actually from target

One of the most insidious forms of antisemitism is this idea of choice – that Jews are only victims of antisemitism when they choose to be. This is prevalent in some leftist communities, especially the idea that Jews are “European/white” in the same way goyim are. This idea leads to the inevitable conclusion that antisemitism is escapable for the Jewish people; in a way that racism is not. This puts the onus on Jewish people to assimilate in order to pass as gentile in order to avoid violence. More heinously, it also puts moral guilt on Jewish victims. A good example of this is the idea that Jews could’ve escaped the Holocaust because they, say, look no different than the rest of the European population. Jews are not only genetically unique, but had been segregated and labeled in European communities since kingdom come – Jews are wholly Jewish, their faces, names, families, etc. are not white European in the same way goyim are white Europeans. Every part of my being is Jewish, there is no part of me that is goy; in this way violence is inescapable both in my family’s past and in my future.

This is one of my main criticism of antisemitism being defined as the targeting of a specific religious minority – totally secular Jews are just as much targets of antisemitism as practicing Jews.

This apparatus of guilt that is constructed around Jewish victimhood– the constant need for Jews to prove they are still targeted, and the constant need to find Jews guilty of extorting their past to justify their crimes. (i.e. Our narrative of oppression is a smoke screen for us orchestrating the slave trade, and Jewish victimhood is a beneficial way to hide our wicked ways.) This not only asks a group of people who were recently mass slaughtered to carry out obscene amounts of emotional labor, but also allows for antisemitism to continue to flourish.

If you wouldn’t tell a complete stranger something, don’t tell Jensen and Jared.

Even more than that: if you wouldn’t be okay with a complete stranger coming up to you and telling you what you’re about to tell them???? DO. NOT. TELL. JENSEN. AND. JARED.

They are not your therapists.

They are not your friends.

Just because Jared has been somewhat open about his depression doesn’t mean he wants or needs to hear everyone’s life story.

Even something so seemingly small, something like “you’ve saved my life,” can weigh a thousand pounds. “I thought he would feel good about himself.” “I wanted to show him how important he is to me.” “Wouldn’t everyone want to hear that they’ve saved a life?”

How would you feel if a complete stranger walked up to you and told you that? How would you feel, thinking that you’re responsible for someone else’s life? Even if my absolute best friend told me “you’re the reason I haven’t killed myself,” I would NOT feel good. I would feel awful. I would feel like every single thing I say or do could possibly lead to someone else’s death. I’m not a perfect person, I don’t even consider myself a “good” person. I don’t want something that heavy resting on my shoulders.

And Jared (and Jensen) hear(s) this at pretty much every single con they go to, from multiple people. Who knows how many - we only know about the ones that make Jared physically have to take a break after hearing. (And considering none of us knew he struggled with depression until he told us? I’m guessing he’s good at not letting things like this show.)

Jared and Jensen are so fucking good to their fans. Please stop taking advantage of that for the sake of having a “moment” with them. You may want to show them how important they are to you, but there are ways to do that that don’t involve putting extra weight on their shoulders. They don’t deserve to walk away from cons with their hearts heavier than they arrived.

Artists be aware

Seems there is someone on here demanding that you make them “your best art and nothing less” to a few people I know on this site including myself and the “don’t take no for an answer”

Do not let this idiot guilt trip you into making work you don’t want to because you feel you need to prove yourself to them, nor let their flattery get to you because they seem nice.

Don’t give something to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Stay safe.

hamelin-born  asked:

Re: Your latest post on 'commodified' tzai: for some reason, I was struck with the mental image of 'redeemed' Vader having the 'evil' idea to mention that his former mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, used to love drinking tea, and he had that one specific blend, what was it now, he really misses that - and the Galaxy promptly forgets tzai as it falls all over itself to be the first to discover 'Master Kenobi's Special Blend'. (Which was tea leaves, hot water, and a splash of Coreillian brandy.)

