a deceased on at that

muttsterously-salavage  asked:

I thought it was considered disrespect to do so if you are not hispanic? Can you explain why it isnt?

It isn’t inherently disrespectful trying to partake in a different culture, it’s about your attitude, like if you’re mocking and dismissive it’s not cool but if you actually understand what is being celebrated and why, it’s okay. 

I think the main point of concern for Latinos is when people think that Day of the dead is just a Mexican Halloween, but it’s actually a day to remember our deceased loved ones, some people are solemn about it, they build altars or quietly visit cemeteries and pray, but for other people it’s a big celebration, they wear skull makeup (regular, not sugar skulls), have a parade, traditional food, dance and drink. 

The sugar skull makeup I think is a fairly recent thing. It’s a very ornate candy that people use to decorate altars and graves but lately we’ve realized that it looks really cool as a costume too, and that’s okay. It’s very specific to Mexican culture but all in all it’s just a costume, it has no religious significance. Anyone can wear it.

I saw a bootleg Sylveon figure that was so terribly painted that it looked like a spooky ghost and basically I fell in love with it.

It’s like this ghosteon forgot exactly what it looked like after being deceased for so long so it manifests with what little colors it remembers.


it happened so fast though and I wanted to tell him how much he and his works mean to me and people all around the world and that he’s amazing but man I just. froze up.

then I quickly handed him this space print tie I brought for him and I was like “so I heard you like space so I got you a space tie”



“a space TIE? thank you!”


(also he’s wearing blue again today lmao blue shirt and a blue CAP AGAIN WITH THE CAP no sign of the fluffy hair yet)

Mystic Messenger: Polaroid Wall! 。゚+.(・∀・)゚+.゚

Headcanon: After MC finishes all the routes, she has all these polaroids up on her wall in the apartment hah im deceased

(Contains spoilers, I’m sorry I can’t suffer alone.)

The Ghost of You

Ghosthunters!Avengers au

Ghost!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader has the ability to communicate with the dead and uses her power to help ghost move on with the popular ghost hunting team, the Avengers. Steve leads the group to his old home to try and reach his recently deceased best friend, Bucky.

(A/n- This is part one in what will probably turn put to be a pretty long series so this is just sone background before we get to tbe good stuff. Tell me what you think and if you want a part two!)


Some people called your ability a gift. Other called it a curse, or the sign of the devil. Some said you were lucky and envied you, while others accused you of being the antiChrist. And then there were some who just called you an outright fraud.

See, you had a particular ability. You could see dead people. You’d had  the power for as long as you could remember. Infact, one of your earliest memories was a moment when you told your mom about how your grandma would read to you before bed, and your mom told you your grandma had died months before you were even born.

From then on things only got worse. As you got older, it was harder for your parents to justify what they thought was just a wild imagination. You would approach random people and tell them that their friend who had passed wanted to say hello, or their parent was proud of them and loved them. It was often greeted with angry, confused adults and a pair of very embarrassed parents.

So they sent you to therapy. And for the first half of your life you were treated like a crazy person. So eventually you believed that they were right.

So you stopped with the message relaying. Ghosts would beg you, but you refused. Some got angry and some understood. Many times you had mysterious scratches or bruised after having to fight off an angry ghost. Though luckily, they only had so much energy, and physical touches took a lot out of them.

Through your years, you made friends with a lot of nicer ghosts, your favorite being a girl named Suzy who had died in the 70s in a car accident. She was around your age at the time of death and liked to hang around with you. She was your best friend, considering you weren’t the most popular girl in your school years. They called you ghost girl, or exorcist, and dozens of other dumb ghost related things (your personal favorite being Zak Bagans).

Up until your first year of college, you kept your abilities under control and a secret. Before you left, you had decided to help Suzy pass on instead of leaving her lonely, as she refused to leave your home town. She said she was unable to pass on because she never got to apologize to her mother who she had had horrible a fight with before she died. So you tracked down her mother, who was in a nursing home and hardly responsive to anyone. But you told her anyways, hoping she could hear you. She did. And she cried then she thanked you.

And Suzy was able to pass on.

And you, having forgot how amazing it felt to help the spirits, started doing it again. Though, now, you asked permission first rather than springing it on unsuspecting victims. This usually ended up with a much better response from people, and the fact that you weren’t a little girl anymore helped too.

