downfall of man

Tam Bir Başyapıt Olan 72 Film Önerisi

1- The Shawshank Redemption - Esaretin Bedeli(1994)

2- The Intouchables - Can Dostum(2011)

3- Black(2005)

4-Her(2013)

5- Mr. Nobody - Bay Hiçkimse(2009)

6- Forrest Gump(1994)

7-Saving Private Ryan - Saving Private Ryan(1998)

8-The Green Mile - Yeşil Yol(1999)

9- 3 idiots - 3 Aptal(2009)

10- Pi (1998)

11- Fight Club - Dövüş Kulübü(1999)

12- Leon: The Professional - Sevginin Gücü(1994)

13-Shutter Island - Zindan Adası (2010)

14- Life of Pi, Pi'nin Yaşamı(2012)

15- Catch Me If You Can - Sıkıysa Yakala(2002)

16-Barfi: Aşkın Dile İhtiyacı Yoktur(2012)

17-A Beautiful Mind - Akıl Oyunları(2001)

18 - My Name Is Khan - Benim Adım Khan(2010)

19-Taare Zameen Par - Her Çocuk Özeldir(2007)

20- Schindler’s List - Schindler'in Listesi(1993)

21- The Godfather - Baba (1972)

22- Pulp Fiction - Ucuz Roman(1994)

23- The Notebook - Not Defteri(2004)

24- Big Fish - Büyük Balık(2003)

25 - Stock And Two Smoking Barrels - Ateşten Kalbe, Akıldan DumanaLock(1998)

26- Trainspotting(1996)

27- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - Sil Baştan(2004)

28 - Good Will Hunting - Can Dostum(1997)

29- Django Unchained - Zincirsiz(2012)

30- Inglourious Basterds - Soysuzlar Çetesi(2009)

31- Oldboy - İhtiyar Delikanlı(2009)

32- Se7en - Yedi(1995)

33- Pride & Prejudice - Aşk ve Gurur(2005)

34- Scent of a Woman - Kadın Kokusu(1992)

35-Requiem For A Dream - Bir Rüya İçin Ağıt(2000)

36- Kal Ho Naa Ho(2003)

37- Sin City - Günah Şehri(2005)

38- Snatch - Kapışma(2000)

39- 12 Angry Men - 12 Kızgın Adam(1957)

40- Silver Linings Playbook - Umut Işığım(2012)

41- Hannibal(2001)

42- The Pursuit of Happyness - Umudunu Kaybetme(2007)

43- Rang De Basanti- Onu Sarıya Boya(2006)

44- American History X - Geçmişin Gölgesinde(1998)

45- Das Boot(1982)

46- Do Your Thing - Dil Chahta Hai(2001)

47- Blue Is the Warmest Color - La vie d'Adèle - Mavi En Sıcak Renktir(2013)

48- Despicable Me - Çılgın Hırsız (2010)

49- The Butterfly Effect - Kelebek Etkisi(2004)

50- Donnie Darko - Karanlık Yolculuk(2001)

51- Rain Man - Yağmur Adam(1998)

52- Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi- Sende Rabbimi Gördüm(2008)

53- Incendies - İçimdeki Yangın(2010)

54- Truman Show(1998)

55- The Usual Suspects - Olağan Şüpheciler(1995)

56- Perfume: The Story of a Murderer - Koku: Bir Katilin Hikayesi(2007)

57- Ted - Ayı Teddy(2012)

58- Dead Poets Society - Ölü Ozanlar Derneği(1989)

59- Shame - Utanç(2011)

60- Downfall - Çöküş(2004)

61- The Man from Earth - Dünyalı(2007)

62- My Sassy Girl - Hırçın Sevgilim(2001)

63 - Warrior - Savaşcı(2011)

64- Green Street Hooligans - Yeşil Sokak Holiganları(2005)

65- Reservoir Dogs - Rezervuar Köpekleri(1992)

66- Life Is Beautiful - Hayat Güzeldir(1997)

67 - A Separation - Bir Ayrılık (2011)

68 - Up - Yukarı Bak(2009)

69- Apocalypto - Apokalipto(2007)

70- Edward Scissorhands - Edward Makaseller(1990)

71- Love Actually - Aşk Her Yerde(2003)

72- Cinderella Man(2005)

2

Push My Buttons

harry/louis, enemies to lovers, 1.7k

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

based on this text post

In the early 1960s, the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) acquired property in a rural area outside Poolesville, Maryland. The facility that was built on this property housed several research projects, including those headed by Calhoun. It was here that his most famous experiment, the mouse universe, was created.In July 1968 four pairs of mice were introduced into the Utopian universe. The universe was a 9-foot (2.7 m) square metal pen with 54-inch-high (1.4 m) sides. Each side had four groups of four vertical, wire mesh “tunnels”. The “tunnels” gave access to nesting boxes, food hoppers, and water dispensers. There was no shortage of food or water or nesting material. There were no predators. The only adversity was the limit on space.

