Here’s what really grinds my gears about Taylor Swift’s trial.
As a woman we are conditioned to almost expect this kind of behavior from men. So when a man grabbed Taylor’s ass, she didn’t go to the police (knowing the case was weak), she had him thrown out of the arena in Denver, CO and called his boss to inform them of how this man was representing KYGO.. She then gets blamed for his firing as if sexual assault isn’t a good enough reason to be fired. He then sues her for defamation of character in attempts to take money from her, nearly 4 million to be exact. Make no mistake his intentions in suing her was hoping she’d make a plea deal because she wouldn’t want or be able to sit through an eight day trial, which they maliciously extended by calling more witnesses than ever needed. But instead of taking the easy way out, she stood strong and counter sued for assault and battery, resulting in 1 dollar. It’s almost unheard of for a celebrity of her caliber to sit through this long of a trial. But damn I admire her for it. Because this guy has proven to be serious scum. He just wants money from her and I’m so fucking disgusted by this whole thing.
I’m disgusted by how a man assumes he has a right to a woman’s body.
I’m disgusted by how this man is blatantly trying to acquire money from her.
I’m disgusted by how the public is turning this into a fucking media circus and camping on the sidewalks like it’s a fucking concert. And taking her photo and treating this law suit over sexual assault like a fucking meet and greet.
And I’m so disgusted by how the media (FUCK YOU TMZ) leaked a SEALED PHOTO OF A SEXUAL ASSAULT AS IF ITS NO BIG DEAL BECAUSE IT IS TAYLOR SWIFT AND SHES NOT A PERSON I GUESS?? ?? Because if it was any other victim, there is a code within the media, and they wouldn’t post that shit or even their name.
And IM SO DISGUSTED WITH HOW SUDDENLY EVERY FEMINIST ON GODS GREEN MOTHER FUCKING EARTH IS SILENT WHEN A MAN GRABS A WOMAN BECAUSE THE WOMAN IS TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT
Seven Things About Supernatural: 13x01 - “Lost And Found”
Oh hey. The show’s back.
Honestly. This is mid-season or season-ender level crying happening. And shit, I am so fucking here for it.
Jack is his father’s son. Not Lucifer’s, despite his parentage, but Castiel’s. He doesn’t understand, but he wants to. He isn’t cruel, he isn’t violent. He’s something that doesn’t fit. Both of them want guidance from a missing father. He even looks a bit like Cas, and the scenes in the police station – light bulbs exploding as he passes, being stabbed in the chest to no effect – are callbacks to Cas’ entrance in 4x01.
(He also takes after his uncle Gabriel, what with the Nougat thing. And the t-shirt is kind of an awesome nod to what Dean “sees” in him – i.e. the son of Satan – via the horns.)
But yeah. He just wants his dad. He was just looking for his dad. I wonder who that sounds like…
Miriam – aka drunk fries angel – was a highlight. She’s merciless and damn good at her job, trailing the Winchesters to get intel while just sort of casually fucking with them. She writes “BITCH” in the dust of Baby’s back window, and she’s brutal in her fight with Dean. She knows how to make things hurt emotionally and physically, and makes decisions in the moment in ways that reminded me that I might have a very specific competence kink.
She reads Dean perfectly. Anything? Nope, Cas is dead. You want your son safe? Kill that guy and we’ll deal. I’m gonna die? Fine, but I’m taking a shot at the Nephil on the way out.
She also conjures up the ghost of Becky Rosen. Which…okay, I’m coming out of the text for a little bit on this one, because this was a thing that in the text is a little bit of a throwaway in the sense that we know how the angels feel about the Winchesters being a destabilizing, selfish force.
But the name Becky, that we’re supposed to hear. And she uses it, over and over, so that if we miss it the first time, we’ll catch it. And then she describes a really thoughtless, selfish person who breaks whatever she wants without concern for others in her own pursuit of satisfaction and amusement.
Guys, I think Dabb might have called the disruptive, abusive edges of fandom out for their bullshit. The ones who scream at the writers, the ones who kill the fun for other fans, the ones who are dicks at cons, etc. And that’s…fascinating? Because I know that Becky is a character a lot of folks have analyzed and tried to rehabilitate a little, even though she (and a lot of the fans portrayed in 5x09) are not a positive portrayal of fans in the same way some later portrayals are (e.g. 10x05).
