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@shingekinoidiots
Trying to prove a point to my mom...
Please reblog this post if youâd go and see a movie starring Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Dormer as lesbian assassins.
File under: things I didnt know I needed until five seconds ago
conversation at work
i work at a halloween haunted house park
Guy who works in a haunted house: The best part about working in the haunted house is when girls go under the black-light.
Me: Yeah? Why's that?
Guy: If they're wearing a white bra, you can see it glow! Haha like why would you wear a white bra to this place?
Me: uh
Me: i dont get it
Guy: you can see their bras. Its funny.
Me: did you not know girls wear bras? Did you not know girl's have breasts?
Some girl walking past: What? We have... Hold on *looks down shirt* WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT
some other boy: HOLY SHIT what the FUCK is under your SHIRT?
girl: I DONT KNOw? BREASTS APPARENTLY??
other boy: *SCREAMING*
girl: *SCREAMING*
me: *SCREAMING*
first boy: uh fine whatever fine i get it jesus christ
The commodification of culture is âyou can wear it, but I canâtâ.Â
Cultural appropriation is the same - âYou can wear it, but I canât!â cries the white person as they drench themselves in henna, superglue a bindi to their forehead, and refuse to brush their hair for weeks on end.
Growing up, I was surrounded by white kids. They said I smelled dirty every time I got back from visiting my family, or when I went to school the morning after my mother had made a particularly strong curry. They complained to their parents, who complained to their teacher, who complained to my parents, who gently told me that I spilled rice on the table at lunch time. Thus the switch to white bread and red meat began - bleaching myself from the inside out. School meals fucking sucked. I was banned from using my tastebuds for years.
Every time I went to Delhi, I would leave with henna on my hands - my mother would take me to the market in a rickshaw and weâd sit there for half an hour while some stranger drew these beautiful things all over me, and I would watch him, fascinated, on a stool before me, his legs splayed out. Weâd hand him a few coins and be on our way, and sheâd stop for panipuri on the way home. Iâd be careful not to wipe my hands on the rickshaw rail, careful not to wipe my hands on anything . Iâd smell the traces of India on my clothes, and washing them the evening I got home would always be a little sad.
'You can wear it, but I can't.'Â
Kids ran away from me at school like I was poison ivy. Convinced that I would give them a horrible disease, or if I didnât, I probably smelled anyway so there was no reason to go within a thirty foot proximity of me. Their parents would encourage them - instating bans on ever ending up at my house when they saw my mother pick me up in the playground with a bindi on her forehead one day, when they heard my fatherâs strong accent. Like theyâd have wanted to go to my house anyway.
'You can wear it, but I can't.'
Funnily, I canât wear it. I canât wear the sari, the lengha or the bindi, even now, without someone looking me up and down with disgust. âGet out of our countryâ; âdotheadâ; âPakiâ; âlousy immigrants, running our healthcare systems to lock us outâ; itâs all the same to me.Â
'But it's cool to wear it at Coachella, right? At the party next week? I saw Madonna doing it, it's completely in right now.' And if I say no, I'm the bad guy, and it's people like me that are keeping the stereotype of Indian people alive - they're all freshies, they don't belong here and they're just, like, so intrusive. What's with them taking all our jobs? Why is there one behind every corner shop counter and on every call centre line? Why are all the doctors in my local hospital brown, yet the receptionist is white? Seems like some kind of supremacy, right?
Thus the commodification of my culture continues. I watch crystal bindis being marked up to be sold in Forever21 and Topshop when I can buy them on the street in Delhi for a tenth of the cost. I see girls I knew in primary school plaster Friday night pictures of them in their bodycon dress and their bindi spot with a mixer in their hand all over my news feed, and I know that this is how it is -
'You can wear it, but I can't.'
I have somehow been locked out of a culture that I want to be proud of; I am rejected as the fresh off the boat immigrant whoâs going to give everyone a disease with their dirty hands. On me itâs dirt, worthy of a slur in my direction and an inside joke with the next white person you see - but on you, itâs chic. Itâs cheerful and oh-so-boho-indie-pastel-pale-cute.
