clashing is good

March 09

It must be said
the oddity –
all these years
and around this date
we have clashed
and ricocheted
to opposite ends
of silence.

So, happy birthday,
to you, woman of all shades:
white to brown to peach;
of lace and drapes,
tracks and trims;
many happy returns
of the day, for the year,
you turn older, wiser,
a little more jaded
by me.

May you have many more
to come, to celebrate,
though you prefer low-key,
I wish there had been
but one year of respite –
truce at this time –
to pamper you;
make you feel special
on your special day.

May your wishes come true;
May your growth be divine;
May your heart find solace;
May your soul soar supreme.

Interviewer: Are you happy for having been born?
Andrei Tarkovsky: Happy is not the right word. This world is not a place where we can be happy. It wasn’t created for man’s happiness, though many believe this is the reason of our existence. I think we are here to fight, so that good and evil can clash within us, and good may prevail, thus enriching us spiritually. It’s difficult to say whether we are happy or not: it doesn’t depend on us… There are times when one regrets being born, but life also gives us surprising things that, alone, are worth living. The issue of happiness doesn’t exist for me: happiness as such doesn’t exist.
—  Andrei Tarkovsky, A Poet in the Cinema

imagine pocket-sized jimin suddenly running across your table, holding up a toothpick like a sword and dramatically shouting “it is i, jimin!! and i am here to fight away your negative emotions!!!!!” and pocket-sized jungkook would pop out of nowhere in a huge black oversized tee screaming “yOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!!!!”. they would proceed to playfight with their toothpick swords and it would end with jimin pretending to stab jungkook in the heart, causing him to dramatically fall to the ground. both of them would erupt into loud laughter and they would remind you that they loved you and they hoped you feel better soon before running away and leaving you with a silly grin on your face.

It Doesn’t Mean What You Think It Does #2/Brazilian Culture: Differences #7

In Brazil we have two words for the colour black. It’s important to understand how they’re used so as to avoid giving (or receiving) insult:


Negro is a word in Portuguese that means “black/dark”, and is usually only used when describing a living thing, the exception almost always being in poetry/songs if it fits better for rhyme/meter/etc. 

e.g. A CD of lullabies I had as a kid had a song whose title was Negro céu (”Black Sky”).

The word for someone with dark skin is negro (pronounced “n’eh-gro”, not like “nee-gro” in English). 

To Brazilians the word negro has ZERO racist connotations. In fact, it’s the politically correct way to refer to someone who has dark skin.


The most commonly used word for the colour black in relation to objects/non-living things (and oftentimes animals too; e.g. gato preto - “black cat”). 

When used in reference to a person, it’s considered pejorative (unless used by someone who’s black).

Clint takes to twitter to rant about how you got the final kill on a mission.

Promo - @phan-is-our-resistance thanks for playing my game!

Imagine Ahkmenrah becoming jealous of your relationship with Lancelot.

The clanging of heavy iron swords echoed down the hallway. Ahkmenrah quickened his pace. You were spending more and more time with Lancelot. Which was something Ahkmenrah was none too happy about. The metallic sound grew louder as he approached the medieval exhibit. A deep voice accompanied each clash.  


“Good, good Y/N. I shall make a knight out of you yet.”


Ahkmenrah rolled his eyes. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t jealous of the relationship you had with Lancelot. You both seemed to grow closer every day. He turned the corner and stepped into the circular room. Ahkmenrah saw you bent over with Lancelot behind you, his chest on your back. Ahkmenrah froze. His jaw clenched. He balled his hands into fists. His eyes fixated on the knight, burning a hole straight through him. Ahkmenrah took one step closer. At that moment you elbowed the knight in the gut. Lancelot let out an ‘oof’ as you spun around to face him, bringing your sword up to his neck.


“Very good Y/N.” He chuckled.


“I have a good teacher.” You said.


Ahkmenrah cleared his throat. “Y/N, it is almost time if you have forgotten.” He announced clearly annoyed. “Or are you too busy now?”


One night about a month ago Tilly called you to come into work early. And by early she meant 8 hours before your shift started. She said she had something amazing to show you. She was not wrong. So, ever since then you came to work “early” every night. And not just because the entire museum came to life at night. There was a certain pharaoh whose company you enjoyed more than the other ‘exhibits’. You two became close. So close that once in a while you and Ahkmenrah explored a different part of London at night.


“Oh I didn’t forget Ahk. I was just wasting time until your mother decided to let you out to play.” You teased.


Ahkmenrah winced at the comment. He missed his parents terribly and was so thankful to finally find them. But the constant hovering of his mother embarrassed him immensely.


“I shall take my leave then.” Lancelot spoke. “Enjoy your evening. Oh and if you happen upon Huge Ackman, could you offer him my sincerest apologies. I still feel terrible that I tried to kick those false boulders at him.” He bowed at the both of you then left the room.


You turned to face Ahkmenrah. His gaze followed the knight out of the room. His jaw unclenching as Lancelot departed.


“So what’s the rush pharaoh?” You asked. “You haven’t even changed yet?”


