at least i know where i am on my own

Ace stuff

Hey guys, I’ve recently made a decision: I’m confident enough in analyzing my own feelings and thought process to say that I am somewhere under the ace umbrella. You’ve all been inclusive enough to make me very comfortable with saying this over your blog in a public forum since tumblr is mildly anonymous for me and anyone who knows me personally on here I’ve already told. I feel like at least one of you has experience this before (maybe mod rose? I read you’re ace but I didn’t feel like reading bios in my drunken haze) but I’m at the point of confidence where I want to tell as many people as possible who I know won’t lash back at me for it. It’s like screaming to the world you’re in love in a movie but the opposite, even though I still am romantic and appreciate the occasional cuddle. Thank you all so much for being supportive in general and standing for justice and the rights of all peoples, love B.

Hey! I’m so glad we’ve been able to help you and congrats on figuring out your label :) I’m gray-ace (rarely experience sexual attraction) and quoiromantic (can’t differentiate between platonic and romantic love), and I think maybe one of the other mods was a-spec too but I forget which one…? 

Anywho, thanks for the submission, and we’re happy for you!

Mod Marie-Rose

Signs As Shit I’ve Heard At School

[source 1] [source 2] [source 3]

Aries: “I was hoping to get a dab out of that”

Taurus: “Is this actual footage of George Washington?”

Gemini: “Where are Danish people from? Danishland?”

Cancer: “I spelled my own name wrong”

Leo: “Fine, I’ll look up vaginas”

Virgo: ”At least we have memes to dull the pain of existence”

Libra: “Does A.D. stand for ‘after dinosaurs’?”

Scorpio: “I hate you, that’s why you’re my friend”

Sagittarius: “That sounds like an 80 year old having an orgasm“

Capricorn: “My back hurts from carrying this team”

Aquarius: “My word count on this paper isn’t very high but I certainly am“

Pisces: “I know how to fraction!”

This is what happens when you let a loser like me use Photoshop…

I’ve just been laughing at the last skit in Sonic Shorts - Volume 6 for a while, and I wanted to use what I know about Photoshop to make my own picture of Zero the Artificial Hedgehog. I spent about two hours making this fanart of this “original” Sonic fan character, and I think it was two hours well spent. (It would have taken me less time, but it took forever to find good images and I had to start over about 30 minutes into making the picture.)

Now you may be thinking, “Jouska, why would you waste two hours of your life to make this?” and the answer to that is really easy! …Because I can! 

- howzit kids!!!!
- the future is weird and spooky huh??? ? no matter how cool i am with where i am, i still find time to sorta worry about it
- at the minute i’m v happy studying, and my plans for heading back to australia in june are just: return to my casual job, walk my dogs, make comics, do nanowrimo, go to some cons. and right now??? i feel very strongly that that will be enough, at least for this year
- but then also i know my own restless ass and i know that maybe it won’t be
- i really hope it will be
- walked around viborg’s south lake today, it was pretty and cold and it’s odd how the world can feel both enormous and tiny some days
- i’m one of the youngest people that i’ve met here, which is a sort of sobering thought. gotta remember there’s no hurry. life’s really long, ya know?
- i’m learning to love what a work in progress everything we do in class is: there’s no finished product, just the act of making. it’s a really good way to be
- my art is improving in a way i didn’t think i’d notice in three weeks, which is pretty great. i want to dedicate this year to making stuff i like, and that maybe other people will too. i really love drawing it makes me happy happy happy 
- i hope you’re all good, if you can, slow down for a minute today


I don’t fully know what it is about repetitive images and imagery that compels me so much, but I respond to them every time I see them, arranged in a fashion intimate enough for my comprehension. At least 50% of my fascination with repetition has something to do with my being an identical twin, and art is the only place, the only field I have found in which things that are identical, or at the very least, cut from the same cloth, are considered separate, distinct, and purposeful, simply by existing. When celebrating repetition, I am celebrating my own existence, one of two, but also one of one. Anxiety, I assume is where the other 50% (+/-) of my fascination stems from, but I imagine that percentage can be divided further into various other categories whose names I’ve yet to know.

Are repetitive images inherently consistent? How many similarities must a set of images share to be deemed repetitive? And how many images total? I love how easy it is to engage with repetitive forms using photography. Consistency isn’t necessarily easy to attain, but with effort, it appears effortless. Pouring over a collection of photographs, I am soothed by the possible transcendence of their cohesion, past their borders and unto me, my image.

