i was only 12 years old

anonymous asked:

tbh tho 0: i dont think the questions are that bad. The questions about celebrity crushes or whatever is only because the interviewer believes that younger fans/potentially future fans would want to know these kinds of things. Like my 12y old friends actually like it dndisjxkwo. And I don't think they're pressuring them for english songs, its just other fans or viewers who might want to know idkk

the thing is, they don’t research. legit 90% of army are complaining about these questions. if they researched bts even the littlest bit, or listened when army replied to their tweets. they would know that we don’t want to hear these questions. the problem is that they think bts are the new one d/irection. that they are only there for 12 year old girls to scream about. when that’s not it at all. we want questions with more meaning behind them. if they ltierally just typed “bts” into twitter, they’d see that. 

i guess i dont wanna accept that my 10 year old maltese-poodle is a senior but shes been falling down the stairs lately which is very unusual for her as she usually takes her time step by step.. they say dogs like her live for only 12-15 years, 13.5 years being the average. aaaaaa. this is making me so sad. she has been a reason for me to continue living. no matter how depressed i feel, i always push myself to feed and walk her. she is always there for me when i cry. she eats if i eat. she follows me everywhere. she is always waiting by the window for me to come home. i cant imagine life without her.

okay story time y’all

like 7 years ago on my first heartgold file i had a togekiss that i taught metronome. now, being a kid with little to no knowledge on proper battling and also fond of depending on chance, i used the hell out of metronome, it was this togekiss’s main move more or less. 

which did about as well as you expect from depending on metronome, except in one battle

i was fighting some grass type. i use metronome, metronome becomes fly

all fine and dandy

the opponent uses encore

so togekiss needs to finish fly, right, it’s a two-turn move? except it can only use metronome due to encore. so it does. and gets some totally normal one-turn move that is definitely not fly

togekiss proceeds to make its attacks without ending its fly mid-turn invulnerability, for eternity. i can’t even open a menu to switch out or use an item. it keeps using metronome endlessly

it eventually ends when the opponent faints & i had the option of switching out, but 12-year-old me was severely freaked out that my togekiss became invisible, invincible, and self-commanding

EDIT: ur right it had to be encore then fly, cause it cant hit through the invincibility (this happened when i was 12 i forgot little details like move order oops,,)

Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

The White Dress.

This story is about my friends MIL, and her wedding. Strap in guys, this is a wild ride in which I did THE THING that got me banned from any of her family functions. (Plus a few threats of dismemberment and bodily harm)

A good friend of mine from university was getting married! They had been a couple since Junior year of college, through her 2 years in the peace corps and currently her return to this continent. 6 years in total. She had been to all manner of family functions and always came back with a strange story about how she thinks her MIL secretly hates her. But she being a very quiet and sweet person pushed those thoughts aside.

Point 1: She is vegetarian and jewish, husband is not. She was invited and went to Christmas dinner and figured she would just eat sides, as well she brought a vegetarian casserole. MIL, after knowing her for THREE years, and being told by husband a few weeks before about not to forget friend doesn’t eat meat…proceeded to put meat in every dish. Friend drank water and ate her casserole the whole night while MIL cried to everyone that friend was so rude for not eating her cooking.

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anonymous asked:

Any valentines headcanons for Victor and Yuuri? Like how they spend it together or if some fan sent anything crazy in the past (Yuuri sending Victor things every year but being too embarrassed to write his name as the sender??)

“Wait, someone actually sent you their used panties?” Yuuri has no idea what kind of a face he’s making, but he hopes it does the sheer disgust he’s feeling justice, because what is wrong with people?

Victor laughs. “On more than one occasion. Most of the time Yakov just sent them to the incinerator.” 

“’Most of the time’?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” Victor says, horrifyingly, then brightens. “I didn’t get to keep any of the chocolates people gave me—for safety reasons, you know—but the plushies were mine to do whatever with. I usually gave them away to sick kids.”