Wellllll, I don’t think that would entirely distract people: after all, Tatooine slave culture is the new happening thing, and no matter how much Anakin talks up missing his old mentor’s “special brew,” the plain fact is Kenobi is yesteryear’s news, whereas Anakin has (much to his own disgust) all the glamour of having been a successful double agent for years, plus the soap opera that is the Skywalker family and their ultimate reunion.

So I think he’d still toss Kenobi’s “special blend” out there, which would indeed draw some attention. But then he might have to fully embrace his inner Ekkreth and just have some fun with it.

Picture this: Anakin calls up ten of the top media agencies in the galaxy. He promises them each an exclusive. As part of that exclusive, he tells them the top secret Skywalker recipe for tzai.

All ten media outlets release their “exclusives.”

All ten tzai recipes are different.

(And, of course, none of them are actually the Skywalker blend at all. The majority of them aren’t even palatable. Some of them use ingredients that can’t even be found on Tatooine. Anakin made them all up on the spot after meeting each of his interviewers and doing a quick bit of sizing up to see what he could get away with.)

So the mystery continues. And, as a bonus, the mystery of Kenobi’s Special Blend also continues. (Though the truth in that case is disappointingly simple. Kenobi’s special blend is any kind of tea he had on hand, plus a liberal dose of alcohol. Brandy is preferred, but other things will do in a pinch.)

That feel when you have so many ideas that you have legitimately forgotten a hefty chunk of them and then your friend is like ‘hey remember that idea about Gregor being halfway corrupted by the Ether into a bat-like terrifying Kaorion World Eater’ and you’re just like ‘when did I plan this and how did I forget it’

today i cancelled an amazon delivery that i’d already waited two weeks for out of sheer spite because it was several days late and they were giving me the run around with delivery information and updates. and now i have to wait at least a week for the same products from different websites, but i don’t even care. i don’t like being lied to and i’ll give my time and money to companies who use real delivery services and actually have their shit together. idek why i’m posting about this but i was just. so. mad. and as someone who spent so long being a pushover it’s liberating to put my foot down and not deal with that kind of bs.

So basically Ellen Degeneres has lost her mind (I love her to death but why) and actually decided to have Alex from Target on her show. What the actual fuck is this shit? You have so many people out there (specifically on YouTube) that work their asses off and get nothing. Yet some random kid that’s only getting attention because he’s attractive *from one angle* (literally he looks like a damn beaver). There are so many more deserving people that should be getting the attention. Shay Carl (the Shaytards), Jeana and Jesse (PVP), Troye Sivan, Charles Trippy, Zoella, Dan and Phil, Caspar Lee, Connor Franta, hell why not have Tyler Oakley (even though he’s not my cup of tea) but they all have one thing in common and that’s hard work. Why are they not getting that recognition? But some kid that works at Target is? He’s literally on the news and has over 500k followers on Twitter. And what’s sad is that it’s all for doing absolutely nothing. I get that it’s not his fault, but this whole situation reminds me of how much I hate the people wreaking of stupidity on social media.

anonymous asked:

Where did you get that unicorn whiskey glass??

I got it quite some time ago from Target, actually. It’s one of my prized possessions and I use it every night for brushing my teeth. Unfortunately I don’t think Target still carries it.

Imagine the young Winchesters finding you and taking them with them.  Part 2

Author: see-the-fandom-imagines
Original Imagine/Part 1: here
Warnings: Dead parents, Shooting
Word Count: 2361
Summary:  The Winchesters are starting your training with you, quickly after they took you with them.

After the Winchesters had taken you with them, John parked the car right infront of a not very trustworthy looking motel. But actually you didn’t really care about anything that happened right now. You were tired.

You had brought the most important stuff from your room in a big travelling bag, which Dean had offered to carry for you. „That’s our room“, he told you, while he unlocked the door, a big 127 emblazoned on it. The ‘one’ was crooked and the numbers had a weird grey colour, that obviously had been white some time before. „Dad’s sleeping next door“, he kept on explaining, handing you your bag. You nodded and let your gaze wander around the room. 