He was still dressed in his royal garb. His eyes never left the doorway. He seemed not to hear you.


“Ahkmenrah?” You said louder. “Oi pharaoh!!”


Ahkmenrah finally turned toward you. His eyes still burning with jealousy. He had the strangest look on his face, a mixture of sadness and anger.


“What’s your problem?” You asked.


“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He mumbled.


“That’s a bold faced lie.” You snorted. “What’s wrong?”


“Nothing. Is. Wrong. Y/N.” He reiterated.


“Oh really?” You said cocking an eyebrow at him.


“Yes really.” He answered hotly.


You walked around Ahkmenrah and stood in front of the double doors of the exhibit. Crossing your arms over your chest and narrowing your eyes at him.


“We are not going anywhere until you tell me why you are acting like this.” You stated.


“Y/N, please. Can we just leave?” Ahkmenrah pleaded. “I do not wish to argue with you.”


“No. You have been acting peculiar lately. A bit pissy with me when Lancelot is around. I am not going anywhere with you until you tell me why.” You told him.


“Y/N. Please.” Ahkmenrah groaned as he dropped his head, staring at the floor.


“No. Talk.” You barked at the pharaoh.


“Why do you spend so much of your time with him?” He spat, raising his head to look you in the eye.  


“Uh, probably because he is my friend.” You answered. “I like hanging out with Lancelot. He’s teaching me how to fight. With swords. I like listening to his stories about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It’s one of my favorite legends. Besides, I can spend my time with whoever I wish.” You said, fuming.


“Are you sure that’s all?” He sneered.


“Yes.” You snapped at him. “What do you care?”


“Because he is not even real.” He yelled. “He’s made of wax, he cannot do for you what I can. He cannot possibly care for you as much as…” His voice trailed off. He turned his back to you, not wanting you to see the look of shame on his face.


You stood there frozen in shock. His accusations were absurd. You liked Lancelot. But the way you felt for Ahkmenrah was different. You were so enamored with the pharaoh. Although right now he was being a complete dick. But, did he just say he cared about you? The thought of him caring for you, wanting you, left you breathless.


“I am sorry Y/N. I did not mean to raise my voice to you like that.” Ahkmenrah said avoiding eye contact. “You do not deserve to be treated that way.”


He began to walk by you. You reached out to him as he passed, lightly touching his arm. He stopped. You pulled on his arm until his body was in front of yours. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet yours. You smirked at him. His face changed from guilt to confusion. You placed one hand on his wesekh collar. Stroking the different jewels. A light shade of crimson appeared on his cheeks.


“So pharaoh, a wee bit jealous, are we?” You asked as your hand trailed down off his collar to touch his abdomen.


Ahkmenrah gasped as your fingers touched his skin. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, lightly touching his forehead to yours. Your hands began to glide up his chest, underneath his collar. Your fingers tracing the outline of his pectoral muscles.


“Y/N.” He moaned.


“You like me then, hmmm? Do you want me Ahkmenrah?” You purred as a devilish grin spread across your face. “All you have to do is say it. Tell me you want me. And all shall be forgiven.”


He opened his eyes and stared into yours. His pupils were large, dark and blazing with lust. The sight of him in his present state sent shivers down your spine. He grabbed your hips and shoved you backwards against the wall. His hands slid up your body until one was resting against your shoulder. The other in your hair. He was barely touching you but you were drowning in pleasure nonetheless.


“I want you.” Ahkmenrah growled pulling your head back, exposing your neck.


He dipped his head down and started kissing up your throat. Warmth radiated from the spot where his lips touched your neck, slowly spreading throughout the rest of you. He kissed your jaw line, then began to nibble your earlobe. Your fingers ghosted over his chest, then landed on his nipples giving them a slight pinch. His moans vibrated against your skin.  


“I want you, now Y/N” He said, his voice low and hungry.


He cupped your face with both his hands. Before you knew it his lips crashed into yours. His kiss was desperate, needy. You opened your mouth and moaned. Ahkmenrah seizing the moment, thrust his tongue inside. He tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss. Your fingers dug into his chest, scratching all the way down to his waist. Ahkmenrah pulled back, sucking your bottom lip as he did. He licked his lips as if he was savoring the taste of you. You stared into each other’s eyes. He smiled then bit his lower lip. Slowly leaning back in, he brushed his lips against yours. Just then a horrible screeching sound came over the PA system causing both of you to jump. Tilly’s voice followed soon after.


“Sorry, sorry everyone. Just pushed somethin’ I shouldn’t’ve. Please carry on as usual. I’ve fixed it. No worries.”


Before either of you could speak the ground began to shake. Trixie came barreling in with Lancelot in pursuit.


“Calm down girl. It’s alright. It was just a silly noise. It’s all over now.” He yelled at the large skeletal dinosaur.


Trixie’s tail whipped around the room in her panicked state. Ahkmenrah wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you to the safety of the hallway. Once out of harm’s way you turned your attention back to the pharaoh. With one hand you cupped his face, bringing your lips inches from his ear.  