He remembers. It was SKATING’s December 2003 issue cover story. Victor had been in a white doctor’s jacket smiling wide while the two children he had tucked under each arm flashed peace signs. Stuffed animals were strewn across the floor around them like fallen soldiers. He’d taped it into his cubby at Ice Palace until Takeshi joked that they should beat Yuuri up so Victor would come visit him in the hospital. Yuuri seriously considered it. 

“I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff,” Yuuri marvels, holding up an actual wedding invitation. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Victor Nikiforov and Joanne Spiers…

Yuuri gently places it back into the box. Well, chucks it back in, more like.

“Oh! Let me show you my favorite one!” Victor nudges him out of the way to rummage around, eventually coming up with a little blue envelope with a sticker that’s faded with time and oddly shaped. Yuuri squints at it, trying to place it, when it hits him. He goes very, very still.

“I think I was… maybe 16 when I got this one? It was the sweetest letter I’d ever received.” Victor sighs wistfully and cradles the envelope to his chest as though it were precious, spun glass and lace, before handing it over.

If Yuuri’s hands shake a little as he undoes the katsudon sticker on the backflap and slides the piece of notebook paper out, Victor doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he notches his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder to read it along with him.

It’s a little yellow, but the faded images of sakura still comes through behind shaky, painstaking Cyrillic penned to fill the page.  

Dear Victor,

You are the greatest skater in the whole wide world. I am a skater too but I am only 12 years old and I am still learning. I did a triple axel for the first time yesterday! I hope you are proud. Someday I would like to hold your hand and skate with you. We could do a triple axel together. Please wait for me. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I wanted to write back, but they didn’t leave a name or a return address,” Victor says softly, reaching around Yuuri to brush reverent fingers over the page. “Even with the terrible translation, it was the most genuine expression of love I’d ever seen at that time. I brought that letter with me everywhere I went, hoping I might catch a glimpse of that kid in the crowd, or even on the ice. Whoever it was, I hope they continued to skate. I really would’ve liked to have skated with them.”

The boxy letters swim and blur, spreading out until they’re vague blobs, and when Yuuri blinks to clear it, the page is wet. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Hmm?”

Turning in Victor’s arms, Yuuri beams up at him through his tears. “The translation. It wasn’t terrible. Vasiliev-sensei at Ice Palace wrote it out for me and I spent hours practice-copying it to make sure it was perfect.”

He can see the moment realization dawns, because Victor’s furrowed brow ripples and smoothes out, jaw dropping almost into Yuuri’s lap. “You—”

The world tilts dangerously and skews when he’s tackled onto his back, and Yuuri laughs up at the ceiling as Victor presses frantic kisses to his mouth, his neck, the swells of his cheeks and the sides of his nose. He shakes with a giddy sort of joy, drowning under a wave of relief nearly fifteen years in the making, and reaches up to palm Victor’s face—a little older, a little more mature, but still the greatest skater in the whole wide world who was everything to a little boy once. Even more now as a man. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Yuuri murmurs, then leans up and meets Victor halfway.

The terrible life of Lena Luthor

And why I love her so much and she deserves the world.

First, let’s keep in mind that canonically Lena’s only 24 years old, according to the show’s timeline.

Now, in season 2 Lena was in 12 episodes. During those episodes, she was in danger/manipulated/hurt (physically and emotionally) 37 times.  Specifically, she almost died 8 times and in 5 of those times she was the target. She was hit once and knocked down and kidnapped twice.

Her own bother was the one behind the attempts against her life at the beginning . She was also constantly manipulated and lied to by her mother and later by her new mother figure/mentor. So it’s usually people close to her and people that she cares about  who end up hurting her.

Let’s also remember that the events of season two happened in less than a year! I wonder how she seems so unfazed by all of her trauma. You would think she would at least have some kind of PTSD by now. Then again, this show hasn’t been great at tackling this subject.

Also, from what we’ve seen of season three this trend of her almost dying and getting hurt isn’t going to stop. What does she have to do to get a break?! I think it’s fair to say that Lena seriously needs a therapist and a bodyguard. Also all the love.

