Me: "jesus Christ The Adult Pro Heroes Fucking Suck Lol"

It's one of these days when I'm once again lack words from the horror, so here have some screenshots of other people tweets. If tankies did care about 'people of Donbas' like they pretend, surely they'd care about the same people being publicly executed for supporting and helping and waiting for Ukraine. After almost 9 years of occupation now, there's still people that are waiting on Ukraine.

Everyone reblog this IMMEDIATELY

After seeing the dad how do I channel, I really wanted this one. I searched for it and, tada! Mom how do I? Seems rather new, but I love it anyway.

Kocoum (voiced by James Apaumut Fall ) from Disney’s Pocahontas (1995)

DOES THE NDN LIVE? : NO

—

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:

This was the first time I remember seeing a Native American character die in a cartoon. I was five-years-old at the time. 

My experience with Pocahontas as a child was different from most children (I could never understand why the white characters were supposed to be the “good guys” when they not only killed this man but were singing and bragging about killing Indians all throughout the movie). But I remember watching this specific scene so vividly: the horror that flashes on his face when he realizes what happened to him, Pocahontas’s very emotional reaction to his death, the people crying as his body is brought back to the village. There was something about this death that felt so personal and unjust and at five years old I didn’t understand just what it was.

Kocoum is murdered by a white man so that the white man can have an epiphany, and he is forgiven for it. Before he’s killed, he has to be framed as being jealous and violent so that there’s a “good reason” to kill him off. A man who was singing with his friends about murdering “savages” gets to have a redemption arc but a jealous NDN who literally fought against these men who invaded his home, almost bludgeoned his friend to death and is kissing his future wife has to die. 

And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, Kocoum was Pocahontas’s husband in real life. She had a child with him, and when she was kidnapped, Kocoum was murdered and her child was raised by the women of his family. When Pocahontas was held in captivity, she never saw her son again. Disney was familiar enough with this story to know the NAME OF HER ACTUAL HUSBAND but decided to turn him into a jealous suitor who has to die so a settler can learn a lesson.

it’s always a good day to complain about English speakers

Okay, I’ve been bingeing the Jesus show and I love it. I’m Christian but not usually a fan of Christian media because it’s often poorly done. But The Chosen is as good as anything I’ve ever seen. Acting, cinematography, everything.

- As far as possible, no one is whitewashed. Jesus himself looks VERY Middle Eastern.

- Jesus is very human and approachable.

- All of the “Follow me” scenes give chills.

- All of the disciples have backstory and personality. Creative liberty, but all are plausible and conform to what we know from the Bible. (ex. Nathaniel, whom Jesus called “an Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile” is always overly honest, Simon Peter has obvious natural charisma but he struggles with understanding Jesus’ way of doing things, John the Baptist is a total wild man and apologizes to no one for it.)

- Matthew the tax collector is autistic and it’s well-done and makes so much sense in context.

- The Romans and Pharisees are just as diverse in personality and motivations as the protagonists. Gaius, Matthew’s Roman protector, pretends to hate him but is low-key a concerned dad.

- Gaius trying to make small talk with Matthew. “Did you see those Parthenian footraces?”

- Matthew’s dog.

- There is just as much emphasis on the experience of the women as the men. Several of them have trauma from the Roman occupation or their patriarchal societies in general, and that isn’t ignored, but it isn’t the focus of their character development either. And they get along (far better than the men, actually); there are no silly catfights as an excuse for drama. 

- Mary Magdalene is a total badass. I don’t know how else to describe her. I guess if you’re used to having demons in your head there isn’t much you can’t handle.

- Philip is so wise and capable, but also a total hippie from being John’s disciple.

- Simon the Zealot’s backstory. The Zealots were sort of anti-Roman terrorists. (And it is hard to blame them.) There’s this cool spy interplay going on between him and a Roman secret police agent.

- The sibling dynamics between Simon/Andrew and James/John.

- Nicodemus wants so badly to follow Jesus but is unable to pull himself away from his obligations. Sob.

