ha ha screw you

Regarding one of our last asks

This one. Is about writing Latinxs in first person being yourself a white person.

I’d like to address two specific responses.

theyaoiarcanaI feel like anyone can write a character no matter what the race is. As long as it’s a good character. To say someone who’s a different race can’t write for another race because “you’re not one of us” is really stupid. Doesn’t matter if its in first person, second person, third person whatever. As long as the character is well written and the plot is amazing. I mean all Latina/Latino people don’t act the same. So. Yeah. That’s dumb. And they shouldn’t ask if they have to write for a certain race. Because it’s literally just a character, not the customization of the second coming of Jesus Christ.


I’ll repeat myself here. Latinxs are not one race, nor we can be defined as one. You don’t get to reduce us to one to fit the categorization of your worldview.

The first thing you have to do is to set up your audience when writing a story using a Latinx character as MC.

If your audience will be white people, why are you writing from a Latinx perspective? Let me tell you something. We can tell when a Latinx character has been written by one of our people and when they have been written by a white writer. On the contrary, if your audience will be Latinxs, well, read the lines above as well.

As soon as you publish your story, doesn’t matter where, you stop having control over it. Every story needs to be self-explanatory, if you have to explain yourself to your readers, sometimes bordering poor excuses, then your story was not written the way it should have been. By this I don’t mean leaving unanswered questions about the plot, those are necessary if you’re planning more than one book. 

What to do here.

  1. Set up your audience.
  2. Research.
  3. Narrow down your research.
  4. Ask the people who fucking matter. (Set me up on fire if you want to for this, but if you are writing about Latinxs, ask a Latinx for fuck’s sake. Don’t ask white people).
  5. Research again.
  6. Repeat as many times as you have to.

smallwrittenkingdoms Honest question: under this reasoning, is it ever okay for white authors to write non-white characters?

It is okay to write non-white characters, but there are ways and there are ways. Many times we don’t get the same representation, the same endings, the same description as white characters. In many stories we are only to support the white character without a story for ourselves, we get killed only because someone has to die, and it seems two, or more, non-white characters can’t co-exist in the same place at the same time. Change that. Write non-white characters with the same depth as white characters, give them interests and goals outside the white character.

Every stereotype perpetuated about non-white people sustains and endures sistematic violence. You get to read it, but we get to live it.

You want to write non-white people being yourself white?

  1. Research.
  2. If you are into character’s charts, create them for non-white characters as well.
  3. If you aren’t into character’s charts, try to keep track of your non-white characters as the story develops.
  4. Be respectful. Is free.
  5. There are stories that are not for you to write, but that doesn’t mean you can’t write other stories. We do not exist so your book can be labeled as “diverse”.
  6. The universe won’t collapse on itself if there are more than two non-white characters who don’t supply emotional support to the white character, or need to be defended by them. Save your white savior complex and your white guilt for someone who cares (i.e. not us).

So, are you gonna listen to our voices and read what we write or are you gonna wait for a white person to say the same words so you can finally consider what we’ve been saying for ages now?

Lia

9

Pre-ruffle, mid-ruffle, and post-ruffle Tenth Doctor Hair

David Tennant from the podcast commentary for Tooth and Claw (from the hair-messing-up scene above):

“I love the way Euros [Lyn, director] uses all these shots here to show the ideas all colliding at once

…and I love messing with my hair in moments like this, because it gives Steve, who does my make-up, a nightmare in continuity terms.

I like to keep him on his toes.”

David Tennant Appreciation Week 2016 (theme: smile - because it makes me)

Shout out to androgynous enbies that don’t dress the best. Whether it be because you don’t have the money, don’t have the fashion sense or just don’t care, you are still a valid enby. There seems to be this expectation that if you dare break the binary, you have to pick your clothes well and ‘slay’. But this isn’t true. You don’t need to meet cis expectations of clothes that look good together - you can wear whatever you feel the most comfortable in.

Goethe’s Faust (inspired) AU
In which God bets with Mephisto that all his creations (humans and Mephisto himself) will eventually return to God, no matter how far they’ve strayed from him.
Mephisto, unwilling to have God taunt him, offers a deal to one of the immortal creations. He offers him to experience life as mortal, in return for his services after the human body has died.
The immortal, being curious about what life would be like as an ephemeral being, and wanting to know both suffering and happiness, agrees to the pact. Mephisto has him reborn as Moriyama’s second son. This time, he promises, that God’s creation will not return to the rightful path.

My biggest concern about SNK Season 2 is that they might completely gloss over Eren’s relationship with Historia just like they did to his relationship with Annie because they can’t bear for Eren to be close to a female character who isn’t Mikasa.

Silmarillion thoughts:

NO BUT IMAGINE MAGLOR TEACHING ELROND AND ELROS “If You’re Happy and You Know it Clap Your Hands” AND MAEDHROS IS JUST LIKE, “Screw you, Maglor,” IN THE BACKGROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Three of Us

(PART ONE)

Guess what I just watched last night.

Everything throbbed. Izuku’s hands and arm were on fire. He’d barely made it three steps out of Recovery Girl’s room before stumbling. His legs trembled, bolts of electricity shooting up them. It left a strange tingling sensation in its wake, the effects of Recovery Girl’s Quirk still trying to combat the pain. Gasping, he fell against the wall, then hissed. Now his shoulder hurt too, dammit. He tried to shift to a better position, back to the wall now, and cradled his bandaged arm in his hand. He could feel the crookedness to his fingers beneath, along with the lingering tingles of pain. He gritted his teeth. Maybe it had been a bad idea to push himself that much. And in front of everyone too, god—

“Kacchan’s gonna kill me,” he muttered, the back of his head thumping to the wall as he closed his eyes. He probably should’ve thought more before pulling that kind of stunt in front of his explosive, hard-tempered boyfriend. He’d already been yelled at multiple times for letting his Quirk damage him like this. He wasn’t looking forward to it again. But…

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it. It had been for Todoroki.

