‘Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea here, Harrington.’
‘I’m getting the wrong idea.’
6K notes
·
View notes
Brienne : Everyone, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Jaime and I are dating.
Jaime, Tormund, Podrick, and Sansa: *gasp*
Brienne : Jaime, why are you surprised?!
67 notes
·
View notes
The rise of Skywalker but instead of Rey killing palps with the power of all the Jedi, we get a better comeback.
Fives descends out of that crack in the ceiling that Rey was looking up at. He looks majestic as heck and pulls out his blaster and says..
"And I'm all the Clones."
Then he makes sheev look like Swiss cheese with the ammout of blaster he puts through him. I have a feeling it probably would have done alot better if we got live action Fives to end peepaw sheev once and for all.
Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.
30 notes
·
View notes
In an alternate universe...
*Tracy and Theo kiss*
Tracy: Wow, I'm definitely a lesbian.
Theo: Yeah, same. 100% gay. Good kiss, though. Let's never do it again.
64 notes
·
View notes
consider: an au where tenjiku didn't even get to do shit bc emma stumbled across em and saw izana. kisaki never got to kill her bc she and izana had a moment and ten minutes later she has everyone sitting down by the park and shes doing everyone's astrology charts and they were all just flabbergasted at the accuracy of astrology
6 notes
·
View notes
Vecna and the power of love (or how the Finale could have been better)
So, we know one of the things that breaks Vecna's hold on a person is to hear their favorite song. The one they love the most in the world. But I think that's because the victims mind is flooded with feelings of love.
Hear me out, as a complete fix to the finale, what if, when El and Max were being held in Vecna's mind palace (which, ugh, he needs a better interior decorator stg) El looked across the ruins of the Creel house past Vecna' into Max's eyes and whispered 'I love you,' and Max, she needs to hear this, but she also needs to tell El that she loves her back, that she's missed her best friend, because what if its the last things she does. She won't leave this world without telling El how much she means to her.
Then it's not Mike's bs speech that helps El and Max fight off Vecna. It's the girls genuine love for each other that gives them both strength to sever any hold the Vecna has over Max's mind, but also allows El the path to access her full strength to defeat Vecna. Not by focusing on memories from her past that caused her pain, but by remembering the people she loves and how much that love gives her power.
They don't fully defeat Vecna right then, but they do hurt him, and they keep Vecna from opening up a gate through the middle of Hawkins.
And during this time, Eddie is playing his heart out on the guitar in the upside down, and he's playing his favorite song that he's dedicated so much time to, so while he's playing all he's thinking about are the people he loves.... The bat's still try to come after him, but they can't get near him, not while he's filled with so much love.
Steve, Robin, and Nancy still set Vecna's ass on fire, and shoot him the fuck out of the attic window - and he still gets away from them in the end. But at least when they make their way back to Eddie's trailer, they find Dustin and Eddie, improvising a way to get back to their Hawkins, bats dead and dying surrounding the trailer, but they're still safe, still alive.
Cue, El and her brothers arriving back in Hawkins with Argyle and Mike to finally be reunited - the party once again whole (esp when Joyce and Murray bring Hopper back with them).
12 notes
·
View notes
ymir beloved you deserved sm better
3 notes
·
View notes
the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
144K notes
·
View notes
the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
23K notes
·
View notes
I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
21K notes
·
View notes
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
10K notes
·
View notes
Everything stays right where you left it huh guys
8K notes
·
View notes
3K notes
·
View notes
With America's birthday tomorrow, here is one meme focused on my favorite unofficial mouse couple from one of my favorite American-themed movies, An American Tail.
Remember the ending to The Good, The Bad and the Huckleberry Hound when Huck retired as sheriff, married Desert Flower, settled down at a ranch, and had pups of their own?
Well, I'd like to think this happening with Fievel and Cholena years after the events of Fievel Goes West.
In this sense, Cholena and her tribe eventually found a way back to the surface and like the previous New Yorker mice, they traveled way out west, and Cholena reunited with Fievel and Tanya, catching up and getting reacquainted. As years grew by, Fievel and Cholena grow closer and closer to each other, developing new feelings for each other. Eventually, Green River's top lawman mouse and the Native Lenape maiden admit their feelings and decide to marry. Fievel's parents, as well as Tanya and Cholena's father, Chief Wulliso, give their blessing (and Wulliso had no hesitance whatsoever as Fievel was the first surface-dwelling mouse he trusted). Once hitched, the two decided to settle down at a ranch of their own, raising a couple mouselings of their own, telling stories of their father's American tales (see what I did there?) to them, while the new sheriff would be Fievel's deputy, either one of the kid mice from the TV series or a grown-up Yasha (I don't know).
0 notes
wayne Family making me want to draw stupid things
19K notes
·
View notes