sartorialbliss:

Melissa McCarthy wearing custom Marchesa at the 2014 Emmy Awards

sartorialbliss:

Melissa McCarthy wearing custom Marchesa at the 2014 Emmy Awards

(Source: The Huffington Post)

lemonsharks:

awwww-cute:

Found this stray girl in a feral cat trap, so we named her kitty

Oh gosh, HER WEE FACE.

lemonsharks:

awwww-cute:

Found this stray girl in a feral cat trap, so we named her kitty

Oh gosh, HER WEE FACE.

archiemcphee:

These awesome illuminated inflatable white rabbits are the work of Australian artist Amanda Parer for an installation entitled Intrude. In May 2014 the giant glowing bunnies were installed at the Vivid Festival of Light Sydney and next month they’ll be part of the Junction Arts Festival in Launceston, Tasmania.

Parer’s enormous and radiant rabbits, which stand 7 meters (~23 feet) tall, were created as a twofold response to the animals’ common occurrence in Australian fairytales as well as their invasive presence throughout Australia:

"These animals first travelled to Australia on the ships of the First Fleet and were brought ashore in cages in January 1788. These adaptable creatures quickly made themselves at home and eventually spread to almost every corner of the land. An Australian contradiction, Intrude represents the fairy-tale animals of our childhood – a furry innocence, frolicking through idyllic fields, while revealing their more serious and large-scale effect on the environment.”

Click here for additional images.

[via Lost At E Minor]

lemonsharks:

star-anise:

luftangrepp:

This really is every representation debate in sci-fi and fantasy ever.

"We can’t have people of color in this story - its in the middle ages."

Imagining dragons and elves and hobbits is fine, but imagining a world not inhabited entirely by white people? That would be unrealistic.

Science fiction: literature that really pushes boundaries and challenges its audience!  UNLESS you wanna talk about sex or race, then hoo boy, mustn’t make the readers’ heads explode.

I would like to point out that that story sounds a lot like Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, which is (1) the best trek of treks, and (2) ran successfully for 173 episodes. 

So really, the kindest interpretation of folks arguing against diverse media here is that if imagination were gas, they wouldn’t have enough to power a vespa around the outside of a penny.

Actually, is this a DS9 AU/time travel/ridiculous trope episode? Because all three of those actors are in DS9.

ETA: Yup, called it! Far Beyond the Stars in season 6.

ace-enjolras:

I don’t think writers realize that “strong female character” means “well-written female character” and not “female character who punches stuff and shoots stuff”.

(Source: panic-at-the-barricade)

On the best nights, you always have empty pockets. Your phone is tossed across a bedspread, your Chapstick in yesterday’s pair of jeans. So when the games of Manhunt in the dark begin, you can run weightless down the path, through the trees.

On the best nights, words are like tea sugar, taken sparingly. Your cousin mutters three curse words into a bush, & you can’t stifle laughter; the two of you stumble, doubled over with giggles, into the flashlight of your captors.

On the best nights, your bathing suit is a borrowed one, unfamiliar strings tickling down your back. Four of you twine hands and jump into the blue-black stillness; the water’s just like wind, only cooler, wetter, weightless. You’re thirteen again, belly-up in the billowing wake, counting the points of the three constellations you can name.

Too many summers you’ve left the fan on even in the chill, telling yourself the white noise will help you soften, make you still. Darling, shut it all off, put your ear to your wrist, listen.

Because in August, the nights will come again that draw you in like a mother, or a lover, that line the dusty boxes of your dreams, that make up the silvery threads of summer held dear. Listen.

Because those nights will be the quietest, but the loudest in your ears.

bitingsexcellent-itslikekissing:

Jedi TARDIS cosplay by Emily Simon

Also found on Facebook Here.

Thank you very much to my friend Michael for the edits!

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

deltaqoodrem:

Michelle Rodriguez laying down truths
[x]

That third gif also sums up the reason why so many queer women in fiction get treated like shit and why we barely get acknowledged as existing at all

These pathetic excuses for writers have no idea how to write a woman who doesn’t want to fuck a man

1. Trauma permanently changes us.

This is the big, scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as “getting over it.” The five stages of grief model marks universal stages in learning to accept loss, but the reality is in fact much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.” You are different now, full stop.

This is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strength and joy. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve or present things as normal. It is to acknowledge and wear your new life — warts, wisdom, and all — with courage.

2. Presence is always better than distance.

There is a curious illusion that in times of crisis people “need space.” I don’t know where this assumption originated, but in my experience it is almost always false. Trauma is a disfiguring, lonely time even when surrounded in love; to suffer through trauma alone is unbearable. Do not assume others are reaching out, showing up, or covering all the bases.