Photographs have changed my relationship to my own body, made me seek consistency in ways I’d not considered prior to my owning a camera, a smartphone, a webcam, etc. But before attaining these devices, I was critical of the reactions I had no control over inside my own body yet believed (and still believe) I ought to, because what good is it to exist as a physical being if the presentation of that being is not in accordance with the mind that governs it?

Man-Made is motivated by a network of anxieties and frustration with an inability to transcend beyond something as finite as a body, a room, by treating it as something infinite, because infinity is seamless; the ultimate depiction of consistency. But this is a paradoxical infinity, because it is unabashedly curated.  

Thus far, I’ve been careful not to introduce any new patterns or surfaces without repeating them in at least one other image. The yellow tile molding in the first image makes an appearance in the one below, faintly in the mirror’s reflection of the shower wall. The metal frame of the shower door in the third image can be found in the previous two, from different angles, with varying degrees of clarity. Again, the shower door frame is repeated in the fourth image of the bathtub, and in the fifth image, the rectangular white tiles found above the bathtub function as backdrop for that s-like metal structure (a fairly dated towel heater). Not every image shares the same features of another, but the goal is to create a kind of visual lexicon.

yesterday, i flung myself into the ocean’s icy embrace. i didn’t know it was possible to drown in my own silence before the waves engulfed me. my body was numb & peach-bruised in protest but i swam up, up.

today, i see the stars falling out of the sky one by one. the air i breathe is tinged with dynamite & angels’ corpses are rotting in the sun & i know this road i am walking leads to nowhere.
—  where do i escape? // n.s.
Do You Think I’m Crazy? Pt. 2

Part 1

Word count: 727

Bucky’s POV

It happened again. She lost control and attacked Tony. I don’t know if it’s her fault since Stark can’t keep his mouth shut. Now, (Y/N) is her own prison cell. Tony and Bruce built it exclusively for my (Y/N). At least it looks like a comfortable room from her sight. From where I am, staring at her through the thick glass, I can see the iron, the steel, and the wires that keep her abilities under control.

After twenty minutes screaming and throwing the furniture at the walls, she finally sits down on the floor, crying in silence.

“I’m coming in. Open the door.” I command. No one can keep me from being with her, so nobody tries to stop me.

They lock the door behind me and turn off the cameras. I hate how they steal her privacy while she’s here.

“Doll.“ She raises her head slowly, and it kills me to see her crying.

“Bucky, why am I here?” (Y/N)’s voice is so weak I can barely hear it. If I could only take her pain away…

“You attacked Tony.”

“No. I didn’t! He told Nat I’m crazy! I am not! No!” She stands up abruptly, trying to run pass me and reach the door. I hold her by the waist, putting her down on the messed up bed.

“(Y/N), please, calm down.”

 (Y/N)’s POV

“(Y/N), please, calm down.” Bucky keeps you still as you try to set free. The image of Tony’s dead body fills your mind. Somewhere deep inside your memories you can still find your funny friend Tony Stark. But now, with your mind clouded by hate and angst you just want to murder him.

“Bucky, I’m begging you, please let me out.” You throat burns and it makes more tears roll down your eyes. You wanna die. You want this to end. If you could only climb out of this pit you live in, you would. “I need to… I need to…” You can’t say the words, not even to your boyfriend.

“Doll, you just need to calm down first. Then Tony will come to apologize and you’ll be free to go.”

“Tell Nat I’m not crazy, please. She’s my best friend and I don’t want her to think that I’m crazy.” You beg again, scared that Nat won’t talk to you anymore.

“Nat loves you and you know that. She’s aware of you flaws but she loves you. Just like I do. And Steve, and Thor, even Loki who doesn’t like anyone.”

“They love me? They’re all my friends!? ” You jump, almost hitting Bucky’s mouth with your forehead. “But…”

“What, doll?” He kisses your lips, softly, making you cry again.

You know, in some moments of sanity when you can think clearly, that you’re dangerous. You may freak out and hit someone’s with a heavy rock. And don’t even feel guilty.

“They never come to visit me when I’m here. Just you.”

“Yes, they’re not allowed to come.”

“No. That’s not it.” You push him away, not wanting his hands on you. The painful truth takes the air out of your lungs and you can’t breathe anymore. Crying again, you stare into his beautiful kind eyes. “They are afraid of me. I don’t blame them. I am afraid of myself too.”

Bucky’s POV

Nothing could hurt me more than these words. What should I do to make her feel better? To rescue my love from this dark place she is now.

