Under-appreciated Star Wars things: Take some time to watch every single background Jedi in Attack of the Clones. Watch the Jedi help each other into the carriers, watch Jedi take down battle droids together. Watch Aayla Secura lead a squadron into battle, and see Adi Gallia and Stass Allie kick ass. The Jedi extras of Attack of the Clones are amazing, and each character has a life of its own, even if glimpsed for a short moment.
les mis modern aesthetics // fantine
fantine was beautiful, and remained chaste as long as she could. she was a lovely blonde with splendid teeth. she had gold and pearls for her dowry, but her gold was her head of hair and her pearls were in her mouth. she worked to keep herself alive. then, also to keep herself alive, she l o v e d, for the heart has its own hunger. (x)
Ok but what’s their name? Stop doing this to black people we have all this great information about what they’re doing and no name in the description
His name’s David Badu.
Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
Master and Padawan in Sync
hey guys, my guinea pig is really, really sick (like, ireny-had-a-meltdown-in-the-vet’s-office sick) and as anyone with a pet knows those vet bills aren’t cheap. also most of you probably know i’m studying to be a physical therapist and right now i’m in the middle of my clinical rotations, which means no income and very little free time ha ha hhaaa.
anyway i’m opening up commissions (or well reminding everyone that commissions are open) with a twist: you send me a prompt or a character, plus how many minutes you want me to spend on it:
i’m setting a rough pg-13 limit on this but honestly if you really want something nsfw we could probably make it work, i don’t have a whole lot of room to be picky here. you can direct any and all commission requests to bubonicwoodchuck[at]gmail[dot]com.
and if any of my artpoops have ever made you laugh or even smile, please consider donating a couple bucks via paypal to the email address above. i honestly hate to even ask but i’d give like…a lot to see my horrible spoiled fur potato be fat and happy again
CHRIS LEDAY, LEFT, WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO POST THE VIDEO OF THE ALTON STERLING VIDEO, AND WAS ARRESTED 24 HOURS LATER
The man who made the video of the Alton Sterling shooting death go viral, one of two brutal videos from two states that sparked a national outrage and led to the shooting deaths of five Dallas police officers during an anti-police brutality protest Thursday – was arrested 24 hours later.
Considering police handcuffed and leg-shackled him after accusing him of assault and battery – only to jail him overnight for unpaid traffic fines – it certainly appears that way.
Especially considering his arrest took place 24 hours after he had posted the video on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram where it instantly went viral.
LeDay, 34, lives in Georgia, but was born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana where the shooting took place early Tuesday morning, so he learned of the video through friends back home but it wasn’t getting much exposure.
At the time, the story – without the video – was being reported in the local news and was already generating controversy because the store owner was saying the shooting was unjustified and the coroner was saying he was shot several times in the front and back.
And the cops were saying their body cams had fallen off, so there was no video of the shooting.
He managed to use his phone to inform his Facebook friends that he was being detained, but he wasn’t sure for what.
He didn’t dare record them, knowing those MP’s with their M-16s would not hesitate to use them.
Sounds like racketeering to me. You can’t really get away with killing folks unless witnesses are afraid to come forward, so the police do this not only to punish the uploader, but to send a message to everyone else.
#CHRISLEDAY #AltonSterling #BlackLivesMatter
OMG BOOOOOOOOOST IT! it’s fucking 2016! WTF wrong with #COPS?!
Same narrative as with Eric Garner
hogwarts AU with werewolf Feuilly? yes. okay. it’s very angsty and not very shippy. Sorry.
The morning after a full moon always felt like the continuation of the nightmare of the past day rather than a break from it. As if he wasn’t quite awake yet, not quite human-shaped again. Even if, in the last two years, Feuilly had usually found himself on a plush mattress, his head propped on a pillow, fresh sheet around his body, he was always sore, bruised, an so hurt and detached from his body it was as if he’d woken up in someone else’s bones.
It wasn’t far from the truth. His body had been broken down into pieces and rebuilt into something else’s, and even though, afterwards, when the worst was over, he looked more or less like the boy that he had been before, his body wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. It could never be again.
Chocking on a sob that bubbled in his (his) throat, Feuilly took a deep breath – or attempted to.
A sharp, stabbing pain to his chest brought tears to his eyes and down his cheeks.
“You have broken ribs,” a deep, soft voice floated through the agony. Enjolras. “Take it easy. We bandaged them but they’re not fixed yet.”
Feuilly became aware of a cold cloth on his forehead; he reached out an arm that didn’t-quite-feel-like-his to touch it, but the pain once again spiked, and he cried out.
“Take it easy,” Enjolras repeated. Feuilly focused on his voice, the perfectly formed vowels of his southern accent. “Valjean had to stay at the school overnight so Cosette has gone to find a healer. I’m – sorry. You were hurt more than usu- than we anticipated.”
“What happened?” He said as the spasms receeded. Even though the day was overcast as it usually was in Scotland this time of the year, Feuilly didn’t have the strength to open his eyes yet, the light in the room too brutal.
He heard Enjolras take a small breath, and Feuilly was thankful – Enjolras valued honesty and truth immensely, and his warmth was almost reassuring. His voice was compassionate, but never pitying.
“We don’t know. We found you a little further than usual this morning. It looked like you had a rough night.”
The euphemism would have made Feuilly laugh, if he could.
“Yeah,” he swallowed. He tasted blood at the back of his throat. “I don’t… I don’t remember any of it.”
The voice that came out between his lips sounded so small, so raspy. It didn’t belong to him, it didn’t.
“I know,” Enjolras said. He took Feuilly’s hand – the one place Feuilly didn’t feel bruised and sore and raw – and squeezed it gently.
Enjolras didn’t care much for empty words, so he said nothing. For five, ten, fifteen minutes – or seconds. Time slowed down when you were in so much pain, but it gave Feuilly enough time to tentatively breathe again. Inhale, exhale. The bandaged around his broken ribs were tight. Inhale, exhale. His head swam. He couldn’t remember anything. Enjolras’ hand was cool around his. Feuilly’s body had never ran hot before; was this new? Or did he have a fever? What else had irreparably changed?
He couldn’t remember anything. Had he hurt someone else? Was this why this morning was so different?
“Would it help,” Enjolras began tentatively, and finally blinking, Feuilly saw him bite his lip, face drawn and pale, as if he hadn’t slept. “If I told you it wasn’t you? Whatever happened, whatever might happen- ” and once again, Feuilly appreciated Enjolras’ honesty, his clear vision, knowing how useless it was to pretend the risk of Feuilly hurting someone wasn’t terrifyingly real. “It’s not you.”
Feuilly swallowed again, the taste of blood making him nauseous and dizzy.
It wasn’t him. He could move his toes, could open his eyes and see his friend sitting beside him, feel the broken ribs and the bruises and the cuts.
But it wasn’t his body anymore.
What did that make him?
“No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t help. I know it sounds good but. Sorry. It doesn’t help.”
Enjolras nodded gravely. Maybe Feuilly would share with him someday, even if he didn’t fully understand – and Feuilly wished Enjolras never understood. Maybe someday, he would find the words to explain, the energy, the strength.
But for now, he focused on Enjolras’ hand around his, and tried to sleep until Cosette arrived with the healer.
“You just see here the quality, the artistry in terms of the light, the shadows. “ [Rick McCallum on the use of light and shadow on ROTS set]