Initially the population grew rapidly, doubling every 55 days. The population reached 620 by day 315, after which the population growth dropped markedly. The last surviving birth was on day 600. This period between day 315 and day 600 saw a breakdown in social structure and in normal social behavior. Among the aberrations in behavior were the following: expulsion of young before weaning was complete, wounding of young, inability of dominant males to maintain the defense of their territory and females, aggressive behavior of females, passivity of non-dominant males with increased attacks on each other which were not defended against. After day 600 the social breakdown continued and the population declined toward extinction. During this period females ceased to reproduce. Their male counterparts withdrew completely, never engaging in courtship or fighting. They ate, drank, slept, and groomed themselves – all solitary pursuits. Sleek, healthy coats and an absence of scars characterized these males. They were dubbed “the beautiful ones”.

The conclusions drawn from this experiment were that when all available space is taken and all social roles filled, competition and the stresses experienced by the individuals will result in a total breakdown in complex social behaviors, ultimately resulting in the demise of the population.

Calhoun saw the fate of the population of mice as a metaphor for the potential fate of man. He characterized the social breakdown as a “second death”, with reference to the “second death” mentioned in the Biblical book of Revelation 2:11 His study has been cited by Conservative Christian writers such as Bill Perkins as a warning of the dangers of the living in an “increasingly crowded and impersonal world”.

Monthly Fic Rec June (x)

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?  

A very fluffy AU where Louis finds a lost dog that he wishes he could keep - until he meets his owner, who he wishes he could keep more. 

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process. 

Keep reading

So I think I finally pinned down my feelings on the whole “Tom Holland lipsync” thing. I knew I was put off by it, and I’ve figured out why.

Because it was mediocre. He had some choreography, sure, but the crowd was already going nuts before he got to anything noteworthy. And they sure as hell weren’t cheering for his actual lip-syncing because it was sloppy at best. 

What they were cheering for was his persona. The femme, seductive Rihanna he was putting on. And that’s what bugs me: people have given all this attention to a straight man who had the ability to perform femininity in front of an audience. It’s the same reason Jared Leto won his Oscar for playing a trans woman: it’s seen as brave for a straight man to perform femininity.

But god forbid any man, queer or not, ACTUALLY have feminine mannerisms or interests. That’s shameful, that’ll be the target of bullying, that’ll be referred to as the downfall of the American man. 

The reason why so many drag queens get up in arms about this Lipsync Battle TV show isn’t because we think we invented the concept of lipsyncing. It’s because straight men are being praised for performing femininity as a break from their privileged lives, while drag queens are reviled for performing femininity to explain, enjoy, and celebrate the femininity they always have.

Tom Holland’s performance went viral because people were amazed that a man could be transformed into something so powerfully feminine. If he were to live that femininity as himself and not a performance, he would not have the success he has now. 

You Are Worthy

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

Fandom: Marvel/Avengers

Pairing: Loki x Underweight Reader

Warning: Mentions insecurities etc. 

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @thequeenofthehobbits

Summary/Request: Requested by anon:  (½) I’ve recently found this blog and I’m speechless… You’re such a good human, the world needs more people like you to be better place, I’m serious, I don’t recall if I’ve ever saw an imagine blog where somebody’d be treating insecure skinny people seriously. Personally I’ve witnessed a lot of skinny-shaming on my own, have been called names and constantly reminded that in case of being attractive to anyone, I’d have to become more curvy and reading your requests, like the one with Natasha (2/2) or Bruce made me feel better, believe that I can feel valid even with my body type, that I’m not a taboo or a trigger… If it won’t be a trouble, could I request something too? A Loki x skinny!human!Reader scenario where she feels not enough to be such a powerful god’s partner and doesn’t think that he truly loves her and her body? Thank you so much for that and for being so wise and kind person, you’re amazing.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Any fic recs?

Yes! (Some are a bit old because I haven’t read many fics these past few days, but they’re still gold.) As usual, read the notes/tags for any warnings! Happy reading x

what this world is about by isntrio / 34k

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

Push My Buttons by KrisStylinson / 1.7k

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield  by whoknows / 20k

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

Not Quite by emma1234 / 34k

Niall gives Harry an exasperated look, nodding slowly. “Okay…so do you want to explain why we’re hiring Louis? And do you want to explain it without making any mention of his soft hair or ample buttocks?”

As Harry prepares for the premiere of his first blockbuster film, his manager encourages him to hire a bodyguard as a precautionary measure. Harry ends up making an unusual choice.

Background

My very first Gerard x reader… oh boy…

Prompt: Imagine being a background dancer in the Helena music video and catch a certain someone’s eye…

Warning: Fluff. Tons of it.


“Cut!”

I sighed, looking up from the floor I was sprawled out on.

That was the fourth run we’ve had in the last fifteen minutes and I clearly wasn’t the only dancer annoyed at this. It was hard enough to learn the moves and dance perfectly in sync with one another, but to to it in these costumes? Really?