Let’s break down everything she’s been through (that we know) and who she is despite all of that. With gifs! 


Before National City. 

- Her biological mother died when she was four.

- Lionel lied to her and never told her he was her biological father.

- Was given the cold shoulder by Lillian and was constantly manipulated and reminded that she wasn’t a real Luthor.

- The brother she loved turned out to be evil.

- After her brother went to jail and she took over Luthor Corp her boyfriend at the time made her choose between him and her family’s company.


Now, during the show:

2x01

1. She was supposed to be on the Venture.

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seventeen first impressions vs now
  • dino then: CUTIE BABY
  • dino now : still a lil nug but lowkey A Man™
  • vernon then: he was my first love in svt
  • vernon now: i love my awkward boyfriend
  • jeonghan then: a girl but a pretty girl
  • jeonghan now: truly such a visual human, thank you God for creating such a beautiful person
  • woozi then: wow he tiny n cute is he like 16?
  • woozi now: still small and fragile but super important and grown up bc he's the producer
  • joshua then: kinda feminine bc his voice is so gentle ?? but he loves jesus so i love him
  • joshua now: PROTECT HIM he is soft but onstage he is Dad
  • mingyu then : he looks so intimidating
  • mingyu now : what a string bean!!
  • wonwoo then : if wonwoo punched me in the face i still wouldn't be able to identify him
  • wonwoo now : i want wonwoo to punch me in the face
  • s coups then : he's strange looking
  • s coups now : he's my actual father, please adopt me seungcheol
  • hoshi then : wait isn't that woozi?? all these squishy boys with cute names what the heck
  • hoshi now : important and talented lil bub!!! also he lowkey looks like xiumin from exo
  • jun then : PRETTY also a vampire
  • jun now: honestly still pretty, still a vampire, but he's always so done with life what a relatable guy
  • the8 then : he has a striking nose?? ahah idk why i noticed that first
  • the8 now : my precious son!!!! he's so soft n quiet and i love him!!!
  • seungkwan then : woah he looks like a dad
  • seungkwan now : he's only one year older than me and funny as heck ! i want to be his best friend he's so fun
  • dk then : that is a handsome man right there, he's gotta be the oldest
  • dk now : someone please stop my 12 year old son from embarrassing himself
4

Yuri!!! on Ice Episode 12 left me with so much happiness EXCEPT for this one.

It has been mentioned as much in the previous episode: Yuuri wasn’t the only character thinking of retiring after the final. There’s also this guy, Christophe Giacometti.

His reasoning is easier to understand; he’s 25 years old and will be 26 soon. In the world of figure skating, it can’t really be considered young and Christophe knows this.

However, unlike Yuuri, Viktor, Yurio and other characters who are more “expressive”, Christophe doesn’t really show his feelings blatantly, if you know what I mean.

He looked happy and all smiles after his free skate, receiving a flower crown from Minako and winking at her, blowing kiss as usual to the audience as you can see in the above pictures.

But his closest people knew how he was actually feeling inside. His coach and - I guess it’s safe to say - his boyfriend knew that Chris must be disappointed. Just look at the change of his expression there. However, his coach and boyfriend also knew that Chris is strong, that Chris will be alright, which was why they smiled at him.

I think Chris is the kind of person who would prefer to silently cry alone, only known to his closest people, and maybe he would really do that after this. Imagine when you thought this would be your last season and you wanted to win for once since your arch-rival wasn’t there, but then you were absolutely outrun by all the younger guys. Heck, he didn’t even get to the podium this time, not even a Bronze Medal for him. There was no way he wasn’t disappointed.

But he faced it calmly with a smile.

I think among all the skaters, Chris is by far the most mature and the “strongest”. He is absolutely one of my favorite characters and whether he retires or not, I really wish that he would be happy.

10

PAGE 10

I should really rename this comic “Keith’s suffering” because I just feel like I’ve been taunting him for the past few pages.

