Come grab your friends!
We’ll go to very distant lands!
The Borrowers/Cinderella fusion because why not? ehehe
I have so many ideas for Cherik but I can’t draw all of them out;;;;geehhh ohgoshbrainplzstop!
click on the drawings for crappy summary/ prompt!~
“Oh, you are so gonna pay for this later, kiddo!”
not only do i appreciate the fuck out of this art, those pictures make me happy in my pants
I think I already reblogged this once. But who the fuck cares. Richard is a goddamn swan. He’s just graceful as fuck, OKAY?!?!
And fuck this shit, I ship Jared/Richard now too.
That exploit and use slavery for their agenda need to remember
Enslaved Black women had abortions
They used the knowledge they had of herbs to help each other have abortions. Some enslaved women were so proficient in their knowledge of herbs (knowledge brought with them from Africa) , they became to go-to women for abortions.
Its documented in some places in the Caribbean (and i think America), enslaved Black women were aborting so and had perfected it to such a level, there wasn’t enough children being born to be sold into slavery and some plantations were almost brought to their knees because of this. In response, plantation owners set up incentives like giving freedom to enslaved Black women if they had a certain amount of children (i think it was 7) but they rarely ever got freedom and they tended to continue to move the amount of children they had to have to get freedom
Another reminder: enslaved Black women sometimes purposefully had abortions not just so they won’t bring children into this world that would have to go through what they did, but to hurt the number of people being born into slavery and to bring down the plantations they were slaves on.
Fucking white idiots
Like your ass gives two shit about Black life
Dunno if I’ve read/heard this before or if I’m just postulating but, they must have aborted a lot of the master’s children too, if you know what I’m saying.
If the master rapes you and you become pregnant, more than likely, you weren’t looking forward to having his baby.
Wrote a term paper on this once. White anti-choicers stay losing.
Yes. All of this. The midwives were usually the ones to provide abortifacients to enslaved Black women because they generally served as the plantation’s healthcare providers. Learned about this in my doula training.
I only a know a little about this so if anybody has any article or book suggestions about the topic of black women and abortion during slavery I’d appreciate it!!! (My research project is heavily correlated to this topic.)
this book has in a little about it.
I’m so tired of white pro lifers using Black bodies for fodder.
Y’all can go to hell with that bullshit.
Okay so do you remember the time that Matt Fraction described Clint and Kate’s relationship as ‘The Avengers (UK) of The Avengers (US)’?
Obviously I thought that was pretty badass, and had a jolly time drawing dapper-as-fuck!Hawkeyes.. it just took me awhile to figure out how to get Clint and Kate rocking a believable Steed and Mrs. Peel vibe. (If Clint’s suit looks familiar, congratulations, you get the other half of the joke.)
Starry-eyed gratitude to an archer (yes, that one specifically :D ) who very graciously provided reference images and general archery consultation. Seriously, this was way less cool before I begged him for input. Thank you, Archer!
Musical inspiration: Tank! (yeah, no, I couldn’t resist) And if you’ve read all the way to the bottom and are still confused, Hawkeye. Matt Fraction. David Aja. It’s a thing. Read the thing. Thank me later.
A video course on Viking history, by Yale University.
In the first part of this lecture, Professor Freedman discusses the emergence of the Vikings from Scandinavia in the ninth and tenth centuries. The Vikings were highly adaptive, raiding (the Carolingian Empire), trading (Byzantium and the Caliphate) or settling (Greenland and Iceland) depending on local conditions. Through their wide-ranging travels, the Vikings created networks bringing into contact parts of the world that were previously either not connected or minimally so. Professor Freedman concludes the lecture, and the course, by considering what’s been accomplished between 284 and 1000. Although Europe in the year 1000 experienced many of the same problems as did the Roman Empire 284 where we began — population decline and lack of urbanization, among others — the end of the early Middle Ages also arguable heralds the emergence of Europe and Christendom as cultural constructs and sets the stage for the rise of the West.
00:00 – Chapter 1. Introduction
13:52 – Chapter 2. The Vikings in England and on the Continent
21:05 – Chapter 3. The Vikings in the East
29:20 – Chapter 4. The Vikings in the West
37:09 – Chapter 5. Conclusion: What’s been accomplished?
[Charles/Erik - 1984/Equilibrium AU.]
The world was grey.
Had he really never noticed before? It seemed so… obvious, now.
Drab and dreary people in slate-coloured uniforms walked the streets in organised lines, their faces pale and blank. Tall blocks of Spartan apartments, smoking factories, the walls of his home and office: all grey, bland, so identical in their design. Not even the hot Summer sun seemed able to add a dash of colour, and of course there were no trees inside the City. Erik had heard descriptions of flowers, even seen a few pictures in the contraband books the Council burned, though he had never seen one in the flesh before.
How odd it felt; to yearn for something he had never even experienced.
Even odder to yearn.
He shouldn’t be feeling these things. These emotions. He was a Cleric, a man sworn by oath to keep strict order and discipline within the City. Powerful emotions were punishable by death, as was possession of any contraband item that could stir these emotions: books, musical devices, pieces of artwork, jewellery. Daily Prozium injections were administered for free by the Council, designed to wipe minds of any and all feeling and leave only a blank canvas in their wake: an obedient, subservient citizen.