And if that’s what he’s doing, that only really exists inside that scene – because we probably aren’t supposed to self-identify this way via Dean after Miriam calls him a Becky – but…
Anyway, it’s possible I’m projecting and seeing subtext where it’s not there, but I saw it the first time ‘round and in my morning rewatch and…yeah. I can’t unsee it.
Dean’s prayer fucks me up something terrible.
“We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom. You’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of ‘em. Even Crowley. ‘Cause after everything you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch. So you get your ass down here and you make this right, right here, right now.”
This isn’t the first time he’s excused himself to the back of the building to try and contact an absent father, and gone unheard. He knows how this goes. You can see it in his face. He tries to have faith. He gets nothing.
Arguably, Dean’s quarrel with Chuck in 11x21 still stands. Nothing has changed. He’s still getting screwed over by a father’s willful absence.
And then there’s this:
“We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas…”
He can’t even say that Cas is dead to Sam when they go looking for Jack, but he knows it. He saw the wing prints. Miriam taunted him with it. He’s fucked-up about losing Mary yet again – evidenced by his nightmare after Jack knocks him out – but this is the loss hitting him the hardest. It’s Cas’ body that’s his to prepare, his to burn.
“You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom. You’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of ‘em. Even Crowley.”
(That’s not an echo of ”I love you. I love all of you.” Not at all.)
“Well goodbye, Cas…”
And hey, if Dean’s prayer didn’t fuck you up completely, Sam teaching Jack about funerals – Jack who is an orphan now, watching both of his parents burn – is there to cause the leak in your ceiling that will pour water on your face.
“You say thank you. And you say you’re sorry. You hope they’re somewhere without sadness, pain. You hope they’re somewhere better. You say goodbye.”
Like, for all folks were complaining toward the end of Hellatus about who Sam is on the show of late – i.e. purely analytical, unfeeling – this ep was fantastic for centering him as this sort of mediating force who’s trying to work big picture despite the loss, trying to take all data into account.
And also trying not to die, because he was fucking terrified in that jail cell.
Which hey, understandable. And if we’re giving Miriam competence kink points for adusting on the fly, Sam earned his in bulk. Plus, he totally headbutted an angel. So hey. Sam fucking Winchester.
Actually, let’s just take a second to laugh about how scary Jack both is and isn’t. Because he’s not doing most of the exotic, terrifying things on purpose. He just does them when he’s scared. And he knows almost nothing about his abilities, but he’s learning what he can as fast as he can after “growing up fast” as per his mother’s recommendation.
His sense of self seems kind of nebulous. He “was” Kelly, though we don’t really know what he means by that exactly. When he uses his powers he feels somehow disconnected from them.
And he gets hungry and the lights flicker we’re all like, “OH SHIT CLARK,” and then nope, he’s just magically stealing candy from the vendo. And he feels really badly about frightening and hurting Clark and Sheriff Barker.
He’s still figuring out shoes, y’all. Shoes.
So I can’t help but notice that Sam doesn’t share the Castiel-as-Jack’s-father bombshell with Dean. Which, uh, I debated leaving as a bonus thing, or rolling into #5, but I think it’s significant enough to mention on its own, because this is a) kind of a big fucking deal with regard to understanding Jack, and b) kind of a serious fucking omission on Sam’s part.
Which…historically….well, Sam does that a lot. And he usually has a reason, but it also usually has consequences, so batten down the hatches for that, I suppose.
Bonus Thing: Sheriff Barker is a gift. I mean, she got the talk basically right out of the gate, and she advocates on behalf of people others call crazy or strange, and I kind of hope we see her again.
Bonus Thing 2: Hey, are we still using Baby as a gauge for Dean’s wellbeing? Because, uh…she needs some TLC.
Bonus Thing 3: There is a moment during the Miriam v. Dean fight that is fucking amazing blink-and-you’ll-miss-it physical comedy. He picks up a hat tree, she smashes the end off, then smashes it in half, and Dean does this cartoon panic and tosses the pieces up in the air.
Like, seriously. I need to learn to gif for moments like that.
