self pass

Animal Intelligence

Ever notice how they keep moving the goalposts when it comes to animal intelligence vs. human intelligence?

“Humans are completely unique. No other animal uses tools.”

“Actually, wild sea otters have been observed using rocks to open shellfish.”

“Okay, but that’s not true intelligence. They just pick the rocks up; they don’t alter them in any way.”

“Chimps peel the leaves from sticks to make more effective termite probes.”

“Well, that’s just technology. Only humans have art.”

“What about painting elephants? Art critics often can’t tell the difference between their work and a human’s.”

“Okay fine. But only humans have language. That’s the mark of true intelligence.”

“These African Grey Parrots use hundreds of words correctly and even ask original questions.”

“Oh yeah? Well, does any non-human species demonstrate self-awareness?”

“Dolphins pass the mirror test without training.”

“Pfft. How about problem-solving?”

“I can’t keep squirrels out of my bird feeder no matter what I do.”

“Aha! Bet you can’t think of a species that possesses all these traits! Only humans! We’re No. 1! We’re No. 1!”

“Crows.”

“LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOOOOUUUUUUUUU…”

anonymous asked:

So in world history we're going over Spanish and American imperialism in the Philippines, and a bunch of kids keep saying how it 'helped' us. They say things like 'without Europeans, they'd still be living in the jungle' and other things of that nature.. As a filipinx, how can I address how wrong that is with them?

Good lord I’d like to recite my debate speech about how colonization fucked everything up. 

1) Colonization is the direct cause of colorism in the Philippines. 

It’s all rooted back to how the Spaniards differentiated us by putting us into categories according to skin tone. Lighter Filipinxs got better *house* jobs and darker Filipinxs got the hard outside labor. 

2) It was the genocide of our culture and writing system. 

Baybayin was the lost pre-colonial writing system before Spain. By the time Spain came, they were surprised at how we could read and write. Men and women. 

Know what that means? It was more of an egalitarian society. 

But oh no. We are just savages who lived in the jungle before the white saviors came. 

3) The Philippines has been constantly exploited for over 500 years. 

We’ve been colonized over and over and over again. Taken for our location and our resources. They made us hate our skin, hate our culture, and embrace everything that is white. 

I need to make a longer post about this cause arguments like this really piss me the fuck off cause the more I read up on this topic, the more I realize how much the root cause of racism and colorism stems from colonization. 

And the self-hate is passed down from generation to generation. You will get treated better if you’re light-skinned. Pale is beautiful. Brown is ugly.

This is something we’re told and grow up seeing and it’s all because some fucking white assholes imposed that on us. 

We barely know any of our history cause it was all wiped out and forgotten. They didn’t do shit to help us.

They exploited us. 

-Leah

Have stretch  marks?  You are beautiful.

Have a flat chest? You are beautiful.

Have a large chest? You are beautiful.

Thighs touch? You are beautiful.

Have a thigh gap? You are beautiful.

Have body hair? You are beautiful.

Don’t have body hair? You are beautiful.

Acne? You are beautiful.

Scars? You are beautiful.

Freckles? You are beautiful.

Fair skin? You are beautiful.

Dark skin? You are beautiful.

Long story short, You are beautiful no matter what.

Then again, I’ve always had a thing for hearts… just never really my own. Maybe the steady rhythm is what’s attractive, because there’s not yet been a day in my life when steady and I have shared any sort of intimacy.
—  🖤
You don’t taste the memories in the same way that I do. It’s the soft spot in me that you like to play with, the one that you think had always been there and will always be there for you. I’ll never know what it is that’s keeping you stuck in who we used to be, as though even after everything I’m just supposed to treat you in exactly the same way, I’m just supposed to love you in exactly the same way. I’d been waiting for those words and I thought that they were special, but I’m not going to wait on them when you’ve used them to shatter another girl’s world. I don’t ever want them to come from you, and I’m sorry if you don’t like that. Our time has passed.
—  🖤

wukodork  asked:

Could you elaborate on what you meant about eviscerating original female characters?

Sure.

Ok, the Original Female Character (or OFC) can still be found today in fanfiction archives, usually in fanfics with low hit counts and few comments. But there was a time when the OFC was popular.

