no sure if people will like it

anonymous asked:

Do you realize how INCREDIBLY western-centric and white your post about how "female oppression doesn't exist" is?? Like the most trifling white nonsense I've seen in months?? Tell that to the girls experiencing FGM, breast ironing, dying in menstruation huts, going thru rape, forced/child marriage, denial of access to education... **because of their biology, not their gender identity*. Shut your privileged ass up and recognize places outside your white western bubble exist

Please refer to the following posts to get a better understanding of the post in question, and then never speak to us again. Thanks.

shlamzizzle  asked:

Did you know that the Dirk Gently's Hollistic Detective Agency series is based off of two books by Douglas Adams? I imagine he's probably credited in the show, so sorry if this seems repetitive! But they're absolutely reccommended from what 7th-grade me remembers of the first one. On par with the absurdity of the show :)

yep!  never read it, but I’d like to!

I’m seriously considering starting a youtube channel on Kdramas and Jdramas. Talking about what dramas I’m looking forward to, what dramas I’m not going to watch and why, short reviews on whole dramas or just specific episodes… Because most of the time, I’m too lazy to write down my opinions. I’m not a writer but I still want to voice my opinion on dramas, you know?

I always loved making videos. Actually, the first time I made some kind of content for a fandom, it was Skip Beat videos on youtube. 10 years ago!!! I haven’t created any videos in 5 years and I just have the basic skills of video making. So the (video and sound) quality would be pretty bad I guess because I don’t have the time, equipment and programs to create flashy and shiny videos that everyone is used to on youtube. But who cares as long as I’m having fun doing it, right?

So, I may be drunk or someting, but isn’t Game of Thrones more and more about current politics instead of focusing on medieval history and British folklore? Like, this whole race towards King’s Landing and ultimate power - on the one side, we’ve got this well-meaning, basically left-wing queen who sort of believes in equality and she could be a good choice except she comes with hundreds of thousands of migrants barbarians who’ll change our societies forever and she’s descended from a Mad King (because Stalin), and then on the other side it’s basically the Bilderberg Group - they mostly meet beyond closed doors, they inevitably go for those policies which will make them even richer and if poor people starve or lose their insurance, who cares, and also they’re stupid enough to trust born-again extremists, and that almost seals their fate. And around these big opposing forces you’ve got the normal politicians - some of them trying to survive, others doing what’s best for their district, others yet stubbornly devoted to common sense and the knowledge that you need to negotiate and compromise to get what you want. And meanwhile, the only people who can see none of those squabbles matter are those who live in areas threatened by climate change the White Walkers - they run around and try to get their hands on new technology dragonglass and nuclear energy dragons because they know they likely won’t win this war, but man, they have to try.

I have not properly cared about Jon and Dany in years, and so much of this show seems to rest on me rooting for them.

But I definitely do appreciate that characters and plot lines are finally coming together. I’m ready to find out where this is all going.

A sequel to the animation of the seven I made almost 2 years ago. I thought it was about time for another one. The order is Nico, Will, Thalia, Reyna, Grover, Tyson, and Calypso. There are too many characters, 7 is my max.

