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)

  • Kaiba, cackling maniacally: YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME? NOTHING CAN TOPPLE THESE WALLS! MY FORTRESS IS IMPENETRABLE!!!!!!!!
  • Yugi: Kaiba... it's a snowball fight
  • Atem, standing fearlessly atop his meticulously sculpted snow hill and looking smug: Kaiba... /hubris/ is the downfall of man, and the downfall of your fortress!
  • Yugi: a snowball fight

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”.

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

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

it tastes the same (part one)

summary: 

plagued by the burden’s of your mother’s downfall, you take a strange man up on an offer you just can’t refuse. 

pairing: bucky barnes x reader (soulmate!AU)

word count: ~3.5K

warnings: (for this chapter:) gross hydra bad guys, angst, general gross sad feelings (it gets better!!), torture

a/n: i’ve been rolling this idea around in my head for a long while, and i told kumi about it a bit ago and now i’m being forced to write it (thanks kum!!) each part has a corresponding stanza to a Dickinson poem i’m in love with, but you can skip that part if you want (it’s small and in italics!) let me know what you guys think and if i should continue this. 

Keep reading

When you really get down to it, the downfall of every iron man villain was that they underestimated the people who cared about Tony. Stane underestimated Dummy, and Tony’s determination to not let pepper die. Vanko underestimated just how much Tony cared for Rhodey, just how much leverage he had. Killian underestimated Pepper.

That has been their biggest mistake. All of them.

Because they assumed that they were playing the same game, for the same stakes. They assumed that everyone else on the board was a pawn. They assumed that everyone but Tony and them was unimportant. 

And they were wrong.

anonymous asked:

Hi Eden I need your help. I've been suuuuuper busy these past months and I haven't read a fic since... the middle of May probably. So could you rec me an angst free fic that was posted after that date ? thanks in advance 💛

oooh anon i have a few for you! these are some of my fav recent-ish fics that are either just fluff or like, angst free. hope you find something!

(Recent) Angst Free Fics

When It’s Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that’s exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Make Him Want to Sin by QuickedWeen

The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.

baby, hold on to my heart by tightropeofhope

Here was the dilemma: Louis and Harry were out with their mates window shopping because there was nothing else to do and Louis brought an antique ring, hoping to pawn it off to get some quick cash. It was a small, old thing, all rusted and gold, but it had its charm. The owner didn’t take it because of the minuscule crack down the middle of the jewel, so Louis just shrugged and handed it to Harry without a thought.

—•—

Louis gives Harry a ring as a joke, but Harry starts wearing the ring everywhere he goes.

Only Reason by letsjustsee

“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.”
No. No, no, no…
“I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement.
Oh shit. No. What? No.
But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.

Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world’s foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.

Heart on an Open Highway by afirethatcannotdie

AU. Harry’s a popstar about to release his second album, and Louis is the Radio 1 intern who gets his heart racing.

only reason

your good side (this has a teeeeeensy bit of angst but like. blink and you’ll miss it.)

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by tolvsmol

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Push My Buttons by KrisStylinson

“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.

remember to leave kudos and nice comments for the authors! 

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)

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

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. 

That article in the EW, you know the one that goes sensationalist “0uat bosses on new LGBT character”, but doesn’t have any substance whatsoever, made me think back. And in combination with some of the fandom’s reactions to that article, I remembered something. 

If we’re to be technical, and very, very frank, A&E haven’t maliciously, purposefully queerbaited with 0ouat. Don’t get me wrong, they are still guilty, they did it by omission, by queercoding characters, by feigning ignorance about the interpretation of romantic SQ even existing for the first three years, and then still dancing around the subtext (now with full knowledge of it never leading anywhere). They’re guilty of all of these things. But that probably doesn’t fit with the strictest definition of queerbaiting – promising, explicitly telling the audience about queer characters and romance and then not delivering on it. 

However, what they undeniably have done – from day one, mind you! What they have done that blanketed the whole show in it’s entirely, is Tokenism

I remember it was something we had discussed with @ashermajestywishes and @angstbotfic and @scarimor and @mel35 and others at the time of the Very Special Episode. But, the thing is, their Tokenism doesn’t just obviously and blatantly encompass the Very Special Episode with Red Kansas, it goes much further. 