Also are you guys ready for it to get…. REALLY GLITTERY? BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU ARE. 

Next page

Previous Page

First Page

Some thoughts on the Shallura Plot thread in this comic under the cut.

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When I was 14 years old, my grandma accused me of stealing her jewelry; and instead of accusing the stranger in the house, her maid, she accused me. She threw away my clothes, broke my phone, almost ripped my bag because she threw it at a wall, broke the lamp dad gave me and told me he was dead - she not only yelled at me , she threatened to kick me out. I was only 14.

She never apologized for that, despite being on good terms with her now, I still think about that time- every now and then. I’m 22 years old now, on antidepressants and antianxiety, constantly paranoid around other people’s houses, thinking oh no, if something goes wrong, they’ll blame me.

Last night grandma yelled at Francine, my sister, and told her, flat out “it’s your fault your mom is like this!!” Just because my sister asked my mom for change (which was mine) to buy juice.

Grandma went BERSERK.

And my mind went. Blank. Back to the time she did the very same thing to me. Francine is only 12. We have a neurotic mom. You can’t be angry at a younger person like my 12 year old sister for acting the way she does, because we- she didn’t have a conventional childhood growing up. We grew up piss poor with a vegetable mom and a dad always busy with work. That’s no one’s fault. You can’t blame a child for being birthed by her mother, and you can’t tell a child she she has no right to exist if it weren’t for you.

A child isn’t bound to a contract where they can be mistreated and exploited as soon as they fall out of someone’s vagina.

Older people? Professors, teachers, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, you name it- they don’t, shouldn’t really hold the right to demand respect served to them on a silver platter if they refuse to provide younger people the same treatment.

Good times with a person isn’t a free pass to take advantage of them, or to guilt trip them into thinking they owe you things.

You’d have to have to have a convoluted sense of love if you think abuse can be negated.

You’re Not Dad

A/N: Not that anyone cares I’ve been hella busy and haven’t had time to literally write anything and I still really don’t, but I’m going to anyways bc I have some inspiration. Enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated(:

Characters: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, overprotective Dean, mention of death, yelling, very close relationship b/w Dean and reader? let me know if I missed anything

Tagging: @winchesters-favorite-girl because I think she might be interested and I really love and look up to her as a writer. I hope you don’t mind.

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Originally posted by zest-wincest

You loved your brothers more than anything in the world. I mean, you were practically raised by them. John was never around, your mom was just some quick fuck that John had on a hunt. As soon as demons got word that John Winchester knocked up some chick and he had another child, they came and killed your mother when you were only a few months old. Thankfully, your mom got John on the phone as they were trying to get in and he was in town so he saved you. Not your mom though. Dean had been 16 at the time, Sam was 12. You were by far the baby of the family and Sam and Dean made it their mission to protect you from everything. And when I say everything, I mean literally everything. You were never even supposed to have been born. But nevertheless, here you were seventeen years later, alive and kicking, living in the bunker with Sam and Dean, the two best brothers in the entire world.

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6

Redesigned Book Covers - Percy Jackson And The Olympians

August 18th 2016 // Happy 23rd Birthday to Percy Jackson, the only boy that has made such a profound impact on my life. Percy has always been there for me since I was 12 years old, and his stories have changed the last 10 years of my life immensely. I cannot even begin to express how many times Percy Jackson has helped me out of terrible times, and how much I relate this series as a lifeline to my childhood, how much I see this as a window into happier fantasies. I’ve made friends over these books, and is the only only series other than Harry Potter that I will cherish until I die. This is my comfort series. It may sound ridiculous, but Percy is more than just some fictional character. Thank you, Rick Riordan, for giving me and millions of other children out there a friend in Percy Jackson. (legit tearing up writing this omg)

me talking shit about ricegum

i went to ricegum’s video and debunked each of his claims against ian/idubbbz. im copying it here for my own needs lmao