All your life you had been told that what you saw was not real, and you were made to feel like a freak. The memories of therapy and the way your parents looked at you like you were an embarrassment haunted you (pun intended) so you went home, to try and make it right. You told them about your grandma, things no one knew, things that would’ve been impossible for you to know. Things she had told you. You relayed a message from your recently deceased aunt on your mother’s side, as she had asked you to say goodbye for her.

And your mom cried. She told you how sorry she was for never believing you and putting you through all that. But your father, still the skeptic that he always was, refused to believe. The death of your mom’s sister had been very hard on her, and he said you were just using those vulnerable feelings against her. He got angry at you for working up your mother and refusing to accept the truth. You got in a huge fight  and you left. And you hadn’t been back home since. The moment that was supposed to fix your past relationship instead ruined your future one.

You had never felt more alone. That is, until they contacted you.

A man named Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. He was the leader of a ghost investigation team and they had been tracking you down for a while.

They had heard the stories and wanted you to join their team.

You were shocked. Never before had you even thought about going to professional investigators. Though, now that you thought about it, your skill would be very useful in that field. So you agreed. And you flew to New York where you met the rest of the team.

There was Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, they were the brains and the scientists of the group. They built and designed all their equipment.

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff were the researchers. They found the places and looked into the history.

Then there was Thor. He was the muscle and the camera man, though he wasn’t too good with electronics, he knew how to aim the camera.

And finally, Steve Rogers, the head investigator.

And there was also the interns Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, but they were there mainly to learn and get coffee.

You were there to help coax out the ghosts and communicate with them. Even for you, they had to want to be  seen. You traveled around the world visiting notoriously haunted places and helping all the spirits you could. It was the happiest you had ever been. Yet, there was still something off. The team was great, but they treated you like a piece of equipment, not a real person and you knew if one day you just disappeared, they wouldn’t even notice your absence until they needed you to bring out a ghost. It was hard, but it was a job where no one judged you or called you a freak or a liar. It was worth it in your eyes.

“(Y/n), look alive!” Tony shouted as he burst into your room. While taking breaks or between travels, the whole team usually housed at Tony’s place. He was rich and had a huge home so he didn’t mind renting it out as long as we didn’t break anything.

“Ya, thanks for knocking. I could’ve been naked or something, you know?” I said, sitting up from my spot on my bed where I had been curled up with my laptop.

“Ya but you weren’t. C’mon kid, Steve wants us all in the living room and he was making that weird leader face again.”

“The one he makes whenever we all get our picture taken or he’s in an interview?”

“That’s the one.”

Tony and I walked out together, him having always been the one I was closest to. He treated me the same as he would anyone else and I liked that. He was like the cool older brother I never had.

We were the last members of the team to arrive in the living room and Steve did not look too happy with the wait. Him and tony had always butted heads, both being great leaders, but they just had different styles and personalities that didn’t mix well.

“So here’s the thing guys,” Steve started when we were all sat down, “When I was a kid I had a friend named Bucky. He was my best friend and we did everything together. But we had different carrer paths and when he turned 18, he enlisted into the army and was sent off somewhere classified. About a year later, his mom got a letter saying he was missing in action and was believed to have been captured by the enemy. We were devastated, but there was nothing that could be done. Time went by and we came to terms with the fact that he was gone. He was pronounced dead and that was supposed the end of it. But a few months ago, they found his body in a camp. And autopsy showed he had only died a few days before. And now his mom contacted me saying she’s been hearing and seeing some weird stuff around the house. She thinks it’s Bucky.” he paused looking around, but everyone was silent, “We don’t need to add it to the blog or anything, but I think it would really help her and me, and Buck of course, if we could just talk to him. Maybe help him pass through?” he asked looking towards me in the end.

I shrugged, “I’m in.”

Everyone else agreed, and Steve’s smile could’ve lit up a night sky on its own, “Great pack your bags, we’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning.”


Wow i know i posted about this originally like a month ago then I made you all wait and I would give you an excuse but i honestly don’t have one. Hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!

Like Caesar Clown, Judge may not have any scruples when it comes to testing his scientific discoveries on children.  This is another reason why I believe that Sanji’s mother has been, as Judge says, long deceased.  Like, long deceased. 

If Judge and Vegapunk unlocked the secret of the “lineage factor”, this could mean that they discovered methods to reproduce lives in a lab, like an early predecessor to the cloning technology used for the Germa army.  The Vinsmoke siblings’ “mother” could be, for all intents and purposes, considered simply as a “donor”.

