various and sundry
The halls rejoice and Kanye West is proudly declared the new headmaster of Hogwarts.
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sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo i was just called a coon.
yo fuck this
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i was on the bus today and i accidentally threw my money all over the driver and instead of being a normal human being and saying oh i’m sorry i...
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why are white folk out here acting like if we removed the work of racists from the canon the canon would suffer?
if fucking wouldn’t
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werewolfpussychiapet asked: We'd be more than okay. But it's something (for white people) to think about. How can you say racism isn't built into the fabric of society when you praise slaveowners in your history books, put men who wrote dissertations contesting the idea that black people were human on your money, celebrate "independence days" during which so much of the population was enslaved/being systematically exterminated, and have holidays commemorating violent imperialists? Goes back to thinking evil "greater good."
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jubellation asked: Source, there WAS an entire culture like that. On a Pacific Island all men had to learn to give women multiple orgasms. They even had final exams of sorts where he had to give an older woman a bunch of orgasms. A man's reputation and honor depended on that. So once a woman was married she was assured a great sex life. Sadly, I think the tribe was ruined (guess which race did it. Guess)
WHAAAAAAT?????
Awwwwwww godddamn it colonialism!!!!!
(via mishasteaparty)
MCU Racebent Fancast - S.H.I.E.L.D.
John Cho - Agent Phil Coulson
Michelle Rodriguez - Agent Maria Hill
Navi Rawat - Agent Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow
Columbus Short - Agent Clint Barton/Hawkeye
Moon Bloodgood - Sharon Carter/Agent 13
Chiwetel Ejiofor - Bruce Banner/The Hulk
F. Murray Abraham - Dr. Eric Selvig
Amara Karan - Dr. Jane Foster
AND THEY WERE PERFECT PARENTS TOO!
They were fiercely proud of their children’s accomplishments.
They played together as a family.
They went to school plays, parent/teacher interviews, and helped with school work.
They co-parented, Gomez was just as active in raising their children as Morticia was.
When their children wanted something that they disapproved of, they were disappointed but relented because it would make them happy.
Plus, all TV married couples kind of hate each other and argue 90% of the time for the sake of comedy, but these two have always seemed to be forever and always in love, which is kind of sweet.
And if that’s only possible because they’re weirdos, what does that say about us?
Is it odd I actually really like this post?
Reblogging this every time I see it.
(via atlasaire)
my favourite garrus headcanon is that he’s simultaneously the suavest motherfucker and the biggest goddamn dork in the galaxy
but this is canon tho haha
(via atlasaire)
i’m just gonna leave this here as a reminder that “hitting bottom” doesn’t mean “staying on bottom for the rest of your life and dying as a piece of crap”
I will never, ever, not reblog this.
*huggles RDJ* Anyone on here who loves him, someone posted an amazing story about him when he was younger. I wish knew where the link was so I could share it. Instead, it’s just cut and pasted below. If I find the link, I’ll replace it with that.
I will also say that I have read this several times now and it still makes me cry.
“True story: His Name is Robert Downey Jr.” by Dana Reinhardt
I’m willing to go out on a limb here and guess that most stories of kindness do not begin with drug addicted celebrity bad boys.
Mine does.
His name is Robert Downey Jr.
You’ve probably heard of him. You may or may not be a fan, but I am, and I was in the early 90’s when this story takes place.
It was at a garden party for the ACLU of Southern California. My stepmother was the executive director, which is why I was in attendance without having to pay the $150 fee. It’s not that I don’t support the ACLU, it’s that I was barely twenty and had no money to speak of.
I was escorting my grandmother. There isn’t enough room in this essay to explain to you everything she was, I would need volumes, so for the sake of brevity I will tell you that she was beautiful even in her eighties, vain as the day is long, and whip smart, though her particular sort of intelligence did not encompass recognizing young celebrities.
I pointed out Robert Downey Jr. to her when he arrived, in a gorgeous cream-colored linen suit, with Sarah Jessica Parker on his arm. My grandmother shrugged, far more interested in piling her paper plate with various unidentifiable cheeses cut into cubes. He wasn’t Carey Grant or Gregory Peck. What did she care?
The afternoon’s main honoree was Ron Kovic, whose story of his time in the Vietnam War that had left him confined to a wheelchair had recently been immortalized in the Oliver Stone film Born on the Fourth of July.
I mention the wheelchair because it played an unwitting role in what happened next.
We made our way to our folding chairs in the garden with our paper plates and cubed cheeses and we watched my stepmother give one of her eloquent speeches and a plea for donations, and there must have been a few other people who spoke but I can’t remember who, and then Ron Kovic took the podium, and he was mesmerizing, and when it was all over we stood up to leave, and my grandmother tripped.
