Taylor Swift on Emma Watson’s UN speech and (last 2 gifs) on not “acting up” like Miley Cyrus and Britney Spears (x)

(Source: swlft)

just got naya and heather’s tweet notification at the same time, don’t know if it’s just my phone or they so happen to be on twitter on the same time, and tweeted at the same time, but shhhh, simple joys in life.

Happy 1st birthday, Elijah Hubbell Morris!

Happy 1st birthday, Elijah Hubbell Morris!

(Source: leawrence)

Recently, my husband and I burned through S1 of Orphan Black, which, as promised by virtually the entire internet, was awesome. But in all the praise I’d seen for it, a line from one review in particular stuck in my mind. The reviewer noted that, although the protagonist, Sarah, is an unlikeable character, her grifter skills make her perfectly suited to unravelling the mystery in which she finds herself. And as this was a positive review, I kept that quote in mind when we started watching, sort of by way of prewarning myself: you maybe won’t like Sarah, but that’s OK.

But here’s the thing: I fucking loved Sarah. I mean, I get what the reviewer was trying to say, in that she’s not always a sympathetic character, but that’s not the same as her actually being unlikeable. And the more I watched, the more I found myself thinking: why is this quality, the idea of likeability, considered so important for women, but so optional for men – not just in real life, but in narrative? Because when it comes to guys, we have whole fandoms bending over backwards to write soulful meta humanising male characters whose actions, regardless of their motives, are far less complex than monstrous. We take male villains and redeem them a hundred, a thousand times over – men who are murderers, stalkers, abusers, kinslayers, traitors, attempted or successful rapists; men with personal histories so bloody and tortured, it’s like looking at a battlefield. In doing this, we exhibit enormous compassion for and understanding of the nuances of human behaviour – sympathy for circumstance, for context, for motive and character and passion and rage, the heartache and, to steal a phrase, the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to; and as such, regardless of how I might feel about the practice as applied in specific instances, in general, it’s a praiseworthy endeavour. It helps us to see human beings, not as wholly black and white, but as flawed and complicated creatures, and we need to do that, because it’s what we are.

But when it comes to women, a single selfish or not-nice act – a stolen kiss, a lie, a brushoff – is somehow enough to see them condemned as whores and bitches forever. We readily excuse our favourite male characters of murder, but if a woman politely turns down a date with someone she has no interest in, she’s a timewasting user bimbo and god, what does he even see in her? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some great online meta about, for instance, the soulfulness and moral ambiguity of Black Widow, but I’ve also seen a metric fucktonne more about what that particular jaw-spasm means in that one GIF of Cumberbatch/Ackles/Hiddleston/Smith alone, and that’s before you get into the pages-long pieces about why Rumplestiltskin or Hook or Spike or Bucky Barnes or whoever is really just a tortured woobie who needs a hug. Hell, I’m guilty of writing some of that stuff myself, because see above: plus, it’s meaty and fun and exactly the kind of analysis I like to write.

And yet, we tend overwhelmingly not to write it about ladies. It’s not just our cultural obsession with pushing increasingly specific variants of the Madonna/Whore complex onto women, such that audiences are disinclined to extend to female characters the same moral/emotional licenses they extend to men; it’s also a failure to create narratives where the women aren’t just flawed, but where the audience is still encouraged to like them when they are.

Returning to Orphan Black, for instance, if Sarah were male, he’d be unequivocally viewed as either a complex, sympathetic antihero or a loving battler with a heart of gold. I mean, the ex-con trying to go straight and get his daughter back while still battling the illegalities of his old life and punching bad guys? Let me introduce you to Swordfish, Death Race, and about a millionty other stories where a father’s separation from a beloved child, whether as a consequence of his actual criminal actions, shiftless neglect, sheer bad luck or a combination of all three, is never couched as a reason why he might not be a fit parent. We tend to accept, both culturally and narratively, that men who abandon their children aren’t automatically bad dads; they just have other, important things to be doing first, like coming to terms with parenthood, saving the world, escaping from prison or otherwise getting their shit together. But Sarah, who left her child in the care of someone she trusted absolutely, has to jump through hoops to prove her maternal readiness on returning; has to answer for her absence over and over again. And on one level, that’s fine; that’s as it should be, because Sarah’s life is dangerous. And yet, her situation stands in glaring contrast to every returning father who’s never been asked to do half so much, because women aren’t meant to struggle with motherhood, to have to try to succeed: we’re either maternal angels or selfish absentees, and the idea that we might sometimes be both or neither isn’t one you often see depicted with such nuance.

Gender, Orphan Black & The Meta Of Meta

read this, read it right now it’s absolutely genius.

(via hartbleed)

I think this is best piece on Orphan Black and Sarah that I have ever read. Seriously. I see them fandom going “Yeah, Sarah is cool, but that one time she lied/ran away/tricked people/shot someone” and I am like “shit are you even paying attention to this wonderful complex deep character?” And this just explained why that bothered me so much

(via samanticshift)

(Source: knowlesian)

(Source: felison)


Wowwww, 😍😍😍😍😍


Wowwww, 😍😍😍😍😍

(Source: hey-lindsay)

You’re the Karma to my Amy
You’re the Gabrielle to my Xena
You’re the Delphine to my Cosima
You’re the Tina to my Bette
You’re the Alice to my Dana
You’re the Shane to my Carmen
You’re the Fey to my Poehler
You’re the Lucy to my Ethel
You’re the Emily to my Naomi
You’re the Rosie to my Rose
You’re the Blair to my Serena
You’re the Livia to my Eva
You’re the June to my Alice
You´re the Violet to my Corky
You´re the Liza to my Sally
You’re the Rachel to my Luce
You’re the Tori to my Paulie
You’re the Lucy to my Amy
You’re the Margaery to my Sansa
You’re the Adele to my Emma
You’re the Mariana to my Julia
You’re the Ashley to my Spencer
You’re the Alison to my Emily
You’re the Shannon to my Ashley
You’re the York to my Bown
You’re the Alex to my Piper
You’re the Buffy to my Faith
You’re the Willow to my Tara
You’re the Arizona to my Callie
You’re the Bo to my Lauren
You’re the Holly to my Gail
You’re the Maura to my Jane
You’re the Tala to my Leyla
You’re the Santana to my Brittany

(via samanthajoelleds)

Heather Morris + Beyonce numbers

(Source: nayaswifee)


 #oh good lord #hemo wanted that tongue in there so baddddd #you see it about to go and then she’s like fuck no retreat my bad


do you ever see spoilers for a show you don’t watch anymore and just 


(Source: livejustliketheuswnt09)



What’s the word for horny but not in a sexual way like I’m horny for Halloween but I don’t wanna fuck a pumpkin you feel

do u mean excited




feminism never made me hate men but the reaction to feminism sure as shit did

some men* you literally cannot hate people you’ve never met or even heard of.



Rehearsing a “very sweet scene” ;)


Rehearsing a “very sweet scene” ;)

Naya on the set of Glee

Naya on the set of Glee

(Source: nayarivra)