*Time to debunk each and every one of this cunt’s “points”*

1. *“The Rape Comment Was Really Old”* Doesn’t mean you’re not still an asshole, asshole.
2. *“Out Of Everyone, Why Is IDubbbz the One To Call Me Out on Rape?”* Please point out where Ian asks a rape victim if the rape felt good in front of an audience. Unlike you, Idubbbz is a persona, he was made for comedic reason. You’re just an asshole. He says it in a way where everyone knows he’s joking and everyone finds it humorous, asshole.
3. Oh look, a skit on making fun of you apologizing about a rape joke. Hilarious. Asshole.
4.* “I-I Had 2 Options, Be Boring and Play Video Games, or Play Video Games and Be A Lowkey Rapist and Perverted Asshole”*, Asshole.
5. *“It Just Slipped Out, I Mean, PewDiePie Said "Nigger”.“* Pewdiepie said nigger once and made a heartfelt apology explaining that he knew he was wrong and didn’t compare himself to other people to prove he was better. You said things multiple times, had no remorse and continued to do so, and gave a half-assed apology, asshole.
6. *"People Find it Funny That Ian Says "Nigger Faggot” so Why Can’t I be a Pervert"* Everyone who knows idubbbz can easily tell when he is/isn’t joking. Same with your shit content. Same with everyone. You got 4 black dudes who haven’t heard of idubbbz to watch idubbbz once and they got offended, yeah, no shit. He was joking. You were not. Asshole.
7. It’s hilarious how you apologize for sexualizing women by sexualizing a woman. Honestly, no hate to her, good on her, but why make her pole dance in this video? You can easily make another video? Asshole.
8. *“Idubbbz has deleted videos of his video gaming days”* Yes, and he brings them up almost all the time. I haven’t subscribed to him long enough to know what he used to do, but he brings up his slenderman gangnam style days every now and then. He’s not hiding them, dumb ass, and he’s not ashamed. He wanted his channel to be different so he deleted videos that didn’t fit into his criteria. Not because he was suddenly embarrassed, but because he wanted his channel to go a different direction, asshole.
9. *“Thanks for the views bro”* Jesus you’re a real cunt. What are you, fucking 12 years old? Christ.
10. *“Imagine being a young boy whos father took him into the city blah blah blah”* No one fucking cares, asshole
11. *“I’m going to keep flexing and I’m not sorry, but now I know not to show off everything I get”* this is the only good point of this video. Savour it.
12. *“But PewDiePie-”* God shut the fuck up? This video isn’t about pewdiepie. You can’t use him as a shield because he isn’t fucking part of it.Yes, Pewdiepie stretched his videos to 10 minutes a “handful” (as you called it) amount of times. And? _And?_ This video isn’t about him.  I genuinely can’t believe that this asshole tries to point the drama in a different direction every chance he possibly fucking can. I’m not even sure what to fucking say. Stop being a pussy and grow a pair.
13. “I Guess I’ll Learn Some New Words” That…wasn’t even the point of that part of the content cop. It was about how you felt like you were above someone else who called people irrelevant and made fun of them the way you do, asshole.
14. “How dare you tell me what is and isn’t a jOk e ??!!1!1!” Jesus. This point had no structure to it. He was just saying “fuck you” to iDubbbz and avoiding the criticism.
15. *“Being Recorded IRL w/o consent is Different from Being Recorded On Stream w/o consent”* This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Have you forgotten that you were asking girls to take off their shirts/show cleavage/get nudes from these girls in front of an audience that they weren’t aware of? You are an idiot.
16. *“I need the 10k that i promised to someone else just in case”* Enough said. Not only are you a rich asshole, you’re a penny-pinching rich asshole.
17. *“I Can’t Vlog My Own Music Video”* The critique was that you were saying that YOU made the video and music and that YOUR video was great. If you want to talk about how the music that “YOU” make is great, credit the people who actually MAKE your music. Asshole.
18. *This is the point where ricegum completely avoids the ghostwriter allegations because he doesn’t want to admit that he has a ghostwriter. What a pussy.*
19. *“He’s Obsessed With Me”* By your definition, he’s also obsessed with LeafyisHere, Keemstar, the Fine Bros, Tana Mongeau, and everyone he’s ever done a content cop. Get off your own dick.