- So many jokes:

- Everyone constantly throws shade on Jesus for being from Nazareth.

- Simon Peter can’t run.

- Thomas is secretly in love with his business partner and absolutely everyone knows about it.

You absolutely don’t have to be Christian to understand and enjoy it. But if you do know the Bible and/or Jewish culture well, it’s neat to see how they incorporate details.

a thread on Russian colonialism

Can you write about the reader being either Ford or stans controversially young spouse? Like they're close to their 20s instead of their 60s

Ooh to be their controversially younger spouse what a dream I wish I could live lmao 🤣

Before you became Ford’s spouse, the man would always use the age gap between you two as the sole reason as to why you shouldn’t be together romantically, he’s sweating bullets and loosing sleep over it because it’s just so glaringly obvious to him that you shouldn’t.

However this was all just a cover up for the fact that he did indeed feel things for you in a romantic sense. You were great with Dipper and Mabel, encouraging their passions and even getting involved in them should they need someone to be dazzle in gems or go out into the woods to look for the supernatural.

You even got along with Stan, which was only an added bonus for Ford but still he kept reminding himself that he was far, far too old for you that he might as well have been old enough to be your father/ grandfather! Wasn’t that enough to disturb you?

He knew some people held a liking towards older people but believed it was more for their wisdom and life experience, not the romantic kind.

Apparently it wasn’t because Ford accidentally over heard a conversation between you and Wendy regarding his age;

Wendy: isn’t he too old for you?

You: negative, I love older men. Especially older men who are smart, a little socially awkward and plays dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.

Wendy: …respect dude.

Needles to say after hearing that Ford’s face became as red as cherries and his worries regarding how you felt towards the age difference seemed to have dwindled slightly, but still he worried that others would view you as weird for being with a man more then twice your own age.

Sure there wasn’t many…worthy candidates to date in Gravity falls but surely he couldn’t be the only one worth your gaze? Mabel must’ve at least tried to set you up on more then one occasion, but according to her you just never seemed to jell with the people she set you up with, saying that you had a distant look in your eyes as though you could be anyone else then at the date.

When Mabel confronted you about it one day, you told her that you liked men a little older then you, Mabel then asked why but you only ruffled her hair and told her that she might see the vision one day. Ford was now being presented with more proof that you would be more then content with dating him, it was undeniable and he even indirectly heard it from your own mouth, so what else could he possibly be held back by?

Fear and rejection from society if they ever were to see you both in a romantic setting?

Then again you both lived in gravity Falls and there were things far weirder than an 20 year old dating a 60 -pushing 70- year old man. And thus began Ford’s new hypothesis; how to win over a 20 year old’s heart.

After you stated dating, you beating the other ladies and men off with a stick because that sexy silver fox was yours! FINALLY! It was your turn to have a sexy older man in your bed!

Other then that you loved being with Ford as no two days were the same, you could be going out with him to look for supernatural as a date, thankfully surviving when Ford got a little distracted by spouting facts on what was trying to kill you both and ending up sat on the porch of the mystery shack and laughing together afterwards.

Or be in his lab and watching him work while admiring how handsome he looked with greying hair and an aging face, but Ford would see it otherwise and become a little insecure and reserved.

‘Don’t you think it weird?’ He’d ask you one day.

‘About us?’ You didn’t have to hear him respond when you knew that Ford was still a little uncertain with your age difference still after seemingly accepting it. You sigh and walked over to him and sat on his lap, making him blush and his eyes widen as you hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford, sweetie I don’t care about what they think, I’m just glad that I got to be with you after pinning for so long. I understand this is new for you but all I ask is that you trust me,’ you kissed his nose softly, ‘and trust in our relationship, there’s nothing weird about it unless you make it weird.’ You add with a smile as Ford rested his head against you, his hands now resting comfortably on your waist.

‘You’re right my sweet,’ Ford said, ‘I’m just worried that you might find someone close to your age more appealing then some old man.’ You couldn’t help but chuckle as you leant further into him.