OFCs, in their most pure form, are self inserts created by girls and women as wish fulfillment. They’re usually idealized versions of the authors. Because they serve as a fantasy version of the author, they’re often seen as Mary Sues, though that’s not entirely accurate. Many OFCs in reality are awkward or plus sized or disabled or nerdy, or represent culturally marginalized groups.

Despite the fact that most OFCs are personal wish fulfillment, they were enjoyed communally, and it wasn’t uncommon a decade ago to see fans on message boards with sig graphics featuring their OFC.

To be honest, I had issues with OFCs. They were sometimes idealized to the hilt, the male subjects were often out of character, and they frequently erased the male characters’ canon partner (of course, these exact issues also apply to slash).

But also, to be honest, the first fanfiction I ever wrote (without even knowing the word fanfiction) was a tag team self inserts story based on my and my bff’s favorite show. We’d each write a chapter centering on our self insert and pass it back and forth. It was just between us, never posted, but it was so much fun. We still talk about our characters years later.

I grew out of writing shameless self inserts, but I admit there’s still a place in my heart for totally self-indulgent OFC fic.

When OFCs reached their saturation point sometime in the ‘00s, there was backlash. Hard backlash. Slash writers tended to be older, more experienced writers who looked down on OFCs. Self insert became a dirty phrase, and slash was considered more legit fanfic writing. Girls who enjoyed writing themselves into their favorite universe were guilted for doing it. Slash was pushed as a kind of social activism with kinks. OFC was called homophobic, because they didn’t center on the popular slash ships.

Fandom convinced many girls that writing fics about two hot guys was superior in every way compared to OFC. Fandom is very much a bandwagon culture. If you wanted to be popular, if you wanted readers and favorites and comments, slash was the way to go. You could still self insert with slash, but it was a fandom approved kind of self insertion.

OFCs fell out of favor, and they still haven’t recovered. A lot of people would say good riddance to bad Mary Sues, but OFC allowed girls to write girls with abandon. It allowed them to create characters they related to. But that was not acceptable. When AO3 was born, it bacame primarily a slash platform. And everyone wanted to hang with the cool kids.

The demonization of the OFC is a loss, especially for fanfic writers who want to create representation for themselves in media where that representation doesn’t exist.

This is for you, feeling overwhelmed

Hey, you’re not alone. I understand what you are going through: the world can be too much to handle sometimes, and that’s okay. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes, if you’d like.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Feel your chest expand. Feel the air filling your lungs, your heart rate going down. Everything will be just fine. Ok? I got you. You’re not alone. And this feeling will pass.