I will admit, I did look somewhat flattering in the sleek black dress they had put me in and it was certainly cool to be working with a band that I relatively enjoyed but it didn’t make me any less desperate to just finish up this damn shot.

Suddenly Andrew, one of the other dancers, called out, “Can’t we take five?”

A chorus of agreeable murmurs came from the other dancers, myself included.

Marc, the director, wasn’t actually that bad of a guy. He knew that most of us were tired and got little sleep last night so he was fairly lenient.

“Alright… fine. Take five”

I stood up and walked back over to my chair, happy to have at least a few minutes of rest. After plopping down in the chair at the corner of the church I flattened out my dress, taking several sips from my water bottle.

Then I caught a glimpse of messy dark hair in the corner of my eye.

Looking towards the center of the room I spotted the lead singer of the band we were filming. Gerard Way.

I had listened to some of My Chemical Romance’s music once I actually landed this job. It looked fairly interesting and their album was actually pretty incredible. It wouldn’t surprise me if they got seriously popular over the next few years.

But one thing that caught my eye in person was the lead singer, Gerard.

He was, to be honest, pretty fucking hot. With his dark hair that constantly got in his deep brown eyes, it was no wonder people were attracted to him. I was not exempt from this.

Sadly I knew that the closest I would get to him would be later today while we filmed the scene of him singing with the dancers in the background. And I sure as hell would enjoy it but there was no way I could actually talk to him.

He must’ve felt eyes watching him because he turned around and for a brief moment we were staring directly towards each other. I felt my face heat up and quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in something else entirely.

He saw me… didn’t he? Shit I must look like some creepy stalker… dammit Y/N, this is why you’re single…


Who was that?

The dancer looked away from be but I couldn’t stop staring, a bit distracted by who she was. Only when Marc snapped his fingers did I spin around.

“Gerard? Are you even paying attention?” Marc huffed, crossing his arms. I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear, “Not really…” I admitted.

Frank snorted and looked at me cheekily, “Pretty girls were always your downfall, man” I rolled my eyes and tucked my hands back in my pockets, determined to actually pay attention to what Marc was saying.

The director shook his head, “Can’t you two at least try to act professional?”

Frank laughed lightly, “Sorry Marc, you were saying?”

“I said that during the next take you have to be careful not to move to much, try to stay in one place. The number the dancers are doing is a bit all over the place and we can’t have anyone getting hurt” He finished, looking at me specifically.

“So… What would happen if someone was to get hurt?” I asked. Marc uncrossed his arms and gave me one of those scary-serious-director looks. “We only have a week checked out for this place. If a dancer, let’s say… broke their foot? We would have to find a new dancers, teach them the number, and reshoot everything in six days"

I wolf whistled at his rant, “So… pretty bad”

“Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go finish up that number with the dancers. Once we’re done it’ll be the chorus scene. Don’t screw this up…” Marc muttered darkly before walking back to the center of the set.

Frank shoved me, a smile playing at his lips, “He has a point. You especially have the issue of walking everywhere during the shoot”

I raised my hands in defense, “I swear, you guys treat me like I’m seven. If Marc said that I shouldn’t move around during the take I won’t fucking move during the take”


“Alright guys, that was perfect! I’ll give you a few minutes to rest up then we’ll finish up the last scene of the day” Marc clapped, happy that we had finally managed to land the cut after a solid thirty minutes of failed attempts.

We all let out a unanimous cry of relief, wobbling to our chairs and routinely drinking almost an entire bottle of water.

Just as I was about to pull out my book and maybe breeze through a few pages before the next shoot, a voice shook me from my stupor.

“Hey there” Said a familiar, yet very unknown voice.

Turning to my right I was shocked to find none other than Gerard Way standing at my chair.

“I… Well I kinda wanted to let you know that you were pretty awesome. The dance, I mean” A feint blush tinged his cheeks and I could finally get a close look at his face.

When I noticed that he was fairly hot on screen or twenty feet away paled in comparison to the reality of the singer and I was suddenly lost for words.

“Thanks. You’re amazing too. Your voice is really… really good” I mentally kicked myself for sounding so winded and immediately thought of what to say next. Even if I would never get the chance to talk to Gerard ever again I still didn’t want to embarrass myself.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “So what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” Dammit I probably said that too fast, “And I obviously know what yours is”

He smiled and I could feel my heart melting just a little bit faster. Goddammit, it’s not fair for him to have a perfect smile. Gerard grabbed the armrest of the chair behind him and scooted it closer, taking a seat beside me.

“Y/N is a really nice name…” He sounded so incredibly awkward and I couldn’t help but want to try and strike up a normal conversation with him. If not only to deflate the thick tension between us.

Gerard shifted in his seat, “Hey, would you maybe want to-” He was cut off by Marc who was making an announcement.

“Alright guys! Last shoot of the night, line up!” I cursed my luck and wished I could’ve gotten a few more minutes with Gerard but it was sadly shortened.

