew it was going to be difficult because there aren’t many people from South Asian backgrounds who are signed up as donors.
@muttonrolls i think you have a bunch of sri lankan followers (?) if you don’t mind sharing
Yeah I’ve actually posted about this!!! Thank you though I’ll reblog this so more people can see it :-)
(via ailleee)