Okay listen, I totally get overboarding a plane is a thing BUT here’s why I’m fucking mad
#1 They immediately chose an Asian man.
#2 The man’s refusal to leave was because he was a DOCTOR who had to see patients IN THE MORNING
#3 Legally airline officials and police offers are not allowed to board a plane unless due to two circumstances, ONE a passenger is endangering other passengers whether through unruly behavior or possession of a weapon, or two, a passenger is causing a disruption. This passenger was not causing a disruption UNTIL HE WAS DRAGGED OFF THE PLANE
#4 Legally airline rules state that a passenger may be denied boarding a flight due to overboarding. NO WHERE in the rules states that they can do it after everyone has been boarded, AND DRAG THEM OFF THEY PLANE WHILE THEY ARE SCREAMING, HIT THEIR HEAD AND KNOCK THEM UNCONSCIOUS AND GIVE THEM MAJOR FACIAL INJURIES AND A FUCKING CONCUSSION
#5 The man returned to the plane and while being brutally attacked continued screaming “just kill me just kill me” This man would’ve rather died than be treated like that
#6 AND LAST BUT THE BIGGEST FUCKING THING OF ALL, IN AN INTERVIEW WITH CHARLES LEOCHA, A MEMBOR OF THE DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORTATION’S ADVISORY COMMITTEE FOR AVIATION CONSUMER PROTECTIONS
“They could’ve put their own people on a different flight. They could have sent a couple of crew members across town to the other Chicago airport. They could have put the crew on a Southwest flight. And if they had offered passengers $1,350 in cash, I bet they would have had ten people jump up and take it. And there would’ve been people who would’ve rented a car and drove down to Louisville. There were a lot of things the airline could’ve done, but they didn’t.”
I think this says a lot about americas treatment of minorities. A guarantee you if they had asked a white cishet businessman to leave and he refused they would’ve moved on
They could’ve just moved on. They could’ve asked other people. Or be like “hey we’ll give you $1,350 cash if you leave AND EVERYONE WOULD BE RUSHING OUT OF THE PLANE EXCEPT FOR THE PEOPLE WHO REALLY NEED IT
LIKE A DOCTOR WHO NEEDS TO SEE HIS PATIENTS
Edit to post as new information has been released: Other people volunteered to go instead of the man while the incident was happening. They were denied.
Edit # 2: For everyone in notes saying this isn’t about race because a “computer system selected it”
#1 a young white couple offered to go instead, they were refused
#2The computer system did not chose to beat him and drag him off the plane
#3 He had a very valid and important reason why he had to stay on that plane, in the videos you can hear him politely say “I am sorry I cannot leave I am a doctor who has to see patients in the morning”
#4 There was no disruption for the police to be called there UNTIL the police were called there, with the police creating the disruption itself by dragging this man out of the plane
#5 The second time the man boarded the plane he was brutalized even further and was knocked out, having to be carried off the plane in a STRETCHER
Yeah totally this wasn’t about race oops silly me guess it’s okay that he was beaten to an abhorred extent with no basis or grounds
Fatphobia runs deeper than conventional beauty standards and what clothes we “can and cant” wear.
Fatphobia is so internalized and we’re so aware of that. Me and any of my friends that are also bigger can’t even eat around people because of the looks and the judgements we’re scared we’ll get from people.
Hell I can’t even go out in public, i can’t dance, I can’t hang out with my friends, I feel like I can’t do anything without being some sort of laughing stock.
because somepoint, in my life, ive seen a video or soemthing of a fat person doing something that’s just a normal part of life as something that’s funny, that if i were to do some silly every day thing, it’s funny specifically because I’m fat.
so yeah. you can reblog your “fat is beautiful uwu” posts and then turn around and reblog a post thats supposed to be funny because a fat person is eating weird, dancing, or just having fun because you think its funny that their fat even though you wont admit thats the reason.
It didn’t take Jensen long to realize certain things about
Misha Collins—the guy is very smart, a little quirky, and absolutely, one
hundred percent incapable of styling
his own hair. It was bad enough that the show’s stylists always made the guy
look so like he just danced on a train’s third rail, but Jensen soon discovered
that Misha wasn’t any better with it, and it’s little things like that that tend to drive Jensen crazy.
