mary. twenty-nine. fangirl. from washington dc, living in seoul. likes pretty things/people. MCU, various tv shows & harry potter. also fashion, mythology/fairytales, feminism, art, bad puns, monsters.
⟣SHINee⟢
Oh, isn’t it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded? So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?
Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot about you
Hey do y'all fucks remember two years ago when just before the election all these “don’t vote both parties are bad” or “vote independent!” Posts were going around and then Trump won and now two weeks before midterms there’s all these “don’t bother voting, revolution is the only way!” And “your vote isn’t gonna matter and is an ineffective way to protest” posts are going around? Yeah knock that shit right the fuck off, don’t fall for it and get your ass to the polls, we are not doing this again.
When I was living in Norway back when I was like 20, some French boys kept playing “pranks” on me that escalated until they found a dog skeleton in the woods. They put some of the bones under my pillows, and I had bad dreams all night about a pet dog I loved (but never had in real life) dying.
When I told them in the morning they were extremely freaked out. They gave the bones a proper burial and the pranks stopped.
I thought it was pretty funny.
Quick question, and I know I am saying this as a person who cradles her pillow in her arms and also turns it around like 6000 times in the space of half an hour to find that sweet spot in the pillow for Extreme Comfort, but how did you not notice dog bones under your pillow!?
According to princess and the pea logic, I am but a humble peasant girl
Tumblr’s at it again, thanks to the new European Privacy Laws. There’s probably nobody who will read this, but it pissed me off so much that I decided to make a post about it. (Ignore the weird language mish-mash, depending on your country the language might differ.)
OK, so many of us get this screen when we try to access our dash:
Realise how the ‘OK’ button is a nice, attention-grabbing blue? If you’re like me, you’re not exactly into reading a 100 pages document and tend to just click it.
My tip? DONT. Instead click on ‘Manage Options’ right next to it:
Now you’ll see this page:
Still pretty harmless, right? That ‘Accept’ button is looking really attractive right now. Instead, click on Verwalten (Probably something like ‘Manage Options’ or something in english) and you’ll get to this page:
Now that’s not too bad, right? I just switched all the buttons to ‘off’, because I’m jealously guarding my personal information and don’t want Tumblr to go off and do who knows what with it. Looks like we’re done! But wait: There’s a SHOW option.
When we click on that one, what we will get is this:
A HUGE list with OVER 300 ENTRIES of companies that can use your data by default if you’d just clicked ‘OK’ on that very first page. Coincidence that this list is hidden that much? Me thinks not. They’re all switched on by default, but I am still a petty bitch that doesn’t want to give out her data, so I switched them all off. All 300+ of them. There is no option to switch them all off at once, and even if you disable all the options above, the companies are still switched on.
(If you wonder how i got that number, I copied the list into excel and looked at the cell number. No way am I actually counting all those entries)
I too, am a petty bitch who unticked every single one.
If you already clicked OK previously and want to go back and click all the buttons like the petty bitch you are, just go to your Privacy settings on tumblr and uncheck the “Cookie consent” button.
You’ll get the terms of service screen again an you can follow the above instructions.
— Angela Carter, from The Sadeian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography, c. 1978.
In many ways, women are death’s natural companions. Every time a woman gives birth, she is creating not only a life, but a death. Samuel Beckett wrote that women “give birth astride of a grave.”
— Caitlin Doughty, from Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory
