#BUT THERE

[01roses]

[wingedcorgi]

for that drawing thing - life is strange? ♥

the best alive girl

[ravenclawravings]

Ravenclaw: There are no dumb questions!

Gryffindor: So does that mean questions are all intelligent and therefore capable of asking their own questions? And are the questions' questions smart?

Ravenclaw: ...There are some dumb questions.

[saryasy]

I live content in the knowledge that Bucky is unapologetically, openly in love with Sam. Showering him with gifts, flirting with him openly and not caring who finds out (one time during a press conference, and the internet collectively loses its mind), kissing him at any given opportunity (ESPECIALLY before and after missions) holding his hand as they walk down the street, checking him out every time he walks past him, going all out planning their dates, and using everything in his power to make sure that Sam knows how much he's loved.

That man becomes a different kind of insufferable when he's in love, and boy is he gone on Sam Wilson. Every day he asks himself how he got to be so damn lucky.

After 10 years of marriage, he'll still be asking him out on dates.

And he falls a little bit more (if that was even possible) when Sam always says yes.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Same anon - Chat Noir is not a harasser : elaborate

I have covered this topic a ton of times but sure.

Chat noir is flirty with Ladybug, but he never pressures her into doing anything she doesn't want to do. You can tell by watching the show, the body language apparent in how they interact. Ladybug is not uncomfortable with Chat noir, but she is annoyed at times (because time and place.)

Chat noir also does catch on when Ladybug tells him to take something seriously. Usually stopping his antics to focus at the task at hand after Ladybug lets him know.

If we want to see an example of Ladybug being harassed AND uncomfortable, let us go to the episode Felix.

When Felix, disguised as Adrien, tried to mack on ladybug. Ladybug showed she was clearly uncomfortable, told him to stop, and then she decked him. She then clearly states she did not like guys like that, and she figured out he wasn't Adrien.

Ladybug makes it clear when she is not okay with things. Chat noir, knows not to push on issues.

To explain, if Chat noir was harassing Ladybug, Ladybug would call him out. Ladybug would not trust someone to be her crime fighting partner if that person made her uncomfortable. Plus in season 2, Fu is there, she could have told fu that Chat noir was harassing her. Could have clearly reported him right there and he could confiscate his miraculous. Or in season 3 when she became guardian, she could have been like “As guardian, I'm taking the miraculous” 

If Chat noir was a harasser, why would he respect not knowing ladybug’s identity. He has had a ton of opportunities to see her de-transform, yet he never does, not once. He respects her privacy, harassers don't do that. Thats a f***ing given.

Look at the NY special, the only real time Ladybug was angry (and justifiably) angry with chat noir for lying to her about staying in Paris. Chat noir screwed up, but EVEN THEN, she didn't want him to have his miraculous taken, and had no intention of taking it from him. When chat noir renounced his miraculous, Ladybug/Marinette was shocked and hurt. Would that be the reaction of someone who was being harassed finding out her harassed was leaving?

I could go on, but this is supposed to be the short answer

[relatablegifs]

Stop Kony 2012!

[webgeekist]

What really matters about slash ships

Got a little story for ya -- stop me if you've heard it before.  When I was a kid, there was this magical box in my living room called a television.  It filled the room with light and sound, and stories come to life from all across the globe.  For me, like may others, it was through the television that I SAW what stories looked like -- sure, I read.  I formed images in my mind.  But then, I'd see those books on screen, filled with "normal" people in "normal" stories.

What I saw on television became "normal."

When I was fifteen (way back in the wild west days of dial-up...shut up), my parents bought our first PC, and hooked it up to this newfangled thing called "the internet."  it, too, projected images through a box and filled the room with light, but it was a smaller box with a dimmer light.  Many of the pictures were the same but sometimes....just sometimes...the stories seemed...different.  Whether they were the real-life tales of struggle from real people on the other side of the country or reimagined preexisting universes, the stories were far more diverse, and in turn far more relatable.

