i-mean-my-inbox

GOOD-

MORNING everyone!

As you may or may not be aware, your darling lockdaisy is currently out on an adventure in a far away land, and so you’ll be stuck with me running this show for a few days…

I won’t be venturing into her inbox, so if you have a complaint or question of some sort about what gets reblogged or a tag or whatever, come fight me over at lenacharlotte.

^also applies if you were gonna write her something mean. Drop it in my inbox instead. I dare you

SO! Let’s see how much of a mess I can make of her blog while she’s away!

(✌゚∀゚)

(I’ll reblog this later so the evening crew can see it, too)

9

Make me choose between;

shwaas: Naina Talwar or Leela Sanera

jhilmila: Naina Talwar or Dimple Dixit

derpy-giraffe asked:

Ohmygosh! I'm so excited that you're taking prompts again! I am so in love with your work! Do you think f!warden/Alistair "What's that behind your back?" might be fun? (Aeducan is preferable but I totally understand if you'd rather a different warden)

“What’s that behind your back?” Alistair asked as he tried poking his head over her shoulder. 

“No peeking!” Reilan jumped back with a scowl. By the Stone, why were humans all so forsakenly tall? She tightened her hand around the gift and cleared her throat. “Now close your eyes. You won’t get the present if you try to sneak a look again.” 

Alistair puffed out his cheeks but did as he was told. 

She huffed slightly, her face starting to warm as she relaxed her arms. “Hold out your hand.” Pressing the rock into his fingers, she retreated a step. “Fine. You have your present now.” 

He blinked at the stone in his hand. “A rune?” 

“A Paragon one: Silverite. For your armor. You’re always getting yourself knocked around, I thought… well—” She crossed her arms, cheeks hot enough to roast a nug. “If you don’t like it then give it back.” 

“No!” He held it close to his chest. “Absolutely never.” His thumb traced the pattern in the stone and he grinned. “I love it, Reilan. Thank you.” 

“Yes, well, I—” She blinked at the soft brush of his lips along the corner of her mouth. “J-just don’t lose it.” 

“I won’t,” he promised with another kiss on her cheek. “Not ever.” 

agentbitchpantsmccrabby submitted: That post looks really weird on mobile hahahaha

Oh my goodness, your phone somehow managed to make the booty look even more impressive! 

but like muse a is the president’s son who is so nice like literally way too nice that most of the time people take advantage of this and he just lets them bc he doesn’t even feel that they’re just using him and basically he just sees the good in literally everyone and he’s so innocent and naive but then enter muse b, the girl who is part of the gang/group who kidnaps him for money/whatever reason. she is so broken and pessimistic and has her walls up bc she has gone through all the worst things in life and their personalities clash and it ends up with muse a always annoying the shit out of muse b but she just couldn’t find it in herself to hate him bc he’s so pure and his intentions are clean and he is so willing to fix her but she is too broken beyond repair. then they like bond so much during the time they have held him captive bc she’s assigned to watch over him??? and like heis so obedient and he just follows whatever they tell him to do without a single question just cause he wants his kidnappers and everyone to be happy and safe??? and then she unexpectedly develops a soft spot in her cold heart for him and she doesn’t want to admit it…… isn’t it sO CUTE???

When I say that blaming Will or anyone besides Hannibal for the bloodbath of “Mizumono” is victim blaming, you guys need to hear the words I’m saying.

Victim blaming.

I am not making a meta statement, a literary analysis, or anything else remotely scholarly here. I am making a moral judgment

If you are continuing to move it into the realm of “Well, technically, A caused B which caused C and then D,” then you are missing the point

Do. not. blame. victims. for. crimes. 

I do not care that if Sally hadn’t been openly flirting with Jimmy, then Jimmy might not have gotten upset when she told him she didn’t want to date him later and then punched her in the face, and then when her little dog bit him because he was punching her in the face, he kicked the dog too. Do not tell me that if Sally would have not flirted, then her little dog wouldn’t have been kicked. It does not matter how logical it is: it ignores the fact that the culpability lies with Jimmy because the choice was Jimmy’s, and Jimmy’s alone. No one made Jimmy choose but Jimmy. Anytime we say otherwise, even about fictional characters, we encourage a culture that allows people to rationalize hurting others, whether we intend to or not. 

Got it?

This is all the more I’m saying on this subject. 

Anonymous asked affectionatetea: 

OK SO I HAD THIS REALLY AMAZING IDEA LIKE WHAT IF YOU DREW KARKAT AS A RAMPAGING HELLHOUND AND HE SCARED JOHN SHITLESS AND THEN HE WAS LIKE OMG IM SUPER SORRY AND JUST omg this sounded better in my head rollllllllls

ANON I HAVE BEEN THINKING AOBUT THIS AU ALL GODDAMN DAY

okay SO

innocent Johnny (HAHAHAHAHA) is walking home from class (he’s a university student, and TAs piano classes and help his Prof give piano lessons, he’s pretty good!!! and also investigates paranormal stuff on the side because yEAH MAGIC it’s totally real and not at all fake ‘cause John says so even if all his friends think he’s nUTS) 

when there’s a MYSTERIOUS RED CLOUD OMG WHAT COULD IT BE

a HELLHOUND (!!!!) is leaping by and accidentally scratches his face!!! ANYTHING BUT HIS FACE, GEEZ KARKAT 

Hellhounds are NOT ALLOWED to hurt anyone except for their intended target being dragged to Hell or they get in BIG TROUBLE with bossman Satanpants, so hound!kat starts flipping his shit because he has worked LONG and HARD as a mutant hellhound with a stupid stubby tail and little nubby horns to get up to where he is and no dumb oblivious human is gonna take that away from him!!!