‘Who could I ever find more appealing than you mr sixer?’ You asked rhetorically, ‘you’re more than perfect the way you are and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call you mine, so everyone else can stay jealous for all I care knowing I have the most perfect man ever.’ You add as you kissed his lips this time and smiling when Ford reciprocated it with his sweeter, soft kiss.

You probably have moments where you recall something Ford wouldn’t understand and Ford would reference something that was older than you, it’s funny regardless of how you looked at it.

Ford’s body still has aches and pains despite keeping himself healthier than Stanley and so you would help him during these times and coddle him lovingly, while reminding him that he needed to take it easy on himself once in a while.

Ford apologises for it but you only shut him up and remind him that he has nothing to apologise for.

You didn’t treat each other differently because of your ages, if anything you made Ford feel young again and Ford gifted you advice and made you feel just that little bit smarter, which boosted your confidence in yourself. It was a beautiful relationship that was pure and sweet it could give anyone cavities.

Stanley didn’t give a shit you were dating his brother, he knew you liked men above a certain age when you kept eye fucking Ford whenever he walked past you, or how Ford would look at you longingly when you weren’t looking . He saw this shit coming from a mile away as it wasn’t exactly subtle on either end and may have made a bet with Wendy about how soon you’d come to him to announce you were dating his brother.

Stanley won the bet much to Wendy’s dismay.

You saw Ford shirtless once and went apeshit much to his surprise because weren’t people your age into six packs and hairless upper bodies?

Nope, not you, you loved his tummy and body hair that you clung to his side and spent the afternoon kissing his scars and embarrassing tattoos he kept covered in turtlenecks while whispering reassurance that reminded him that you were attraction to him was more then surface level. Ford would return the favour when you had episodes of insecurity would remains you of such by comparing your every insecurity to something beautiful.

Acne? Constellations/ clusters of stars

Stretch marks? Lighting strikes

You’ve got a tummy and thick thighs? Didn’t you know that they(thick thighs) saved lives?!

Needless to say that you came out with a newfound love for yourself afterwards.

You constantly held his hand and kissed each finger to show that you didn’t care about anything but him and his wellbeing, it warmed Ford’s heart as he found to love himself a little more with your help, and in doing so he was able to show you love by kissing your cheek in greeting or making you breakfast in bed or draping his coat over your shoulders when he saw that you were cold.

It was sweet and innocent but still it was enough to have you smiling and feel loved, which is all Ford ever wanted you to feel while with him.

Ford’s love was chivalrous, stubborn and awkward, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as you wanted Ford just the way he was and thrived when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement as he makes a discovery, leading him to grasp your face and kiss you on the lips while holding you close to his chest as he explained what he had done; all the while you stared at him with awe and love because he was really attractive when he was talking about things he was passionate about.

Ford would then catch himself and apologise for rambling but you would kiss him on the cheek and ask him to continue, to which Ford happily obliged, now aware that you were staring at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky.

Ford would find himself looking at you in a similar fashion when you were going on about what you and Mabel did in town, and Ford couldn’t help but hone in on your smile, shining eyes and hand gestures that told him that you enjoyed the hijinks that had happened while wearing the sweater that Mabel made you the entire time.

You’d catch him staring intently at you and suddenly you’re flustered and playing with the sleeves of your bright and vibrant sweater. ‘It’s kinda corny isn’t it?’ You’d ask as Ford chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand reassuringly in his.

‘No, not at all my sweet, I in fact find your adventures with my niece and nephew endearing and sweet. So please continue to tell me how you drop kicked a gnome into Mabel’s leaf blower.’ Ford said and within seconds you were back to being bright and talkative about your adventures of fighting off gnomes, barf fairies and pulling Mabel away from fae traps.

You both were each others listeners and would remember anything and everything said because you actually liked to hear where the other got up to when apart from one another.

Bonus; you definitely have a spot in his journal where he goes in depth of your relationship before ending it with: ‘they’re someone I don’t think I could envision a future without, for they make me young again while loving me regardless of our differences in age and much more. Thank you for loving me y/n, even when I don’t think it’s deserved.’

