idk kinda feelin like a winchester?
Whenever someone refers to the gay community as “queer folk” I imagine us all like woodland sprites, we are the queer folk community, we are born of flowers and fairy dust, we are destroying the sanctity of marriages and corrupting children
Think about the first Howling Commando who actually, really died. Dum Dum, probably – heart attacks are terrible things, and I can imagine it would have been hard to convince him to stop doing all of those things that made life so enjoyable. Still, he had several good years with his grandkids.
But imagine the ruckus he made when he got upstairs and found out that the Captain and his Sergeant weren’t already there. I can see him holding a gun on St. Peter – I don’t know if you can get firearms in heaven, but if you can I’m sure Dum Dum would find a way – and demanding to know where they were. Because damn it, there’s no way those boys ended up downstairs.
When they told him what happened, he’d have hated every single thing about it. But there would have been at least one angel watching over the Winter Soldier.
"Avengers" makes it clear that they’d all died by the time Steve made it back – hopefully Dum Dum explained the situation to them, and they avoided any more angelic standoffs – and the entire team was up in heaven cheering Cap on during the fight against the Chitauri. They would have gotten more worried about Steve as the months went on – even if they didn’t talk about it in those days, those boys knew all about PTSD – and they would have been watching so hard they were leaning over the damn clouds by the time the events of "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" rolled around.
"Did you really think one measly little aircraft would be enough to take out Captain ‘I laugh in the face of danger’ Rogers?"
"Come on, Sarge, just pick the gun up from off the table and shoot him. Then this’ll all be over."
"Damn it, Cap, you need to duck when people are shooting things at you!"
"Just stop shooting for five seconds, would you? You’ll be really upset if you wake up and find out you’ve killed Cap."
"I’d like to go down there and smite Pierce’s ass, that son of a—"
Could they do anything, from all the way up there? I don’t know. But if they could … well, maybe it wasn’t an accident that Bucky’s mask fell off when it did.
Maybe it was just the Howling Commandos, the rowdiest angels in heaven, watching their brothers’ backs one more time.
Oh, now this is awesome.
This freakin’ song has been stuck in my head for the passed couple days. So here, let me spread it around so EVERYONE can get it stuck in their heads.
Chompers was the happiest puppy ever. ❤️ #TheFirstTimeILookedIntoYourEyesICried #DoYouRememberTheFirstTimeWeFellInLove #Surface #Tbt
“A collection of nine rings.
This work began as an idea, came together a whole piece, and now will go out into the world as a symbol of the way in which we are all connected.”
A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’
The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.
Your world is full of freedom and possibility.
Then you pick up a newspaper or go online. You read about angry women ranting about sexism and inequality. You see phrases like ‘rape-culture’ and ‘slut-shaming.’ You furrow your brow and think to yourself: ‘What are they so angry about? There is no such thing as sexism anymore.’
Now imagine this:
The year is 2013. You are a 25 year-old Pakistani woman. A few months ago, you married the man you love. A man you choose for yourself. You are also pregnant with his child. You see your life stretching out before you, filled with hope and happiness. Suddenly, you and your husband are dragged away from each other. You are both beaten with bricks and batons. You can’t fight back. You can’t escape. No one comes to help you. Through your fading vision, you look up, and look into the eyes of one of your assailants: into the eyes of your father.
The year is 2013. You are a 23 year-old Indian woman. You are a physiotherapy student with a promising career ahead of you. You are sitting on a private bus travelling home alone on a warm December evening. You gaze out of the window as the buildings of New Dheli rush past you and feel content. Suddenly, a blunt force hits the back of your head and you fall to the floor of the bus. A group of strange men are standing over you. They bring the metal bar down on you again and again and again until all you can taste is the blood filling up your mouth. You pray that you will die soon. And you do, but not then. You are raped, beaten, and tortured over and over again. Death is slow and agonising.
The year is 2014. You are a 13 year-old girl from Niger. You no longer live there though. You are now living in the neighbouring country Nigeria, sitting alone in small room on a small bed in a small apartment high above the city of Kano. You are not allowed to leave. Your stomach is swollen from the unwanted life growing inside of it. You had no choice. The father is a man in his 40s. He is a businessman. He has bought you as his wife. You were a penniless, uneducated girl when he came for you. You don’t know of any life you could have had. Neither did your family: just one less mouth for them to feed. You still have the body of a child, and it’s straining under the pressure from the one inside of you. You feel like you’re about to be split in two. You don’t wonder if you will survive the birth. A part of you doesn’t want to.
