i-am-not-a-combative-person

anonymous asked:

I too am a fan of your mystery kink. You are not alone. ficrecsplz

Eee, awesome! Unfortunately, I only have a couple at this point to rec. I’m combing through the AO3 Pregnant Dean tag to see if I missed anything (there are some that I initially glossed over because of the warnings), but below are the ones that stood out for me (all A/B/O ‘verse). Chances are, you probably already know about them, too, but on the off chance someone hasn’t…

Real Slick Dean - Technically, this doesn’t have any mpreg, just mentions only. But I can personally testify to the fact that you will be craving pregnant!Dean SO BAD by the end.

A Hole in the World - Super long, but omg is it worth it. Wonderfully detailed universe and I cannot gush enough about Dean and Cas’ relationship. Mpreg does not happen till after the story ends, but the author’s posted quite a few time stamps involving Dean’s pregnancy following the “official” conclusion.

Baby Bump - Just a short 6k drabble that totally qualifies as tooth-rotting fluff (smut, too).

Dedication

It’s true I never write, but I would gladly die with you. Gladly lower myself down alone with you into the enormous mouth that waits, beyond youth, beyond every instant of ecstasy, remember: before battle we would do each other’s makeup, comb each other’s                    hair out saying we are unconquerable, we are terrible and splendid— the mouth waiting, patiently waiting. And I will meet you there                    again beyond bleeding thorns, the endless dilation, the fire that alters                    nothing; I am there already past snowy clouds, balding moss, dim swarm of stars even we can step over, it is easier this time, I promise— I am already waiting in your personal heaven, here is my hand, I will help you across. I would gladly die with you still, although I never write   from this gray institution. See they are so busy trying to cure me, I’m condemned—sorry, I have been given the job of vacuuming the desert forever, well, no more than eight hours                    a day. And it’s really just about a thousand miles of cafeteria; a large one in any event. With its miniature plastic knives, its tuna salad and Saran-Wrapped genitalia will somebody                    please get me out of here, sorry. I am happy to say that every method, massive pharmaceuticals, art therapy and edifying films as well as others I would prefer not to mention—I mean, every single technique known to the mouth—sorry!—to our most kindly compassionate science is being employed to restore me to normal well-being and cheerful stability. I go on vacuuming toward a small diamond light burning off in the distance. Remember me. Do you remember me?    In the night’s windowless darkness when I am lying cold and numb and no one’s fiddling with the lock, or shining flashlights in my eyes, although I never write, secretly I long to die with you, does that count?

Franz Wright

RIP ❤

Finally trying to get ready for the shower, detangling and combing out my hair for a wash.

And I’m having to get irritated again that one of the factors going through my head, as I am considering again chopping off like 6 years’ worth of hair for ease of maintenance, with this damned frozen shoulder and trouble bending forward to deal with the hair? Is that I’ve been getting treated better with fewer microaggressions out in public, since I let it grow out than when it was short before.

I mean, gender presentation had nothing to do with my decisions there. But it apparently makes enough difference to random people that it’s none of their business in the first place, that I don’t get nearly as many dirty looks and whispers when I try to use a restroom and stuff. Just walking around.

I still get some, but it’s a noticeable difference, just from usually wearing a messy bun and apparently being that much easier for nosy people to pigeonhole. Haven’t gotten aggressively sirred at all since I started letting it grow out. Lots of xenophobia wrapped up all together there, AFAICT. And it makes me really mad.

And it also irks me that I’m low enough on spoons these days, that I would just as soon keep it that way. Things are hard enough sometimes without as much of that BS when I’m just trying to go about my business. :-|

anonymous asked:

What shampoo and conditioner do u use and what is ur usual hair routine? Ur hair is beautiful shiny long omg I'm forgetting how to make sentences I'm so mesmerized!

Oh man, I reaaaaally don’t do anything special! I used to take really good care of my hair a couple years ago but I gave up and just kind of let it happen hahah. Currently I am using the cheapest shampoo and conditioner I can find from the supermarket. When i get out of the shower i try to comb through it with a wide tooth comb (but honestly i usually just brush it which i know is bad but whatever), and then I shake it out and let it air dry. That’s it. I don’t use any product or heat or anything. Soooo so boring. & I think it photographs well! Like, it doesn’t look spectacular in person or anything by ANY means. But thank you very much!