This may lend credence to names of the Vinsmoke children.  The easiest and most organized method of keeping a good record of your research samples is to number them:

One Piece, chapter 840

I AM SO LATE BUT I AM FUCKING DECEASED. THIS IS WHY I SAY DONT!!! SLEEP!!! ON!!! JUNG!!! HOSEOK!!! I am so so proud and blown away by his performance. I really can’t express how much i love that boy.

It was amazing, his dance, the production value, HIS RAP!!! He has grown and improved so much I am in tears. Please give credit where it’s due and send him so many congratulatory messages because lord knows how hard that boy has been working!


Me: awww namjin are so adorable 😍

Also me: deceases becuz of sweaty af namjoon humping the air😭😭😭😭😭😍😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥

Im omg🙈🙈🙈🙈😍😍😭😭😭

lovekenya24  asked:

OH SWEET BABY JESUS! I just came across your blog, fucking DECEASED (Bless excuse my language 😂) but Holy Cheetos! one of the best blogs I have seen. Sounds cheesy but seriously! I love your blog and the stories! Oh Lord! the sin oh sweet sin is just perfectly written! I know you've heard this before but still!! Ok I need to pull myself together! *takes a deep breath* You and @batlog will be the death of me! PS thanks for sharing you beautiful gift with us!❤️

Thank you so much! I needed this today, it’s been a bit of a rough one. @batlog is an angel too pure for this world and her sin is quite honestly inspiring. Sin is a a bit of a recent development for this blog and I’m still working on finding my footing in that department but batlog has it down pat!

Spock looked over the PADD and the various reports, files and comms he needed to deal with. The sheer number was overwhelming. With the Captain still in a precariously dangerous condition in Sick Bay awaiting transport to a Starfleet facility, Spock had inherited Kirk’s duties.

As First Officer and Science Officer, he found his level of duties to be fulfilling to him. A human would struggle with the work load, but he was able to complete tasks quicker than most humans.

But right now, he felt the burdened on his human half affecting every thing he tried to do. He was delegating more tasks out to others- who were already burdened themselves. He was pushing on some of the Captain’s work to Sulu. He did want Captaincy, Spock would remind himself whenever he felt like a failure for not coping with the workload himself, and this would help him.

105 crew members were dead or injured, Spock was still working through and processing the deceased and contacting their families, while he worked with the department heads to source replacements for the injured or deceased crew.

Starfleet were pushing him for more details on what had happened, on Marcus, on Khan, the torpedo’s. The ship itself needed numerous work to repair the damage and he didn’t even want to contemplate the mess that Khan had caused when the Ship crashed.

Yes, being half human was definitely causing Spock to struggle with the tasks expected of him- tasks that he’d be able to complete if he were a full Vulcan, no doubt.

He cast the thoughts from his mind and started to look and see what his next task should be.


When he returned to his quarters, much later, Uhura was waiting for him.

The ship was docking soon and they’d all be back on Earth. He hadn’t seen her since they beamed back on board with a barely conscious Khan and he’d left security to take him to sickbay while he went back to the bridge.

In his quarters, she helped strip him, remarking on the bruises on his back and stomach, all from the beating he received from Khan. Her fingers gently traced the bruises but he pushed her hands away.

He needed to change, he had too much to do.

She tried to tell him to rest but he dismissed it. Instead he asked her to keep up on Jim’s condition for him. He couldn’t even spare the time to check on him. 


They’d been on Earth 4 days and Spock’s duties still seemed to be piling up. Uhura sent comms about Kirk and he said he’d go and see him. He meant it, even if he never managed to do it He didn’t expect McCoy to turn up out of the blue. “If you can’t come to me, I’ll come to you,” he said through the comm line. Spock allowed the Doctor in only to have the Doctor mutter a curse as soon as he saw the Vulcan. “What the hell have you been doing?”


“Have you had any sleep?”

“I have rested,” Spock replied.

“That sounds like a Vulcan no. You look exhausted. I’ve never seen a Vulcan with eye bags from tiredness before.”

It was concern, he knew that. Yet it hit Spock like an accusation. That he wasn’t doing good enough, he wasn’t coping, he couldn’t cope. “Doctor, I have much work to do. Did you come for a reason?”

“I came to check up on you. You haven’t been to see Jim. I thought you would have done.”