There were two beds inside, used. Obviously they’ve checked in a few days before. Clothes lay around the room, mostly next to Dean’s bed. Other than that you spotted a small desk, with a laptop on it, a wooden chair right infront of it, and a few tasteless pictures hung up onto the walls. You tried to notice everything, tried to inculcate everything. You didn’t know why, but scanning the room gave you the feeling of security. Probably the proper reaction would have been to break down and cry, destroying something or to be completely run down. But as weird as you thought it was, you were completely calm. Just really, really tired.
„There are just these two beds…“, Sam started, but Dean took over, before he could even think of how to finish his sentence. „So you best share a bed with Sammy. You’re the smallest, it will fit.“
„Only if it’s alright with you, though“, Sam made sure, looking at you rather concerned. You nodded, your face completely expressionless. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get yourself to smile right now.
You were tired, dirty, and just wanted to sleep.
Looking around once more, you noticed another door in the room. „Is this the bathroom?“, you asked, and were surprised of your voice cracking slightly. Sam nodded. „Go first“, he offered, which you accepted gladly and vanished quickly into the small, like the rest of the motel not very clean, but acceptable, bathroom. 

You peeled yourself out of your shirt, which had adopted the slight smell of iron. Coagulated blood adorned the collar and sleeves.
Just like on your trousers. Disgusted you threw both of the clothes directly into the trashcan that was located under the sink. You placed your shoes next to the door – you hadn’t been wearing any socks – and looked at your underwear. It was remarkably clean, in contrast to the clothes already banned into the trash. Given that, you decided to just put it in your bag. You could wear it again later.
Slowly you climbed into the shower and turned on the hot water. Your muscles relaxed under the hot stream, and thoroughly you washed away all of the blood, sweat and the newly formed tears, that were silently dripping down your face.

Feeling a bit better, you dressed into your brought pajama and slowly opened the door.
„Do you really think, that this was a good idea, Dean?“, you heard Sam asking and quickly you shut the door again, until it stood slightly ajar.
„We had no choice“, Dean muttered, sounding terribly exhausted. „Besides… it was her own decision.“
 You thought about coming out, since you really shouldn’t be eavesdropping at the people who saved you just a few hours ago, but then Sam started to speak again and your curiosity won against your morality.
„But this life… she doesn’t have a clue.“
„I know“, Dean sighed. „I know.“

Quietly you slipped out of the bathroom, dropping your bag on the floor, next to the wooden chair. What they had said, didn’t really calm you. It just made you more scared of what probably would await you. 

„I’m done“, you informed both unecessarily, gaze glued to the ground. „I’m next!“, Sam decided and hurried into the bathroom. Too quick for Dean to even react. Groaning he sat up on his bed. „Damn it.“
You couldn’t help yourself, but to smile a little about how they still could have such awfully normal arguments, even after a night like this one. Then you thought, that it was probably the only way they could survive all this without major psychic damage. Your smile dropped immediately as you realised, that you just did nothing else.

Dean sighed and got up from his bed. With his left hand he massaged the back of his neck. „You must be tired“, he noticed, nodding in the direction of Sam’s bed. „Go to sleep. Sam always takes way too long in the bathroom anyways“, he told you, saying the last part definitely louder than it would have been necessary. A damped „Shut up, Dean“  was heard out of the bathroom. You nodded thankfully, before carefully climbing beneath the blanket, curling yourself up into a ball, until you were comfortable.
„Goodnight“, you heard yourself whisper, just before you slowly sank into sleep.

It was early in the morning as loud knocking on the door teared all three of you out of your sleep. It had been John, waking you up, to begin your first training session.
As you had arrived in the nearby forest, the first thing John had done, was handing you a shotgun. „Do you see that tree over there? With the hole in it?“, he asked you, whereupon you nodded. „Yes, sir“, you answered, waiting for further instructions. „Shoot it.“
Surprised by the sudden commandment you stepped forward and aimed, to try shooting the tree. Which was definitely a lot more difficult than you had thought. The first time, you completely underestimated the recoil of your weapon and fell right down onto your butt.