Didn’t watch through the diss track because I didn’t feel like having my ears bleed profusely. 

#ricegumisabitch

Another update from Stefán! Warning, I cried so much while reading this!
  • Dear friends.
  • I have no words to describe how thankful I am to all of you, my friends. Your support and continuous thoughts, prayers and positive letters and encouragement have more to do with my success in the fight with cancer then you can imagine.
  • Let me tell you a little story.
  • During my travels around the US and North America with the Musical How The Grinch Stole Christmas, I got to meet children with cancer in almost every city we visited, more the 40 cities. I would dress up as the Grinch and visit the Children’s Hospital in each city and meet with very sick child that was strong enough to take a visit from the Grinch for a little story reading or just a short hello. Sometimes I could only wave to them through a glass window because they were too ill to make any contact to the outer world. 
  • In my carrier I have also worked with “Make a Wish Foundation” and in Lazy Town we would have children visit the studio from all over the world and it felt so good to be able to make a difference. 
  • But one girl will never leave my mind. We were playing “The Grinch” in Orlando, Florida 2015 and I had been asked by “Make a Wish Foundation” to meet with this girl, 12 years old, who had the dream of taking her family to Orlando and having a blast. She had gone to all the parks and seen a lot of shows during her stay but she really needed to meet The Grinch. 
  • I asked her if she had had a good time with her family and friends in Florida and she said yes, it’s been great. And since I was in Character as The Grinch I asked her why she wanted to meet with me before the show, The Grinch of all people. Then she looked me in the eyes, smiled, stroked my hair and said: “I just wanted to see if I could make your heart grow three sizes”. 
  • My eyes filled up with tears and I really had nothing to say and I remember thinking to myself “Stop, Stop it, you can’t be The Grinch and cry in front of this child”. I looked at her and said; “You have made my heart grow, yes”. Then the girl said ; “Well, you too Mr. Grinch” and then she gave me the warmest hug I have ever felt. 
  • This story is about all of us, all of us who are ready to give till the last moment in our lives, help others with as little as a word or two or just a hug.
  • You are giving and you are healing and just remember, it doesn’t matter how long I live because it about how I live. Life is not tomorrow, life is now.
  • Big hug and love to you all
  • Stefan Karl
4

Ok so time to be a bit dramatic.

I started drawing (like characters and scenes from books and fan art - I’ve technically been drawing since I was a kid) when I read the Percy Jackson and The Olympians series. All I wanted to do was to draw my favorite characters. Percy Jackson also started my love for books and fantasy in general. This was 7 grade. I was 12.

Skipping to 8 grade. 13 years old. My anime phase. I call it a phase bc it burned bright then died down. Not only did I stop reading books for a few months, but my art style also went to: anime. My art teacher actually told me to get out of the anime; that is wouldn’t do me good as an aspiring illustrator. But I ignored her, thinking I could make my own way without help from better artists.

Summer going into 9 grade, 14 years old (a few months after 8 grade ended) I read The Mortal Instruments series. I read those books in under a month along with The Infernal Devices series. It broke me out of my anime stage. I started to find my own style while drawing the characters. It not only shaped my art, but it brought me back into the world of literature that I didn’t realized I had left behind.

Now. 15 years old. Going into my sophomore year of high school. One year later from reading TMI/TID/TDA. My art has improved. Clary and Jace still mean as much to me now as they did then if not more.

If you would have told me when I was 12 that when I was 15, that The Shadowhunter Chronicles would replace PJO/HOO as my all time favorite series, I would’ve called you a liar. If you would’ve shown me I would be drawing this three years later - I would’ve laughed in your face.

But it’s true. This is real. This is me. My art. My passion. Books do change people. But only if you let them.

