queued-because-of-reasons

anonymous asked:

you deserve to be included in the lgbtqia community of course but if you are a member of the community you have to work to make other members of the community feel safe in it as well and that means not using a slur that is not applicable to you literally no one is allowed to use slurs that are not applicable to them it is a huge microaggression and it always has been like queer will never be yours to reclaim if you're not trans or attracted to members of your same gender

Anon, I would encourage you to look at this post (and it also has 4 links to other posts on the topic). One of the points it makes though, is that if you’re not allowed to use a slur that wasn’t used against you then that’s saying literally every LGBTGIA person who has not has queer used against them cannot use it. But by that logic, a straight person is who was called queer could use it. That gatekeeping mindset doesn’t make sense. Also, Anon, by saying we should be included in the community you’re saying we’re one of you, yes? We are LGBTQIA. That q stands for queer, right? If you’re saying we’re welcome into the queer community than any asexual or aromantic person who identifies with “queer” should be able to use it.

Another post (that I haven’t been able to find again dang it I know I rebloged it or I would link you to that one too), also makes the point that queer is used for things outside of the cisgender heteronormative “norm.” (It’s not “normal” it’s just common and assumed to be the default when there is no default.) So anyone that isn’t cisgender heterosexual and heteroromantic should be able to use queer. Aces and aromantic fit that! We’re not “basically straight.” We’re just not straight! That’s it! So we should be able to use queer (and we do use it).

We’re all oppressed for our sexuality and/or our romantic orienation. And that’s wrong. And that’s what the LGBTQIA/queer community’s problem is too. And, let’s face it, we need all the numbers we can get. We need a big community to fight back against the people still oppressing us. Excluding people who identify with your struggles as minority and want to help you and have a lot of the same goals will not help. Fracturing ourselves will not help. We need to work together. Or nothing will get done. 

-Kieren

7

AN: I want to thank captainodonewithyou for helping me expand this fic. She was the first person I went to with this idea, and she has helped me expand on it immensely. She is a very talented writer, so please go check out her work!I also want to congratulate & thank another very talented writer, my friend o-u-a-timer. She just completed her first multi-chaptered CS fic. You should all read Pieces of You (Make me Whole) It was AMAZING. (Also, gifs are not mine.)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |   FF.NET 

Summary: Killian’s job as a tattoo artist is all about handling sharp objects, various types of needles that work in tandem with his hand to create beautiful things on delicate skin. Does his profession provide him with enough experience to be able to handle Emma Swan’s thorns?

Chapter 2: Origins

Keep reading

Not that anyone cares but the ultimate point of a virus isn’t to kill of its host. The point of a virus is to “live” (for a certain value of living). A virus which kills off its host too quickly will fail to replicate effectively.

Which isn’t to say viruses want us to live forever. As long as they can spread to other hosts and don’t kill off their host population faster than their host population can replicate, I’m sure they could care less.

Using stolen grace is like removing training wheels from a kid’s bike before the kid’s ready. He’s wobbly at first, has to get the hang of it. The freedom, the power. He has to relearn something he’s known for thousands of years but lost in a manner of seconds.

It’s unbelievable how using another angel’s grace could alter an angel’s functions and programming.

Despite being stolen, his power is too great. Be it his vessel rejecting the grace of an angel it didn’t agree to, or just the fact that he’s using grace that isn’t his, he doesn’t know. He just knows he wasn’t ready for the imbalance of what is glowing inside him.

He removed his training wheels too soon.

Because Sam…oh, Sam. Sam doesn’t deserve what he gets. Beautiful and broken, Sam lies unconscious on the ground, against the wall he was thrown into when Cas pushed him away so he could get at the door. He’s still breathing, Cas knows with the rise and fall of his chest, but it’s unsteady, irregular. There’s blood on his head, his body held at an awkward angle, but Dean is torturing Metatron.

There’s always time to heal Sam -

He makes a decision. The quicker he stops Dean and gets Metatron out of there, the quicker he can help Sam. But Dean needs to be stopped now.

He breaks the door down with a burst and hurries into the room to grab Dean, pulling him away from Metatron and pushing him to the side so he can get Metatron loose. “I have to bring him back,” Castiel growls, pulling the beaten angel from the chair by his collar. “You have to take care of your brother while I fix what you’ve done.”

“Take care of- what?”

“I can’t heal him after using what I did to break through the door, and especially if I have to get him -” he jostles Metatron in his grip, glaring at him, “- back to Heaven.

“What do you mean you can’t heal him? What’s wrong with Sam?” All thoughts of murder are directed from one angel to the other as he follows Cas out of the dungeon only to see Sam on the ground. “Sam! What the hell did you do to him, Cas?” He’s kneeling beside Sam, two fingers on his neck to check for a pulse- it’s unsteady but it’s there. “Son of a bitch,” he growls when he sees the blood. “Cas -”

But the angel’s gone with Metatron in tow.

“Sam, Sammy, hey.” He’s got Sam’s face cradled in his hands, tapping him on the cheeks in hopes of rousing him. “Sam, c’mon. Open your eyes, Sam, c’mon.” It takes another few moments, but hazel eyes peek out and Dean is so, so relieved. “Thank god, c’mere.” He pulls Sam into a gentle hug before pulling back to grab at his arms. “I gotta get you into a bed, okay, kiddo, come on,” he says as he pulls Sam up into a wobbly standing position. Sam slumps against him, legs shaky like a newborn fawn. Dean holds him around the waist while he grabs onto Sam’s arm to hold it around his shoulders to walk him up the few steps and down the hall to his bedroom.