Bonus Thing 4: The universe screamed at Dagon’s death. Presumably it did at Ramiel’s and Azazel’s, too? Guess that’s how Asmodeus gets the memo…
ok first: this realization fucked me up a year or so ago
everything we are taught about light and color, from art classes and physics classes, computing, whatever, is mostly bullshit. Its all based entirely on how the human eye functions.
primary colors? arbitrary. based entirely on human vision (which is why partially why primary colors differ in paint and RGB) Thats the main thing.
so the divisions of color into wavelength are so uneven (correct me if i’m wrong, but green is disproportionately large) (on that note, humans are better at distinguishing shades of green than of other colors) because its based on how we see things and no real mathematical or physical differences in the light.
other organisms with different eye structures have completely different colors and light. Our eyes have three types of cells to process color (corresponding to Red Green and Blue) butterflies have five types. What the fuck are they seeing? If we could ever know, how could we process that image into something we can sense?
humans made the world to conform to them (RGB screens deliberately use the eyes RGB structure to make a coherent image) and its weird to realize the ways in which we are limited by our senses, especially since sight is probably out main sense.
in that vein, any alien coming to earth would be highly unlikely to be able to use our technology because its surprisingly specific to our eye structure.
they’d have to have fairly good vision to start with, so if they survive mainly on smell or sound on their home planet, earth tech’s not for them (which reveals so flaws in out world in helping disabled people)
their eyes would need to have RGB cells, at least two of those? or something similar enough that its not a big deal. because for some fucking reason our eyes signal red+green as yellow. also, will alien vision even be in out visible range? what if they only see IR or UV light what then
itd be like, “good evening victoria, what is that device in your hand? technology from earth?”
“yeah, i’m just reading something on my phone,” and seeing the screen its a horrible mess of colored dots that burns into your retinas and nothing like human writing on paper.
we’d need to abandon RGB all together and use the lights that genuinely change wavelength.
I think I’m nice enough to look at, but I think people make a big deal about my appearance. I think it was like hypnosis, like all of the sudden everybody’s been trained: “Okay, now cluck like a chicken!” “Okay, now say David Duchovny’s handsome!” I mean, I was a normal-looking kid, and whoever you are and whatever you look like, there are always things you want to change. I just remember that I wished I was blond. And I wished that my nose were smaller and my lips were smaller and my eyes were bigger… you know, everything.
My hair decided it wanted to play nice today even though I forgot my hair brush, so I documented this rare phenomenon with some gratuitous pictures of myself, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bombshell, AKA Me
Like. That wasn’t even it. That wasn’t even the actual feather book. That was just a copy.
Even the COPY of the feather book had the power to TRAP SYAORAN’S SOUL IN A HELLSCAPE OF FORBIDDEN MEMORIES THAT NO-ONE COULD SNAP HIM OUT OF.
And there are THOUSANDS of these books, just, all over the place. Just casually. People sell these in stores and it’s popular enough that it’s even stocked in the library.
EVERYONE IS JUST, HAPPILY GOING THROUGH EXTENDED FLASHBACKS THROUGH EACH OTHERS’ MEMORIES FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME AND THIS IS BOTH A MARKETABLE AND PROFITABLE EXAMPLE OF THE KIND OF BOOKS AVAILABLE IN THIS COUNTRY.
Can we please never leave. Please. I want to read everything else they have.
Okay so, it’s Sunday and i’m out of good paper to draw anything new and everything is closed on Sunday so I can’t get more. I still have not-so-good paper that I can use for linearts but that’s pretty much it, sooo
How about we do an ask game thing or an anon hour later tonight? Some of you have been asking for one and it’s been a loooong time, and I miss talking w/ you all. I can still answer with little doodles, I just can’t paint them. I’ll let ya know!
It didn’t matter how you built your pyre. It
still doesn’t. You weren’t sure how you were going to fracture yourself and
fall together in a better way - like gravity, like collapsing into a black hole
- but if death is an inevitability, surely the death of an ego is inevitable
It wasn’t supposed to matter, but it did. You
carried sadness around you - you did, you did, and you still do. So what would
come first, the sadness or the memories that caused them? It was a sick
juxtaposition - it was the contrast between ‘okay’ and 'not okay’. You think
that if you had never learned how to be happy in the first place you wouldn’t
be so sad now. You think there’s still plenty of time left to be happy.