I’m sure everyone remembers the saddening line up of the late PoC characters on once. And ALL of them, with barely an exception fit the bill. Merlin, Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother, Rapunzel, the list goes on. 

Remember S1? And S2? The ones that we hail as the good ones? The season that captured out attention? Well, it was then and there as well. 

Remember Gus, the Mouse? A lone background black character? The only black character aside form the villainous villain Sydney in season 1? Well, Gus was a very background character. He appeared in 7 episodes in total, most of which was being in the background (or a cgi mouse) and not having any lines. Then in season 2 he was murdered by a white man (George) with a hatchet in order to frame a white woman (Ruby), that in turn would have lead to the downfall of another white man (David). 

That’s a perfect example of what A&E do. Create a token PoC and/or Queer character, never develop them for any length or time, never insert them into the overarching story line, erasing their importance, and then when they need a plot-device, a narrative crutch – prop up their other storyline and then discard them.  

And it seems they are going to do it again with the reset. Well, just based on what they did so far, I’m not eager to find out what they’ll do with this one. 

Jesse McCree X Reader - The First Training Session (drabble)

Hey there. This wasn’t a request, per se. I just had a cute idea going on for an O/C and my fave Cowboy and I wanted to put it out in writing. also I love young mccree ufff


Ana cleared her throat before speaking. “As you both know, this mission is critical. Gabriel and McCree have both gathered enough intel to move forward with the plan three weeks from today when our target returns to Dorado.” You simply nodded your head.

“Y/N, while you have been briefed with all the details, it is essential that you and McCree are able to communicate and work together since you two will encounter the target head on.” At this point Ana let out a small sigh, facing the cowboy.

“McCree, I trust you will be cooperative and act appropriately as I assign you both this training time together, is that clear?”

The young brunet sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, quickly wiping the smirk off his face, “Of course, ma'am. Will do…”

You rolled your eyes. This little shit, you thought.

As handsome and charismatic the young man was, from the minute you met him, he did nothing but shamelessly flirt with you, paying no mind to whoever was nearby and it seemed like he didn’t get the clue that you weren’t taking the bait no matter how much your body language screamed at him to back off. Still, it felt wrong to act rudely towards him. He wasn’t hurting anyone, but you did find him somewhat entertaining and unlike anyone you have ever met. He was… different.

Ana’s dark eyes met yours, “Y/N, I am sure you will be able to keep McCree here in place, but just in case he does get out of line…” she paused for a moment while Gabriel took a step closer to the cowboy. 

The man placed a hand on McCree’s shoulder before speaking. “… You report any misconduct to me,” his voice low and almost threatening.

The young man let out a faint chuckle, “Don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout me, boss, I’ll be on my best behavior.” He looked at you and gave you a quick wink, making your face grow red.

Ana and Gabriel simultaneously let out a sigh at his remark.


The two of you both agreed to meet up at Overwatch’s training facilities at noon. You arrived early to prepare the equipment and load the necessary weapons the two of you would train with for the day.

You looked at your wristwatch and it read exactly 12:00PM. Not a moment had gone by when you suddenly heard a click, the door opening to reveal McCree. He wasted no time coming in.

“Hey there, partner. You’re here early, eager to see me?” he smirked.

You only scoffed, “uh… no. If anything, I’m surprised you actually showed up,” you retorted back while continuing to reload the gun you had in your hands.

“Now darlin’, that hurt.” He playfully pouted, “I wouldn’t let the team down… or you,” his dark chocolate eyes met yours, and he flashed a handsome smile.

You stammered before getting your words out. You tried to quickly change the subject, “S-so, McCree… Commander Reyes says you have serious skills with guns. Care for a demonstration?”

“I’d love to, darlin’,” he started, “and by the way…” he quickly unholstered his Peacekeeper, pointing it at a nearby target with incredible speed, all while his eyes stayed locked onto yours. “Name’s Jesse. Call me Jesse.” He then fired at the target, and you could swear he did all of this without batting an eye. 

You both looked towards the target. A perfect mark. He let out a small chuckle, “Bullseye!”

You tried to hide your reaction, trying not to boost his ego, “Impressive… Jesse.”

He only smirked, “Much obliged. Now I been hearin’ from Ana that you’re not too bad yourself. Wanna show me what you got?” his tone sounding cheeky.