Let Me Tell You a Story

A few weeks ago I asked my friend what I would be If I liked everyone romantically, but in terms of sexually I like men only. He honestly had no idea so we combed the internet for about 20 minutes. He then asked if I was “Homoflexible” and I read that it means that the person is mostly gay but has sexual encounters with opposite genders and I was just like “obliVION NO” and that is how I stopped labeling my sexual orientation.

oblivionxviix

aquaburst07 asked:

I am wondering, how do you imagine rev!Dipper and regDipper reacting if they switched bodies somehow?

At first the only major differences they’d probably notice is their clothes and the like. Rev!Dip would likely feel exposed and grimy, he’s usually so proper and clean that Reg!Dip’s fashion sense and understanding of person hygiene would definitely disgust him to no end. Reg!Dip would be both the same and opposite, wondering why the hell he’s dressed like Gideon with his hair combed back and noticeably smelling like someone who showers. 

Then after what would probably be a ton of confusion they’d probably try to use their switch to their advantage, get close to the counterparts of their own friends. It wouldn’t be that hard of course, and they’d probably be surprised that their relationships are more similar then they thought they’d be.

It’s true I never write, but I would gladly die with you.
Gladly lower myself down alone with you into the enormous mouth
that waits, beyond youth, beyond every instant of ecstasy, remember:
before battle we would do each other’s makeup, comb each other’s
                  hair out
saying we are unconquerable, we are terrible and splendid—
the mouth waiting, patiently waiting. And I will meet you there
                  again
beyond bleeding thorns, the endless dilation, the fire that alters
                  nothing;
I am there already past snowy clouds, balding moss, dim
swarm of stars even we can step over, it is easier this time, I promise—
I am already waiting in your personal heaven, here is my hand,
I will help you across. I would gladly die with you still,
although I never write  
from this gray institution. See
they are so busy trying to cure me,
I’m condemned—sorry, I have been given the job
of vacuuming the desert forever, well, no more than eight hours
                  a day.
And it’s really just about a thousand miles of cafeteria;
a large one in any event. With its miniature plastic knives,
its tuna salad and Saran-Wrapped genitalia will somebody
                  please
get me out of here, sorry. I am happy to say that
every method, massive pharmaceuticals, art therapy
and edifying films as well as others I would prefer
not to mention—I mean, every single technique
known to the mouth—sorry!—to our most kindly
compassionate science is being employed
to restore me to normal well-being
and cheerful stability. I go on vacuuming
toward a small diamond light burning
off in the distance. Remember
me. Do you
remember me?  
In the night’s windowless darkness
when I am lying cold and numb
and no one’s fiddling with the lock, or
shining flashlights in my eyes,
although I never write, secretly
I long to die with you,
does that count?
—  Franz Wright, Dedication

Day 2: May 24, 2015. 3:25 am
I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and I’m guessing that’s because you aren’t here to hold me. Have I ever told you how much I love the feeling of your fingers combing through my hair? Or how much I love the gentle tingle of your fingertips on my spine? Because I do, I love it all. You’re my best friend baby, my best friend who leaves roses on my car and writes “I love you” in the dust on the hood. My best friend who can coax a smile onto my face on my worst days. My best friend whose kisses never get old. My best friend that I love more and more each day. I’ll try to sleep now, and hopefully dream of you.

anonymous asked:

I'm trying to start getting into hoodoo and rootwork, but all the books on amazon and all the people on the hoodoo tag are white and seem kinda phony (no disrespect but one woman was literally wearing wax print? i guess to seem more "yoruba" or something which was funny to me since my parents are actually nigerian lol). do you have any tips on good starter books by black people? i've literally been combing through tryna find black people on this tag and asking them haaha

Im sorry for the late reply I never check my mail. 

I’m from Florida and mother’s family is from Georgia and my father is Jamaican and unfortunately my family didn’t pass traditions on to me ,so a lot my spiritual practice is intuitive and guided and “helped” by my ancestors . The following books are my go to for my practice and I am going to list a few that I think maybe helpful . 