This photo is going around on the internet right now, like some cheap meme with the caption “Here’s a photo for all those upset about the Muslim ban.“ I was compelled to write a response. I know this is a tumblr for Pokemon GO and I’ve tried my best for these months to keep posting fun things about this fandom but I cannot stay silent. I am sorry for the deviation from the norm you have all come to expect from me, but this I cannot abide. This is my message:

My father worked at the World Trade Centers from 1998-2001. He survived that day because he took me to school that morning when I was in my third or fourth day of 6th grade. This isn’t about my father, though, because he can tell his story in his own way when he feels it is appropriate. I will explain my own story.

I had been pulled out of class that morning. They didn’t tell me what had happened, just assuring my 11 year old self that my father was okay and that there was a fire at the World Trade Centers. I know they were lying. They couldn’t put me in touch with my father. I knew something was wrong. I knew about the 1993 bombings. I often wondered what would happen in the towers fell on the city, looking down on it from above, if such an attack were to happen again.

Sitting in the principals office I was filled with anger, sadness, disgust, loneliness, despair, anxiety, depression and chaos. My father might have been dead, killed by terrorist from a land I knew nothing about. I sat in that office for 45 minutes thinking nothing but that.

Then my mom came to get me. She told me my father was okay. Then I saw him. He was crying. We hugged. I told him that as long as he was okay I was okay. That made everything okay.

I had every right to be upset and vindictive against the muslim community because of the acts of an element of radical extremists attempting to murder my father. In fact some of my peers actually encouraged me to fill my hear with hate and anger, to put aside my childish wonder of the world and build walls in my heart to separate me from the muslim faith as a whole. The propaganda on television and the fact we were entering into two wars as retribution for September Eleventh didn’t help.

But I couldn’t do it. Something inside of me wanted to answer the burning question of “why?”. So I did some research in the middle school computer lab and very quickly found my answer. There is a large contingent of radical terrorists, of every nation and faith, that are drawn to the cause because they have no other options. I read that a suicide bomber in Iraq was paid $20,000 to carry out his attack. This money was needed for his family to pay for shelter, electricity, food, water, security and heat. The basic essentials that allow us to be human and not think with hate and sadness but rather with compassion and understanding. The people in Afghanistan, in the mountainous regions, join extremist groups because they have no resources to sustain their life.

That was when I learned about the concept of ‘sustainability’. The Brundtland Report in 1987 defined sustainability loosely as any action that leaves the world in a better or same state as the way you came into it. I decided at that point, as a 12 year old, to not fight the extremists with a gun, but rather to help get the muslim community the essentials they need so they never have to feel like terrorism is the only way to support themselves, their family or have their message heard.

Islamic extremists tried to kill my family. I do not hate the muslim community. I am a vocal opponent of the muslim ban, registry or oppression. All people no matter what race, creed, nationality, faith, background, color, gender, sex, identification, whatever deserve to be treated as human beings. Because thats what we all are when you get down to it. We are humans, of many glorious and wonderful backgrounds and interests, that should work together rather than divide ourselves. We are one species no matter what you look like or sound like. The blood that runs through my veins runs through the veins of the man in Iraq, Afghanistan, Turkey, Somalia, France, Russia, China, North Korea, everywhere.

We are a nation that has a proud history of accepting people of all backgrounds. I am German. If this ideology had been pervasive in the 1930-40s then wouldn’t I have been held accountable for the actions of the Nazi’s in the same way that people of the muslim faith are persecuted for the actions of the extremists? I have muslim friends. If I can not hate them, can you try to exercise a little empathy for the innocent people caught up in this?

I will leave you with a couple of quotes for thought:

“In these days of difficulty, we Americans everywhere must and shall choose the path of social justice…the path of faith, the path of hope, and the path of love toward our fellow man.” - Franklin Roosevelt

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” - Statue of Liberty

Love always. Reject hate. Be compassionate. Be empathetic. Love thy neighbor. Protect the innocent. Fight for the oppressed. Crush evil. Be vigilant. Be strong. Be good.

I love you all. Remember that, always.

- T