He loves his friends and he wants them to be happy, and he
knows that people feel happier when they look sharp. So Jensen will often lend
a helping hand. It’s why he’s given Richard certain scarves—so that all his
outfits can pop; and it’s why Jared
started wearing beanies all the time—because Jensen knew how well they framed
his face. And it’s not like Jensen thinks any of his buddies look bad without these little adjustments,
but why not help them spice things up a bit? Why not make sure that they’re
always putting their best foot forward? Appearances certainly aren’t everything but they do count for something, and that’s why Jensen wants to ensure that
all his buddies look their best.
So after the third week in a row where Misha showed up to
set looking like a cow had just treated his head as an ice cream cone, Jensen
became determined to do something about it.
“We’re friends, right?” he asks suddenly, catching Misha by
Misha cracks a wary smile but then nods. “I would like to
think we are.”
“Okay good” Jensen sighs, finally grabbing Misha by the arm
and yanking him in the direction of his trailer, “because we need to do
something about all—” he makes a floppy gesture towards the top of the other
man’s head, “this.”
Misha’s hand shoots up to touch is own hair, and then he
squints at Jensen. “What?”
“Your hair, dude.
This …” he gestures again, “this is not a
Misha eventually drops his hand and shrugs. “I don’t really
have a look. It’s not worth my time.”
“Looking your best isn’t
worth your time?” Jensen counters, stopping in his tracks while sounding
slightly offended by that idea.
Misha shrugs once more. “Who am I trying to impress?”
“You’re a public figure! You’re trying to impress
After the third shrug, Jensen gives up on the speeches and
continues to drag Misha up the steps to his trailer. “Well, if you don’t care
then you won’t care if I try to make that mess on your head look a little
“Go for it” Misha laughs, still sounding completely
unimpressed by any of this.
Once inside, Jensen sits Misha down onto one of the stools
by the kitchen peninsula and tells him to wait there, and then he goes to the
back to grab all of his combs and hair products from his bathroom. By the time
he returns, Misha’s eyes are wide as he looks at all the things filling
“I don’t think I have enough hair for all of that” the man
mutters, obviously second guessing his agreement to let Jensen style him. “Come
to think of it—how do you have enough
hair for all of that?”
Jensen rolls his eyes as he sets everything down on the
counter. “I’m not going to use all of
it, but I don’t know what I’ll need until I get in there.”
“It’s hair, not brain surgery, Jensen.”
“Hey—hair can be
complicated. Just ask your poor scalp. You must torture that thing!”
Misha frowns and then scratches at his head with concern.
“Does it really look that bad?”
Jensen frowns some too. “Nah, man – look, you just need to know how to handle it. It’s not horrible …
just … messy.”
“Isn’t messy all the rage these days?”
“Not a good rage”
Jensen grunts, lining up the mousses and gels in order of hold. Once everything is ready, he smiles and claps his hands
together. “Alright—here we go!”
“You’re way too excited about this” Misha mutters, spinning
back around on the stool as Jensen comes around the counter to stand in front
“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks” Jensen admits,
already reaching out for Misha’s head to get started.
It’s only then that Jensen realizes what he’d said, and it
makes him blush a little. “Heh—uh,
yeah, well … I just had some ideas of how I could help, ya know? Make all this
Misha stares up at him curiously but Jensen continues to
avoid direct eye contact, choosing instead to focus on running his hands
through the man’s hair, seeing which way it naturally wants to go.
“Well …” he says after a minute, “at least it doesn’t feel
too coarse. Do you condition it?”
Misha makes an unsure sound before shrugging again. “I just
use whatever my wife uses.”
Jensen nods, thinking about how much that makes sense. A guy
who doesn’t really care about his appearance, probably wouldn’t go spending
money on extra products just for him.
“Alright, well—whatever she gets is pretty good.” Jensen pushes his hands
across Misha’s scalp one more time, just feeling and playing with the strands.
“Okay—so it seems like your hair naturally wants to pull to the left, so that’s
what we’ll go with.”
“Usually things on me want to pull to the right” Misha
laughs while looking up to catch Jensen’s eye. He then gives him a slow wink,
quickly flicking his gaze downwards to try and emphasize his point.
Jensen groans. “Stop movin’ your head and be quiet, will ya?
I’m trying to work my magic.”
Misha corrects his posture and sits up straight. “Take it
away, Magic Man. I’m in your hands.”
Jensen groans again, but he soon focuses all his attention on
the top of his friend’s head, trying to figure out which mousse to start with.