YOU STUPID HUMAN CREATURE I SWEAR TO LUCIFER IF YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DEMOTION I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU IN THE MOST VIOLENT AND PAINFUL OF MOTHERFUCKING MANNERS I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR SPLEEN AND WEAR IT AS A HAT WHILE I THROTTLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN INTESTINES AND THEN IN THE AFTERLIFE I WILL HAUNT THE EVERLOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU UNTIL YOU JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE SO BADLY THAT YOU’D SELL YOUR SOUL TO GET AWAY FROM ME BUT THAT WON’T WORK BECAUSE GUESS WHAT FUCKER YOU’RE ALREADY IN HELL I FUCKING SWEAR ON ALL THAT IS UNHOLY

and ofc John is like OMG PUPPY and wants him for a pet and tries to take him home to show his roommate Jade who is equally infatuated with the cute doggy from Hell and Karkat is stuck there because he hurt John when he wasn’t supposed to and shenanigans ensue.

(sorry all the art is so shitty lmfao i have just been in PS doodling this all day WHERE ARE MY FICS ahem, i meannnn. hahahahaha who sAID THAT IT SURE WASN’T ME)

School! I missed Rose Valley a lot more than I thought I would while I was at home, but I’m back now. No more parties for me. Erm… unless I get dragged out for New Years Eve, but I hope not.

gimme-coffee-now asked:

"I mean.... KIND OF"

Put “I mean…” in my inbox if your muse has masturbated thinking about my muse. Put “I mean…KIND OF” if it was on more than one occasion.

"Same here" Clyde winked.

"He obviously meant me!" Cartman growled.

like friends i think sometimes it sounds like exaggeration when i (or any of the other fine stratfordians on this site) say “the oxfordian theory is lit. just classist bullshit” but the first person who really put forward the case for oxford, j. thomas looney, in his book shakespeare identified, actually says —-

“There is a frequent assumption that the possession of what we call genius renders its owner capable of doing almost anything. Now William Shakespere [his spelling not mine] is the one stock illustration of this contention. In all other cases, where the whole of the circumstances are well known, we may connect the achievements of a genius with what may be called the external accidents of his life. Though social environment is not the source of genius, it certainly has always determined the forms in which the faculty has clothed itself, and even the particular direction which its energies have taken: and in no other class of work are the products of genius so moulded by social pressure, and even by class relationships, as in works involving the artistic use of the mother tongue. To what extent the possession of abnormal powers may enable a man to triumph over circumstances no one can say; and if a given mind working under specified conditions is actually proved to have produced something totally unexpected and at variance with the conditions, we can only accept the phenomenon, however inexplicable it may appear. It is not thus, however, that genius usually manifests itself; and, failing conclusive proof, a vast disparity or incompatibility between the man and the work must always justify a measure of doubt as to the genuineness of his pretensions and make us cast about for a more likely agent. 

Now no one is likely ever to question the reality or the vastness of ’Shakespeare’s’ genius. If he had enjoyed every advantage of education, travel, leisure, social position and wealth, his plays would still remain for all time the testimony to his marvelous powers: though naturally not such stupendous powers as would have been required to produce the same results without the advantages. Consequently, if we regard the authorship as an open question we shall be much more disposed to look for the author amongst those who possessed some or all of those advantages than amongst those who possessed none of them.” (73-74) 

he then goes on to argue for a “scientific” search for an author — for erasing shakespeare and starting with a blank slate, and systematically using the plays as ways to look for connections and commonalities and similarities towards The Right Sort of Elizabethan/Jacobean Man, the Right Sort of Englishman.

The Oxfordian theory is actually and literally predicated entirely on the assumption that someone of lower birth could not write Shakespeare’s works, it is literally a theory that is not created out of people noticing over the years connections between de Vere and Shakespeare and de Vere’s writings and Shakespeare’s writings but instead from a desperate comparison of the aspects of Shakespeare’s writings (and the assumed character of Shakespeare, which Looney goes on to lay out) with the eligible men of that era. They developed their criteria for a genius, then found the earl to fill it. He had to invent conspiracies to make de Vere fit, but by God he was not going to let some middle class fucker from Stratford be The Englishman (which, he repeatedly states in earlier chapters, is what Shakespeare is destined to become — the English person whose legacy will be most remembered). 

Other theories of authorship are silly, classist, nonsensical, and rooted in an utter lack of fact, but none are — i think — as systematically and as purposefully rooted in the rejection of a lower (or middle) class Genius Above All The Rest. Baconians are still classist but entirely laughable and the argument seems to spring up more organically, Marlovians at least have the decency to come about their conspiracy theories honestly, but Oxfordians are gross. They are gross. It is gross. 

JOHN: hey karkat, do you think hermit crabs like water rides too??

KARKAT: JOHN WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

JOHN: really fast ones where you get REALLY wet and go super fast!

KARKAT: EGBERT.

JOHN: i bet he’d have a ton of fun! i could just dump, like, six whole buckets on him and watch him go! imagine how far he’d get.

KARKAT: JOHN, PUT THE BUCKET DOWN.

JOHN: maybe i could even get the hose! then the water would be nice and cold and refreshing.

KARKAT: JOHN DON’T YOU EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT PUTTING A SINGLE DROP OF WATER ON THAT CRAB. 

JOHN: then i could warm him up, right next to the campfire! do we have any butter, karkat?

KARKAT: JOHN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOG I WILL MURDER YOU. IN COLD BLOOD. IT WILL BE A VERY LONG, SLOW DEATH, AND I WILL NOT GIVE YOU TIME TO MAKE A WILL. I WILL CLAIM EVERYTHING YOU OWN AS MY OWN, AND THEN I WILL THROW IT ALL IN THE FUCKING CAMPFIRE.