“My concern for the Captain is great, yet with his situation and Admiral Marcus and Khan’s situations, reports still need to be filed. And I have to undertake that duty. Unfortunately, the severity of the incident means it take precedents over everything else. Including the Captain. Lt. Uhura has been keeping me up to date on his condition, however.”

McCoy sighed. “Have you even had any sleep?”

“I have rested sufficiently.”

“Bullshit. If you had, you’d look a hell of a lot better than you do.” McCoy frowned at Spock. “I have a supplement, if you want it. Might give you a boost to get through some of this workload you inherited.”

Spock had every intention of saying no. He could operate on less sleep than a human so really, this should not cause any hardship to him. Yet he found he wanted to accept the offer for help. The idea of being able to perform better than he had been would be a huge benefit. But he didn’t seem to be able to make himself say anything.

McCoy seemed to understand the struggle. “How about I leave this here, in case you change your mind,” he said. Spock still said nothing. “Look, I know you have a hell of a lot of pressure on you right now, but just… do what’s the most important and take a break, okay?”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock nodded and McCoy left Spock to his own devices.


Some time later, Spock had taken the supplement and was working though yet another report than needed completing.

His mind was on Vulcan, his own home world. He was thinking of the heat, the landscape, the air. His home. He missed it. More than he thought was right for a Vulcan to do. Or even a half Vulcan.

It was only a planet. He should mourn his people, but a rock was a rock. They had a new home world.

It was dry and arid. It was hotter than humans found acceptable. Yet, it didn’t feel the same.

He didn’t want it to be the same.

He became so immersed in his thoughts he lost track of where he was. He could feel Vulcan’s sun’s on his skin, could taste the salty desert air, could hear his Mother call for him.

His comm beeped breaking him from the thoughts. He checked his messages and saw it was a reminder that his report was due in an hour.

He pushed aside the thoughts of Vulcan, but he could still taste it.


Spock woke to the sound of pounding on the door.

He got out of bed and pulled on a robe, heading to the door. He looked at the viewer to see it was just Doctor McCoy and he opened the door, tiredly.

“Doctor, if you advise sleep…” he started but stopped as McCoy’s face drained of colour as he looked at Spock. “Is it Jim?” he asked, the first thought that came to his mind.

McCoy ignored him and pushed him inside, closing the door. He pulled out his medical scanner and held it by Spock’s head.

Spock avoided the instrument. “Doctor, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Have you seen yourself, Spock?”

“I was asleep when you knocked on my door,” Spock informed him.

“Skull fracture?” McCoy said.

The Tragic Passing of Jose Fernandez.

- K.

There really are no words this morning for the incredible sadness radiating from South Florida. Tragic and heartbreaking come close, but they still don’t do the situation justice. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m about to write the new few words:

Miami Marlins ace Jose Fernandez, has died at the age of 24 in an apparent boating accident.

Reports came in early Sunday morning of a boating accident off the jetties between Government Cut and South Pointe Park in Miami Beach. Reports of three deceased and an overturned boat amongst the rocks only have way to the tragic news that amongst the deceased was Jose Fernandez.

Forget the stats for a minute, of which there were many: 2013 NL Rookie of the Year, NL All-Star and the verifiable truth that his talents placed him amongst the ten best players in the game today and amongst a handful of elite pitchers to don a uniform in this day and age. Fernandez was about to set off a bidding war for his services, but sadly that’ll never come to fruition.

Instead focus on the fact that as a Cuban native, Jose Fernandez, at 24 years old, had already multiple terms in prison in his native Cuba for trying to defect and better the life of himself and his family. On his fourth and final defection, Jose Fernandez outrageously jumped into the water to save his mother from drowning, risking his life to save that of his kin. But then again, that’s the type of person he was.

Beneath the fireballing talents, the devastating breaking balls and the virtuoso performances; uncannily getting even better after Tommy John Surgery last year to lead the Majors with a 2.29 FIP, and carry a 2.89 ERA with a 16-8 record, there was the joy and genuine excitement of a man who was grateful for every opportunity.

And that’s what we’ll remember most about Jose Fernandez other than his phenomenal talent. We’ll remember the utter joy and passion he brought to Miami and the game of baseball at large. Most of all, we’ll remember the irreplaceable smile etched on his face every time he toed the rubber of a pitching mound.

In Miami, Fernandez was beloved by the Cuban community because he was the embodiment of what it meant to Cuban-Americans to have life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And yes, that word choice is deliberate.