You point with your left hand, and painstakingly apply your bindi spot with the right. Then you forget about it, because you can afford to, and adjust your sari in the mirror with both.
stop saying âwow i canât believe theyâre trans!â when a trans person is attractive as if being trans automatically means theyâre not âqualifiedâ to be pretty
a cis person got angry at me for this reblog it more
ANIME HOMO CIRCLES!!!!
it must be a thingâŠ
Ok, one of these things just doesnât belong
Gdi pokemon
one of these is dead lol
Eren is Mexican. Works at Chipotle. Hates the universe. Levi canât pronounce Quesadilla.
I hope you like, Anon. This ended up being different than your follow up ask, but I couldnât resist because crisscrosscutout just came up with Eren working at Chipotle and Levi failing at quesadilla.Â
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Snk Live Action: 27 June 2015
SnK Season 2: 2016
They just keep on putting Leviâs squad in official announcements, how are we suppose to move on?Â
GDI
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK SRSLY D:
Source
Usain Bolt posing with his winning tortoise at a tortoise race
are you telling me the fastest man in the world spends his free time racing slow ass animals
ladies dont start fights, but they can finish them.
that is a cat with a hairbow how is that relevant to the caption
Uncultured swine
Medusa and her blind boyfriend go out on their first date and he panics because he cant tell her she looks pretty so he says something really stupid like âI REALLY like snakesâ
This is so cute
this should be a young adult romance novel right now
Had a sudden urge to draw this.
Omg i need more
oh my god
My guardian angel probably facepalms himself a lot.
My guardian angel gave up and started drinking along time ago and I joined him a while after.
Source -Â http://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=3352973
"You see? Is not that bad."
Papa tree and baby tree. Finally got the idea why Mikasa belongs to a âbranchâ familyâŠ
srsly tho this is absolutely a thing that dudes do all the f***ing time
like where if he knows a girl doesnât necessarily want to give him a hug, he will trap her in this position in front of witnesses where she has 2 options- both of which are undesirable for her, while simultaneously desirable for him
if she doesnât want to hug him, whatever she does, it will suck for her.
she can 1. say nah and be the fucking asshole in front of other ppl or 2. forsake her corporeal boundaries and allow unwanted intimate contact
itâs a f***ing trap
F***ing hate dudes forreal.
too many f***ing times ugh
Story time. One day I was on the MAX (basically a giant street car that goes all over the metro area) on my way to meet up with a few friends. I didnât look at anyone, I didnât speak to anyone, I just stood to the side on my phone making sure I wasnât going to be late to my meeting. Out of no where, this guy comes up to me and starts to chat me up. Me, being who I am, am absolutely terrified to tell this guy to f*** off. He was at least half a foot taller than me, and was way too bulky for me to fight back. So I suck it up at humor him, say hello. Before introducing himself or asking me for my name, he asks me out on a date. Not wanting to piss him off I try to make light of the situation and I laugh, telling him that my boyfriend wouldnât like the idea, but thank you for the offer. He just shrugs and says, âHe doesnât need to know.â At this point Iâm scared out of my mind. Thereâs this guy who, after seeing me run two blocks to catch the train, comes up to me and has made it perfectly clear that he wasnât going to leave without getting something out of me. I deny him a second time, saying, âI donât even know youâre name. Weâre strangers, I donât know you.â He finally introduces himself and asks me for my phone number. I tell him I donât give my number out to people Iâve just met and he says, âFine, but at least take mine so we can meet up later.â So he watches me plug his number into my phone (which I deleted as soon as I knew I was safe and away from him) as weâre pulling up to my stop. I tell him I need to leave and switch trains and he tells me, âOh, Iâll wait with you. I donât have any plans, so Iâm in no rush.â Itâs important to note what at this point he had previously told me that he was late to a job interview, but he has all the time in the world because he still hasnât gotten what he wanted from me; a yes. I get off of the train and he follows me, and waits at the platform with me for over ten minutes until my train arrives, asking me all sorts of personal questions about where I live and where I was going that day. As soon as the train pulls up he grabs for me and says, âDo I at least get a hug before you go?