“(Y/N), that’s not true. What did I just say?”

“Don’t, Bucky.”

“Look, I know how to make you feel a little better.” I smile at her, caressing her thigh. “Why don’t we go to the beach?”


“Yes. We can rent a small isolated house and spend a few weeks there. Just you and me.”

(Y/N)’s POV

“Yes!” You yell, making a laugh escape Bucky’s lips. You kiss him, hug him and kiss him again, feeling like all your problems just disappeared. “It’ll be like a honeymoon!”

“Can’t you wait until we marry?”

“No! We already had sex and…” Your voice faints again, sadness creeping over you.


“You wouldn’t marry a mad girl.”

“I will marry you. That’s a fact. I’m just waiting for… I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Then it will be a honeymoon!” You scream again, jumping into his arms. You don’t care if you’re crazy or not, you’re the happiest woman on earth.


Combo Chronic Disease/Self Image Love-Post!

I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when I was 17. Since then, it’s been a real roller coaster of a journey, trying to figure out the best and most effective way to keep it reasonable and under control. Along with that, there have been days where I really just want to give up, but I know I can’t.
I recently switched from regular multiple daily injections to and insulin pump, and to be honest I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. Having to give yourself multiple daily injections every time you eat gets to be very arduous and defeating. Now that I am on the pump, it’s like having my own little robo-pancreas, and I absolutely love it!
One down side to it - for me, at least - is the actual infusion set and the CGM (Continous Glucose Meter - the little white thing on my right side). I know that they are necessary for the whole thing to work, but I get very self conscious about it sometimes. Tank tops are usually out of the question now, and even when they are covered by clothing, you can see the bumps and tubing underneath my shirt. I think about it way too much when I really don’t need to.
I know I don’t have the most perfect body in the world, and I’m not 100% comfortable with it myself, but I took this photo because I was feeling good about the way I looked, even with my attachments. My Diabetes has finally become a part of who I am, and not just a disease to pull me down.
Basically, I love myself, and I love my diabetes (however strange that may actually sound)

Theories: Erwin and the "Ackerman" Mystery, Part 1

Yesterday I presented an analysis of the scene in Chapter 63 where we have most information in regards to Levi and his knowledge of is own family ties. While the possibility still exists that he did and has been expertly keeping a secret all these years, I believe my analysis gives a strong argument to the theory that Levi didn’t know his last name until Kenny showed back up in his life.

You may now be asking “so, where does Erwin come into this?”. Well my theory that I am presenting today is that Erwin already knew Levi’s last name OR at least knew he had some sort of special connection that Erwin needed. (And to piggy back off of that, I think Hange knew Levi’s connections as well, but we’ll get to that later.)

I’m going to be up front with you: I have less solid evidence for this theory outside of my estimations of character development and storytelling understanding. But if you’re interested to know more, come and follow me down my little conspiracy rabbit hole…

First and foremost I want to establish a specific understanding of Erwin’s character. We know that Erwin is a chess player. His strategic mind is rivaled probably only by Armin in the way that he place pieces and pull strings behind the scenes without even his closest colleagues realizing what he’s devised until after the fact (see the Female Titan arc).

Erwin knows a lot about this world and its dark secrets. While he may not know the details of all the secrets, he knows they lie there hidden deep underneath over a century of cover up by the Interior. Additionally:

Guys I want to remind you here that this implies that Erwin knew about the connection between the Titans and the walls even before Hange, the resident Titan genius, did:

Erwin doesn’t do things without a reason. Every play he makes is for a specific purpose: Proving his father’s theories true. Erwin’s life purpose is to expose the conspiracies of the government. Erwin is the Fox Mulder of SnK.

Tomorrow I discuss in more detail the potential conspiracies Erwin may have had a pulse on how that starts to play into the “Ackerman” mystery. Stay tuned…

While I’m bummed that Bernie Sanders postponed his visit to Charleston due to the shooting, I am really amazed at this letter I received in my email. It seems like understands that this is a time for mourning and grief and it shouldn’t be about him and his campaign. Not to mention he even encouraged donations towards the church rather than soliciting for his own campaign.

Idk, this is probably the first election where I’ve genuinely followed someone rather than choose the least evil-sounding person. I don’t know if this is even something standard for other politicians to do and maybe it’s not something special. The point is, I just really appreciate that he decided to postpone rather than talk up his campaign right after the shooting.

you can’t make homes out of people.
I broke down my fence,
when you came into my life,
in hopes you wont see me as broken.
All I wanted was to start fresh at least,
I was left hoping.
All you could see,
was the old me,
something that needed to be fixed.
I just wanted a home to call my own.
something that was worth the risk.