“Dammit…” Gerard murmured before looking towards me one last time, “We can keep talking after the take, alright?”

I had no idea how to respond to that so I just said, “Sure” I didn’t know what he wanted form me or why he even wanted to chat with me. He didn’t look like he was playing the whole ‘I’m a rockstar so sleep with me’ card and even if he was there are tons of better catches in this crew. So what was it?


“And…Action!”

I twisted my body in the way Jim described, trying to act like I was reaching out for Helena’s coffin. It felt oddly correct in some weird way, like I was really in tune with the music playing from the boombox. Eventually I was working off of only muscle memory.

Then I was finally able to turn my body towards Gerard, who was singing the song he wrote with the band.

I was taken aback from the glances at his movements. He looked like he wasn’t even acting, or even singing. He was genuinely at this girl’s wake, pouring out his feelings to the camera. It was stunning. He was just so undeniably passionate that I forgot to move back at my que. Before I knew it Gerard had moved back towards the dancers and the heavy sole of his shoe had stomped on my hand.

I let out a scream and my other hand flew to my wrist, trying to pull the fingers from the ground.

The music still played in the background but Gerard had stopped singing, instantly springing off of my hand with an expression of fear on his face.

“Cut! CUT! Goddammit Gerard!” Marc cried from the side.

I could barely hear anything as I clutched my throbbing fingers, watery tears clouding at the corners of my eyes. I felt hands clutch my shoulders and I only now realized that they were Gerard’s.

“Hey, are you okay? Jesus, I’m so sorry…” He frantically looked down from my blistering fingers to my face and I couldn’t help but get lost inside his deep brown eyes once again.

“N-No… It’s fine, they’re fine…” In reality my fingers felt like they were on fucking fire. When Gerard was moving to his second que he was instructed to just walk back. But Gerard being as passionate as he is, had chosen to stomp down, crushing my digits.

He shook his head, looking back at the crowd of onlooking staff, “Can we get a medic here please!?”

The crew seemingly broke out of their shock, scrambling around to reverse the music and get everything set back up. In the confusion Gerard managed to look back to me and say, “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

I shakily held out my hand towards him, “M-My hand…” 

“Shit…” He whispered, taking my hand in his, carefully inspecting the reddening flesh.

By this time Marc had marched over to us, looking both angry and confused at the same time.

“What the hell was that? I thought I told you not to move!” He shouted towards Gerard, completely ignoring me.

“Actually sir… I think it-” Just as I was about to confess to being the one who forgot to move, Gerard stepped in.

“It was my fault, I know… I’ll take responsibility” He said with a knowing glance in his eye. Something that said ‘I’ve got this’

Upon his silent request I kept quiet, focusing only on the intensity of his eyes.

Marc growled, “Dammit… L/N, are you alright?” He asked, looking down at me with a slightly more sympathetic glaze in his eyes.

I nodded with clenched teeth, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Gerard, who looked really guilty about the whole thing, “I’m okay. It just hurts… We can do the shot again in five, ‘kay?”

Marc sighed, looking like he wanted to disagree with me. He obviously knew that my hand hurt and didn’t want to injure it further. But then again there was the issue of time and money and needing to get the scenes done on time. Eventually he agreed.

“Alright… fine. But we’re going to be changing up the ques so that way something like this doesn’t happen again” He said with his eyes narrowed angrily at Gerard.

He had called for some time to talk with Michael, while a medic ushered me over to a chair, Gerard not far behind.

The medic let out a hum, gently turning my fingers to get a better look at them. Finally she said, “I don’t think you’ve broken anything, thank God, but I wouldn’t recommend moving them too much”

I scoffed, “You did see the scene we’re doing, right? Hand movement is kind of required”

The medic pursed her lips, “Well perhaps you should miss this scene then”

“Not happening” I said firmly. No matter what I wanted to do this scene. I wanted to be able to look at the finished product and say that yes, I was in fact a dancer in this music video.

Gerard cleared his throat from the sideline, getting our attention.

“Maggie, can I have a minute with Y/N please?” The medic, who’s name I now know is Maggie, huffed and promptly strutted away.

Once she had gone Gerard visibly deflated, taking the seat Maggie was previously sitting in. “I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to do this” Said Gerard while he looked down at his hands. Shaking my head, I immediately cut in, “Come on, this is my fault and you know it. I was supposed to move back on time and I forgot to, plain and simple”

His guilt was replaced with confusion, raising an eyebrow towards me. “Why didn’t you move?”

At his question I began to blush, the memories before I got hurt still fresh in my mind. “I guess I was… watching you…” I said slowly, as if I had to force the words from my mouth.

“Me?” For some reason I felt incredibly uncomfortable in that moment, wishing to disappear from the conversation/

“Well… Yeah. You were really amazing, Gerard” The singer looked shocked, as if he hadn’t ever heard the compliment before.