I have spent many fortnights trying to delete the pain like a really bad poem I never meant to type up, you are the only one that has showed up everyday without my asking. Time after time, I have cried about it. I don’t cry anymore, but you’re right, it still hurts. Love has to hurt us in order for us to recognize all that we’ve done– and maybe it wasn’t about her. The essence of who she was to me, I think that’s the most important part. You see I have a strange philosophy, I don’t think you really fall out of love with anyone. The last woman I have shared this theory to, she laughed at me. She never even let me explain, so I don’t share my intimate and close thoughts with people anymore. Not like that at least. The thing is this. You don’t act a certain way because it used to hurt someone. You are self-destructive, but you recognize it. When you fall in love and it’s reciprocated– it’s like a whole new universe imploded into being. It’s like drinking poison and knowing you’ll survive it. I have tried to write about other things, I’ve come to a simple conclusion. Love is and will always be the only thing worth writing about. Choosing different professions, but staying because of one simple factor: you love your work. Love. It’s the most qualified aspect of humans, we didn’t become the dominating species on this planet because we were stronger, we became so because we felt the pain of losing a loved one. The fact that we can overload our whole being with emotions, that makes us powerful. We’re like supercomputers that truly only understands the need to feel love and to be loved. Our 1s and 0s, our xoxoxo’s. I think about you from time to time, I try not to write about you. I want to ask you about the times when you promise to never leave and how I believed you. There is no greater progress than heartbreak. Give a woman a broken heart and she’ll be more powerful than anything manmade after she has pulled through. Give a man a broken heart and he’ll never be the same after the trigger is pulled. They may search forever, but if happiness calls for it. I’ll do my time, I’ll find peace within my pieces that I’ve given away. There’s so much more to us than how we are seen by the people who couldn’t put up with us anymore. The foundation of love starts with the self. All things shall pass given enough time, the people who needs us, the people who wants us, the people who adds to our core values, and the person we need to survive the suffering– the story doesn’t end because of a bad year, the story doesn’t end because your heart hasn’t fully healed. Our greatest weapon, the brain– it can be quite the bitch. You may be having the best day of your life, but a familiar smell can trigger you. The cologne he always put on right before dinner, although you both never went to anywhere fancy. He wanted to smell nice around you. The perfume she always wore before bed, I just want you to remember how I smell just in case you mess me while I’m at work. Our memories are linked to all of our senses, how else can we remember so much? The subtleties of us– these are the things that I still love about you even if you’re not the person that I call when I wake up. The person that you talk to right before you fall asleep will always change, but the feelings will stay the same. If you’re into video games, love is always the final boss. Instead of beating it, you’re always sitting there on top the roof of the tallest building throwing our paper planes with our favorite poems. Your favorite things inside of one smile, how lips can change for each emotion. You’re not in this part of my life, but you’re still altering my decisions. It’s weird to be attached to people, I try not to. It’s within my nature to cling, so I would rather be alone. It’s within my heart to love, so I don’t go out much. It’s said that we have soulmates scattered all over the planet, I wonder how many times we’ll have to say goodbye until the timing’s right. Your birthday is coming up in two months, I want to call, but I really shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be texting you or writing about you, but there’s a part of me that can’t let go and that’s a thing I’ll have to write out. I’m happy that you’re happy, I truly am. He’ll give you the universe inside of a universe– I could never give that to you. I just wish you supported me more. I put people on high pedestals, you’re right. We’re just human. I love with a permanent third degree burn, I lose my cool when things don’t go as planned. Almost a whole two years and I’m still writing about you. What a shame, what a shame. I’m still a letdown. I’m happy about meeting you though, because without you. I wouldn’t be who I am today. Without my mistakes, I can’t be better. I was never taught how to love, so I love until my heart breaks and then I love some more. Maybe I’ve got a problem, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is I have an outlet. Who could’ve known that writing poetry would be helpful? I didn’t even know how to write a poem prior to saying I love you. You changed my ways for the better. I am flawed, but I could’ve been way worse if it wasn’t for you. I still ponder, but it’s alright. Things don’t last forever, I am less naive. People can choose to leave, I no longer bleed when my thoughts say that I should. These days I keep it short, if you bring up love, I’m out. Scared to fall in love, let’s just be friends. My soul is heavy, I keep my personality light. They say that we are all of the people we’ve ever loved. A most loved piece from everyone– a collection of good habits from my exes, I am the x on the treasure map. I should have treated you better turns into I won’t treat the next one like that. I shouldn’t write anymore love poems, I don’t know what it feels like anymore– yet I still write. They always ask how I’m able to write such words? These days I’m less myself and more of someone else. The more I think I got it figured out, the more I realize I don’t have shit figured out. It’s not poetry, it’s just an honest love letter. It’s not love, it’s just another way to not hate yourself. It’s not pain, it’s just another thing to get over. I didn’t have depression before I met you, but after you it all makes sense. The story doesn’t end with you, it ends with me. The story has more than one chapter, you’re just a page I need to rip out. It’s okay to remember, it’s not okay to long for emotions that are no longer there. Maybe one day I’ll forget about you, maybe one day I’ll be over you. It ends someday, ya know? I’m just waiting for things to pass and for things to last. I’m sorry that I can’t give the world to you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that we’re just friends. I’m sorry that it didn’t work. I’m sorry that I said those words to you. I’m sorry that I never wrote anything for you. I’m sorry about not visiting anymore– you’re getting way attached and I can’t break your heart like that. I’m sorry that you’re waiting for me, it’ll all make sense some day. I’m sorry that you cried for nothing. I’m sorry, I’m not that guy. I’m just a simple poet with simple words. The story thus far is not pretty, but it will end beautifully.
—  The story thus far
Conversation on a Train

M: We have to kill Mary. How?

