Anonymous asked you: You should make a picture of Thor hugging Loki and singing Set Fire to the Rain.
what is going on in my inbox
i am C R Y I N G
(via synergiclove)
“On today’s market, we find a whole series of products deprived of their malignant property: coffee without caffeine, cream without fat, beer without alcohol… And the list goes on: what about virtual sex as sex without sex, the Colin Powell doctrine of warfare with no casualties (on our side, of course) as warfare without warfare, the contemporary redefinition of politics as the art of expert administration as politics without politics, up to today’s tolerant liberal multiculturalism as an experience of Other deprived of its Otherness (the idealized Other who dances fascinating dances and has an ecologically sound holistic approach to reality, while features like wife beating remain out of sight…)? Along the same lines, what the Politically Correct tolerance is giving us is a decaffeinated belief: a belief which does not hurt anyone and does not fully commit even ourselves.”
— Slavoj Zizek on “the decaffeinated Other”
Tumblr's response to domestic violence
- Chris Brown: OMG WHAT A FUCKING ASSHOLE HOW DARE HE BE FAMOUS WHAT A DICK.
- Michael Fassbender: *cricket*...*cricket*...
But never did Henry, as he thought he did,
end anyone and hacks her body up
and hide the pieces, where they may be found.
He knows: he went over everyone, and nobody’s missing.
Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up.
Nobody is ever missing.
bluestockings31 asked: You are very, very, very good. Trust me.
i have been depressed since i was 14. that’s swiftly coming up on 8 years. many of those years spent in silence.
i’m really tired and i’m really lonely. i want to have expectations. i want to have goals. i want to be brave. i want intimacy with another human being but no one so much as glances at me.
i want all of these things.
i’m always tired and worried and quiet and i dream about making some happy, tenuous connection with another person but i have never felt beautiful, and i never feel like anyone could want me because i’m bat fuck awkward and my mood lurches around like nobody’s business and i’m unreliable and just not very good.
Maybelline “Confidence” ads. SO happy with how the colors in these turned out in printing and matting. To clarify, these are not real Maybelline ads, they were created for an advertising class.
EDIT: This is important. This means a lot to me. I legitimately believe a huge mistake was made today.
These ads were a part of my portfolio into the advanced advertising program at my school. About half of the people who apply get in. I got into the first two creative classes, intro and intermediate, and I was confident I would get into advanced… especially after I posted these on tumblr and in a matter of a few hours got THOUSANDS of notes with people saying that they loved them, most people even believing they were real advertisements and not something a 21 year old student made for class.
The only reservation I had was that my portfolio was being judged by two older men. Two men who have never worn makeup in their lives. Two men who would probably not even begin to understand what this campaign means. Two men who have never been under societal pressures to wear makeup, but then being told they’re insecure for doing so.
Those reservations might have been founded, as evidenced by the fact that I did not get in. I was rejected. I got over 5,500 notes on these ads in 24 hours, yet I was rejected for not being good enough. I can’t finish the program, and I have to figure out where to go from here.
Now to the good stuff: Tumblr is amazing. Everyone who has reblogged this, whether your comments were negative or positive, is amazing. I find it truly astounding that these have gotten so much attention. These, which are advertisements selling you something, something people inherently dislike. I am humbled, shocked, and grateful. This is the first time since I’ve been in advertising that I felt like I was doing something right… that maybe, just maybe, I could make it in this industry and make a positive change.
Those dreams were squashed today. I cried, and I complained. I’m angry — but not at myself like I thought I would be. I feel they made a mistake. I refuse to believe that I’m in the bottom 50% of the people who applied. I deserve to be in that program, and I know it. Thousands of people can’t be wrong that this is a good idea. An idea that MEANS something, and idea that resonates with many people. 2 older, conventional men can absolutely be wrong when it comes to judging what makes a good makeup ad.
Here’s where you come in. Let’s make them regret their decision. Reblog this, like it, comment on it, whatever. Let’s get this attention… so much attention that they can’t ignore it. While the decisions are most likely final, I want to make them think twice. I want them to look back, and believe that they fucked up. If it doesn’t even benefit me personally, I want them to think about how fair a panel of 2 male judges is when it comes to evaluating work done by women, for an audience that consists of predominantly people who identify as women.
So let’s do this. They fucked up; I deserved to be accepted. I know it, and I have a feeling you guys know it too.
(via stfuconservatives)
Hablar inglés no es una prueba de inteligencia.
—
Alejandro Jodorowsky (via jodorowsky)
Knowing how to speak English is not proof of intelligence.
THANK YOU.
(via elsiemarina)
(via ladyatheist)
I finally filled another prompt. Sorry it took so long! I hated everything I drew during the last two weeks.
This promt is for maladicts, who asked me to genderbend whoever I like. And since I wanted to draw Sherly and Joan for a long time, I happily took the opportunity.
I wonder, if Sherly would still buy her shirts a number too small.ILOVEFEMLOCKILOVEFEMLOCKILOVEFEMLOCK ILOVEITILOVEITILOVEIT KJGA;LSRKGJAKJARE;JFEARFJARF
(via fizzygins)
“Like Leontius, the young Athenian in Plato, I presume that you are reading this because you desire a closer look, and that you, too, are properly disturbed by your curiosity. Perhaps, in examining this extremity with me, you hope for some understanding, some insight, some flicker of self-knowledge — a moral, or a lesson, or a clue about how to behave in this world: some such information. I don’t discount the possibility, but when it comes to genocide, you already know right from wrong. The best reason I have come up with for looking closely into Rwanda’s stories is that ignoring them makes me even more uncomfortable about existence and my place in it. The horror, as horror, interests me only insofar as a precise memory of the offense is necessary to understand its legacy.
The dead at Nyarubuye were, I’m afraid, beautiful. There was no getting around it. The skeleton is a beautiful thing. The randomness of the fallen forms, the strange tranquility of their rude exposure, the skull here, the arm bent in some uninterpretable gesture there — these things were beautiful, and their beauty only added to the affront of the place. I couldn’t settle on any meaningful response: revulsion, alarm, sorrow, grief, shame, incomprehension, sure, but nothing truly meaningful. I just looked, and I took photographs, because I wondered whether I could really see what I was seeing while I saw it, and I wanted also an excuse to look a bit more closely.
We went on through the first room and out the far side. There was another room and another and another and another. They were all full of bodies, and more bodies were scattered in the grass, and there were stray skulls in the grass, which was thick and wonderfully green. Standing outside, I heard a crunch. The old Canadian colonel had stumbled in front of me, and I saw, though he did not notice, that he foot had rolled on a skull and broken it. For the first time at Nyarubuye my feelings focused, and what I felt was a small but keen anger at this man. Then I heard another crunch, and felt a vibration underfoot. I had stepped on one, too.”
— Philip Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families