He laughed lightly, “Thanks… Hey, would you maybe like to get a coffee later? I’ve never really had Los Angeles drinks before”

The smile returned to my face, “Never been to California?”

“Nope. I grew up in Jersey, myself” He said with a homesick grin.

“New Jersey, huh? What was that like?” I said, genuinely curious.

The dark haired singer anxiously looked at me again, “You still haven’t answered my question”

Oh right. Coffee, “Sure! I mean, just as long as you don’t accidentally spill coffee on my hand”


OKAY!!! VERY FIRST GERARD ONE SHOT COMPLETED!! WOOOO!!

But how was it? Personally it was a lot of fun to write and I can’t wait to do more for Gerard but if anybody has any other requests I’m open for ideas!

Tag List:

@livelovelike555 @beccafgs @bananakid42 @trinityjadec @caseykitten6 @kimine8 @pink-samurai-glitter @mcrxreader @gabby913 @squidgysmilkshakes

(If you want a tag then just ask)

Who Will Revere The Black Woman?

Published in the September 1966 issue of Negro Digest                                   By: Abbey Lincoln

Mark Twain said, in effect, that when a country enslaves a people, the first necessary job is to make the world feel that the people to be enslaved are subhuman. The next job is to make his fellow countrymen believe that man is inferior, and, then, the unkindest cut of all is to make that man believe himself inferior.

A good job has been done on the Black people in this country, as far as convincing them of their inferiority is concerned. The general white community has told us in a million different ways and in no uncertain terms that “God” and “nature” made a mistake when it came to the fashioning of us and ours. The whole society, having been thoroughly convinced of the stained, threatening, and evil nature of anything unfortunate enough to be, or to be referred to as, black, as an intended matter of courtesy refers to those of African extraction as “colored” or “Negro.”

The fact that “Negro” is the Spanish word for “black” is hardly understood, it would seem; or it would seem that the word “black” may be intimated or suggested, but never simply stated in good English.

Too many Negroes, if described or referred to as “black,” take it as an affront; and I was once told by a Canadian Irishman that I’d insulted him by referring to my person as a Black woman. He insisted that, in actuality, I was brown, not black; and I felt obliged to tell him he described himself as “white,” and that he wasn’t white either.

The fact that white people readily and proudly call themselves “white,” glorify all that is white, and whitewash all that is glorified, becomes unnatural and bigoted in its intent only when these same whites deny persons of African heritage who are Black the natural and inalienable right to readily and proudly call themselves “black,” glorify all that is black, and blackwash all that is glorified.

Yet, one is forced to conclude that this is not the case at all, that an astonishing proportion of the white population finds it discomforting that Blacks should dare to feel so much glory in being beautifully black. In the face of this kind of “reasoning,” the only conclusion one can logically come to is that there is something wrong with this society and its leadership. “The Man’s” opinion of God is sorry, to put it nicely, and his opinion of himself is simply vague and hazy.

Consider: Swearing his love and devotion to the Omnipotent One on the one hand, yet defying and cursing him with rank impudence on the other; using the crutch of his “inherently” base and callow nature on the one hand, and claiming his godhood on the other; worshipping a Jew as the Son of God on the one hand, yet persecuting all other Jews as enemies of God on the other; historically placing this same Jew on the African continent on the one hand, and describing him as a European in physical appearance on the other (still, one would suppose that it’s tacitly understood by all that “God” couldn’t be anything other than “white,” no matter where He was born); advocating that the Black man is made of inferior stuff on the one hand, yet defying him not to prove his superiority on the other; naming hurricanes for women on the one hand, yet H is for the heart as pure as gold on the other; giving her pet names such as “whore,” “slut,” “bitch,” etc., on the one hand, yet, put them all together and they spell mother, the word “that means the world to me,” on the other.

No wonder the slogan “white is right” could take a whole nation by storm. One could never accuse this society of being rational.

Still, instead of this irrational society warping my delicate little psyche, it only drove me, ultimately, to the conclusion that any Black human being able to survive the horrendous and evil circumstances in which one inevitably finds oneself trapped must be some kind of a giant with great and peculiar abilities, with an armor as resistant as steel yet made of purest gold. My mother is one of the most courageous people I have ever known, with an uncanny will to survive. When she was a young woman, the white folks were much further in the lead than they are now, and their racist rules gave her every disadvantage; yet, she proved herself a queen among women, any women, and as a result will always be one of the great legends for me.

But strange as it is, I’ve heard it echoed by too many Black full-grown males that Black womanhood is the downfall of the Black man in that she (the Black woman) is “evil,” “hard to get along with,” “domineering” “suspicious,” and “narrow-minded.” In short, a black, ugly, evil you-know what.

As time progresses I’ve learned that this description of my mothers, sisters, and partners in crime is used as the basis for the further shoving, by the Black man of his own head into the sand of oblivion. Hence, the Black mother, housewife, and all-round girl Thursday is called upon to suffer both physically and emotionally every, humiliation a woman can suffer and still function.