“Come on. Tilly’s shack, let’s go.” You whispered to Ahkmenrah.


He smirked at you and nodded. And with that, you both ran down the hallway as fast as your feet could go.

There are definitely pieces to the Netflix One Day at a Time redo that I like a lot, but they held onto that late 20th century sitcom aesthetic, complete with laughtrack and familial sarcasm, and I just… can’t… watch… anymore…

The beautiful @tothepit tagged me to list 10 songs I’ve been listening to recently so here we go.
I won’t even go into Ghost because those are obviously a given at this point lol.

1. No More Heroes - The Stranglers
2. The Pit - Priest
3. Suzanne - Creeper
4. God Damn - Avenged Sevenfold
5. Aurelia - AFI
6. Straight to Hell - The Clash
7. Love You Good - Marmozets
8. Dark Entries - Bauhaus
9. Shut Up and Kiss Me - Marianas Trench
10. The Passenger (cover) by Siouxsie and the Banshees

I’ll tag @lysergic-saturnine-desert @thepastelghoul @the-nameless-ghuleh @jakemcmac @the-unholy-abbey-of-ghost @therealcrybaby and anyone else that’s wants in on it! 💜

Sam’s Possessions


Demonic nightmares weren’t a new thing to Sam Winchester. He had come to deal with them as a daily part of his life as they had been there since he could remember. Mary had said he’d always had night terrors, even as a young baby. The first six months he’d been fine, a perfect sleeper through the night hours but one night that had all changed and no one knew why or what had caused it. The first few years had been nothing short of miserable, some nights he’d barely slept at all and when he did his dreams were plagued.

Doctors didn’t help, not even talking to head doctors because no one could ever find a problem…there wasn’t one. Home life was pretty decent, John could be a little argumentative sometimes and Sam knew he didn’t do much to help that since he was just as stubborn and hardheaded. So yeah they clashed but John was good people, so was Mary. Sam didn’t have any issues with Dean either, hell Dean was his best friend as much as he was his brother—even Adam wasn’t bad. So why he was so messed up in the head to the point of being a near insomniac no one could even begin to explain and most days Sam just figured he was one of those rare messed up people born into a decent family with no other purpose than to be the black sheep.

It was that line of thinking that left no one surprised at all when he’d started smoking pot at the ripe old age of sixteen but hey it made things better and for the first time in his life he actually managed to sleep—really sleep. When he closed his eyes he didn’t see yellow eyes looking at him or hear voices whispering in his head telling him how great he could be if he just gave in to the darkness. For the first time he was really on track with his life and even had entertained the thought of going to college, maybe he’d become a lawyer or something like that.

It had worked too…

At twenty years old he was on living on his own, getting ready to start his second years of pre-law and still the pot was helping him sleep and half the time he had himself convinced that whatever yellow eyed demon haunted his childhood and youth was long gone.

He was safe.

The blackouts started three weeks ago.

Sam remembered the first one, the searing headache it had brought with it. He’d been study, thankfully at home, getting a head start on the impending school year ahead of him. There hadn’t been any warning pain, just a heat that had felt like it was trying to burn him from the inside out followed by a pain in his head so strong he’d passed out there on his bed. When he’d woken up it was the middle o the night, darkness had settled in the tiny apartment he had. The only indication of his headache was the blood covering his nose and staining the bed where he’d passed out along with two missed calls from Dean.

The next blackout came a day or so later but it wasn’t proceeded with any pain. One second he’d been fixing some ramen to eat and then hours later he was waking up on the couch. The living room had been a mess, the coffee table scooted too far over, the window opened when he normally kept it closed and the ramen was overcooked but thankfully off the burner. It had been worrisome but Sam had tossed it up for being too high to remember what he was doing and had closed everything up and gone to bed.

The next three days were lost to him.

This odd behavior had continued over the next three weeks with things getting progressively worse. The time between blackouts seemed to be getting less and less and each time he came to it seemed like his place was messier or that he himself was more of a wreck.

The final straw had been when he’d woken up to find blood covering his lips and chin, blood that hadn’t belonged to him at all. He’d freaked and called Dean but halfway through the conversation it had happened again and now…well Sam wasn’t really sure what was going on now.

Coming to he tried to move his hands but they seemed to be tied down the head of his bed frame. A dreadful panic surged through him followed by that same searing pain that had been in his head the first time he’d blackout but this time he wasn’t slipping under. The chanting of words around him seemed to be pulling something from him and he was vaguely aware that Dean was there with dad somewhere in the distance telling him to hold on.

Sam didn’t remember much more after that, just a bright light and then nothing—not until hours later when he woke up on his bed, sweat leaving him feeling cold as exhaustion settled into his bones. Moving his arms he took note that he was free and capable of moving but it hurt and he was pretty sure his wrists had bruises on them from where he’d apparently fought to get free…funny how he didn’t remember doing that.

“Dean,” he asked as he sat up blinking a sleepy fog from his eyes. “Dean are you still here? What the hell happened?”