What did they - the pictures, the chatlogs,
the people - matter to you now anyway? Physicality is easy to burn, physicality
can disappear - into carbon under bunsen burners, into smoke. It was what came
after you were afraid of - of not having anything to look back at, of not being
able to pretend that this past was your future. It was not having these
security blankets - not being able to read these conversations and trace over these memories until they were
as smooth as your bathroom tiles from wear.
You think about them a lot. If a relationship
has ten effort units total, and you give all ten, then you’re not going to get
anything back. If you look up to someone, if you spend hours social media
stalking, if you keep up obsessively without getting any acknowledgement of
your existence, if you write emails that never get replies, if you spend hours
upon hours drafting messages that never get read - then do you not force them
to look down on you?
And you wanted to become something greater,
to become a phoenix at the threat of rebirth - wanted something of revenge, or
regret, or some other unnameable noun that started with r. You didn’t want to
become something greater if they weren’t going to look back at you.
But not now. The pyre is built and the
funeral is ready. There are no white flowers, no observers, no wills or last
rites. Nothing but you and the flame. Nobody will cry for your death - but then
again, do you need anyone to?
Saruhiko giving flowers to Misaki/Misaki giving flowers to Saruhiko <3
For Fushimi, I
think someone probably talks him into giving Yata flowers, like say
he and Yata have a fight and Fushimi’s in an extra bad mood because
of it which is when someone suggests he give Yata flowers as an
apology. Maybe the fight was actually about Fushimi’s lack of
romantic gestures anyway, like Yata’s always showing Fushimi a lot of
affection and while he understands that Fushimi’s not really a
naturally affectionate or demonstrative person the way Yata is it
also makes Yata feel kinda unappreciated sometimes, like does Fushimi
even really want to be with him at all since he barely ever acts like
they’re even together. The fight puts Fushimi in an extra bad mood
because he really does love Misaki he just has no idea how one
is supposed to express that and anyway Fushimi thinks demonstrative
displays of affection like buying your partner gifts is stupid anyway
(largely because he’s insecure at the very idea and so hates it by
default). There’s also probably that small lingering doubt that’s
always in the corner of his mind, that surely Yata deserves better
than him anyway and maybe it’s best if he just leaves and lets Yata
find someone new who actually deserves him. The alphabet squad sees
how upset Fushimi is and decides they must intervene to save
Fushimi-san’s love life, many ideas are floated as to how Fushimi can
apologize. Fushimi insists that he doesn’t need to apologize to
stupid Misaki but everyone is very insistent, like don’t you want him
to know how you really feel, Fushimi-san. In the end Fushimi really
does want to find a way to make it up to Yata, like he knows that
he’s not the easiest boyfriend to have and as much as he tells
himself Yata might be happier without him in truth Fushimi knows that
he can’t be happy without Yata.
So the alphabet
squad all gets together an they give Fushimi some money and shove him
in the direction of the nearest flower shop. Fushimi quickly gets
overwhelmed by all the fancy bouquets, like the romantic ones are way
too sappy and over the top and he doesn’t want to give Yata something
like that. Plus Fushimi’s allergies are acting up and he just wants
to get out of there. Then maybe he spies some small arrangement, like
just a couple sunflowers and he has the ridiculous thought that they
remind him of Misaki’s smile and suddenly he finds himself buying
them without really thinking. He shows up at their apartment a bit
later, debating whether he should just throw the flowers away and
leave, which is when Yata appears behind him, having just returned
from his part time job. Fushimi mutters that he was just leaving, the
flowers hidden behind his back, and tries to slip away, which is when
Yata yells his name and blocks his way. Fushimi expects Yata to say
something about how things aren’t working out and he’s had enough of
Fushimi and that he can’t make excuses for Fushimi anymore, braced
fully for the rejection he knows has to be coming.
Then he’s surprised
when Yata’s face flushes a little as Yata pulls his own bouquet of
forget-me-nots from behind his back and shoves it in Fushimi’s
face, saying that okay, yeah, Saruhiko is a jerk sometimes but at the
end of the day no matter what he’s also the one person Yata can’t
forget or leave behind, and he knows that he can’t force Fushimi into
a romantic role that doesn’t suit him. Turns out Yata went to Bar
Homra after the fight and got a similar pep talk from his clan, that
okay Fushimi’s not very romantic towards you but you also know how he
is and that if Yata really loves Fushimi and if he’s afraid that
Fushimi doesn’t love him then he needs to say it straight out rather
than hiding behind arguments about gifts and displays of affection.