It is a much lighter burden to say, “Thanks for your love, but please go away,” than to say, “I was hurting and no one cared for me.” If someone says they need space, respect that. Otherwise, err on the side of presence.

3. Healing is seasonal, not linear.

It is true that healing happens with time. But in the recovery wilderness, emotional healing looks less like a line and more like a wobbly figure-8. It’s perfectly common to get stuck in one stage for months, only to jump to another end entirely … only to find yourself back in the same old mud again next year.

Recovery lasts a long, long time. Expect seasons.

4. Surviving trauma takes “firefighters” and “builders.” Very few people are both.

This is a tough one. In times of crisis, we want our family, partner, or dearest friends to be everything for us. But surviving trauma requires at least two types of people: the crisis team — those friends who can drop everything and jump into the fray by your side, and the reconstruction crew — those whose calm, steady care will help nudge you out the door into regaining your footing in the world. In my experience, it is extremely rare for any individual to be both a firefighter and a builder. This is one reason why trauma is a lonely experience. Even if you share suffering with others, no one else will be able to fully walk the road with you the whole way.

A hard lesson of trauma is learning to forgive and love your partner, best friend, or family even when they fail at one of these roles. Conversely, one of the deepest joys is finding both kinds of companions beside you on the journey.

5. Grieving is social, and so is healing.

For as private a pain as trauma is, for all the healing that time and self-work will bring, we are wired for contact. Just as relationships can hurt us most deeply, it is only through relationship that we can be most fully healed.

It’s not easy to know what this looks like — can I trust casual acquaintances with my hurt? If my family is the source of trauma, can they also be the source of healing? How long until this friend walks away? Does communal prayer help or trivialize?

Seeking out shelter in one another requires tremendous courage, but it is a matter of life or paralysis. One way to start is to practice giving shelter to others.

6. Do not offer platitudes or comparisons. Do not, do not, do not.

“I’m so sorry you lost your son, we lost our dog last year … ” “At least it’s not as bad as … ” “You’ll be stronger when this is over.” “God works in all things for good!”

When a loved one is suffering, we want to comfort them. We offer assurances like the ones above when we don’t know what else to say. But from the inside, these often sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.

Trauma is terrible. What we need in the aftermath is a friend who can swallow her own discomfort and fear, sit beside us, and just let it be terrible for a while.

7. Allow those suffering to tell their own stories.

Of course, someone who has suffered trauma may say, “This made me stronger,” or “I’m lucky it’s only (x) and not (z).” That is their prerogative. There is an enormous gulf between having someone else thrust his unsolicited or misapplied silver linings onto you, and discovering hope for one’s self. The story may ultimately sound very much like “God works in all things for good,” but there will be a galaxy of disfigurement and longing and disorientation in that confession. Give the person struggling through trauma the dignity of discovering and owning for himself where, and if, hope endures.

8. Love shows up in unexpected ways.

This is a mystifying pattern after trauma, particularly for those in broad community: some near-strangers reach out, some close friends fumble to express care. It’s natural for us to weight expressions of love differently: a Hallmark card, while unsatisfying if received from a dear friend, can be deeply touching coming from an old acquaintance.

Ultimately every gesture of love, regardless of the sender, becomes a step along the way to healing. If there are beatitudes for trauma, I’d say the first is, “Blessed are those who give love to anyone in times of hurt, regardless of how recently they’ve talked or awkwardly reconnected or visited cross-country or ignored each other on the metro.” It may not look like what you’d request or expect, but there will be days when surprise love will be the sweetest.

9. Whatever doesn’t kill you …

In 2011, after a publically humiliating year, comedian Conan O’Brien gave students at Dartmouth College the following warning:

"Nietzsche famously said, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ … What he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.”
Odd things show up after a serious loss and creep into every corner of life: insatiable anxiety in places that used to bring you joy, detachment or frustration towards your closest companions, a deep distrust of love or presence or vulnerability.

There will be days when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.

10. … Doesn’t kill you.

Living through trauma may teach you resilience. It may help sustain you and others in times of crisis down the road. It may prompt humility. It may make for deeper seasons of joy. It may even make you stronger.

It also may not.

In the end, the hope of life after trauma is simply that you have life after trauma. The days, in their weird and varied richness, go on. So will you.

boyswanna-be-her:

my life is a mix of 50% wondering if it’s too late to drink coffee and 50% wondering if it’s too early to drink alcohol.