â I was terrified. I was embarrassed. This dude, who before even asking me for my name asks me out on a date and then continues to harass me after I tell him I have a boyfriend, asks me for a hug only fifteen minutes after meeting. People around us were staring at me, as if I was being rude for denying him, and every inch of me was mortified. I wanted to run, but I felt like if I had done that he would have chased after me and things would have gotten worse. So I did, and he squeezed me so tight I felt like I was going to burst. It took me a good ten seconds to get him to let go and I ran to the train car just as the doors were closing. He was trying to get me to miss my train so I would have to wait with him even longer. I would have been stuck there for over a half an hour until the next train came by, and the platform (aside from the few buses coming by) was now COMPLETELY EMPTY. He knew EXACTLY what he was doing and he knew EXACTLY how to get me alone with him. People, if you are in a situation like this do not feel obligated to give in. If someone is making you uncomfortable and asks to touch you in any way, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SAY YES. Make excuses, be blunt, just straight up say ânoâ. If possible, go to someone else near by who you think can help you and ask them to help you. Itâs important for guys to learn that they canât get what they want just by asking over and over again. I got lucky. But not everyone does. Please, everyone, Be Safe.
SECOND STORY TIME
So I was on the transit bus alone one time. This was my first time riding, and so already I was PETRIFIED. I sit down, pull out my ipod, and begin to play some games. This guy sits down next to me, and begins trying to have a conversation. I donât really respond, I donât even look at him, just give half-hearted âmhmâs and âohâs, as I donât want to be rude if he was just striking up a friendly conversation. He then asks me on a date.
Now, as I stated before, I already was absolutely petrified. My heart stopped and I didnât know how to answer. So I just didnât. He didnât let up and I could feel his eyes on me. I quietly stammer out a âno thanksâ and my stop HAPPENS to be coming up, so I pull the string thing to let the driver know I want to stop there, and once we stop and the doors open I get up and he asks me, âWell, can I at least have a hug before you go if you wonât go on a date with me?âÂ
This makes me break. There are now people staring, as we are the only people standing up and not getting off⊠So I just start crying. Hell, I am bawling almost instantly. He looks so fucking freaked out and people are now getting up to come over and comfort me/question him. I donât stop crying, and he keeps trying to comfort me by touching me, and people are yelling at him for that.Â
AND THEN. AND. FUCKING. THEN. THE GOD DAMN BUS DRIVER. A VERY EASILY 6 FOOT BURLY MAN. COMES OVER TO US. PULLS THE GUY AWAY. AND KNEELS DOWN. HE THEN ASKS, IN THE MOST CALM VOICE, âDid you request the stop?â I very slowly and shakily nod, as I am still crying my eyes out. He then asks, âDo you want to get off?â I give a quiet âmhmâ and nod once again, and he offers me his hand. I take it, he stands up, and he escorts me off the bus. He asks me questions such as where I was going next, if I was going to meet someone shortly, if I was going to transfer buses from there. He was very polite and waited for me to answer the entire time, and my friend (who I was going to be meeting there) showed up. He asked me if this was someone I knew, I said yes, and he said alright, have a good day. He then told me- and this is something stuck in my mind forever, so it is word for word-
"If some guy EVER starts harassing you like that again, do exactly what you did there. Cry. Cry and scream and have a temper tantrum. Not only will it throw him off, but it will get others to notice. They might not interfere, they might, but you will have gotten their attention and if you happen to go missing the next day the search for you will be a hell of a lot easier because everyone in that location will have seen you screaming and crying with a guy now very awkward with his actions. They will know. That is what my daughter did, and three days after she went missing she was back in my arms. I pray for you and every other person like you who has this done. You stay safe now, okay?" And after I began blubbering again, I nodded and he left.