After a second more, he reaches for the one with medium hold and extra volume,
thinking that some lift might just
create the image that Jensen has in his mind. And as soon as he has a generous
amount of foam in his hand, he begins to work it through the dark locks of
Misha’s hair—massaging here and
twisting there, trying to make the
tendrils clump together just right.
“How’s it goin’ up there, boss?” Misha asks, peeking at
Jensen from the tops of his eyes.
Jensen steps back a bit before answering, pivoting in the
middle to try and see his masterpiece from every angle. “I’m … not sure yet.”
“That’s a good sign” Misha hums dryly.
Jensen glares at him and then scoots up close once more.
“Shut up—I just started.”
“Well, please, take your time. After all, I’m just here to
help you get through beauty school. Are we practicing highlights next? Doing my
nails?” Misha brings up his hands to his face and begins picking at his fingers.
“I know my cuticles have been a hot mess
moans, wondering why he expected Misha to be at all cooperative throughout this experience.
“We should get Jared in here too—you can braid his hair, or put it in a bun … no!
Shave half of it.”
That makes Jensen
finally crack a smile. “Dude, he
won’t let me anywhere near his hair!
He’s so protective.”
Misha grimaces as Jensen tugs some of the strands just a bit
too hard. “Yeah—I’m starting to see
“Oh shut it, ya wimp!”
After that, Misha smiles but he stays quiet, letting Jensen
play hairdresser without any protest. So Jensen pulls the locks every which
way, twisting and combing, running his fingers through it all and then starting
over when it all refuses to work. And before he knows it, nearly twenty minutes
have passed and Misha is starting to slump in his seat. “Are we—ya know, close to being done yet? It has been a long day.”
Jensen sighs before pulling over the other stool and sitting
himself down as well, immediately going back to his work once he’s settled. “I
just can’t … it’s not doing …” he bites his lip a moment. “It’s just not doing
what I want it to.”
Misha laughs. “Now do you see why I never bother?”
Jensen grumbles but he doesn’t want to give up yet. With a
determined breath, he runs his index finger across Misha’s hairline, tracing
the edges of each strand—as if mapping it all out will help somehow. But just
as he slips down over the man’s ear, Misha drops his chin a little, so Jensen
moves his other hand over to lift it up again. He then sits back, finally
taking in all of Misha’s face at eye level, thinking that it may help him
figure out where he’s going wrong. While gazing at his hair, Jensen’s eyes drop
down some—and he notes the man’s high cheek bones and strong jaw as well—and
the way his large eyes tilt down slightly at the ends. He stares at the rough
stubble covering Misha’s chin and upper lip, framing his mouth in a way that
makes his lips seem impossibly pink. Jensen then looks at the man’s nose,
realizing how it’s not the usual type of nose that would work on someone—but on
Misha, it looks good. It fits his
face—and his face overall, is a nice
one to look at.
“Everything where it should be?” Misha asks, and Jensen
suddenly realizes that he’s long since stopped
playing with the man’s hair, and is now just staring at all his features while
his fingers play lightly at the base of his neck.
Misha chuckles a little before quirking an eyebrow. “Do I
look super sexy now?”
Jensen blushes again, finally glancing back at the man’s
hair, which he has somehow—made worse.
“Well, actually …”
He doesn’t let him finish, and with a wide grin, Misha
stands up, eventually lifting his hands back to his hair and running them
through with a few quick swipes. Then, with the tips of his fingers, he combs the
strands over to the left, doing soft little twists once he gets to the ends. After
his hair is parted just so, he flattens his palms and smooths down the
sides behind his ears, giving his head a quick shake when it’s all said and
done; and that makes everything bounce
and lift—like the mousse was supposed to.
Jensen gawks up at him in shock, because after only a minute
and a few blind, flicks of his wrist, Misha’s hair looks perfect, a beautiful example of “intentionally messy” and exactly what Jensen had been going for.
“But … how?” he whispers, standing
slowly to reach for Misha’s head.
But the man only smacks his hand away, wearing a smirk that
would put the devil to shame. “I said it wasn’t worth the effort—I never said I
didn’t know how to do it.” And with
that, Misha grins, stepping around Jensen and smacking him on the ass before
heading out the door. “Thanks for the head massage though!” he calls out, just
as the door slams shut behind him; and Jensen would flip him off, but he’s
still just too damned stunned to even try.
“The first time Clarke sees the Head Girl she’s sitting on a throne,
presiding over her dominion with a piercing stare and a crown of braids
in her hair. Her warriors are spread at her feet, a multitude of them,
all long-haired and wild and clad in identical brown regalia. There’s
something of the sacred about her, like the crimson cloak draped across
her shoulders and her divinity are one and the same.