We’d been sitting in the front row (nepotism has its privileges) and when she tripped she fell smack into the wheelchair ramp that provided Ron Kovic with access to the stage. I didn’t know that wheelchair ramps have sharp edges, but they do, at least this one did, and it sliced her shin right open.
The volume of blood was staggering.
I’d like to be able to tell you that I raced into action; that I quickly took control of the situation, tending to my grandmother and calling for the ambulance that was so obviously needed, but I didn’t. I sat down and put my head between my knees because I thought I was going to faint. Did I mention the blood?
Luckily, somebody did take control of the situation, and that person was Robert Downey Jr.
He ordered someone to call an ambulance. Another to bring a glass of water. Another to fetch a blanket. He took off his gorgeous linen jacket and he rolled up his sleeves and he grabbed hold of my grandmother’s leg, and then he took that jacket that I’d assumed he’d taken off only to it keep out of the way, and he tied it around her wound. I watched the cream colored linen turn scarlet with her blood.
He told her not to worry. He told her it would be alright. He knew, instinctively, how to speak to her, how to distract her, how to play to her vanity. He held onto her calf and he whistled. He told her how stunning her legs were.
She said to him, to my humiliation: “My granddaughter tells me you’re a famous actor but I’ve never heard of you.”
He stayed with her until the ambulance came and then he walked alongside the stretcher holding her hand and telling her she was breaking his heart by leaving the party so early, just as they were getting to know each other. He waved to her as they closed the doors. “Don’t forget to call me, Silvia,” he said. “We’ll do lunch.”
He was a movie star, after all.
Believe it or not, I hurried into the ambulance without saying a word. I was too embarrassed and too shy to thank him.
We all have things we wish we’d said. Moments we’d like to return to and do differently. Rarely do we get that chance to make up for those times that words failed us. But I did. Many years later.
I should mention here that when Robert Downey Jr. was in prison for being a drug addict (which strikes me as absurd and cruel, but that’s the topic for a different essay), I thought of writing to him. Of reminding him of that day when he was humanity personified. When he was the best of what we each can be. When he was the kindest of strangers.
But I didn’t.
Some fifteen years after that garden party, ten years after my grandmother had died and five since he’d been released from prison, I saw him in a restaurant.
I grew up in Los Angeles where celebrity sightings are commonplace and where I was raised to respect people’s privacy and never bother someone while they’re out having a meal, but on this day I decided to abandon the code of the native Angeleno, and my own shyness, and I approached his table.
I said to him, “I don’t have any idea if you remember this…” and I told him the story.
He remembered.
“I just wanted to thank you,” I said. “And I wanted to tell you that it was simply the kindest act I’ve ever witnessed.”
He stood up and he took both of my hands in his and he looked into my eyes and he said, “You have absolutely no idea how much I needed to hear that today.”
Source for that story is http://aliciabessette.com/blog/?p=1104
To the white guys on the beach yelling, “China! Filipino! Japanese? Beautiful Asians!” at us from across the street… To all the white girls who tell us, “You’re so lucky! I just want to be dark like you.” To that one white guy who wrote a paper on genocide in our country and told us, “…you probably won’t understand it.”
Fuck you. Fuck your fetishization, white privilege, and racism.
Linda and Lenée. Best friends. Cambodian girls. Forever angry.
(via mercyweabstain)
It’s over and done with. The station’s a smoking hunk of junk floating in space behind her, Aleena is dead, and Wrex is sailing off to go and report a job well done. Huh.
She knew she’d been pushing a little too hard, needed to set up new tracks, erase herself again, but then that damned volus got too curious about where his funds were going for his own good, and—well. She’d seen what had become of that.
It’s a hard thing to do, but it’s better this way. Let him think he won. Let him go to some dive bar and tell the story, boast about how he finally bested the most powerful biotic this side of Thessia, with his too wide grin and his too deep voice and that huh huh huh laugh that drives her up the fucking wall—
She sighs and pulls out a datapad, her thumb flicking across the screen at blurring speeds. “When did you get so damn sentimental,” she mutters to no one in particular.
The message is short and simple. Better luck next time. They don’t need any more; he’ll understand. He’s always understood.
Letting her arm back down in her lap, she shifts back in her seat, lets her eyes haze over the glowing orange light of her console. First a rest, then…maybe she’ll try her luck in the Terminus Systems.
the only case in which I’ll ship a dude with Aria
(via spicyobsession)
so my roommate melissa works part-time at a thrift shop pricing donations and she happened to come across this gem
and bought it for me because she is a good friend
it’s signed, framed and dated 1976
this is framed ot3 fanart from 1976
it is now hanging on the wall in our living room for everyone to see
Vintage space trio!
This is amazing.
VINTAGE SLASH. WOW.
(via wassup-holmes)
(via misha-collins)
