writer/s/unblocked

We're all stories in the end

493,044 notes

justplainsomething:

batgirlrising:

moriarty:

saunterdown:

baruchsbalthamos:

littleblueartist:

never not reblog Scarlett calling idiots out on their bullshit

image

and the shitty part is that once scarlett called them out on their fucking bullshit, she automatically became coined a bitch. a bitch. for being brave enough to publicly tell them what was so annoying about a still continuing problem for women in media

"You work hard making independent films for fourteen years and you get voted best breasts.” - scarlett johansson

god i feel horrible for her. i feel horrible for every single woman in this world. and it was to the point where she decided to get breast reduction surgery for her to be taken more seriously as an actress. what the hell is wrong with everybody

and i never, ever understood the hate towards anne hathaway. new york times magazine stated “Anne Hathaway practically demands that we love her.” fucking wrong. anne never gave a shit about looking stuck up when she was out there on stage, preaching for gay rights and how wrong it is for men to constantly sexualize and put down women in the media in every single interview where a man asked the bullshit question “what diet plan did you use for your role in les mis, i bet every single girl wants to know”. she knew a backlash would come from for being so strong and forceful with her retortive statements, but they saved the people that mattered.

and another point. kristen stewart. why in the hell do people hate kristen stewart as a person. women today are expected to act pretty. nice. be respectful 24/7, never argue back, smile pretty, be a lady. don’t make rash, argumentative statements, because if you do, you are not a lady. this is a message our society tries to suffocate women with. kristen stewart will not smile for you, or act like a fuckin lady for you, because that is not her character

yet people hate her because she decides to be herself. “god kristen, you gotta smile some more, talk more ladylike”

what in the fuck for? absolutely nobody knows kristen stewart’s personality. she’s a private person. but just because she refuses to lie through her teeth to seem like a respectable, golden lady of hollywood, she’s considered a bitch. “do this or that because if you don’t you aint a lady” god fuckin damn all of you

its really early in the morning and i cant think straight so if my rant seems messy im sorry 

PS… douche in the first gif is the same interviewer who pulled the same stunt on Anne Hathaway during her TDKR press tour.

None for you, Jerry Penacoli, none for you.

The best thing about both of these moments is that in both cases (even though it’s hard to tell with how this particular gifset is cropped), Renner and Downey are both obviously reacting negatively to the comment but just sit back and let Scarlett rip into the douchebags. Cause they know she’s got the situation fucking covered.

(Source: alianovnataliasoldblog, via buckysleftarm)

148,420 notes

badger-in-a-sodastream:

kkatkkrap:

hanjisglasses:

small-baby-chihiro:

sherlockyoulittlefuckwit:

purifyngsammy:

y’know when you’re writing

and you realize that you’ve been writing

in past tense and present tense

and you want to rip your hair out

so you have to go through everything

and make sure they’re all in the same tense

yeah i hate that

pretty intense

i swear to fucking god i will rip your throat out 

no need to be so tense

FUCK.

The tension is rising

(via the-amateur-detective)

914 notes

I feel good with my husband: I like his warmth and his bigness and his being-there and his making and his jokes and stories and what he reads and how he likes fishing and walks and pigs and foxes and little animals and is honest and not vain or fame-crazy and how he shows his gladness for what I cook him and joy for when I make him something, a poem or a cake, and how he is troubled when I am unhappy and wants to do anything so I can fight out my soul-battles and grow up with courage and a philosophical ease. I love his good smell and his body that fits with mine as if they were made in the same body-shop to do just that. What is only pieces, doled out here and there to this boy and that boy, that made me like pieces of them, is all jammed together in my husband. So I don’t want to look around any more: I don’t need to look around for anything.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via the20somethinghorror)

(Source: observando, via nsfgs)

656 notes

I am a woman.
I am a woman.

I am a woman born of a woman whose man owned a factory.
I am a woman born of a woman whose man labored in a factory.

I am a woman whose man wore silk suits, who constantly watched his weight.
I am a woman whose man wore tattered clothing, whose heart was constantly strangled by hunger.

I am a woman who watched two babies grow into beautiful children.
I am a woman who watched two babies die because there was no milk.

I am a woman who watched twins grow into popular college students with summers abroad.
I am a woman who watched three children grow, but with bellies stretched from no food.

But then there was a man;
But then there was a man;

And he talked about the peasants getting richer by my family getting poorer.
And he told me of days that would be better and he made the days better.

We had to eat rice.
We had rice.

We had to eat beans!
We had beans.

My children were no longer given summer visas to Europe.
My children no longer cried themselves to sleep.

And I felt like a peasant.
And I felt like a woman.

A peasant with a dull, hard, unexciting life.
Like a woman with a life that sometimes allowed a song.

And I saw a man.
And I saw a man.

And together we began to plot with the hope of the return to freedom.
I saw his heart begin to beat with hope of freedom, at last.

Someday, the return to freedom.
Someday freedom.

And then,
But then,

One day,
One day,

There were plans overhead and guns firing close by.
There were planes overhead and guns firing in the distance.

I gathered my children and went home.
I gathered my children and ran.

And the guns moved farther and farther away.
But the guns moved closer and closer.

And then, they announced that freedom had been restored!
And then they came, young boys really.

They came into my home along with my man.
They came and found my man.

Those men whose money was almost gone.
They found all of the men whose lives were almost their own.

And we all had drinks to celebrate.
And they shot them all.

The most wonderful martinis.
They shot my man.

And then they asked us to dance.
And they came for me.

Me.
For me, the woman.

And my sisters.
For my sisters.

And then they took us.
Then they took us.

They took us to dinner at a small private club.
They stripped from us the dignity we had gained.

And they treated us to beef.
And then they raped us.

It was one course after another.
One after another they came after us.

We nearly burst we were so full.
Lunging, plunging—sisters bleeding, sisters dying.

It was magnificent to be free again!
It was hardly a relief to have survived.

The beans have almost disappeared now.
The beans have disappeared.

The rice—I’ve replaced it with chicken or steak.
The rice, I cannot find it.

And the parties continue night after night to make up for all the time wasted.
And my silent tears are joined once more by the midnight cries of my children.

"Two Women" - This poem was written by a working class Chilean woman in 1973, shortly after Chile’s socialist president, Salvador Allende, was overthrown. A U.S. missionary translated the work and brought it with her when she was forced to leave Chile.  (via socialistpoetry)

(via nsfgs)

802 notes

flowercrownharry:

people write abt 1d randomly turning into puppies or w.e why has nobody written harry turning into a little dragon when he gets sick so theres this little sniffly dragon flopping around the tour bus sneezing flames into nialls hair and coughing up smoke and they have to cover it up by saying zayn dropped a cigarette and thats why everything smells as harry is quietly tucked away behind a wall of pillows in the back of the bus

(Source: michaelgclifford, via nsfgs)