Letting out a strained breath, he gazed down at his mended hands again. He couldn’t imagine what Todoroki’s life must’ve been like before coming to U.A., how much suffering he endured, how many times he must’ve felt worthless, nothing more than a pawn in his father’s sick game. But he needed to see. He needed to know that he could be so much more than a pawn, he could be something incredible, and it had nothing to do with Endeavor.

He may have had a vision of grandeur, but Todoroki had one too. And his would make him more of a hero than his father ever was.

“I don’t regret pushing him to see that,” Izuku breathed to himself. The image came, unbidden, of Todoroki just as his left side had burst into flames; tongues of bright orange leaping from his skin and mingling with the red fire of his hair. Izuku found himself closing his eyes again, face suddenly hot.

He’d looked so beautiful.

“Midoriya.”

Izuku’s head snapped up, the familiar voice ringing out in the empty hall. His eyes widened when he saw Todoroki a few yards away, as if pulled from Izuku’s thoughts. They’d given him a change of clothes, probably because he’d burned through half of his own uniform during the match. He faced Izuku with bandages dotting his skin, expression unreadable. Izuku felt like he was being watched almost too closely by those bicolored eyes.

“T—Todoroki,” he stammered, managing a wobbly smile. He forced himself off of the wall and shuffled forward a few steps. “How’re you doing? I mean, they took care of you, right?”

“Yeah.” Todoroki’s voice didn’t change from that low, measured pitch. His eyes flicked over Izuku’s beaten form, as he stepped toward him, slow and almost…nervous? “What about you?”

“I’ve been better,” Izuku admitted. “But I’m okay, really.” Smiling wider, he lifted his hand and flexed his fingers. “See, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

That near-blank expression didn’t leave Todoroki’s face, but the slightest curve appeared to his lips. “I’m glad.”

Feeling himself flush a bit, Izuku dropped his hand back to his side. “So…I guess I’m gonna get to watch you in the next mat—”

It happened too fast for him to react.

In a sudden burst of movement, Todoroki strode to him in three steps, lifted his hands to his face, and kissed him.

Izuku’s heart backflipped against his ribs. At first, there was a flash of light, and heat, and want, but—Kacchan. Guilt prickled somewhere beneath it all and he thought that he should pull away. But Todoroki’s grip on his jaw gentled until he was cradling Izuku’s face, thumbs stroking across his cheeks. After the first, hard press of his lips on Izuku’s, he let a gasp of air appear between them to whisper, “Izuku.”

A shiver leapt up Izuku’s spine and he forgot everything except the want to be in this moment, here, now. “Shouto,” he breathed back, wrapping his arms around Todoroki’s shoulders and angling his head to meet his mouth again.

Izuku parted his lips this time to taste his breaths, his tongue, and Shouto moaned quietly against him. He took Izuku by the waist, pulling him in, until there wasn’t a centimeter of space separating them. There was nothing but the press of their bodies together, the way they fit like they were made for this. Izuku inhaled a quick breath through his nose, not willing to break the kiss just yet. Shouto smelled amazing, a mix of sheer cold and ash that made Izuku lightheaded. He melted into Shouto’s arms and felt one of Shouto’s hands slide up his back to his hair, locking curls between his fingers. He never wanted to stop, and when Shouto broke the kiss, Izuku gave a small, disappointed whine. With lips still grazing his, Shouto whispered into his mouth, “I’m in love with you.” Izuku’s entire world trembled, and he didn’t know if it was falling apart or being pieced back together at the same time.

But then

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!”

Izuku’s eyes shot open wide, a feeling like icy water doused over his body. He had to force himself to tear away from Shouto, gaze landing on the figure standing down the hall from them, watching them. His heart plummeted to the floor. He’d know those scorching eyes anywhere, the pop of angry sparks.

Katsuki glared first at Izuku, then at Shouto, a tangle of hurt and rage written across his face. As Izuku watched in horror, he jabbed a finger at Shouto. “You better have a damn good explanation, half-and-half bastard, before I blow your fucking face off!”

wip of a piece I’m doing for @hetalia-fanzine - yes its england and alice in wonderland what else can you possibly expect from me

coloring this is gonna be a damn hassle

I have so much to do but I have no self-control. THIS MUSICAL IS SO GOOD!!! Please listen if you haven’t gods, it is just amazing. I’ll be drawing the other characters and maybe animatics later but I got things to finish :’((((

Touken baby will NOT die because once it’s put in danger Hide will appear and be like “I will be The Godfather of that child, so nobody can harm it!” All this while Kaneki is SHOOK and Touka’s like *…sorry Tsukiyama maybe next child.*

“I held death’s hand this evening”

- Death’s Hand, The Amity Affliction

you know you’re at least *mentally* in a good place when you weigh yourself to find you’ve lost even more weight, and instead of eating disordered euphoria, your first thought is “shit. that’s not good. that’s not good at all.”

anonymous asked:

someone sitting next to me at the panal muttered "the first step to tyranny is silencing the truth" when we heard them say No negative questions, i gave him a pat on the shoulder.. he's not wrong though

fuckin rip, dude. yeah. he’s not wrong