Fushimi stares at the flowers for a moment and then slowly pulls his
own bouquet out, half-throwing it at Yata as he looks down and
mumbles that the flowers remind him of Misaki’s smile. Yata’s shocked
that Fushimi actually bought flowers for him and the reason behind
the choice just makes him feel this sudden rush of affection for his
stupid boyfriend, soon they’re all hugging and apologizing and they
end up going out and buying cute matching vases to display their
respective bouquets in.
Hux taking kylo to his nest for the first time.........
thank you so much for this
Kylo doesn’t know what planet
they’re on. He isn’t even sure the little backwater moon they landed on even has a name but Hux had piloted their
shuttle here without a hitch, expertly so.
Like he’s flown this route dozens of times before.
The forest is densely thick,
the high canopy shields them from the sunlight, creating a chill in the air.
Kylo stretches out with the Force, sensing no threats or dangers of any kind
but he frowns regardless. He sticks close to Hux, unknowing of where his omega
is leading him to but Hux’s scent is incredibly soothing, calmer than Kylo has
sensed it to be in a long time.
“You do know where you’re taking us, don’t you?” Kylo eventually says,
unable to keep his jitteriness to himself.
Hux turns to look at him, his
expression filled with derision. “Yes,
Ren. I know exactly where I’m leading us to. Relax. This place is safe. We’re
The mated pair trudge through
the woodland for only a few more minutes before Kylo begins to notice that the
canopy above them is thinning out, allowing the warm sun to beam down on them.
Stepping into a small clearing, Kylo blinks, having not expected to come across
a small, oddly-shaped house nestled in the glade, its wooden exterior helping it
to blend in among the surrounding scenery. Its slanted roof gives it an off-worldly feel,
like such architecture doesn’t belong on such a backwater planet, but Kylo
finds it oddly alluring, and oddly familiar.
Hux steps through the tall
grass that brushes against his knees to walk up the steps and onto the porch of
the house. Kylo follows, noting the nostalgic smile on Hux’s usually-stoic face. From the
pocket of his non-uniform trousers, Hux pulls a silver key into his palm,
admiring its shape for a second before he unlocks the door, looking over his
shoulder to his alpha with a wild admiration in his green eyes. Still frowning
and still confused as to what this strange little house is, Kylo follows Hux
through the door, though he’s immediately hit with Hux’s scent, though it’s not
emitting from his omega’s body, it’s in the very air around them.
The lights flicker on, engulfing
them in a warm glow. It’s extremely cosy, decorated intricately with
possessions that clearly have a lot a value; paintings and old books and
pottery. Kylo can feel the emotional charge radiating from the very walls.
“What do you think?” Hux asks,
shedding his jacket, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door.
Kylo closes his mouth, not releasing
that it’d fallen agape. “It’s…quaint. What is it?”
Hux inhales through his nose
for a few seconds before exhaling calmly. “It’s my nest.”
Kylo’s confusion dissipates in
an instant as the puzzle pieces seemingly fit together perfectly now. Omegas nest; create a safe haven for themselves
where they feel protected, surrounded by items that they draw comfort from. And
this is Hux’s. And Hux has willingly brought Kylo, his alpha, into his nest, his safe place, a gesture of tremendous
trust, Kylo thinks. He feels his heart flutter, their growing soulbond manifesting
as a flame in his mind, growing fiercer by the second, as though affirming
itself, growing stronger the longer Kylo stands in the place where his omega
feels most protected.
Grabbing hold of his alpha’s
hand, Hux leads Kylo away from the hall and into the room on the left, opening
the door slowly to reveal a messy-looking room, a bed in the middle of the mass
of blankets, clothes and old, fabric-bound books.
“But why would you choose a
forest planet for your nest? You hate the
outdoors,” Kylo asks, obviously puzzled by Hux’s choice of location.
“I didn’t choose it because I liked it. I chose it because it’s safe. And
the fact that I very much dislike woodland areas makes it safer,” Hux says, sounding impressed by his own logic. “This little
planet is practically the opposite of Arkanis. Green, bright, secluded. Ideal, really. ”
Kylo’s eyes graze across the room, noting a piece of worn, black clothing folded neatly and resting atop the
masses of blankets. He frowns, knowing that Hux wears no such clothing.