With the loaded weapon in your hands, you copied his fast movements, but chose a target that was much further away placed towards the back of the large, football stadium-sized room. Within seconds, you fired the weapon, hitting the target. Poor Jesse had to squint his eyes to see where you had shot.

“What? Thought I missed my mark?” you asked in a playful tone.

He let out a whistle, “Well I’ll be damned… I think you’ve been spendin’ too much time with Ana. That was right on the dot!”

You chuckled, “I do okay.”

“More than okay!” he started, “they sure weren’t kiddin’ when they said you had it all.” His remark definitely slapped a pink blush on your cheeks.

“Why thanks, cowboy…” you grabbed a heavier weapon and loaded it as well. 

“Let’s say we really get started now?”

He flashed another smile at you again. So cute, damn him, you thought.

“I’d love to, darlin’,” he picked up his Peacekeeper and prepared his stance, aiming for another target to challenge yours.

The hours had seem to pass by so quickly. While this was considered training, no other previous training session had caused you to laugh and giggle nearly as much as this one did. Jesse was very much talented, and his time working alongside Gabriel and Ana had more than benefited his work ethic and skills. He cracked many jokes and sweet sayings in between, and you found him trying to rub an elbow or hand near yours, finding any possible excuse to make a little physical contact. You noticed this, of course, but you couldn’t find any way or reason to avoid it. Your initial impression of Jesse was not a good one, and you felt so guilty for judging him before getting to know the cowboy.

In between breaks, you both conversed about anything and everything that came to mind. You found yourself letting your guard down and couldn’t help but feel so smitten by the young man, and he was more than smitten by you, of course. The last conversation of the day, however, was nearing.

You spoke about the importance of this mission and why you were specifically chosen. It was then that Jesse discovered this mission signified a kind of closure for the death of your parents and marked the imminent downfall of the man responsible for their fates.

As you explained to Jesse how you had found your parents when you returned home that terrible night, you looked out the window at the sun beginning to set and all the horrible images of their lifeless bodies came rushing in. You could feel your eyes beginning to sting, tears threatening to fall.

You felt something warm softly tug at your hand. It was none other than Jesse’s hand, cupping yours. Your glistening eyes met with his as he sat on the ground next to you, something in his gaze looked so sad and mournful. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry, darlin’…” his hushed words sounded ever so sincere, like he understood the exact pain that had scarred your soul.

All your sad thoughts suddenly paused for a moment as you looked at Jesse and took in the view. His gleaming eyes were sad, accompanied by his thick, furrowed eyebrows. There were a few, long brown strands that framed his face, and his hat slightly lowered. His mouth was slightly ajar, as he awaited your response.

A few seconds had gone by before you realized how long you were in this position. You quickly shook your head and broke eye contact, retreating your hand back out of his grip and into your lap.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel all sorry for me…” you let out a sniffle, followed by a small chuckle, trying to ease the atmosphere.

He looked towards the window and noticed the setting sun. “Look here, darlin’. I know I’ve been quite the screw-up here, but I promise you, everything will go exactly accordin’ to plan when mission day comes. I won’t fail you,” he said softly.

With that he stood up and leaned down, signaling his hand to help you up. You gripped his large, soft hand, pulling you up.

“Thank you, Jesse. I really mean it…” you whispered, your hand still in his.

He cleared his throat, “Besides, doll…” he brought your hand towards his lips and placed a small kiss on the back of your hand, “I need to be there to make sure you can keep up with me.”

He smirked as you pulled your hand out of his grip. You could only roll your eyes at him, “Jesse McCree, I swear you’ll be the end of me…”

Jesse chuckled and headed towards the door. “Darlin’, I need to be headin’ out now. Gave my word to Reyes I’d be back before nightfall.”

“Of course. Don’t want you to miss your curfew,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him, earning a smirk from the cowboy.

“You know somethin’, darlin’?” he opened the door and paused for a moment before walking out, “I’m gonna marry you some day,” he flashed you a wink before leaving, closing the door behind him.

“Whaa-” you started, but he ultimately left you speechless, your jaw dropped at his statement. You felt another blush coming on, but not before you looked at all the weaponry laid out on the table that needed to be put back in place.

“Jesse McCree, at least help me clean all of this up before you leave!” you yelled at him, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to pay any mind to that.

You only smiled. Damn that cowboy.

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.

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?