Her head is more regularly beaten than any other woman’s, and by her own man; she’s the scapegoat for Mr. Charlie; she is forced to stark realism and chided if caught dreaming; her aspirations for her and hers are, for sanity’s sake, stunted; her physical image has been criminally maligned, assaulted, and negated; she’s the first to be called ugly and never yet beautiful, and as a consequence is forced to see her man (an exact copy of her, emotionally and physically), brainwashed and wallowing in self-loathing, pick for his own the physical antithesis of her (the white woman and incubator of his heretofore arch enemy the white man). Then, to add guilt to insult and injury, she (the Black woman) stands accused as the emasculator of the only thing she has ever cared for, her Black man. She is the scapegoat for what white America has made of the “Negro personality.”

Raped and denied the right to cry out in her pain, she has been named the culprit and called “loose,” “hot-blooded,” “wanton,” “sultry,” and “amoral.” She has been used as the white man’s sexual outhouse, and shamefully encouraged by her own ego-less man to persist in this function. Wanting, too, to be carried away by her “Prince Charming,” she must, in all honesty, admit that he has been robbed of his crown by the very assaulter and assassin who has raped her. Still, she looks upon her man as God’s gift to Black womanhood and is further diminished and humiliated and outraged when the feeling is not mutual.

When a white man “likes colored girls,” his woman (the white woman) is the last one he wants to know about it. Yet, seemingly, when a Negro “likes white girls,” his woman (the Black woman) is the first he wants to know about it. White female rejects and social misfits are flagrantly flaunted in our faces as the ultimate in feminine pulchritude. Our women are encouraged by our own men to strive to look and act as much like the white female image as possible, and only those who approach that “goal” in physical appearance and social behavior are acceptable. At best, we are made to feel that we are poor imitations and excuses for white women.

Evil? Evil, you say? The Black woman is hurt, confused, frustrated, angry, resentful, frightened and evil! Who in this hell dares suggest that she should be otherwise? These attitudes only point up her perception of the situation and her healthy rejection of same.

Maybe if our women get evil enough and angry enough, they’ll be moved to some action that will bring our men to their senses. There is one unalterable fact that too many of our men cannot seem to face. And that is, we “black, evil, ugly” women are a perfect and accurate reflection of you “black, evil, ugly” men. Play hide and seek as long as you can and will, but your every rejection and abandonment of us is only a sorry testament of how thoroughly and carefully you have been blinded and brainwashed. And let it further be understood that when we refer to you we mean, ultimately, us. For you are us, and vice versa.

We are the women who were kidnapped and brought to this continent as slaves. We are the women who were raped, are still being raped, and our bastard children snatched from our breasts and scattered to the winds to be lynched, castrated, de-egoed, robbed, burned, and deceived.
We are the women whose strong and beautiful Black bodies were—and are—still being used as a cheap labor force for Miss Anne’s kitchen and Mr. Charlie’s bed, whose rich, black, and warm milk nurtured—and still nurtures—the heir to the racist and evil slavemaster.

We are the women who dwell in the hell-hole ghettos all over the land. We are the women whose bodies are sacrificed, as living cadavers, to experimental surgery in the white man’s hospitals for the sake of white medicine. We are the women who are invisible on the television and movie screens, on the Broadway stage. We are the women who are lusted after, sneered at, leered at, hissed at, yelled at, grabbed at, tracked down by white degenerates in our own pitiable, poverty-stricken, and prideless neighborhoods.

We are the women whose hair is compulsively fried, whose skin is bleached, whose nose is “too big,” whose mouth is “toobig and loud,” whose behind is “too big and broad,” whose feet are “too big and flat,” whose face is “too black and shiny,” and whose suffering and patience is too long and enduring to be believed.

Who’re just too damned much for everybody.

We are the women whose bars and recreation halls are invaded by flagrantly disrespectful, bigoted, simpering, amoral, emotionally unstable, outcast, maladjusted, nymphomaniacal, condescending white women … in desperate and untiring search of the “frothing-at-the-mouth-for-a white-woman, strong backed, sixty-minute hot black.” Our men.

We are the women who, upon protesting this invasion of our privacy and sanctity and sanity, are called “jealous,” and “evil,” and “small-minded,” and “prejudiced.” We are the women whose husbands and fathers and brothers and sons have been plagiarized, imitated, denied, and robbed of the fruits of their genius, and who consequently we see emasculated, jailed, lynched, driven mad, deprived, enraged, and made suicidal. We are the women whom nobody, seemingly, cares about, who are made to feel inadequate, stupid and backward, and who inevitably have the most colossal inferiority complexes to be found.

And who is spreading the propaganda that “the only free people in this country are the white man and the Black woman?” If this be freedom, then Heaven is Hell.