Dean’s room is closest, so he brings Sam there, laying him down on his memory foam mattress.

“D’n?” Sam slurs and Dean curses to himself. It’s very rare that Sam can’t say Dean’s whole name; it’s usually only when he’s hurt bad.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I gotcha, just stay down, alright?” He makes a sound of affirmation and Dean grabs an almost empty bottle of Jack from his drawer and a shirt that was laying on the floor. He doesn’t want to leave Sam for even a second, so this will have to do. He pours the rest of the Jack onto the shirt and says as he pulls Sam up into a sitting position so he can get a good look, “This is gonna sting, kiddo, relax,” and dabs at the cut on his head with the shirt.

Sam hisses, trying to pull away from the grip on his shoulder but Dean holds firm, keeping Sam right where he is. “De -”

“I know, but I’ve gotta clean it before I let you do anything. Don’t need your dumb, hard head getting infected, do I? You’re more of a pain in the ass when you’re sick.” Dean laughs despite how pissed he is at the angel that left. “You were a little bitch when you were 17 and got swiped in the arm with a knife and that got infected. You were sick for a week! I don’t need to hear you bitch about getting sick now.”

“Won’ get infected,” Sam mumbles, but lets Dean continue. “Wasn’ a bitch either, jerk.”

Dean laughs again, missing how he and Sam were before all of this. “Still a bitch, Sammy. Still a bitch.”

He gets the wound cleaned and lays Sam back down. The bleeding already stopped, and the Jack worked to keep it that way. He’ll check it and clean it properly in the morning, see how it is then before he decides if he wants to wrap it with something. For now, he’ll let Sam – who fell asleep the second his head hit Dean’s pillow – sleep. He’s in for a long night; he won’t go to sleep because he needs to wake Sam up every few hours to make sure he’s not concussed. It’s something big brothers do, and something Dean and Sam have done for each other countless times in the years they’ve spent together.


“How’s Sam?”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean almost falls out of his chair at the angel’s sudden voice; he turns to glare at Castiel whose eyes are on the still sleeping Sam. “Warn me!”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, then, “How’s Sam?”

“What the hell happened back there, Cas? He was bleeding and unconscious and you left.”

“I couldn’t leave you with Metatron any longer, I -” he pauses, swallows, clears his throat. “I pushed him away from the door before he hurt himself trying to open it and- well- this grace, it isn’t my own, Dean. It’s different from mine. Strange. I’m not used to it.”

He sounds regretful and Dean’s face softens slightly as he stands, pats Cas on the shoulder. “So basically you pulled a Clark Kent on my brother.”

“No, I am not Superman.”

“You- nevermind.” Dean scrubs a hand through his hair. He’s tired, and there’s still a few hours until Sam normally would wake up, so he’s got a little wait ahead of him. “I cleaned the gash. The bleeding stopped. I just don’t want to leave him alone. I need to make sure he wakes up through the night so I’m sure he doesn’t have a concussion.” He’s just so, so tired.

“You’re tired,” Cas observes, squinting his eyes at Dean. “I will watch Sam. Go sleep in Sam’s room, unless you’d rather I carry Sam to his room so you can have your bed?”

“No!” A little too quick. Cas raises an eyebrow. “I mean- Sam can’t go to sleep somewhere and wake somewhere else. He- I- It doesn’t end well, Cas. He panics. I can’t explain it.” Dean’s frowning, hating that he was never able to get Sam over that particular fear. Hates that he couldn’t protect him from everything.

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask, but he does move to sit beside Sam on the bed. Pushes the hair from Sam’s sleeping face and just looks at him. “You can sleep, Dean. I will stay with him. I can’t use this grace to heal him; it isn’t strong enough. But I can already tell that he’ll be fine. He just needs to sleep. And so do you.”

He can’t fight the sudden wave of exhaustion and guilt that flow through him, but he nods. “Thanks, Cas. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Cas doesn’t comment, just continues watching Sam’s face, how his eyes dance under his eyelids as he dreams.

Supernatural gif game/meme

This are so much fun.

You’re suddenly thrown into the Supernatural universe, how do you react (Gif #7)?!

You discover you’ve gained supernatural powers and could be classified as a trickster. What’s your first move (Gif #11)?

You stumble across the Winchester brothers. What’s your reaction to Dean Winchester (Gif #2)?


How does Dean react to you (Gif #6)?

And your reaction to Sam Winchester (Gif #16)?

Sam’s reaction to you (Gif #19)?

Castiel’s spidey-sense tingles and he’s off to save the Winchester boys from *le gasp* YOU. What’s your first impression of him (Gif #13)?

And his reaction to you (Gif #1)?

Turns out you pop up in one of Chuck’s latest manuscripts and are too valuable to kill, yay! How does Bobby react to the news (Gif #10)?

How do you make your exit (Gif #4)?

Crowley later comes to you with a proposition, what’s your reaction (Gif #17)?

And Crowley’s response to this (Gif #3)?

Death discovers you’ve been consorting with Crowley and pays you a visit, your response (Gif #8)?

Death gives you a stern talking to and you nod. What image of you does he walk away with (Gif #15)?

The Winchesters changed their minds and are now attempting to hunt you! What prompted this response (Gif #9)?

You decide to employ a cherub to distract them while you carry on with whatever you’re currently interested in. How did the cherub react to your plans (Gif #20)?

 


Balthazar wants in on the fun you’re having, does he get to (Gif #14)?

What now (Gif #12)?!


So I’m royally screwed? Damn.