It was on the internet that I started to, and continued to, find a reference for who I am.  But, it was a struggle to find any of these stories.  And then to try to explain those perspectives to my friends, or my parents...

They didn't see what I saw.  They didn't read what I read.  They watched television and read books from the bestseller list.  These other stories weren't represented in the media they consumed.

Let me repeat that:  these tales of queer people, of ethnically diverse people, of poor people, of struggling people in other countries, of people with body types different from the ones you could find in GQ were not represented in the books and TV shows I grew up with.

And the sad part is, not much has changed since then.

So, I've seen a thing floating around (I'm sure you have, too), that the Swan Queen horde (I say lovingly -- we're all hordes) cooked up called #SlashShipsMatter.  Based on the above story, I bet you'd think, "oh, well this person is queer enough to jump on that party and wave that hashtag like a rainbow-colored battleflag, right?"

Wrong. But let me explain why.

Yes, fan fiction did a lot to bring me the perspective of others, some like me, some not really.  Yes, fanfic was totally the reason I was brazen enough in college to spend an entire composition class writing for the topic of gay marriage (in 2001).  Yes, it was my love of "ships," as they would later be called, that brought me into fanfic to begin with.

But it was never the fanfiction that was important.  It was the representation it gave for perspectives close to my own, and people like me.

Slash ships do NOT matter -- representation does.

But let me tell you what else doesn't matter -- Once Upon a Time, Warehouse 13, Sherlock, Rizolli & Isles, and Supernatural, because every single one of those shows is already a lost cause.  The point at which the showrunners get defensive, the actors get antsy, and the fans get called crazy is the moment your ship is sunk.  You're not getting what you want out of people who don't want to give it to you...and creatively, honestly?  I'm not sure that would be a good precedent.  But, that's not the point.

What those shows can be now are EXAMPLES.  Examples of intentional storylines with great chemistry buried for the "normal" ones.  Examples of blatant, unabashed queerbaiting.  Examples of an unintentional storyline that is BETTER than the intended storyline, or a relationship between two characters that is not intended to be romantic but is still acted as if it were.  Those shows are examples of all of those things and the damage that is done by the media's continued disregard for what actually constitutes normal.  Media in so many ways shapes the way our society views itself -- why must it always portray white straight males and insist that they are the greater part of "normal" in our world?

What we can do is use these shows and be realistic about their affects.  We can lift them up as deconstructed examples of what not to do.  And, in the case of those still on-air, we can make the hard choice to follow through with our convictions and stop supporting media that repeatedly refuses to respectfully represent the world we live in.

And for that, there needs to be an understanding -- "slash ships" are not what needs to be fought for, and the conversation needs to move beyond Adam Horowitz and Eddie Kitsis and Steven Moffat and Janet Tamaro and Jack Kenny and everyone at SPN except for Misha Collins.  It needs to engage EVERYONE, with words and stories everyone can understand (and honestly, you'd waste a lot of them explaining that "slash" is not a guitarist and "ships" doesn't refer to a naval armada).  It's not enough that we as a community of fandoms decide to trend a hashtag that makes no sense to anyone but us -- we need to inform a public conversation, and encourage actionable consequence for treating an entire demographic of people like jokes.

THAT is the kind of movement that might actually make a difference.

[toukcn]

Happy Valentine’s Day to @mr-awesome-balls !  I hope you like your gift! ^_^

bonus:

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Reasons I like tfp #674:

Optimus ain't fucking slick.

"Oh well, Ratchet says you gotta stay, can't help that."

Look at that bullshit smile.

[sortingabosincebirth]

Omegas Are...?

I realize I’ve never said how omegas were seen in my world.

Fact 73: Omegas are rare and valuable. One is expected to treat them with “basic” (basic varies) respect and to listen to their wants as any person. Omegas are fragile. One is expected to properly guide them, whatever that may entail in any given situation.

