ocdplayer:

serioussarcsm:

ocdplayer:

captainirrayditation:

ocdplayer:

i have an idea in my head where thor is just like. painfully incapable of being cissexist.

like some transphobic reporter asks him abt his sexuality and he’s “i have been attracted to many of your midgardian genders” and “what” and “my current paramor is genderqueer” “are they male or female” “they are neither of those two genders, that is what i have just said!” “oh well what were they born as" "oh no, dear friend, u appear to be confusing genderqueer with genderfluid! the lady mystique assures me that these are two very different things, [extremely extended explanation]"

y/y

oh  my gosh yes

"but what are they biologically?”

"…they are human."

oh my god

"But what is between their legs?!"

"That is not of your concern, but on a good  day, myself!"

IM SCREAMING

(Source: arthurfemmedragon)

killerfox21:

So I feel like this should be a skin for Draven creds go out to who ever made this wonderful peice of beauty go you

killerfox21:

So I feel like this should be a skin for Draven creds go out to who ever made this wonderful peice of beauty go you

[…] Early in my freshman year, my dad asked me if there were lots of Latinos at school. I wanted to say, “Pa, I’m one of the only Latinos in most of my classes. The other brown faces I see mostly are the landscapers’. I think of you when I see them sweating in the morning sun. I remember you were a landscaper when you first came to Illinois in the 1950s. And look, Pa! Now I’m in college!”

But I didn’t.

I just said, “No, Pa. There’s a few Latinos, mostly Puerto Rican, few Mexicans. But all the landscapers are Mexican.”

My dad responded, “¡Salúdelos, m’ijo!”

So when I walked by the Mexican men landscaping each morning, I said, “Buenos días.”

Recently, I realized what my dad really meant. I remembered learning the Mexican, or Latin American, tradition of greeting people when one enters a room. In my Mexican family, my parents taught me to be “bien educado” by greeting people who were in a room already when I entered. The tradition puts the responsibility of the person who arrives to greet those already there. If I didn’t follow the rule as a kid, my parents admonished me with a back handed slap on my back and the not-so-subtle hint: “¡Saluda!”

I caught myself tapping my 8-year-old son’s back the other day when he didn’t greet one of our friends: “Adrian! ¡Saluda!”

However, many of my white colleagues over the years followed a different tradition of ignorance. “Maleducados,” ol’ school Mexican grandmothers would call them.

But this Mexican tradition is not about the greeting—it’s about the acknowledgment. Greeting people when you enter a room is about acknowledging other people’s presence and showing them that you don’t consider yourself superior to them.

When I thought back to the conversation between my dad and me in 1990, I realized that my dad was not ordering me to greet the Mexican landscapers with a “Good morning.”

Instead, my father wanted me to acknowledge them, to always acknowledge people who work with their hands like he had done as a farm worker, a landscaper, a mechanic. My father with a 3rd grade education wanted me to work with my mind but never wanted me to think myself superior because I earned a college degree and others didn’t.

westequss:

theawkwardblack3questrian:

smartshibe:

How to ride a horse

I don’t know why I laughed so hard at this…

Please excuse me while i go teach me horse this!

westequss:

theawkwardblack3questrian:

smartshibe:

How to ride a horse

I don’t know why I laughed so hard at this…

Please excuse me while i go teach me horse this!

(Source: freeairguitar)

College kids literally don’t care about walking in the way of cars at school because we’re like “hit me i don’t care pay my tuition.”

thefannibals:

drarna:

DO YOU EVER GET A RING STUCK ON YOUR FINGER AND IT’S JUST LIKE NO I DIDN’T COMMIT TO THIS

is this how marriages work

(Source: neptunain)