 “Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book of Personal Charms and Practical   Rituals” by Luisah Teish. Teish is a Yoruba priestess but she is a New Orleans native and the book has some traditional hoodoo and Yoruba traditions. 

 “Dream Singers: The African American Way with Dreams” by Anthony Shafton . I haven’t finish reading this book but can be used to interpret dream with traditional African American meanings ,which differ greatly from most dream books you find in stores. 

“Deliverance!: Hoodoo Spells of Uncrossing,Healing, and Protection” by Khi Armand . This hasn’t been released yet but he did a reading for me and it was so spot on and is work is pretty solid . http://www.luckymojo.com/deliverance.html

“Bones, Shells, and Curios: A Contemporary Method of Casting the Bones” by Michele Jackson. 

The following are by white authors or authors who I don’t know their race ,but I find really helpful . I know a lot of people dislike the Lucky Mojo and all the related root workers (AIRR members) but I find them to be the most respectful of this practice and it origins .Catherine Yronwode is the only person I heard of to call out white people for being obsessed with la madama. 

“The Black Folder: Personal Communications on the Mastery of Hoodoo”

“The Art of Hoodoo Candle Magic in Rootwork, Conjure, and Spiritual Church Services”

“Hoodoo Herb and Root Magic: A Materia Magica of African-American Conjure”

“Hoodoo Honey and Sugar Spells: Sweet Love Magic in the Conjure Tradition” by Deacon Millet . He is the sweetest man to talk to and help with rootwork and the book is great resource . 

“Hoodoo Bible Magic: Sacred Secrets of Scriptural Sorcery”by Miss Michaele .THIS IS A MUST HAVE ! and the author is a really sweet lady 

“The Magical Power of the Saints: Evocation and Candle Rituals” 

“New Revised Helping Yourself With Selected Prayers”

Re:Personal

So I’m on about day 3, so far so good. I have a few new weapons at my disposal this time. 

As a self-protective measure, I’m not counting anything and broadbrushing towards “healthier” choices. My moods are somewhat erratic (I haven’t been all that great about taking my meds on the one hand) but the very possibility of having a non-superficial dynamic range, where I am not obsessively combing through hypothetical situations all the damn time is awesome. 

Another thing: walnuts. I can never, ever stay sad or angry when eating walnuts. I just can’t. They remind me too much of the best part of my childhood, they have important cultural and familial significance, and they’re delicious. When in doubt, add walnuts. Or skip.

Last thing: I’ve started reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, which is very perky and bubbly and somewhat annoying and proud of itself but very motivating. I’m totally committed to the idea that my physical state and a lot of other things are symptoms of unresolved, non-structural psychological issues. I’ve been a happy, productive nutcase for extended periods of time. I can get there again. 

I am trying veeery hard to not react instantly but to assess what I’m actually feeling. It works… sometimes? Okay, it works really badly but I have hope it’ll get better. When not self-repressed, I’m so, so angry because anger is both self-protective and extremely validating at the same time, and it’s not a solution to any of my shit, so I am trying to mend and make amends. 

I’m hoping this is the summer I get to trying a hundred times, falling down, and trying just a little harder. 

Badass Checklist 😎

Laundry ✔️
Work Reports ✔️
Workout- no. I am sick. I will workout Thursday!! 😔
Bathe puppy- no. But I combed him out ✔️
Eat vegan ✔️ so far so good! Just gotta prep dinner

Catch up on NWM- not yet.
Study- not yet.

This is for you.

I love you. And I’ve hurt you and living with that truth hurts so fucking bad. But you are everything to me. You’re the air I breath, the sun on my face, the fucking blood that runs through my veins. You are my light in the darkness, the spark in my eye, the spring in my step. You’re the only one who’s made me feel like I can be more than who I am, more than who I was, and more than who I think I can be. Just your smile alone has lit up my life in ways that I didn’t think were possible. You’ve chased out every demon and combed through every shadow of doubt that I have ever offered. And I’ve destroyed it more completely than I could ever wonder. I’ve turned my self into your shadow if doubt, into your own personal demon. And frankly I don’t know if I can ever get you back into my life at all. I love you so much so why did I try to push you away in the first place?