Erik had never missed a dose, until that morning. The tiny glass capsule had slipped from his fingers to shatter against the grey tiles of his bathroom floor, spilling its chemical contents. He had gazed down at it blankly, broken glass glinting in the harsh overhead light.
Missing one dose wouldn’t hurt.
That night, he had dreamt for the first time in his life. Sunlight, a wash of colour so bright it burned; the smiling faces of his parents, or perhaps what he imagined they looked like before they were executed as Offenders. He saw them scoop him up, a tiny baby wrapped in blankets, and press a kiss to his forehead.
Was it memory or dream, the sound of their door being forced, the storm of boots and the scream of his mother?
Erik had woken that morning in a cold sweat, the forgotten faces of his family like ghosts in the choking darkness. He had stumbled from his bed, fear a fresh and unknown rush in his blood, and snatched a vial of Prozium from the bathroom cabinet.
Then, he had paused.
Emotion was a curious thing. Despite his terror of these foreign feelings, the sudden itch of his skin and the restlessness of his heart, Erik had set the Prozium down on the counter. He had steeled his nerves, splashed water on his face. And he had walked away.
Just one more day, one more taste. One more dream. He could always take the Prozium shot tomorrow.
And perhaps he would have, if it weren’t for Charles Xavier.
A call from Cleric Salvadore brought him to an abandoned apartment block on the outskirts of the City, where witnesses had reportedly seen a highly wanted Offender take refuge. Erik had travelled alone, twin pistols strapped neatly to his thighs, ready to catch or kill.
On first inspection, the apartment had seemed empty and deserted. It wasn’t until he forced open the locked door at the back of house that his breath caught in his throat.
The room was packed with contraband. Music boxes, strings of pearls and golden wedding bands; a stuffed bear lay propped on a padded footstool, a feathered hat set at a jaunty angle to its head. Faded books lined the back walls, their titles too faded to read, and Erik nearly jumped from his skin at the deep chime of a Grandfather clock. Trinkets and ornaments were scattered everywhere, across every surface: dusty glass bottles of wine and perfumes, porcelain figures, sequined masquerade masks; a chess set.
Erik scanned the room slowly, awed and frightened and breathless. So this was emotion? This was excitement and love and longing, surprise and - and happiness.
Hung on one wall was a framed flower, dried and pressed behind glass, its dusky red petals beautiful even in death. Erik lifted a hand to touch, fingertips hovering over the glass as though the surface would scald him.
“You’re not like the others, are you.”
So entranced by the treasure trove of trinkets, Erik had failed to notice the man hidden in shadow at the back of the room. Shorter than Erik, and pale, with red-brown hair like the leaves of the entombed rose. He didn’t wear the mandatory grey uniform of the Cityfolk, instead wrapped in a buttoned shirt the same azure blue as his eyes.
“What is this place?” Erik asked, dismayed at the breathless tone of his voice.
“My home,” the man answered shortly, then smiled and took a small step forward. “I’m Charles Xavier. And you… aren’t like other Clerics I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.”
Erik dropped his gaze, unsure how to answer, how to even talk to another human being without a comforting blanket of Prozium to dull both party’s senses. He squared his shoulders, the guns at his hips suddenly cumbersome and so terribly obvious.
Charles didn’t appear phased, that same enigmatic little smile still touching his lips. “Tell me; have you taken your Prozium today, Cleric?”
It took Erik a few moments to gather the courage to shake his head. There was no point in denying it; he had been caught red-handed admiring contraband. “No.”
“That makes you an Offender, my friend.” Charles’ hand fell on his arm, and when had such a simple touch made the hairs on the back of Erik’s neck stand on edge?
Charles’ smile was red, like blood and roses. “But you needn’t worry; you’re not alone.”
The Republican Party recently released an ad assuring us that, yes, there actually are Black Republicans.
A message that would have probably been more impactful if the only appearance of a Black person in their video wasn’t a stock photo they had to pay to use…
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, THOSE SAD, DESPERATE BASTARDS.
This’ll cover the basics, such as financial expectation, rental history, what to bring for the application process, etc.
A quick editorial cartoon about the intersection of self-pity, entitlement, rape, territoriality, misogyny and fear of women. You see it all over the place online in the form of Men’s Rights Activists (of whom there are a few reasonable non-misogynists), Men Going Their Own Way, Pick Up Artists, and dudes touting the “Red Pill”, because The Matrix is a good movie. Look any of these up if you have the stomach for it. These are extreme examples, but watered-down forms of these ideas are everywhere.
In lurking their blogs and youtube channels for a while, I’ve noticed that beyond the standard patriarchal chauvinism there is this deep fear of women - what they will do to me, how they will reject me, how they will use me, how they are changing society in a way that does not favor me, how they are making men into something I don’t like, how they are making themselves into something I don’t like, that they won’t give me what I want, and that they won’t give me what I think is rightfully mine. This goes beyond fear of feminism- this is fear of women at its purest. And that, to quote a puppet, leads to anger and hate. It’s sad.
I am a feminist. I think there’s enough ice cream to go around, but it does mean those of us with 3 scoops might have to give one or two up. Also, The Matrix is a fun movie but probably not anything you should be basing a philosophy on.
There is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace.: If media covered America the way we cover foreign cultures »
Yet another massacre has occurred in the historically war-torn region of the Southern United States – and so soon after the religious festival of Easter.
Brian McConkey, 27, a Christian fundamentalist militiaman living in the formerly occupied territory of Alabama, gunned down…