G: I know… in an AQUARIUM!!!

M: Oh, cool! But wouldn’t that break the glass and let the fish come pouring in on everyone?

G: Nah, never mind the glass. We’ll kill her in an aquarium, because we likened CAM to a shark, with cold, dead eyes!

M: OK. OK. This is great.

G: Who will shoot her?

M: Well, it would be great if John shot her to protect Sherlock from her assassinating ways!

G: Yeah, that would be cool, wouldn’t it? Imagine the guilt both John and Sherlock would feel over that. And it would settle the damned assassination subplot anyway. How can John be pleasantly married to someone who shot and killed Sherlock?

(Both grow quiet, pondering the unlikelihood of the marriage.)

M: What about the baby?

G: Well, obviously, we can’t have a baby on the show. Who would watch her when the boys went on their adventures?

M: Why did we add that subplot to TSOT?

G: I don’t remember. Well… anyway, we’ll write the baby off somehow.

(Tea service arrives; boys take a break.)

M: Now, where were we?

G: Killing Mary IN AN AQUARIUM!

M: Oh, yeah. Who will shoot her?

G: Um… I forget what we were saying. Um… how about… Hmm…

M: I know! Let’s make it a secretary from that secret group that Mycroft and Lady Alicia Smallwood belong to.

G: Lady Alicia? Isn’t it Elizabeth?

M: Is it? I don’t remember. We can look it up later.

G: OK… so the secretary… oh, I’ve got a great idea! What if the secretary is aiming for SHERLOCK, and Mary jumps in front of the bullet?!

M: Oh, man, that’s COOL! And then blood can like spurt out of the wound!

G: And Mary can have beautiful final conversations with John AND Sherlock and tell them both how wonderful they are.

M: Might it be biologically unlikely for a dying woman to have a conversation? When we wrote HLV, didn’t some medical person give us some advice about bullet wounds and shock and loss of consciousness?

G: Hmm… I don’t remember. Never mind for now. We can look it up later.

(Boys take a small nap.)

M: Mark! Mark! Wake up! I just had a cool dream.

G: What was it?

M: What if there is a SISTER! Sherlock and Mycroft have a SISTER!

G: Oh, cool. Let’s name her Eurus, like “East Wind.”

M: Eurus, yeah! Yeah! And maybe… is she a good sister who died tragically when they were young? Which caused Sherlock to close off his feelings and explains, a bit, why he devoted himself to logic and intellect?

G: No… too simple… let’s maker her EVIL. Like, super evil. Eviller than Moriarty!

M: Yeaaaaaah. Super Evil! And she’s a Holmes, so she has to be the smartest Holmes. And she can CONTROL PEOPLE WITH HER MIND!!!!

M & G: And WE CAN BUILD HER A FORTRESS PRISON ON A SCARY ISLAND!!!

(Several minutes of delighted cackling.)

M: So Eurus is in secret fortress prison, but… she can control people with her mind, so she can come and go whenever she wants.

G: She can flirt wtih John if she wears a red wig!

M: And she can hang out with Sherlock and eat chips if she wears a blonde wig!

G: And she can be John’s new therapist if she wears a gray wig! And John won’t recognize her because he’s a dumb fuck and she can CONTROL PEOPLE WITH HER MIND!!!

M: AND SHE CAN SHOOT JOHN!

G: OMG, this is SO FUCKING GOOD. Groundbreaking television!!!

M: But before she shoots John, John and Sherlock can make up with a hug.

G: Um… Why were they fighting?

M: Um… because John thinks Mary’s death was Sherlock’s fault because Mary took the bullet for Sherlock? In the aquarium?

G: OK. But can John beat Sherlock up very badly first?

M: Yeah. Yeah. Good.

G: Now… just to keep them hopping, let’s throw in some kind of memory-changing IV drug. We can call it T12.