I haven’t been back here since 2012. Three years of changing and learning and growing that Hong Kong hasn’t seen. But the thing is, when I come back here, I can’t help but have an overwhelming sense of insecurity when thinking about seeing familiar faces. I think, especially in this culture, people are quick to point out changes and differences without thinking of the consequences. I know I’ll be facing a stream of aunties and uncles who will have no problem pointing out the flaws in my appearances, or how broken my Chinese is. In the past three years, my personality has probably done a 180 and the foundations of my beliefs have taken root, yet the mundane topics of my unkempt hair or the size of my thighs will take the spotlight. The ways that I’ve changed on the inside will be secondary to all the visible things that they can identify. 

I hate to admit it, but I am insecure about my appearance. Don’t they think that I’ve already combed myself over and I know that my arms are too flabby or that my chin is too long? I’ve spent so long coaching myself to be okay with certain things that I can’t change and for them to rip off these scabs seem a bit unfair. I’m also insecure about how detached I am from this culture and this place. I can’t read or write Chinese so I’m basically illiterate here makes me feel uneducated and helpless. They are unafraid of smirking and chiding me for my heavy accent or my elementary vocabulary. But I’ve come to understand that this habit of pointing out all my inadequacies isn’t motivated by malice or condescension, it’s simply their way of showing interest in how I’ve grown. Of course, I would like to hope that they’re more interested in how I’ve grown into a more godly woman, but nevertheless, I’m learning to accept this form of love, even if it pokes at my insecurities. 

clawswithnopaws asked:

  • ♠ :What is the hardest thing about playing this muse?

UGH remy is smart in ways I am NOT. So sometimes it’s hard to remember certain things about his mindset. Also, his combative personality can be frustrating to play at times. Him and myself– just think different ways and it messes me up sometimes. I’m also not as clever so it can take me a bit to think up something witty for him to say.

MBTI MEME

My type: INTP
Mom’s type: ESTJ
Dad’s type: INTJ
Siblings’ type(s): xNTJ. Idk, he’s five, but he’s already an evil genius.
Close friends’ types: ENFP, ESFJ, ESFP
Type(s) you have the most fun with: any xFxP
Type(s) you have best conversations with: Depends on the topic. Like, INFP overall, because that’s my gf, but the best type to talk about random bullshit with is by far ESFP
Type(s) you would like to date: INFP
Type(s) you would rather be: IDK. Like, a weird part of me wonders what life would be like as an ESTP, sort of a more rough and tumble, adventurous and combative person who is more connected with reality. But overall I like being who I am, in all my INTP weirdness
What type(s) do you find most attractive? INFP
What type(s) do you find most adorable?: Oh gosh, some guardian types (ESFJ, ISTJ) remind me so much of like, labrador retrievers. Their loyalty and down to earth sensibility is so foreign to me but at the same time is really amusing
A type you would like to relate to better: I guess I wish I didn’t have so much resentment toward xNFJs, but…at the same time I feel good knowing I can see through their bullshit. I wish I knew more ISxPs, especially since ISFPs always seem really chill and nice and ISTPs are supposed to have a lot in common with INTPs

Flight by Alyssa Rose Ivy

I tend to be a bit sarcastic and excuse my language, a bit of a smart-ass. I am also a somewhat combative person that likes to argue. It’s only natural that the characters in books that turn out to be my favorites are the same way. Flight centers around a recent high-school graduate named Allison, or Allie for short. Not only does she have the traits that I just listed, but she has also always made straight A’s and has actually been accepted into Princeton. Wanting one fun summer where she can figure things out, she takes a job at her father’s newest hotel purchase in New Orleans.

She immediately meets Levi, who could very well be one of the most arrogant guys she has ever met. Despite making a vow to swear off guys for a while, she cannot help but be drawn to Levi. She starts to care for him, but keeps telling herself it is only a summer fling. As she gets closer to Levi and his friends, she learns about things that she had no idea even existed in the first place. She wanted an adventure, but you know the saying “Be careful what you wish for…”

I couldn’t help but love Allie, I mean Allison is my middle name after all. She is not afraid to stand up and make snarky comments right back. I’m sure Ivy had a fantastic time coming up with the dialogue in this book! It is so easy to get swept up in the plot and scenery, I mean this book makes me wish that I was down in New Orleans!!