To the Latin American community, the thought was that he was “one of their own”, a symbolic representation of struggling and then finally making it in America. He was the child every parent wish they had and the role model every parent wished their child would follow. His relationship with mother and grandmother was poignant and an embodiment of the Latin way of life. Hell, he WAS Miami in a sense, at the very least a symbolic representation of it.

Miami slumps its shoulders today. Its residents walk with a little less hope, a little less joy and a bit more sadness.

Miami mourns because some of the “magic” is gone and taken much too soon.

The rest of the nation joins them in celebrating and mourning a man taken from this world far too early.


 Emile flew about the jungles in a shrunk down form. There was a big smile as he rushed about, saying good morning to every little thing he passed as the morning sun began to peek over the horizon.

 Anything that tried to eat him was met with a pat on the nose and a laugh. It was dangerous, but he was also happy. The jungle was so lively this morning and he only had to stop flying about twice. One to bury a deceased bird and another to heal a sick big cat.

 The dragon was flying about happy and care free, enjoying his life. So much to the point he hadn’t realized he’d passed the same feline twice.

havilland replied to your post:havilland replied to your post:TALK TO ME ABOUT…

what if like. they made pacts that if one of them died and came back, the others would surely put them down for good. but erin dies and the others all struggle with what needs to be done.

my basic inclination is this: they do make plans. they have to. they write it out and they sign it and they file it away:

  • if one of them dies, there can be no meddling with natural forces. there is no forcing a presence back into the physical plane of existence.
  • they can’t actively seek out the spirit of a deceased member. no ouija; no EVPs. no EMF field manipulation. they are not to disturb critical sites involved with that person were a residual presence would be probable. 
  • no matter the level and complexity of the manifestation, they dispatch it. even, for argument’s sake, a Class V Erin with full corporeal form, perfect cognition, almost complete emotional depth – nope. can’t happen. all ghosts are created equal, because ghosts, by nature, are a liability due to their impact on the physical barriers separating realities.
  • to that end, no experimenting on spectral friends. an intelligent haunting cannot be used to investigate the question-marks such as possession, temporal permanence & drifting, and trans-dimensionality.
  • intelligent hauntings can’t reveal anything about death.

common sense, yeah? but erin is killed, and yep, she manifests.
but erin can’t corporealise because she didn’t have enough of a physical presence when she was alive – like, c’mon. she wanted so desperately to be noticed, and yet she spent so long burying herself from public perception that anything physically resonant is lost in the ether.
strictly a mental entity. highly intelligent. can communicate, takes a lot out of her. emotionally cognizant. blips in and out a lot, but is more or less permanently anchored to abby’s home.


a very descriptive and detailed profile of your muse.  repost with the information of your muse,  including headcanons,  etc.  if you fail to achieve some of the facts,  add some other of your own !  when you’re done,  tag 15 other people to do the same !

tagged by
: @brckencastle
tagging : @onlymildcomplaint, @notacyclonefan, @sickofyourbullshxt, @knightlaws, @districtattorneydent, @stardvstdaughter, @gothamblooded

name :  Matthew Michael Murdock  -   age :  30 years old   -   species :  human   -  gender : male   -   orientation :  bisexual.   -   profession :  lawyer.   -   body type : lean athletic.   -   hair :  brown.   -    eyes :  brown.   -   skin:  pale.   -  height :  5′10″   -   weight :  175lbs.

family :  (does Foggy count?)   -   parents:  Jack, (father,deceased),   Maggie (mother,deceased)

physical prowess :  8/10   -   speed : 8/10   -   magic : 1/10 ? (does meditative healing count?)

colours :   red & black   -   smells : sweat, leather, the city.   -   food :  thai, chinese. -  fruit : apples, oranges.  -   drinks :   coffee, water.  -   alcoholic beverages :  beer, scotch, whiskey, tequila (with Foggy).

smokes ?   No.   -   drugs ?   No.   -   driver’s license ? hahaha hell no.  -  ever been arrested ?   no.

anonymous asked:

After your post about the phanti I lowkey went and look up some blogs but I actually didn't get upset bc they themselves are losing hope in the "Dan is str8!1 phan is a reach!2" mentality and you can see it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i know lmao nowadays when i go on phanti blogs i mostly see people just chatting about everything else but dan and phil. it’s like they have started to give up. hopefully it’s because they realized 99% of the phandom are calm rational people and don’t want to talk shit anymore. the het dan narrative is deceased. erased. gone. and the way dan and phil have been acting recently is quite……..something isnt it?