Who will revere the Black woman? Who will keep our neighborhoods safe for Black innocent womanhood? Black womanhood is outraged and humiliated. Black womanhood cries for dignity and restitution and salvation. Black womanhood wants and needs protection, and keeping, and holding. Who will assuage her indignation? Who will keep her precious and pure? Who will glorify and proclaim her beautiful image? To whom will she cry rape?

she’s singing to me “glory” (i was only ever thinking about you, you know)

a playlist for @reylorobyn2011‘s amazing egyptian archaeology au

  1. dust and bones - night terrors of 1927 (“oh, my darling, we have fallen, stuck at the crossroads, sinking down now.”)
  2. empire - of monsters and men (“there’s a river running wild that will create an empire for you, an empire for two.”)
  3. the curse - josh ritter (“she asked, ‘are you cursed?’ he says, ‘i think that i’m cured.’ then he talks of the nile and the girls in bulrushes.”)
  4. samson - regina spektor (“you are my sweetest downfall.”)
  5. apollo - magic man (“won’t you take my hand like i know you will, when you’re sparkling madly in the moonlight.”)
  6. love me like i’m not made of stone - lykke li (“even though it hurts, even though it scars, love me when it storms, love me when i fall.”)
  7. is there somewhere - halsey (“you were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room, flashing those eyes like highway signs.”)
  8. little secrets - passion pit (“let this be our little secret, no one needs to know we’re feeling higher and higher.”)
  9. fires - these your children (“like a moth to the flame, blindly i’m drawn by you.”)
  10. wasted daylight - stars (“the thighs, the heels, the hips, constellation markings across your body.”)
  11. glory - dermot kennedy (“a set of eyes had pinned him, became his version of a kingdom, she’s everything the devil can’t be.”)
  12. paperweight - joshua radin and schuyler fisk (“mess up my bed with me, kick off the covers, i’m waiting. every word you say, i think i should write down. i don’t want to forget come daylight.”)

edit by @reylorobyn2011

Push My Buttons 

by KrisStylinson (1k)

Published : 2017-05-29

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

anonymous asked:

(hide trying to convince kaneki to cosplay shinji so they can be tragic bfs in a mecha au)

How dare you, this is a respectable blog that deals with serious matter and I-

in 2032, the holy chinity units are humanity’s last hope so

bonus:

(the last panel is a copy-paste of Shay’s awesome post, so all the credit goes to her!)

this is why we can (not) get a good ending in the anime.

Free Falling

Requested by @blu3tid3s (thanking for requesting this)

24: “Ha, ha, ha. Just shut up and kiss me.”

26: “Falling from a plane again? How typical of you.”

Trigger Warning: Falling if you have a deathly fear of heights, but this isn’t scary or anything. But I wanted to makes sure non of you dandelions were triggered by this :)

(ps. pretend the kiss gif is in the air instead of under water, it’s the closest I could find!)

(Also, feedback is welcome!)

Originally posted by amancanfly

Originally posted by soniamencarelli


The first few times you’d fallen from a height, it’d been terrifying. In fact, the very first time Clark had spent at least a week trying to calm you down (many forehead kisses were included). But by now, it’d become almost comical.

  Four large goons circled you, leering down at you as their boss (who didn’t reach above 5 ft.) cackled in front of you. For the poor little man’s sake, you reframed from rolling your eyes. He’d obviously tried really hard to put this together.
  “Superman’s girlfriend is sure to be the key to his downfall.” The short man giggled.

   “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that this week?” You mumbled.         

   “Silence whore!” He screamed, smacking you across the face.

‘There’s a new one’ You thought, making a mental note to write that down.

  “Now we send her overboard boys!” The man snickered. One of the large, ugly goons opened the airplane door. The next thing you knew, you were being tossed through the open air before you could make a witty comment. There was a brief moment of serenity before your body made contact with a rock. Well, a rock. More like your boyfriend.

  “Hi darling!” You yelled over the wind.

  “Afternoon sweetheart! Hold on tight!”

  You readjusted yourself while Clark did his thing. Holding you (rather awkwardly) in one arm while flying back up to the bottom of the plane, grabbing the plane and sending the plane towards the ocean like a football.

 Clark snorted as the plane propelled away from you, safety tucked in your boyfriend’s strong arms. “What are you laughing at?” You ask, lightly smacking his chest.

 “Falling from the plane again? How typical of you.” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

 “It’s your fault!” You stuck your tongue at him.

  “You’re the one that got kidnapped.” Clark argued.

  “Yeah, but you’re… I don’t know you. You’re a butt.”

  “Well, if I’m a butt, I suppose I don’t have arms.” He smirked. Then he dropped you like a hot potato. There was a long thirty seconds where you could have sworn you witnessed your own birth.

  For the second time in twenty minutes, you hit a human rock, but this time, you landed bridal style.

 “You asshole!” You screamed, repeatedly beating your fist against Clark’s chest while he laughed.

 “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That was a jerk move.” He said after he finally managed to stop laughing.

 “You’re lucky I love you Clark Kent.” You pouted.

  “Well, I mean, I am pretty cute.” Clark winked.

  “Shut up and kiss me.” You grumbled.

