u dun fucked up
u know he dead
Story goes that this entity is the most evil known out there and it seems to seek people of all ages that do not reblog this. The name non-tumblr users have already been killed and you’re next.
That is, if you reblog this, he’ll let you live. Now, do it. My friend Katy didn’t know how to reblog and within the hour, she died. I warned her but she didn’t
ok tumblr srsly i fucking hate you but that fucking picture ok i’ll reblog this
this is just so i can sleep alright tonight…
this looks like it’s from something but i can’t remember
I remember posting somewhere once in a thread about why girls aren’t exploited in animation anymore where some guy said, “all the disney girls are drawn to be generally attractive, but I don’t think there are any eye-candy men… or are there? Are there any Disney men that lots of girls like?” and I mentioned Roger. Tons of girls replied agreeing with me and the original guy was like “wait, Roger? from 101 Dalmatians? What’s attractive about him, he’s tall and lanky and has a big nose, he isn’t muscley at all! Wouldn’t you all prefer Gaston or something? Or do you girls think his big nose is indicative of something else?” and I was like “no, you idiot, he’s a silly, goofy guy who likes animals and can play a bunch of instruments, that’s why he’s attractive. What’s the matter with you? Gaston, seriously?”
This is why we need more girls in animation. And more guys like Roger apparently.
This is why I laugh my ass of whenever dudes talk about how men are “objectified” by the media too. Because 9 times out of 10, what men think is “women objectifying men” are characters like Gaston.
And Gaston is NOT a woman-driven fantasy. Gaston is a male wish fulfillment fantasy. Gaston is not what women want, he is what men want to be. He is hyper-masculinity to an extreme degree, dripping with sexism and testosterone. The fact that men think that Gaston is what women want says an awful lot about those men.
While I don’t want to generalize, female fans tend to prefer a very different kind of male hero. We like the Rogers, the Milos, the Hercules. Genuinely kind, often awkward men who are sometimes vulnerable and respectful to women.
Yes, this is a generalization. I own up to that. But I think it’s important to remember that there is often VERY big difference between what MEN want to be and what women WANT in our media.
Reblogging this again because fucking this. And hell, even the muscley dudes (see: Khal Drogo, Hercules, Thor, Captain America) are loved, not because they are muscley, but because they are sweet and loving and adorable. We love Thor because his mispronounces “Hubble” as “Hooble,” not because of what he can do with a hammer.
Reblogging for the awesome comments.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.