A 22 year old, half-Finnish Feminist ultra nerd. The Simpsons, transhumanism, RPGs, literary analysis and sweets give my life meaning.
Last Night in Ferguson (10.21.14): A state senator was arrested (and mama may have been legally packing), one of the lead organizers, nettaaaaaaaa, was roughed up by police, and one of the main sources of footage/live feeds, Rebel Z, was detained in what seems to have been an intimidation and straight up harassment tactic. The police are out of control, and it’s only getting worse. If you think this is over, you need to look again. #staywoke #farfromover
Ferguson is still happening. Are you still paying attention?
seriously though what was up with europe that bathing was such a rare thing like every history I’ve read of other continents talks about how bathing was a daily ritual and how everyone from native americans to japanese were totes grossed out by smelly white guys
now that I think about it smelly white guys are still grossing everyone out some things never change
mark, my words. *mark brings me my dictionary* thank you mark
a few days ago bf told me that a couple years ago when he played counterstrike he would respond to dudes getting angry and aggressive and hostile by saying “a kissaroo from me to you” in a slightly goofy friendly voice sort of like the voice you’d associate with a dog muppet. he said they would absolutely lose their shit every time, insisting things like “i dont want a kissaroo from you! only tall blonde girls!”. they always said kissaroo. i cant stop thinking about this
STORY COMMISSIONS NOW OPEN!
Have you ever wanted someone to write story about your OC? Have you ever had a hard time finding fanfiction for that one really specific ship/kink/AU? Do you have a trigger that’s difficult to avoid in your fandom’s popular fics? Do you have a nerdy friend with a birthday on the way? Do you just want a story about your Warden / Shepard / Lone Wanderer / Hunter and not somebody else’s?
I can help you!
Doesn’t matter how silly it is, how angsty it is, how out-there the premise is. I can write it, and it won’t suck. No really. I’ll write anything. Stack the AU details. Ask for explicit content. Give me a pairing and a song to fit them to. Write yourself into the story. I’ll write anything you want.
I’ve had years of writing experience, including requests and gift fics. Here’s some writing samples:
“It all started with a prank. And it was all Veten’s fault, really. Though he’ll tell you it was Caxia to blame, not him. After all, she was the one talking smack about the Quarians and the Geth – unquestionably a touchy subject. If you want to be absolutely technical, it was Karr who went through the door. But then, if you want to trace it back that far, you might as well just blame Pitne Bok for sending us all to the damn place, because if she hadn’t shown up with the address we would never even need to worry about this at all, because we wouldn’t know. And I’d say that ignorance is bliss in this case.
Of course, none of this finger pointing helps at all with the situation I’m in right now. I really need to figure out what I’m going to do with this bomb some time within the next twenty seconds. Nineteen seconds. Eighteen seconds.”
- Sample from The Cleanup, a Mass Effect-world OC commission
"It was hard to hear with the rush of blood in her ears, but Vriska was vaguely aware of the woman’s words. “I told you when I took you on,” she was saying in her cool, measured voice, “You’re mine now. My girl.” The woman circled her, narrowing in on her prey. “Don’t you remember when you called me mother?”
Mother. Yes, Vriska remembered. They all called her mother, those who worked for the Spider. She took them in. She took care of them. They ran off to do her bidding but always returned. It was a sticky web, hers. Her children never could leave her for long.
That had been Vriska’s mistake.”
Excerpt from Blood In, A Homestuck Humanstuck Mafia AU commission
If you’re not convinced, tell me and I can put you in touch with satisfied customers. I can also provide a link to my AO3 for further writing samples. I’ll be happy to clear up any questions if you’d like to send me an ask.
I’d like to be able to pay for gas. You’d like to read your very own, personal story. Let’s all walk away happy!
Hit me up at recreationalcannibalism.tumblr.com/askor email me at htisthinking.gmail.com
As I’m walking through Target with my little sister, the kid somehow manages to convince me to take a trip down the doll aisle. I know the type - brands that preach diversity through displays of nine different variations of white and maybe a black girl if you’re lucky enough. What I instead found as soon as I turned into the aisle were these two boxes.
The girl on the left is Shola, an Afghani girl from Kabul with war-torn eyes. Her biography on the inside flap tells us that “her country has been at war since before she was born”, and all she has left of her family is her older sister. They’re part of a circus, the one source of light in their lives, and they read the Qur’an. She wears a hijab.
The girl on the right is Nahji, a ten-year-old Indian girl from Assam, where “young girls are forced to work and get married at a very early age”. Nahji is smart, admirable, extremely studious. She teaches her fellow girls to believe in themselves. In the left side of her nose, as tradition mandates, she has a piercing. On her right hand is a henna tattoo.
As a Pakistani girl growing up in post-9/11 America, this is so important to me. The closest thing we had to these back in my day were “customizable” American Girl dolls, who were very strictly white or black. My eyes are green, my hair was black, and my skin is brown, and I couldn’t find my reflection in any of those girls. Yet I settled, just like I settled for the terrorist jokes boys would throw at me, like I settled for the butchered pronunciations of names of mine and my friends’ countries. I settled for a white doll, who at least had my eyes if nothing else, and I named her Rabeea and loved her. But I still couldn’t completely connect to her.
My little sister, who had been the one to push me down the aisle in the first place, stopped to stare with me at the girls. And then the words, “Maybe they can be my American Girls,” slipped out of her mouth. This young girl, barely represented in today’s society, finally found a doll that looks like her, that wears the weird headscarf that her grandma does and still manages to look beautiful.
I turned the dolls’ boxes around and snapped a picture of the back of Nahji’s. There are more that I didn’t see in the store; a Belarusian, an Ethiopian, a Brazilian, a Laotian, a Native American, a Mexican. And more.
These are Hearts 4 Hearts dolls, and while they haven’t yet reached all parts of the world (I think they have yet to come out with an East Asian girl), they need all the support they can get so we can have a beautiful doll for every beautiful young girl, so we can give them what our generation never had.
Please don’t let this die. If you know a young girl, get her one. I know I’m buying Shola and Nahji for my little sister’s next birthday, because she needs a doll with beautiful brown skin like hers, a doll who wears a hijab like our older sister, a doll who wears real henna, not the blue shit white girls get at the beach.
The Hearts 4 Hearts girls are so important. Don’t overlook them. Don’t underestimate them. These can be the future if we let them.
You can read more about the dolls here: http://www.playmatestoys.com/brands/hearts-for-hearts-girls
*runs to target- i need to get my babydoll one for her 1st bday
ohmygosh and the one from Ethiopia has natural hair which you can’t get from the American Girl “just like you” dolls!
simple tips to gain my friendship
- have a dog
- show me pictures of your dog
- invite me over to pet your dog
- be a dog