Me Bc I Hated Kaichou Wa Maid Sama From The First Time I Watched It Even Though Everyone Else My Age

Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

one thing i need you all to realize is that you have to fight like hell for the marginalized people you don’t like. you have to fight for the cringey discourse queer and the misogynistic man of color and the transphobic cis woman and the politically conservative jew and the racist disabled person. you don’t have to like them or agree with them. but if you see them experiencing bigotry and you are a person who claims to be against bigotry, you are obligated to fight for them. you have to fight against bigotry, even if you don’t like the target of that bigotry, because as soon as you let yourself slip, as soon as you allow bigotry on your watch, even if it is directed at the shittiest person you’ve ever met, you’ve now established that in your personal ethos bigotry isn’t wrong, it’s a weapon. and as soon as you’re okay with bigotry being used as a weapon, you have already lost.

we should globally ban the introduction of more powerful computer hardware for 10-20 years, not as an AI safety thing (though we could frame it as that), but to force programmers to optimize their shit better

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

Fem andreil

Lool petty king

never forget that odysseus had a daily cry on calypso’s beach for the entire 7 years he was there

Me: *Goes through ao3 tag*

Me: *Reaches the end*

Me: *Goes through ao3 tag with lower standards*

god gives his coolest girlfriends to his most loser reddit bros

Praying for killer outfits, straight A’s, good sleep, and a consistent workout routine this school year