That’s how omegas are seen.

[hmshood51]

The morning light

Of course it would go wrong now of all times, it had been an unlucky few hours. The night had seen a storm, which has seen Formidable struck my lightning as she traveled between bases, knocking out a lot of her navigational equipment, radar, and radio and now, after she had ventured out in search of help the morning fog had rolled in and she didn’t even have the sun to tell which direction she was headed.

She had to take a chance, and the red light if a flare cut though the fog, much for visible that her searchlight. She could only hope tat it attracted the right sort of attention,

@mechanicaldaughter

[clarabosswald]

What did you think about Clara "yelling" at the Doctor in "Kill the moon"? I've seen a lot of people say she was over reacting but personally I didn't think she was at all.

i've seen even worse - i've seen multiple people calling her "whiney", and that infuriates me. her reaction made perfect sense. it's a brilliant example of the control freak side of her personality - she relied on the doctor to be her anchor; as long as he's around, things are under control. but then he left her alone in a situation that made her feel helpless and no wonder it made such huge impact on her. not to mention the fact that she was there to help the doctor when he didn't know how to save gallifrey; and that she trusted the doctor to always have her back, even after he regenerated (in deep breath). the thing, the wonderful thing about the doctor and clara's argument (in a show that's often about good and evil - the doctor vs the daleks) is that you can understand and relate to both of them. and it really frustrates me when people choose to antagonize either the doctor or clara because it feels for me like they're completely missing the point.

[slackergami]

It's been too long since I've drawn a proper Komachi and I'm slackergami here. I have paid for my crime.

[ohtobealady]

Because canon midnight sneaky snacking:

