Made this myself

what kills me most about alistairs death in dai, is the way he reacts when you choose him to stay. “Right…” Just this word killed me. It’s like he’s reminding himself that he has to do this, has to risk his life one last time. But still, there is a part of him that doesn’t want this. A part that wants to see the Hero of Ferelden again, his love. Hawke was the one who told them to leave. “Right…” Because it is like this. “Right…” Because he doesn’t get his happy end. “Right…” Because it is now his time give his life so the others can live. 

Even though most marginalised sexualities need more representation, i feel that Asexuals get a super raw deal.

Because everybody knows about homosexual and most people have heard of bisexual, even if they don’t fully understand the meaning.

But the amount of times I’ve had to explain to people that asexuality is a thing and that not feeling any kind of sexual attraction is normal for some people is ridiculous. We live in a society so seeped in sex that most people don’t even realise that not wanting to have sex is a reality for some people.

Thats why representation is so important. Not just so that people who are asexual realise that there’s nothing actually wrong with them, but so that when/if they decide to come out, the people around them are more accepting and understanding and i think one of the main things that would help that is actUALLY KNOWING WHAT IT MEANS!

Winter break of last year I relapsed into depression. This year, it’s winter break and I’ve been doing good. I’ve been keeping myself busy making sure I’m not alone for a long period of time. My happy levels have been at an all time high for the past several months and I would like to take a moment to appreciate that.


Me when Ed displayed his telepathic, mind reading and remote viewing abilities:

Translation: “Uwaaa~!”

As with most fictional situations, I can’t help but think about comparisons re: Percy’s time in Hell and the reactions we didn’t see.

I can’t help but think of The Dresden Files, where, once you see something awful, you’re never getting it out. Ever. It never fades, or changes, or gets more tolerable. It’s there, behind your eyelids, forever.

I can’t help but think how it’s totally possible that Percy could live to be as old as fifty and still wake up wanting to scream.