These are fictionalised accounts of real events that have happened to real women living in our world today. They follow the past 250 years of women and men campaigning for women to be given equal rights to men to prevent these kinds of injustices and abuses on the grounds of gender taking place. Over the course of this time, campaigners – Feminists, both female and male – have been locked up, beaten, tortured, and even killed, in the pursuit of equality. They did this with pen and ink and print; they did this with their voices; they did this with their bodies; they did this with art and music; they did in courts of law and halls and houses of government that they fought be to allowed into.
They did this so that women would no longer been seen as property, livestock, breeding machines, sex objects, punching bags, or infantile morons. They did this not just for themselves, but also for their daughters, and their daughters, and their daughters for generations to come. They did this for women they would never meet – women who lived across countries, across vast oceans, across the entire globe, and even across time.
They did this so that women like me – a white Western woman – could attend school and university; to learn to read, write, and think critically; to gain a degree; to get a job and be paid an equal salary to a man in the same position; and to sit here with my own computer and type all of this.
Feminism is a movement for freedom, equality, choice, love, compassion, respect, solidarity, and education. We may argue, we may disagree, we may struggle to understand the choices and perspectives of others sometimes, but these core beliefs of the movement have never changed, and they never will.
That is why I am a Feminist.
If you feel that you have so far lived your life unaffected by even the mildest form of sexism – anything from feeling uncomfortable when a man catcalls you in the street, to feeling scared walking home alone at night in a secluded area – and are treated with love and respect by every man in your life, then to you I say: I’m glad for you. If you don’t think you need feminism, then that is a victory for the movement. You have fulfilled all those dreams that every suffragette being force-fed in prison and every ‘witch’ burnt at the stake dreamed you would one day.
But perhaps take a second to consider the life of the Pakistani woman who was beaten to death by her own family for marrying a man of her choosing. Or the life of the Indian woman who was raped, beaten, and murdered on a bus by a gang of men. Or the life of the little girl in Niger who was sold to a man more than twice her own age and forced to carry a baby that may kill her to deliver. Do they still need feminism?
And perhaps take a second to consider this too: Even in our liberal, Western world, why do women still only fill 24% of senior management jobs? Why are more women than men domestically abused or even killed every week at the hands of their male partner or ex-partner? Why is there still a pay gap (in the UK specifically) of 15% for women doing the same jobs and working the same hours as men?
And what about on a cultural level? Have you ever noticed how comedy panel shows usually only have one female panellist compared to 4-5 male ones? That almost every dieting product on the market is solely aimed at women? How a lot of newspapers and advertising campaigns will use a sexualised or pornographic image of a woman to sell news or products that have nothing to do with sex?
Or perhaps on a personal level: Do you choose to wear certain clothes because you want to or because you feel ‘unfeminine’ if you don’t? Do you choose to cover yourself up because you want to or because you feel ashamed or intimidated by a man looking at your body? Do you shave your legs and underarm hair because you want to or because you will look ‘ugly’ if you don’t? Did you parents dress you in pink as a baby because they liked the colour or because you were born a girl? Do you want to have children because you want to or because you are a woman?
When you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, do you see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of the men that will look at you when you walk out the door?
The fact is, like it or not, you still live a world where gender matters. Where gender controls not just the entire course of your life – but the lives of women all over the world. Every second, a child will be born female in a country where she will persecuted for this random biological occurrence for the rest of her life. So before you hold up your anti-Feminist placard proudly and smile at your own sense of empowerment, think not what Feminism can do for you, but what it can do for that one girl. She needs someone to stand up for her. That someone could be you.
[ x ]
Read this. Read all of this. Then read it again.
what pop culture thinks jim kirk is like: doesn’t remember the names of the thousands of ladies he’s slept with; must have fathered a zillion abandoned kids; constantly hitting on the women; eternally bang bang shebanging; nonstop love machine; womanizing dongpile; smarmy flirtmaster; smoochy powerstud
what jim kirk is actually like: nerdy feminist quoting shakespeare who likes to play dress-up; turned on by strong, intelligent women and the way spock touches walls
I had kind of a nerd-out this morning. But I felt like everyone needed to know about this.