So this is the second lesson for yall. If you can not have the courage to say no or make an excuse, cry. Let out those sobs and tears and cry your heart out. Because it is going to make people notice and make people aware.
Signal boosting this just in case
I would like to hear the story of how you slept under the christmas tree
so i immigrated to the US at age 9, right, and one of the first things my family did was join the local Chinese church. as far as the whole âfiguring out how to do things so we no longer have to live in the back shed of Uncle Joeâs* Magic Emporiumâ thing goes, itâs a pretty sound strategy! now we had people to teach my dad how to drive and give us old furniture and say âhey, Seattle is pretty rainy maybe you should rent an apartment-like space before either a) the shed roof caves in b) your daughter with the famously delicate constitution falls dramatically ill from a strain of black mold or possibly herpesâ
*is not my uncle, thatâs what his store was called. he sold magic gadgets and my dad knew him because???? possibly in a past life they ran a meth empire in Albuquerque, who knows
ANYWAY. thanks to the church i did not fall dramatically ill from black mold or possibly herpes, but there was an unforeseen factor in joining a Christian church, which was that they? were pretty hardcore? about Jesus?**
**in a nice âwe build houses for the homelessâ way, not inâŠthe other way
given that weâd just immigrated and that Chinaâs religious policy is worshiping Maoâs preserved corpse ehhhhhâŠletâs call it âfreedom of atheism,â my family was decidedly not hardcore about Jesus. my parents mostly took the bemused âi guess Jesus is okay since he indirectly led to us living in a place suited for human habitationâ route, but i
was
DISGUSTED.
i was the first kid in my class to get her red scarf, okay, and when we sang the national anthem and saluted the flag every morning i fucking meant what i was singing. we almost didnât come to America; my dad had more lucrative job offers in Germany and Belgium, but i put my foot down because everyone knows Europe is full of gross imperialists Dad, GOSH, and the Americans helped us fight off the Japanese.
so seeing all these fellow Chinese believing in THE CAPITALIST GOD was basically the worst thing to ever happen to my delicate psyche. my parentsâ tacit approval was even worse: DID PATRIOTISM AND COMMUNISM MEAN NOTHING TO THEM? DIDNâT THEY KNOW THAT DOING NOTHING AGAINST OPPRESSION MADE THEM OPPRESSORS THEMSELVES??
clearly something needed to be done.
so because the church was pretty hardcore about Jesus, it was understandably also hardcore about Christmas. big party, massive intricately decorated REAL TREE, sleepover for the kids with presents in the morningâyou name it. everyone was going to be there.
WHAT A GREAT OPPORTUNITY TO PROVE TO EVERYONE HOW WRONG THEY ARE ABOUT JESUS.
my plan:
sleep UNDER the giant real Christmas tree: yâknow, the one with real pointy needles reaching all the way down to the base? that sheds? with lots of pokey tinsel?
catch Jesus in the act of depositing presents***: look. iâd seen like, ALL of Scooby Doo by this point. i knew Jesus was probably a real person, just not the Son of God.
subdue Jesus so heâs still around when everyone else wakes up: CLEARLY VERY FEASIBLE, given that Jesus was a heavyset white dude who used superhuman agility and strength to deliver presents around the world overnight and possibly had reindeer minions and i weighed 70 pounds at most while sopping wet.
(who is Santa Claus?? who cares)
????
EVERYONE MAGICALLY BECOMES AN ATHEIST AGAIN, AMERICA BECOMES A COMMUNIST STATE
***even if i didnât believe in him, why was i slavishly devoted stopping a highly altruistic man who gave? people? presents? did i hate joy????
sure enough, at around 3 in the morning i heard soft boots approaching the tree. i reached out and snatched one of the Ankles of Jesus
âwhereupon Youth Pastor Liao screamed âOH MY LORDâ and kicked me in the face.
and THAT, dear friends, is how i spent my first Christmas in America with a concussion.
I think this is the greatest Christmas story ever told
This is the most beautiful story Iâve ever read.