 Clark obliged, gently grasping the back of your neck and leaning in. His lips were soft against yours. You ran your hands through his raven black hair. It was the prefect moment.

  “Am I forgiven now?” Clark asked, giving you his biggest puppy eyes, causing you to roll yours. But you gave in the same.

  “Take me home and get me some ice cream.” You winked, kissing his cheek.

Iz’s Fic Rec MasterPost: Overwatch

Hello everyone, my name is Iz and I read a lot of fanfic. A lot. A somewhat appalling amount to be honest. Today is Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day and just like last year, I’m determined to send some love to my fav fics and writers by compiling some massive rec lists for the various fandoms I read up on. Please note that these are only my personal favorites: there’s so much good work across fandoms and everyone should be acknowledged for the great work they do here. So that being said….

Symmarah:

Gather the Ends: @smokehill

Summary:

“Call me Pharah, but if you scream in terror a few times I’ll get the message. Now, hands in front, you’re going to fly with me.”

Symmetra bungles a midnight mission, makes a friend, and then finds destiny. Or something. (Complete, PG)

My rec: Look man, this fic sold me on this ship. It sold me. It came into my room, kicked down the door, said “Iz, you’re gonna embrace this ship and you’re gonna do it now” and I just was forced onto the ride. It was a good ride. Entirely worth the ride to be honest. Live the dream. Accept this fic as the ship fic we deserve. Live the dream. 

McHanzo

First off, I have a whole list of recs for this ship here and they remain as excellent as ever. If you haven’t read any of these pieces by talented authors, please give them a look: they’re worth your time. Since I posted that, there’s been more great work out of that side of the fandom, and here are some of those pieces that are worth a mention. 

A Lesson on Gravity: chopsticks

Summary: Five years after the Second Omnic Crisis, Commander Jesse McCree is the current face of Overwatch, much to his own chagrin. However, there is little time to complain when his days are filled with slews of meetings, a constant threat of monkeys falling from the moon, and memories of an ex-boyfriend that just won’t leave him be. (M, WIP)

My Rec: A yes, angst. Sweet, sweet, angst. This puppy just started up and while it’s a WIP, it’s a damn good one, which promises to break my heart and then leave me crying on the sidewalk. Hanzo had to get married to someone else for reasons yet revealed, McCree is still a wreck over it, and the sexual tension will likely kill us all. Also worth a look just for Jesse and Fareeha being the best friends we deserve. Wonderful characterization, wonderful writing, wonderful pain. 

Weeds or WildflowersIlyen

Summary: A mission where Hanzo has to draw out Yakuza agents by pretending he’s back to reclaim the Shimada empire. It goes as well as you’d expect. (M, WIP) 

My Rec: This puppy just came out and man is it a doozey. Terrible angst, just warning you, but angst worth checking out. The characterization here is just lovely, the relationship is well built, and the entire situation (avoiding spelling it out because spoilers) is terrible to watch unfold because you know what is bound to happen and you can’t stop it. Absolutely worth the heartbreak. I’ll be refreshing this until the cows come home until the next update. 

A Long Wayholdontoyourhulahoops

Summary: Hanzo and Genji have a long overdue conversation. (G, Complete)

My Rec:  While this is a McHanzo fic, it’s more of a brotherly bonding fic than anything and that makes it great. There’s so much good insight here into both Shimada brothers, into why Hanzo is so guarded and Genji’s protective nature. Honestly, I cannot give it enough praise. And the end scene is just quality. Shower it in love. 

Every Other Freckle: barghest

Summary: Highschool junior Jesse McCree needs a prom date. New student Hanzo Shimada needs a friend. (T, Complete) 

My Rec: The high school Au we deserve! Let me sing my praises about this fic always and forever. Great character dynamics? You got it. Slow build? You got it. McCree being the best friend/soon to be boyfriend ever? Bam, done. A Halloween scene? God bless. Treat yourself. Read this fic. 

Back Home: ObsidianCoffe

Summary: McCree is back from a long mission and Hanzo is having so many feelings. (T, Complete)

My Rec: Look man, I’m a sap for relationships where the banter has no bite and everyone really cares about each other but is too emotionally repressed to say it out loud. Which is why this fic gets me, because it’s clear everyone is having so many feels but no one is willing to put them into text. Plus, it’s a clear one shot with striking prose that is absolutely worth your time. The situation shown here is heartfelt, devastating in a quiet way, and I hope to see it explored more in canon. Also, check out the linked art! It’s amazing!

Reaper76

Painless: @wantonlywindswept

Summary: Gabriel turns himself over to the new Overwatch to finally get his body fixed, and is greeted by a face he thought he’d never see again. (G, Complete) 

My Rec: I don’t read a lot of this ship: I’m picky and it will be my downfall. But this fic man. This fic. I love this fic. It’s just…so pure. A literal summary is “ex’s realize the other isn’t dead, feels” Just, it’s a feel good piece with so much quality emotion and incredible writing.  Worth your time.