M: Oh, yeah. That sounds mysterious. Will it have any bearing on Sherlock’s strangely missing memories of his sister? Or the weirdness of the island fortress or the AIRPLANE GIRL PLOT I just made up? This girl is alone on a plane and all the adults are asleep and she calls Sherlock!!

G: No. No bearing. No connection. But I love AIRPLANE GIRL PLOT.

M: Like… she’s flying over cities. They have to make her crash the plane over water!

G: You know what else I want to do?

M: What?

G: UmbrellaSwordGun. Remember when we drew that in our notebook that one time!?

M: Totally. Let’s UmbrellaSwordGun the hell out of Mycroft. And –

M & G (in unison): BLEEDING EYEBALL PORTRAIT!!

(Laughter)

M: Eurus can chain John in a well.

G: Didn’t she already shoot John?

M: Never mind that. She can chain John in a well… um… like she did many years ago…

G: To Sherlock’s dog REDBEARD!!

M: No! No! To Sherlock’s best friend VICTOR TREVOR! Whom he CALLS Redbeard!!

G: But let’s make a dog bowl anyway and write “Redbeard” on it.

M: Obviously.

G: So, John’s in a well with the dead dog…

M: Dead BOY.

G: Dead BOY… right… and he chained in there… and Sherlock has to hug his sister so she’ll tell him where John is!

M: I thought we were on the Fortress Prison Island?

G: Yeah yeah that was like ten seconds ago. Now we’re back at the Holmes estate and there are lots of creepy headstones with fake dates on them? And John is in a well. And the water is rising.

M: So Sherlock keeps having water flashbacks all through this season. Even he could fight a bad guy in a pool and almost drown! Because childhood trauma!!!

G: But Sherlock doesn’t know that the dog drowned.

M: BOY drowned.

G: Sherlock doesn’t know that the boy drowned, so why would he have water fears?

M: Never mind that. Silly details.

G: And Sherlock finally gets his sister to tell him where John is, and they throw a rope to him and he climbs out of the well.

M: Isn’t he chained?

G: That was like ten seconds ago. Now he’s fine, and BLANKET.

M: Can Greg be there?

G: Yeah, yeah!

M: He’s not in London?

G: No, he’s by the well.

(Both men lean back in thick, cozy self-approval.)

(Several minutes pass.)

M: Can we blow up 221B as well?

G: DRONE?

M: YES! Drone.

M & G (in unison): GRENADE DRONE!!

(Both men settle in for happy, contented naps.)

anonymous asked:

Umm,,,, If you have the time do you think you could try drawing a big gam?? like, he's very tall and he can pick you up and run around and make airplane noises!! he's just so toll 800!!! (sorry if this sounds,,, weird?,, idk i just like the thought of tall gam and short ari,,, <33)

are u telling me,, my gam isnt already Big As Heck omg

tbh u gave me an excuse to draw him extra tol tho ty gdkngdgdjksn

drew this gam headcanon again bc its, good (x)

I posted this as a comment on FB and I wanted to x-post here because fuck the discourse so very very much.

I’m getting so very frustrated with the “q slur” crowd and I feel like they very heavily overlap with “the only REAL oppression is toward gays and lesbians and everyone else is just doing it for attention” crowd. Gatekeepers can GTFO. I spent a lot of years in the closet because of the people who said bisexual women are just doing it for the attention of men and that if you hadn’t had sex with someone of the same gender AND someone of another, were you really even bi? Fuck ‘em. I’m older and have more insurance and I will fight tooth and nail so that no other scared queer teens feel excluded from their community. Aces belong, period. Anyone who disagrees can fight me.

And before someone jumps in: if you do not feel comfortable calling yourself queer, if you find it offensive, that’s 100% okay. That’s your prerogative. I won’t use that word for you, because you get to choose how you identify. But I will call myself queer until the day my fat queer self passes into the great beyond, and I ask that you respect that as I respect your choice of identity.

A nice sunny day in Alola

And somewhere there’s a Team Skull Grunt sobbing uncontrollably because they’re so happy that they finally won a battle against a trainer undergoing the island challenge. That win brings the grunt a feeling of self-worth and a sense of accomplishment; that maybe they can win more battles if they and their Pokémon just try hard enough.