Finally some good fucking news

The day I died but Somehow Stayed

23th of February was so normal it hurts. It was the 23th day since my 26th birthday and 24th day since I’d finally started treating my MDD.

I don’t remember what it was that I ate. I don’t remember what song on Spotify was the soundtrack of that day. I have physical memory though - my whole body feels sore and hard to move because of the hiit exercises I started doing. It was painful to breathe, let alone walk or sit or even laugh. 

I have a mental memory - I was scrolling through concerts’ ads hoping to see some rad bands performing in Kyiv in late April. My sister will have turned sweet 16 on the 28th, so I wanted to make that day a memory she could go back to every time she feels upset or broken or unable to keep pace. Be careful what you wish for, they say. Now I wish I did. As my little angel will never forget her sour 16 she met under russian occupation in Mariupol, dreaming not of Black Pink or Maneskin singing to her in the flesh, but of taking hot shower after 2 months of living in the basement of the Culture Palace she once used to go to dance classes. Once. How unfair this “once” was just 90 days ago. An eternity. 

I have a memory that makes me angry and sick - an echo of a conversation me and my partner had that day. With my taking antidepressants I was also trying to finally try living again, first time after 6 years of isolation and self-destruction. We were planning to go to the Philharmonia and I was thrilled - it felt like I was going to meet the Queen, no less. Social anxiety will do it with you, beware.

I remember myself whining about the new Batman movie and how we’d rather go to the cinema if only there was any decent title. You see, I love Batman. The me from the 23th did, at least. The me who was complaining about going out to listen to some music live. 

And that’s where I feel like throwing up. That’s where I get angry with my past-self.

How easy life was for her. How she took for granted the possibility to wake up to cars honking and birds tweeting outside along with a bunch of I-don’t-know-who-but-they-are-hilarious users on Twitter doing the same.

I want to scream at myself, say “why am I suffering now so much, why do I cry every night and beg the gods to take me in my sleep and not with a GRAD fragment splitting my throat open or cutting off my limbs or burning me alive in my own bed, why my concern is not that about how to find the money to finally get my mom to Prague on her birthday - cause she always wanted to visit Europe - but how to find a way to fucking just hear her voice and know she is still alive there, in Mariupol, for now she is still breathing, why am I supposed to live through this hell same way dozens of my Ukrainian ancestors did just because there’s a MONSTER neighboring my country, why am I to be exterminated just because I’m Ukrainian wanting to live in MY country and speak MY language, why the people I used to call relatives and friends who live in russia are telling me I just have to “bear with it” and “get denazificated” and “be corrected and thus saved”, why they deny every missile that hits my street or say I deserved it because I live in Ukraine, WHY?”

WHY DO I STILL REMEMBER HOW IT FEELS LIVING IN THE EVENING OF THE 23TH OF FEBRUARY?

I went to sleep at about 3 am. My body was sore and I was annoyed thinking that tomorrow I had a training scheduled. It’s a YouTube hiit marathon so I’d better not skip it.

It was about 4 am I fell asleep at last thinking about the fanfic I was writing to unwind. My personal lullaby. 

And it was 5 something when my partner startled me into the reality. Fully dressed, in his Bershka parka and winter Martins. It was dark in the room and I couldn’t make out the features of his face, all covered in shadows. He was silent, probably waiting for me to fully wake up. But it suddenly felt like I’d never closed my eyes at all. The alertness was overwhelming. 

When he opened his mouth to explain himself, I already knew what happened. That moment is still the one I’m trapped in. The one I died at and got myself buried in bomb shelter with kids crying and the old praying all around while the constant bombing laughs at them, knocking at our doors to let the “russian world” they brought us in. 

My love opened his mouth and I think I will never be able to escape the word he whispered.

It wasn’t “war”.

It was “russia”.

Synonyms.

pic: our basement hideout at the first day of the War. People are settling in. Very cold and dusty and overall terrible. Still better to die under shelling.