“Courtesy is a lady’s armor. She’s using her courtesy to deceive people, and she’s using her former self as a facade, and it works so much to her advantage, because people still think she’s this naive, vulnerable, little girl, and she’s really not. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She knows what game she’s playing! And no one else does. And she’s learned from the best — Cersei, Margaery, Tyrion, Littlefinger, even Joffrey. She’s learned so much from these people, and they don’t even realize it. They’re unwittingly feeding her to become this great kind of manipulator. King’s Landing can either make or break a person, and in Sansa’s case, it’s making her.”—Sophie Turner is here to dismantle all of your preconceptions about Sansa Stark (from her 4/13/14 interview with Vulture.com)
just want to raise a glass for oberyn for being one of the few characters who is actually disgusted and enraged by rape and the rape culture of westeros while being non-white, non-het, and not a huge piece of crap towards bastards and non-noble ppl
Dear every person who says that a mental illness is not
a valid reason for not being able to attend school normally,
Say that to the counselor, the school nurse, the paramedics,
and the friend who walked me to the office on the day of my overdose.
Say that to the kids who saw me sleep through first and second period.
Say that to the boy who sleeps in every class.
Tell that to my teacher who had to talk me out
of suicide on a school night.
Tell that to my bio teacher who saw
me break down during a suicide prevention assembly.
Tell that to the housemates who have heard
me call the suicide hotlines.
Tell that to my freshman English teacher who tells
me I look so alive now in comparison to
how dead I looked freshman year.
Say that to any friend who has had to talk me out of suicide.
Say that to any friend who has had to calm me down
after an anxiety attack.
Say that to every friend and follower that has
come to me with thoughts of suicide.
Tell that to the kids who have failing grades because
they can’t focus, the ones who can’t make it through
a school night without having an anxiety attack,
the kids who sleep right when they get home and
straight on until morning, the ones who
have more breakdowns a day than meals a day,
the ones who have spent more time staring
at hospital walls than school hallways.
Tell that to the kids who cry every night.
Tell that to the teenagers in psychiatric wards and treatment centers.
Tell that to the family of someone who has just committed suicide.
Tell them that school is more important than their sanity.
There are only five weeks left in the semester and I am freaking out
I have a meeting with my Advanced Comp professor about my final project today, and I have no cohesion. None. I have done only the most minimal of research.
And for my capstone? I HAVE DONE NONE.
Well, I contacted a librarian and found out that apparently no one has written about Moby Dick and BSG (which is absurd), but that doesn’t exactly help me write my paper. But at least I have a (mostly) cohesive idea.
“The first two books are adventure stories, about getting people jazzed for revolution. But the third one changes genres and switches into misery porn. It’s about the consequences and the reality of that revolution.
You wanted a war, dear reader? Here is war, up close and personal. Here is the boredom and the fear and the being locked in a “safe” place with no control. Here is Prim dying pointlessly. Here is PTSD. Here is a brainwashed, weaponized version of your beautiful lover who went off to battle and came back a killer. Here are people, fatuous people but people who cared about you and who just happened to be on the wrong side at the wrong time, people who are beaten and kept in chains by your allies. Here are your friends and peers dying screaming in the stinking dark, literally torn to pieces and devoured alive. Here is the man you thought would be your confidante for life and maybe something more, the blood of your fucking family all over his hands. Here is beaten down exhaustion and despair and confusion. Here is everything you wanted, dear reader. Eat it up. Choke it down. Does any of it seem so necessary now?
And for all that price paid, what changes? The old man is dying anyway, he chokes to death on his own blood laughing at you. The old lady just brings the games back. Everything you fought for, perverted by power-hungry politicians. All that changed was the color of the boot and the neck it pressed down on.
Even after righting THAT final wrong, the only happy ending Katniss gets is that she can tell her kids why mommy wakes up screaming at night.
Yeah, the prose isn’t the best. But damn do I love where Collins took the series. It’s not an adventure series about justified vengeance. It’s about the consequences of violence, and the personal and social toll it takes on everybody. She fashioned an intense anti-war story and suckered the audience into it with her thrilling dystopia tales. What a great trick.”—
He—the “mr” makes me assume it’s a he—got it. That’s why I think this trilogy is so brilliant, and this guy got it, though I wouldn’t have in-your-face’d the review so bad. Collins shows the aftermath of revolution so beautifully.
Mockingjay is honestly my favorite in the series, because of all this real talk above. It has serious problems, mostly in narrative structure, and I think all those criticisms are real. But claiming Katniss is whiny? Citing her reluctance as a reason to despise her? Ridiculous. I’d love to see you come out of all of this fully-functioning and without a care in the world.
what if instead of a same gender detective partnership who keep getting mistaken for a romantic couple, you had a same gender romantic couple who keep getting mistaken for detectives ‘hello, I’m sam darling, and this is my partner gregory hitch’ ‘AH YES THE PRIVATE DETECTIVES’ ‘what??? no we just came for some ice cream why is there police tape everywhere’
“Blaine takes his hand and sings “Not While I’m Around” and it’s one of the most touching things I have ever seen on TV. It almost feels like an intrusion to watch it. When Blaine finishes singing his promise, he curls up next to Kurt in bed and wraps him up in his arms as best he can with all those tubes and monitors sticking out everywhere, beeping Kurt’s life like he’s nothing more than some organs and bones and not the soul-anchor of [Blaine Warbler’s] whole entire world.”—