The low humming noise met them before they even completely descended the stairs. Robert turned halfway back again, looking over his shoulder at Cora who came after him. With her hand against the wall, her slippered feet shuffling softly against the concrete steps, and her braid resting on her shoulder, she seemed much like a child sneaking down to take a peek at what Father Christmas brought rather than a woman inspecting the newest contraption she'd purchased. But alas, she was indeed the latter, and it made Robert grin to himself seeing how there was a light in her eyes more akin to the former. She scanned the small hallway space, perhaps for any staff or perhaps for the thing itself, before she stepped once more and met him on the final stair. He felt the warmth of her arm against his, even through his housecoat, and he peered down at her. Meeting his eyes and then taking in a breath, she left the step and Robert followed behind, walking closely after her down the darkened hall and to the kitchen. He looked around as he walked along, not having actually come down here in quite some time, quite a very long time, and finding it changed slightly. Cora, however, was confident enough. So he followed her the short way, watching the way her robe swayed slightly with her hips. He grinned again. At last, upon reaching the open archway to the kitchen, Cora stopped. Her lips parted. "Oh." Oh, indeed. There it was, in all its boxy glory, white and gleaming - its nickel door handles casting what little light was illuminated in the kitchen back toward he and Cora. The humming was a touch louder here, too, now that they were face-to-face with the machinery, and Robert felt a small apprehension. But, of course, she was a moth to the flame. He watched noiselessly as she walked slowly to it, observing it, casting her gaze over it and it seemingly gazing back at her. She paced around it, looking it up and down, until at last, she stopped. "It's here," she drew up her shoulders in her excitement and then dropped them down again with a happy sigh. "We really are living in the modern world, Robert." "A very expensive modern world..." she cut her eyes playfully at him, still standing in the threshold, "...but a rather interesting one nonetheless." Cora laughed, and somehow, that beckoned him closer. "The men had no trouble getting it up and running." She was inspecting it again. "And it was cold enough by this afternoon to put the food inside." Robert hummed in what was, actually, fascination. "Just like that?" "Mmhmm." "And it keeps it fresher longer?" "Yes," Cora lifted to her toes to look at the motor on top and then dropped back down again. "For much longer, or so I've read." Robert had started to squint at it now, even leaning in closer to look at the bolts and whatever else that was that had it running. "Well?" Well? Blinking his eyes away from the thing and up to his wife, he lifted a brow. "What?" He watched her pulled her grin into her mouth for a moment before speaking again. "Are you hungry?" And Robert immediately laughed, looking back at the thing. He nodded before he knew quite what he was doing. "Let's see what it's all about, then, shall we?" Cora laughed too, drawing closer to him as he cautiously grasped one handle and lifted, unlocking the door. It creaked most satisfyingly, and slowly, the frigid air inside the box spilled out over them. They peered inside the cold, dark space, and he felt Cora shiver slightly beside him. More short laughter. But it didn't last too long. No, not too long because after a moment it was obvious Robert didn't quite know what he was looking at. There were small stacks and groups of nondescript jars and bottles. There was a plate of something…butter? Cream? He wasn’t sure, but it sat there soaking in the cold. A bowl rested comfortably, too, in the corner and Robert lifted his chin to see it better. “Anything look appealing?” “Well, it would,” he began in answer, “if I knew quite what I was looking at.” “What?” Cora was laughing. “Well they all look different in their packaging, don’t they?” he tried to defend himself, but his wife only continued to laugh as her hand reached out for a jar, and then another. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen the packaging!” She patted his shoulder as she passed him, going to the great wood table and placing the jars there before spinning around toward the counter behind her. He chuckled silently at her, and shook his head, amused at how much of a housekeeper she suddenly seemed to be. Hearing her open the breadbox gave him his cue and he took special care to close the refrigerator back soundly, locking the handle back into place. “There now,” Cora stood straight and looked at the items she’d placed on the table. He smiled as he walked over to the opposite side, only one light from the counter behind his wife showcasing what she’d chosen: Two unopened jars - one with black and one red - scones from this morning, and a tin full of water biscuits. She'd even retrieved two knives and laid them out as part of her spread. Robert looked over their snack and then up to her, his Cora. She was practically beaming she seemed so proud, her hands folded on the table before her, the apples of her cheeks rosy and round with her smile. His heart melted a little at the sight of her. After another moment, she met his gaze, and her smile broadened. "For our snack," she unlaced her fingers. "We have both a savory choice, and a sweet one." She picked up the black jar and opened it. "For your savory there is the wonderful black olive tapenade we had two days ago; water biscuits are just there." She was still grinning as she put the jar back on the table, lying the lid beside it, and then picked up the next. "The sweeter choice is -" she turned the lid but to no avail. She huffed softly. "The sweet is - oh, this jar..." Again she turned it, but nothing. Robert held out his hand. "Here." She regarded him with mild surprise before relinquishing the jar. And, in taking it, he opened it - turning and twisting, using his elbow has leverage, it jutting out into the space beside him. The lid turned loose at last, sticky with the substance it held. "Strawberry jam!" He cheered on the discovery. "Ah, good!" He heard Cora laugh delightedly. "Yes," she settled happily on a stool and pushed her hands into her lap. "For the sweet." He could feel her gaze on him so he set down the jar and looked at her; his heart - that had melted earlier - now caught flame and beat against his ribs. "No," he said simply. "You are my sweet." "Oh Robert!" Cora gushed, even blushing he thought, as she tipped her head away. "I think all this change and modernity you've been subjected to may be turning you mad!" He laughed, too. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But I'm certainly glad that you're here to face it with me." And grinning, even glowing now, Cora nodded. "So am I." They were quiet, quiet, for a moment more before Robert picked up a knife with a small flourish. "The strawberry jam and scones for me, I think!" he announced, and he dipped the knife into the jar. Cora's low giggle warmed the room as he spread the goodness over a scone; he lifted it ceremoniously into the air when he was finished. "Here, my darling, is to our first midnight cream tea!"

[ewansbeard]

[robobbin]

Can I be that one asshole asking for 11 Red

Yes you can. There you have Red’s official Halloween costume. A birthday suit