brooklyn nine nine is over rated, and yes I have seen it
oh cool. Which bit is overrated?
Is it the two female Latina women who are completely different character yet love and support one another? Amy who is going to be the youngest captain ever and who is so Type A but isn’t a killjoy? The person who would do anything for anyone?
It’s not Rosa. The Toughest and most independent person. Who wears black always but has a heart of motherfucking gold? Who is the complete opposite to most people but holds onto their friendship fiercely?
Or is it the male white Jewish man who calls out sexism, racism and “cool motive still murder?
Is it Terry? The black man who is family orientated, care about his girls and his wife more then his own life? Who enjoys yogurt and farmers markets and going to the gym?
Is it Gina? The woman who prides herself on being unique and independent? who is smarter then..well all the people in the precinct and doesn’t care? Just does her and helps her friends?
Don’t tell me it’s Charles? The softest of them all. The one whose been hurt so many times but keeps believing in love?
Ya know, it’s gotta be Holt. The openly gay Captain who is a great detective and has battled a life of being ostracised and left out only to find his home in the 99 and still maintain respect. Who is in love with his partner but is open about the challenges they face? Who protects his staff/family over himself? who is known to be a brilliant detective?
Are they overrated?Is it them? Or is it the feeling of comfort you get while watching it? The lighthearted humour that still challenges social issues? Is it the moo moo episode which challenges a modern issues like stop and frisk and racial profiling? Is it the femenist writing? Is it the friendships we all feel part of? Is it the cast? Is it the crew?
No, honestly tell me what you think is overrated because i sure as hell can’t work it out.
I feel like people are thinking that My Immortal was a genuine example of Rose Cristo’s writing when she was 15 yrs old, but the official description for her memoir that just came out confirms what I have always believed, that my immortal was a joke/trollfic, although the reason why she wrote it is something no one would have ever guessed:
A heartbreaking and wryly hopeful memoir of surviving the NYC foster care system―and how one girl’s “masterpiece of literary disaster” (io9.com) connected her to a community that could help her find her lost brother.
In the early 2000s, Rose Christo was separated from her five-year-old brother and shuttled between foster homes in Brooklyn to the Bronx and back again. Desperate to be reunited with her sibling, she traveled the five boroughs, unable to find any trace of him, as New York state’s child care agencies failed to help her time and again.
Then, with the help of one beloved foster sister, Rose created an infamous piece of Harry Potter fanfiction titled My Immortal, posting it online under the pseudonym XXXbloodyrists666XXX. The “forty-four chapters and 22,000 words of hysterical, typo-laden hyperbole” (BuzzFeed.com) went viral as the most notoriously terrible fanfic ever read by the community. For years, fans, writers, and editors researched, debated, and contested the story’s origin and its mysterious author: was this grammatically-challenged rant actually written by a suicidal Goth teenager named Tara Gilesbe living in Dubai, or was this a hoax perpetrated by a group of professional authors making fun of fanfiction?
The truth is a gripping, compelling, and surprisingly funny story of how a young girl infiltrated and used the fan fiction community to search for her brother by baiting their attention with a deliberately badly written tale, creating a ten-year mystery that garnered pop culture media attention and remained unsolved―until now.
The Redux collection of modern wooden vintage cars by Candylab
Candylab is the Brooklyn based company, that created an awesome range of modern little wooden toy cars, with the style, vibe and character of vintage muscle cars and other iconic American cars. now they created a new collection, the Redux collection. A series of four iconic American cars, that is a must in the home of everyone who has passion for vintage cars and child, or at least a strong inner-child. You can find it here on Kickstarter.
On Friday night, a new American monarch rose to power beneath a cascade of rose petals, a cracked mask and the ballads of Whitney Houston.
But she didn’t just use the glamour, comedy, acting and lip syncing prowess that fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race have come to expect from America’s Next Drag Superstar. Sasha Velour relies on brains.
When the 30-year-old queen is at home in Brooklyn, N.Y., she produces and stars in a monthly drag cabaret event called Nightgowns. She co-founded Velour, a magazine spotlighting lesser-known styles and issues in drag. She received an MFA from the Center for Cartoon Studies and studied political art as a Fulbright Scholar in Moscow.
She also considers herself an “amateur drag historian,” acknowledging there have always been different schools of drag — all competing, warring, pushing the art in new directions.
But for Velour, her style comes from simultaneously paying tribute to the queens who came before her and blocking out any voices that might try to dictate what her drag should be.
“I want to do something that is not just a pastiche of drag that’s come before, but is really authentically me,” she said. “I try to tune out all the drag that’s out there and tap into the drag that I was doing when I was a little kid — when I didn’t even know the word ‘queer’ or that gay people were out there. … Tapping into the things I’ve always loved and building a drag that honors those.”
@avengerstories - The messages you sent me after editing this part let me know that I had successfully tugged on all of the right heartstrings, so thank you for that.
Whenever an uncomplicated task arises, people say it’s as easy to accomplish as breathing. The adage always made perfect sense to you whenever you heard it. Breathing is second nature. It can be done without having to think twice and, sometimes, it feels like certain tasks are the same way.
Today, that’s not the case. Standing here across from Bucky for the first time in weeks, you find that breathing is anything but easy. The air was knocked out of your lungs as soon as you stumbled upon the note he wrote on the canvas and you haven’t yet recovered. You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe, just breathe. But it’s hard. How are you supposed to remember to inhale and exhale in a moment like this?
“Are you going to say something?” You press, once the silence of the room becomes too unbearable. Your fingers curl tightly around the canvas as you wait for Bucky to speak. “Anything?”