7th March 2014

Photoset reblogged from A scattered dream with 25,311 notes






i noticed this too. the worst part is that in both scenes, they’re having to argue with their captain to do their job. A+ characterization of kirk right there ugh

How nice that you all are ignoring context. Wonderful.

Uhura is asking this after they’ve been shot at multiple times by Klingons who are clearly bent on killing the lot of them, and have just been cornered by them. Kirk is afraid that they are going to kill her on sight without letting her have the chance to do her job. Before this point, he had every intention of letting her do her job (“Lieutenant, how’s your Klingon?” “It’s rusty, but it’s good.” “Good, you’re coming too.”). He does not want to risk her life on the off-chance that the Klingons will listen. He is doing his duty as captain and attempting to keep everyone safe, as well as being his usual stubborn protective self (which he does for EVERYONE he cares about). He is being very Jim Kirk in this scene.

You are also ignoring the context of the conversation itself.

Uhura: They are ordering us to land. Captain, they’re gonna wanna know why we’re here. And they’re gonna torture us, question us, and they’re gonna kill us.
Kirk: So we come out shooting.
[Uhura rises from her seat and goes over to Kirk]
Uhura: We are outnumbered, outgunned. There’s no way we survive if we attack first. You brought me here because I speak Klingon, then let me speak Klingon.

You are deliberately manipulating us into believing that Kirk is shutting down Uhura’s agency and that she is pleading with him to regain it. This is not true. Jim does not want to risk the life of a valued crew-member and one of his dear friends on the off-chance that the Klingons won’t kill them on sight. This has nothing to do with sexism, and cutting out the context of this scene is a shitty and manipulative thing to do.

As for Carol’s scene, she is not actually addressing Kirk directly, but Bones. This is the scene where Bones’ arm got stuck in that torpedo. Kirk is not even physically there.

Kirk: Dr. Marcus, can you disarm it?

Carol: I’m trying. I’m trying.
Bones: Jim, get her the hell out of here!
Carol: No. If you beam me back, he dies! Just let me do it!
[Carol quickly works to deactivate the torpedo]

Kirk is in no way trying to keep Carol from doing her job. She is attempting to save Bones’ life, and Kirk is very willing to let her do it. He is trusting that she will be able to deactivate the rocket. He is placing his best friend’s life into her hands: if that’s not agency, I don’t know what is.

So shut the hell up and stop being deliberately manipulative and trying to force victimization and a lack of agency on two very talented, very capable women who were not belittled or looked down on, and by no means did either occur at the hands of Jim Kirk.

That’s the shit I like. Right there. Right up there.

You people know that when you make up sexist shit and pull sexist shit out of things that aren’t sexist you’re part of the fucking problem right?

Source: wintersoldiers

17th January 2014


Just gonna curl up here and hop I stop crying, at least one point so I can sleep.

17th January 2014


Yeah, just gonna, yeah nope.

11th January 2014

Photoset reblogged from This, is my life. with 452,112 notes




I never understood why guys get so freaked out/grossed out/make fun/etc tampons/pads/etc. like, whatever. I go right up there with my friends and my mom like NBD

Is that Dean? I know I am waaaayyy behind but….wtf did I miss?

No. That is Jensen in the silly romantic comedy “Ten Inch Hero”. It was ok. He was one of the better parts of it.

Source: stir-of-echoes

11th January 2014

Photoset reblogged from This, is my life. with 1,014 notes

Source: hegodamask

11th January 2014


That boy is lucky he fucking moved cause right now I would be breaking his face until it was imprinted into the floor. I hate him, I hate him for taking her for granted, for being such a good person for just enough time to where she’s willing to give him another chance if he came back, I hate him for throwing away her whole love like it was nothing. He doesn’t know how much that fucking hurts and now I get to see an amazing girl feel the pain I felt. The pain that I can’t get over. You expect her to live with that?! You’re an asshole if you do. So fuck you, I’m glad you’re in Texas cause I wouldn’t just beating your ass, I feel like taking a life, possibly your life asshole. I don’t want you doing this to someone else. You already ruined one girl’s heart and you’re fucking 15. What the hell is wrong with these people that are two years younger than this, do they not understand love and the fragility of hearts. No they just use till they’re satisfied than they abuse. I fucking hate all of you. I hate you Cody whatever the rest of your name is. You give men a bad name, so go fucking smoke and I hope you get cancer because maybe then you’ll feel pain that’s almost nearly as close to the pain you caused. You’re such a fucking cool guy, breaking hearts, smoking, kicking back, saying you’ll fix things and mistakes you’ve made. Don’t lie. You don’t deserve love from a girl like Sharette. You never will and if I ever hear about you coming around her ever again, I won’t hold back. I will find you, and I will reap on you the pain of someone who’s been on Sharette’s end of a situation. Such bullshit, you’re holding her back from being happy so I hope you choke on pole. People like you are the reason I can’t trust others, why I can’t love, why I have to protect myself from anyone and everyone. People like you. Have a nice life and watch your fucking step cause you’d hate to end up on the same hole I’m in.

26th December 2013

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Why did you even get on tumblr Dom? When you already decided against posting anything.

26th December 2013

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8th December 2013



Who am I? Well when you ask that about yourself we all have an answer. Broken bits and pieces of both truths and little lies, lies created to hide things from others and from ourselves, or subconsciously fabricated to deceive our own minds to not know what we want or what we love or even what the world is. So I then ask myself how can things, fabrications of fiction, especially movies, how do they shatter the reality I look at. They break the mirror I stare into, the mirror that reflects reality back to me. At least the reality I’m told to believe in combined with the parts I believe and add in myself. Fine crystal so easily admired and so easily shattered with just the brush of a fingertip. After every movie that I actually touch in ways of all mind, soul, and feelings. I stand up and relieve myself afterwards only to find my mind elsewhere. Questioning reality, the origins, the fabric, how to live, how to be, how simply to exist. How to love and be loved, to be a hero, to stand up and yell louder than the unison of voices that shuffle together aimlessly towards one thing, Death, because we are all destined to die, and how to not just yell above them but walk against the crowd and push through the wave, not to turn back time or live forever, but to actually exist and part from the autonomous robotic society. Programmed like Tron to be one thing, to think multiple things, to love whatever pleases us, and to leave behind those who can’t or choose not fight. And yet the viruses, the one’s who “stand out” are the worst robots. They were implanted by the autonomous society to believe they are being different when reality says they are falling for the greatest gag in history. It is much more than to be different because to truly do so you have to exist without the things we need to exist. To fully separate the ties to society and step out and become the adventure, to walk forth and finally live. Too many times I question reality and now I sit here thinking: what is real? How do you exist? What do I believe in? What was the world supposed and what has it fooled itself in becoming? More and more question and then memories and thoughts and stories all arise at the same time. I fear I will be forever haunted by not just these things but everything past, present, and future until Death’s hand comes to greet me.

27th November 2013


And yet again a cold night with familiar tear, so friendly. I haven’t cried this often or been so vulnerable since I was 8 years old. I have Maddie to thank, in light of it all she tore down my walls and now I’m just me. It’s good to be back and yet with everything it’s too bittersweet.