You built something with someone else
and thought i could replace
that empty space on the shelf.
I am not the one to be moulded.
Without knowing your eyes became my windows,
your mouth, my door.
Your hand on my heart,
to hold it.

Where once was my fence,
became your arms.
So tired and so sore.
The less I tried.
The more you died.
I knew what was to become.
I couldnt stand another breaking down,
of a house that barely begun.
Instead of watching me erode
and all that we have done,
the least I could do,
was to pull the gun for you.
Never look back.

You cant make homes out of people.
Among other things,
time has become between us.
You have your beautiful, strong home to call your own
and left me with your dust.
Don’t get me wrong I’m still on the run,
taking breaths at each stop.

Whenever i cease
and take a chance to breathe,
I forget the floor is where i drop.
Because I don’t have your fence anymore.
I have no support. No security.
Unable to see and understand clearly,
my eyes just wont make do.
Because there once was a time,
where I only saw the truth,
when I used to see through you.

I don’t bother anymore to try the door,
it will always stays shut.
Returned to my place.
An empty, broken space.
Where once you used to,
hold my heart.

All along I realised I was wrong,
You can make homes out of people.
But for some reason,
I can’t understand.
Why I breakdown my homes,
more than I’ve planned.
As if it is to be my sequel.
I cant make homes out of people.

-d.solate, home is wherever you are.

—  emptyspace-thestars, “Home Is Wherever You Are”

Quitting everything unreal in my life and allowing myself to live in solitude to create my next album from a completely authentic place is hands down the most compassionate thing I have ever done for my soul.
I understand there are “real world” concerns one faces but honestly, it seems alien to me that there was a time I used to feel stress every day. The rat race seems ridiculous to say the least and the notion that I should be achieving something to be a worthy human being even more so.

It’s been beautiful to watch the nature unfold with the depths of my own being, witnessing both, the light and immeasurable darkness that I wasn’t even aware of before. Nowhere to escape. Nowhere. Everything has demanded to be felt and processed.

I don’t know where I’m at with who I am right now because in silence and no other people really around there’s nothing or no one to compare yourself to. What remains is just pure presence, naked in it’s beauty and ugliness.

On this photo, I’m excited to give you a glimpse of the Moon Temple I’m building — it’s coming along really nicely and will be ready in a few months I think.

I’ve created clothes, shoes and songs for years. Now it’s time to create spaces that will stand tall for future seekers to inhabit once I’m gone.


[TEXT] Phoebe ➝ Wes
  • Phoebe: This is a very minor apology, and I fully acknowledge this, but I'm not entirely sure I could face you anytime in the near century.
  • Phoebe: So.
  • Phoebe: I, Phoebe Eloise Berry, apologize for any and all damages I may have caused during my temporary lapse of misguided judgement - i.e. I'm almost certain I broke at least one of your cups and I am fully prepared to cover all damages...
  • Phoebe: Sorry. There's this nagging feeling and I need to know. We didn't... Well... You know... Right? I don't assume we did considering I woke up in my own bed, but to be quite frank I don't have much recollection of how I got there. Not that I am by any means presuming that you would be the type of person to take advantage of someone at such an advance level of intoxication. I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from somewhat, right?
I refuse to be apologetic for what I am and what I like

And this is basically being adopted as my new mantra. I know I’m not your regular want in the park. My interests are a bit eccentric. I struggle to find mutual interests among friends. I relate and get along better with older peeps and really have zero interest in most things trending in my own age group. Being true to who I am mightn’t win me a lot of friends but at least they know what they are getting and the ones I have are incredible.

I’m attracted to intellect, intelligence, compassion and maturity and it makes me happy so everyone else can take a hike. I’m allowed to be happy even if you don’t understand my relationships or circumstances. My happiness doesn’t revolve around what others feel is right or wrong.

I’m a strong, independent woman. I’m a hard core feminist. I’m an atheist. I’m a firm believer in self love and I detest the shaming culture we have. I believe in letting people exist in their own way and that the hate we find our world with is fuelled by fear and Greed. I believe I’m a good person. I’m loving, affectionate and compassionate and I’m allowed to believe these things about myself. I’m also incredibly stubborn, resilient and determined.

But that’s me