  • luke skywalker is terrifying. 
  • no, shut up, come back.
  • you have to understand:
  •  to you or me he may not be; he may be all sunshine smiles and corngold hair and the biggest eyes this side of the galaxy, but imagine you’re Dagger (stormtroopers don’t get proper names), firing at a boy, only the bolts never hit. They sing to the side. You think that there’s something wrong with your blaster, maybe, but none of your friends can hit him either. Finest shots in the Empire, you are, but you can’t hit this boy. And he cuts you down. He wields a weapon whose name you’ve never learned and he cuts you down into smoking bloodless bodies and your friends die before you – only he leaves you. Knocks you out with a blow of the Force – and isn’t that a nightmare of its own, unseen hands blotting out your thoughts – leaves you there in the cooling blood of your squadmates.
  •  Imagine that you’re Cara Ilhyre and you’re a dancer for the Hutt and you hate it, of course you do, but it is a living, a living, and this boy comes in, fresh-faced and young and he says surrender or be destroyed only he and you both know that the Hutt do not and never have surrendered and when he says destroy there’s this grin on his lips, thin and sharp, and he’s kind, of course he is, but –
    • so you’re Cara Ilhyre and you’re a native of tattooine and like many of your specis you are force-touched and you were a girl, once, a very little girl, and your mother told you tales of krayt dragons who slumbered beneath the sands and gentled their young to their pearl-heavy breasts. krayt dragons are tender mothers, she had said, and it was meant to teach you something of the duality of nature, or to fear those with young to protect, or something; but all you can think is this boy, how he smiles as kind as your mother did, once, but you’re convinced that if you were to cut him down the middle you would find dragon-pearls in his ribs and fire instead of a heart
    • the boy cuts downs jabba’s goons like they are nothing, nothing, and afterwards, afterwards, you sense his sorrow. and somehow that makes it worse.
    • because you say, later, to your mother’s ghost (maybe) or to the desert, he knows that killing people is hard and that weighs on him and he does it anyway and –
    • and, you say, it isn’t as simple as: he makes the hard choices. he knew the hutt would fight. he wanted to burn them down, oh he did, and that sister of his –
10

Don’t forget Gorillaz fans, Jamie Hewlett exist! He made all you’re favorite band members come to life in the music videos, shorts, ect! He continues drawing them countless times and works day and night to give you new content with the band members! So please appreciate him!!! ❤❤❤

drive.google.com
falsettos proshot clips

i put all of the clips that i’ve found of the proshot so far into one folder!! enjoy!

creditfalscttosunlikelyioversjellygonzo, whiizzzer

“punching nazis is wrong!!” you shout, wearing a captain america t-shirt and star wars sweatpants. “it solves nothing!” you cry as you begin to watch Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. “hate breeds hate!” you hold your X-men and Hellboy action figures closer to you and sob into your embroidered Wonder Woman pillow

punsbulletsandpointythings  asked:

Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?

Pandora is made from earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave and bestows cleverness upon her.

She stands in front of Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin, moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and she doesn’t understand.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.

He did not ask to be born any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –

So he gifts her with deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am not what you were supposed to make.”

“Gods have short memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”

He has turned her from something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I? Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”

“No,” Hermes says, “but now you might be able to survive it.”

“Will I want to?” she asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.

~

She hides from everyone, lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first woman, but that’s not true, she can see.

There are women. They smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.

She is not human, not in the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the baker’s trash.

“When they said they sent my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I had not expected a begger.”

She whirls around, hard bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to fight him to get away.

She’s not afraid of him. Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.

“I am Prometheus,” says the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”

“You are meant to be in the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to begin with, him and his thievery.

He shrugs and walks closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his place beneath the earth.”

She pauses, considers. “You stole fire for Hades?”

“No,” he corrects, “I stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was willing to forget the terms of my punishment.”

“What do you want?” she asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”

He stops, too close to her, “The question is why are you here?”

She steps into his space now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you, fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”

“What a punishment you are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long enough to kiss him.

~

Hermes watches her, watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.

He would go to his mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.

“Grandfather,” Hermes greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”

“How am I always, boy?” Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the earth. “Tired.”

Hermes lips quirk up the corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I need some advice, Grandfather.”

Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

So Hermes tells him everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.

Atlas nods, slow, and says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar, within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”

“What are they planning to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash upon the unsuspecting earth?

His grandfather smirks, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”

Keep reading

The whole “Lucius was abusive with Draco” thing has always been so funny to me. Really, I don’t get how people are able to believe something so silly. 

Seriously, guys, wake the fuck up, if Lucius had been abusive with his son, he wouldn’t have been a part of the series. You know why? Because Narcissa “If you attack my son again I shall ensure that is the last thing you ever do” Malfoy would have killed him ten times in a row. 

GUYS SO I WAS LURKIN AND GUESS WHAT MY NEIGHBORS ARE WATCHING RN