Dean chuckeled from behind you. You looked up into John’s face. He was completely motionless, obviously waiting for you to stand up and try again. You turned your head and gave Dean an angry glare, before you take a beat on the tree again. The second try proved itself as a little bit better, since you knew at least what would expect you. Unfortunately you were still far away from actually hitting the target.
You tried again and again and again. The sun had passed its zenith, and still you tried hitting the tree at the damn hole. You had grazed the tree a few times by now, what actually did nothing else than to frustrate you even more.
After a few hours – Dean and Sam had trained their shooting themselves – John handed you three more packets of ammunition, before shouldering his back. „Keep on training. I don’t want to see you, if you hadn’t hit at least three times. Best, if there’s still ammunition left.“ You furrowed your brows. „Dean, Sam.You can come with me.“

Wait a second. You would have to be alone, here in this forest? Anxious you took a deep breath. At least you had a weapon with you, even if you couldn’t handle it properly.
„Yes, Sir“, you murmured, holding bck the tears of frustration that threatened to run over your cheeks.
„I’ll stay“, Sam announced, taking a step to you and away from his father. Quickly he added: „I want to train a bit myself.“
You could easily tell that this had been a lie. And so did John. Probably. He turned around, looking doubtingly at his younger son. „Dean?“, he asked. „Check it.“
With these words he turned around and vanished into the woods.
„Thank you“, you whispered, earning a small smile from the brothers.
You inhaled deeply, before turning back to the tree to shoot again, as Dean came up behind you, lowering your gun with one of his hands.

Slowly you took your gun down, looking at him confused. „What is it?“, you asked.

„Do you even have the slightest clue what you’re doing there?“ Dejected you huffed. You knew perfectly well, that you didn’t know anything about weapons, or shooting and stuff. Him pointing that out didn’t make it any better. Biting your cheek to contain your frustration, you shook your head.

„You can’t use something you don’t understand. Take a seat“, he said, sitting down on an old tree stump and pointing beside him. „This is gonna take a while.“

Dean had explained you everything necessary about the guns you had brought with you. How to clean them, how to load them properly and when to use which of them.
And finally, how to aim and shoot correctly to hit a target where you want to hit it. Sam had sat on another log, completing some information from time to time. Slowly you understood.
The first try grazed the tree. The second try went too high. „Calm“, Dean advised and you took a deep breath, before aiming again.
The third try hit the tree directly where you wanted to. And so did the fourth and the fifth.
„I did it“, you whispered unbelieving and turned back to the brothers. „I actually did it.“

Proud, you made your way back to the motel, the gun in your right hand, and the left over ammo in your other.

„Come on, boys. We have to go“, John commanded, already waiting at the car. In the last days you had trained hard, supported by Dean and Sam. Most of the time John complained about you not making enough progress. But truth was something else. John put you under pressure. You knew that this was probably necessary, but the only result was you getting more nervous each time you had to do something.
You made progress. And you knew that. The boys would always tell you, if you did something well, and if you fucked something up, they told you as well. Their father just pointed out all the bad things, what never failed to discourage you. But you kept on going. You knew you had to. You had decided for yourself and it had been your wish to become a hunter. Now you were fighting for it.
Throwing your things inside the back of the car, you made yourself over to the backseat of the Impala. 

Sitting in the car, you noticed that this and the weird motels probably would be your new home for the next few years.
You hadn’t been thinking much about your home or your parents, since the night of the incident. You mostly avoided it.

It still hurt and you were sure that it would never stop, but this was the exact reason why you had to stay strong.
Gazing out of your window, you remembered the night, where you hadn’t been able to hold back the pain. The night in which the pain had been too much for you to bear.

