alexander:

gaysemiotics:

dirtylittledamsel:

cops on Queer Eye:

• are openly tr*mp supporters with a MAGA hat that they let the fab 5 find
• their idea of a prank is pulling over a gay black man for no reason and scaring him into thinking he’s about to be brutalized by the police or even killed with his friends clearly expressing their concern for him to even get out of the car when the cop asked
• when Karamo tries to tell them that it wasn’t funny to try that kind of joke in the current political climate the cop tries to switch it to a “but not all cops are bad cops and we get discriminated against too” conversation 
  

firefighters on Queer Eye:

• try to raise money with a community fundraiser to properly train other firefighters 
• let the fab 5 hose them down in wet t-shirt contest
• let Jonathan give them a little spa day with foot soaking and face masks
• take dance classes for said fundraiser and even willingly learn a couple Magic Mike dance moves
• their idea of a prank is to startle Tan with an exploding pen
• the hot white one let’s Karamo crush all over him and call him Superman the whole time without any hesitation
  

Remember there’s a reason no one ever says “Fuck the firefighters!”

People say it but with a different connotation :)

dare-i-say-asexual:

The stories of women in my family who were forced into lives they didn’t want and didn’t utilize their passions breaks my heart. My grandma wanted to be a journalist and write about the injustices she saw inflicted on disabled ppl while she was volunteering at a state run institution as a teen. Her father decided that she was “too fat and stupid” for college and forced her to get married at 17 or else he’d make her homeless. As a kid she told me that she wished people believed that she had meaningful opinions on events around her. One of my great grandmothers wanted to be an artist but was pressured into marrying a man who beat her. She stayed up late each night when her children were in bed writing poetry and pasting it over elaborate collages she mad herself. We still have stacks of these notebooks she created but was never allowed to do anything with. My mother wanted to be an operatic singer and was considered a musical prodigy in her town because she taught herself three seperate instruments by 13. When she was 18 she met my then 30 year old father who emotionally manipulated her into giving up her dreams to start a family with him. As a kid I would hear her up at night playing the violin or doing vocal exercises until she became too depressed to practice anymore. Like idk y’all there’s a quiet type of violence in the way women’s talents are devalued and brushed aside in favor of bullying them into “traditional” roles that ultimately don’t fulfill what they wanted for their lives. We’ve lost so much art, music, writing, science, and happiness to misogyny.

westbrookwestbooks:

swanjolras:

gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining

because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe

and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us– we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them

and then

we built robots?

and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image

and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone

but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?

the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.

and they told us to tell you hello.

So, I have to say something. 

This is my favorite post on this website. 

I’ve seen this post in screenshots before, and the first time I read it, I cried. Just sat there with tears running down my face. 

Because this, right here, is the best of us, we humans. That we hope, and dream of the stars, and we don’t want to be alone. That this is the best of our technology, not Terminators and Skynet, but our friends, our companions, our legacy. Our message to the stars. 

I’m flat out delighted, and maybe even a little honored, that I get to reblog this.

ruffboijuliaburnsides:

wirtish:

you ever catch a glimpse of a cloud passing in front of a full moon and you’re suddenly a highwayman in an 18th century ghost story who just left a tavern on a chilly october night to ride horseback through the woods till you reach the next town over

just me omw to see Bess the landlord’s black-eyed daughter

hope there’s no fuckin redcoats, that’d blow my plans all to shit.