So this cave-dude I know recently called Prompto a ‘pussy’. Delightful, right? But then I’ve also noticed lately this weird tendency in fics to reduce Prompto to (and reinforce his character as) this emotionally weak, almost ‘frightened bunny’ trope, even bordering on actual childishness at times. Now, these are in fact two different issues in the end, yet the overlap is considerable, when you think about it. And I just…
While I recognise and absolutely support all fic writers and such in their right to do whatever the hell they want (Please do! You are valued, and our fandom needs you!), I just…maaaaan. Sometimes I just have to gently shake my head when it comes to some characterisations of our boy Prom.
Now I totally get that AU’s are a thing, as well as personal perspectives. Like, in my head, Prompto can have a pretty bad potty mouth, and regularly drops those f-bombs, and you can totally disagree with me, which is a beautiful thing. Also, if you follow this blog you have definitely seen me tag Prompto as a ‘smol cinnamon bun’, in need of protection ‘at all costs’ and blah blah blah (this is largely meme-based, because I subsist on Diet Coke and memes- I digress).
But it’s honestly the layered essence of what makes this character who he is, the many elements written into and played out in the canon, that make him so appealing to me, personally. To see him essentially reduced to a caricature of himself, a distilled version of everything he is that just sort of latches onto this ‘he’s the baby and the smallest, the most caring and therefore the weakest’ idea, just feels so off the mark. And it makes me kind of sad, you know?
Let it be known right off the bat that I’m obviously by no means claiming to be some sort of FINAL WORD ON PROMPTO or anything so ridiculous. Neither is this some sort of ‘call out’ on any particular writing or portrayal, at all. I can’t abide by that shit.
I just feel like talking about how I see Prompto, I guess?
In all honesty, the Prompto I experienced in the game, as well as in the anime, and audio drama, was anything but weak, and anything but childish. He was always, right from the start, very much the backbone of the Chocobros’ group, the one voicing what everyone was thinking, easing their tension and swallowing his self-doubt to strive to be the best he could be for his friends, like he’s always done.
He got this.
Prompto literally escaped/was rescued from/was vaguely aware of at least, a mysterious and probably terrifying early history, and then proceeded to face a lot of bullshit when he was growing up- at home, with frequently absent parents who left him often to his own devices, as well as at school, where he was closed off from and largely ignored by the other kids. This all could have resulted in a really timid, emotionally fragile or ‘weak’ character, but the fact is… it didn’t? He grew up independent and actually pretty capable of caring for himself, not to mention totally self-taught when it came to interacting with others (thank you for the vote of confidence, Luna). He also grew up with a compassionate streak a mile wide.
I won’t get too into my thoughts on this idea in particular because this post is already massive, and to discuss patriarchal conventions (the aforementioned use of the word ‘pussy’ in this context), not to mention strength vs. resilience on top of it would just get out of hand. I will say this: we can all stand to remember that compassion does not equal weakness.
Prompto was afraid a lot, sure- they all were, obviously- but he was also brave as fuck. If bravery means to ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’, then Prompto’s a master. He’s been practising his entire life, after all.
Prompto was always there, right? This ever present force for good, supporting his friends and their goals, to the bitter end. He was there, thinking and acting on the fly during the Leviathan ritual, which was obviously a horrific ordeal even before its conclusion. He was ever at the ready to see things from all sides, like when Ignis was injured and all hell broke loose between the less-capable, (emotionally-speaking) Gladio and Noct. He was even there, ready to offer a taste of his usual, cheery self when they were all together for the very last time, even if it was clearly breaking his heart.
And yeah he’d kid around, make silly jokes (interestingly, it seems, especially during situations of high tension or uncertainty on the part of his friends, like deep in the depths of some mind-boggling ruins or when facing the prospect of ‘hey, we are actually going to go to Altissia now- oh holy fuck!’). But he was also so very capable of adult conversation, especially when it came to his feelings, which we saw several times throughout the canon- a sure sign of real maturity if ever there was one, in my opinion.
The fact is, Prompto’s fear isn’t who he is, and neither is his small physical stature nor his big heart. Rather, his actions and choices in the face of all of that make up the person he is. (Like anyone, right?). He is no caricature for cute, nor for weak or timid or scared. And I for one want to see more about that guy, in all his multifaceted, achingly resilient, freckle-faced glory.