You just came back from training. You were dirty, wet from sweat and completely exhausted. Soon you would have to think about finding a washing machine. Or at least some washing soap. Sam didn’t look much better, for Dean had instructed you to to practice your fighting, and he thought starting with an opponent your size would be easier for the start.  
Dean closed the door of the motel, throwing the bag he had carried on his shoulder into an edge. „You did well, today, (y/n)“, Dean told you, nodding approvingly. You nodded back, but actually you disagreed completely. Sam had been going easy on you, and still you had several bruises and scratches on your skin.
„Do you want to shower first?“, Sam interrupted your thoughts, but you shook your head. „Go first“, you answered, whereupon Sam nodded thankfully and vanished in the bathroom with  a pile of fresh clothes in his hands.
You sat down on your bed, letting out a deep sigh. Mentally you hit yourself. It had been definitely louder than you wanted it to be. „What’s wrong?“, Dean asked, while unpacking the weapons you had used today, to clean them properly.
You remained silent. Dean turned his head in your direction and raised his eyebrow.
„(Y/n)?“, he asked. „Are you crying?“ Quickly you wiped with your hand over your face and shook your head. „No“, you managed to say and locked your gaze back on the ground. Dean stood up and walked over to you. „What is it?“, he asked again and this time you looked up to him.
In a last try to soothe yourself you inhaled deeply. „I don’t know. It’s just… I was terrible today. Sam did beat me up completely. I didn’t even have the slightest chance!“ Getting this out, you finally burst into tears. You hadn’t cried once, since your parents had died, but now you couldn’t contain it. „I’m sorry, it’s stupid.“
„Yes, it definitely is.“ You stopped for a moment, looking at Dean with your tear-stained face. „It is stupid. More than stupid. Sam has been doing this for years, (y/n). I am doing it even longer. You’re on it for, how long? Four days? What did you expect?“

You pressed your lips together. He was right, you knew that. But the tears had started, and it was a lot more difficult to hold them back now. „You’re right“, you said, slowly standing up from your bed.

The next thing you saw yourself doing, was wrapping your arms around Dean’s waist, pressing your face against his chest. Dean froze for a moment, before returning the hug, carefully holding you, while you cried qietly into his chest.
„Dean?“, you whispered after a while, turning your face slightly. „What happened to your mom?“ Again you could feel Dean’s body stiffen, and you nearly regretted your question. But to your surprise, he answered you, even though slightly reluctant.
„She is dead“, he told you. „There was this demon…“ You nodded. You didn’t want to force him to keep talking.
After a moment, you interrupted the silence once more. „Dean?“, you asked, still holding him close.

„Will it ever stop hurting?“ Dean tightened the hug around you a bit, and you could feel him clenching his jaw. 

„No…  It won’t.“


author’s note: I really hope you like it!
Part 3 can be read here!

oldembarrassing7thgradeblog  asked:

Hi! 13 and 17? :))

13: fav fall candle scent?
17: go to fall outfit?
My favorite candles are actually from target and they’re pretty cute and only about $6. I have snuggly sweater and caramel latte and they’re heavenly.
When I wanna look cute I usually wear tall black boots, high waisted blue jeans w ripped knees, a cropped grey sweater and an oversized tartan scarf! 🎃🍁🍂

anonymous asked:

who's Alex from target?

Actually, that whole situation is relevant to this fandom. 

When this pic of a dude working the checkout at Target went viral, a marketing company publicly claimed credit for it. They said they were specifically practicing targeting teenage girls via social media. The first pic supposedly came from a girl who has 14,000 Twitter followers. That’s basically all it took. Please note, they got help from a couple of fairly big 1D and 5sos Twitter accounts who threw their 35,000+ followers into the mix too.  Fangirls ran with it and made dude famous in less than a week. He now has over 500,000 Twitter followers and can easily monetize his account via promo (congrats bruh). There’s controversy as to whether this marketing company really had anything to do with it. But the takeaway is that marketing and PR companies do target and manipulate young women to get us to believe what they want us to believe in order to pimp a product to us. This is important information for this fandom since too many of us think stuff just happens without purpose or intent and don’t get that we’re often very intentionally lied to. 

Read more about it here:  X  X  X

ok what happened with alex from target is wrong on principle but the actual alex from target seems to be having a great time being worshipped for being a boring-looking white man so i can’t say i feel especially sorry for him

I’ve never noticed this before but it’s really important.  Kaku did this back at the shipyard, too - when one of the other shipwrights bad-mouthed the government, he told them not to because ‘somebody might overhear’.  Kaku knows how the government operates and that they take out anybody who they perceive to be a threat to them, so by telling the others to keep those things to themselves, he’s actually protecting them from being targeted.