cool times and life as always

i think calum would be totally shocked the first time you cried  in front of him. like, you’re just sitting on the couch listening to some music together and suddenly you start crying. he starts panicking cause you always say that you never crying and there you are, bawling uncontrollably on the couch and he tries to ask you what is wrong and you’re trying to tell him that you used to listen to that song with an special person in your life that is not in your life anymore but he can’t understand anything because of your sobs. so he just moves closer and awkwardly opens his arms for you (because he’s never been in a situation where he had to comfort someone) and rubs your back until you calm down, leaving a few kisses on your forehead, silently telling you that everything’s okay. 

A Very Serious Review Of Waterholes, by G. G. Dog, esq, Resident Forest Puddle/Really Big Stick Quality Control Officer

Peoplefriends with cars are THE BEST. Forest walks are THE BEST. Puddles are THE BEST. Giant sticks are THE BESTEST

Waterhole 1.

Right at the start of the walk, so BEST because convenient. Could dive in straight away before I got hot. Not very deep though and no good sticks.
3 stars.

Peoplefriends called me away before I could grab the nice straight stick an old man was walking around with. Found a better stick not far from there though. BEST STICK.

Waterhole 2:

Middle of the walk, and this one is always full so I zoom ahead long before the peoplefriends get there so I have extra swimming time.
It wasn’t as full as last time but still, nice and big, BEST mudding properties, a good cool place to stop and play with BEST STICK. 4 stars.

Waterhole 3
THE BEST PUDDLE - 5 stars

HUGE and there was an EVEN BETTER BEST STICK

The REALLY EXCELLENT BEST STICK

In conclusion: BEST DAY EVER

It Takes A Long Time To Get Over Yourself


Oh, man. This letter has taken me an embarrassingly long time to write. Probably because I haven’t written anything but e-mails and Tweets for 12 years.

If the last year has taught me anything, it’s this: it takes a long time to get over yourself.

Last March, after 7 years on the road, I decided to take a break. I was excited about this. I’d imagined myself watching tv all day, being a “chill person”, eating doughnuts because I didn’t have to wear latex catsuits anymore. The reality was not quite the joy ride I’d been expecting.

I’ve been an artist for over a decade but up until this year, I hadn’t realised how much my sense of self had been defined by my role as an artist. I’d never thought of “Marina and the Diamonds” as a persona or a construct, and I didn’t think the stage-me was very different to the sofa-me. MATD was an exciting vehicle that helped me express ideas and thoughts to people. But just as people construct online personas, artist construct visual ones, and over time, the lines between art and reality can drift apart. 

I can’t remember when I first became conscious of it but I started to feel like there were two parts of me, artist self and private self, and there was nothing in between to link the two anymore. I was one or the other, and neither part of my personality could be present in the same environment. Perhaps because I’d spent most of the past 8 years devoted to being an artist and this hadn’t presented many opportunities for other parts of my personality to grow. When one part of a personality dominates, other parts shrink and life can take on an unreal, two-dimensional quality. I felt confused as to why I no longer felt like I fit into the world I’d built. I don’t think my feelings are exceptional (particularly in entertainment) but I wonder if you are someone who has experienced this in a different context.

I’ve always been interested in identity. In my twenties, I felt frustrated by how regularly my identity seemed to shift and change until I began to consider the idea that a fixed self may not exist. I explored this in “Electra Heart” by deconstructing aspects of female identity in a portrayal of female archetypes. However, the past year has made me re-examine this idea. Not being able to equate my identity to a job, project or visible entity has created a lot of discomfort and uncertainty in me. Which has been a surprise, as I thought I felt secure in myself. How can I be so sure of who I am if I am so susceptible to change? A lot of what contributes to our idea of identity is down to pure chance - ethnicity, social class, upbringing, religion, job, relationships - who are we without those influences?

Everything in western culture feels so geared towards self-definition, but I wonder if having a looser idea of yourself could make life richer. The past year hasn’t been full of rainbows - I feel like my brain has been brutally rewired - but letting go of a perceived idea of myself has resulted in a new kind of personal freedom. My image is no longer a main source of identity, nor are previous signifiers like clothing (more on this in a future post), designer brands + other things I subconsciously used to define myself.

Lasting change rarely happens over night. This past year has been painful and slow. But I’m in a more genuine space than I was a year ago and I would never want to go back to that stunted way of being again. In fact, the only solace I had in this period was being able to read the books and blogs of other people experiencing significant life transitions, so I hope this might be of help to anyone who is going through a similar stage.

Truth is, I’m not planning ahead much right now. I am indeed going through my “what should I do with the rest of my life” phase that most people go through at 21. Which is… cool. But I’m grateful to have the opportunity to explore different interests, and starting marinabook is a part of that. I’m starting a Psychology course soon, which I am SO excited about, and I’m ready for a brand new chapter. I hope you’ll be a part of it.

Some people have been asking about new music and I’m always flattered to be asked. I know one year is like an aeon in digital time! The honest answer is I don’t know when that will be, but the connection I have with music has always flowered from an honest connection with myself, and I trust my instincts. Whenever I get back on stage again, I would love to feel like I am the sum of my parts, not the sum of a persona or an image. That’s the goal. A lot of reality with a little bit of fantasy. So, marinabook is a way for us to stay connected while I work that out.

I miss you all!

Ask a question or share thoughts here.

Love from,
Marina

Further Reading

Brilliant explanation of personas here. 5 minute read.

Podcast on how our views about the Self affect our views on death.  By “Philosophy Bites”.  15 minutes.

Illustration by Lan Truong

Scenario where Keith is almost late for a class he has a major test in and accidentally grabs Lance’s jacket instead of his own (Which had his chew stims that help him focus) and by the time he realizes this he’s already at school/campus.

Keith: Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu- *phone rings*

Keith: Hello?

Lance: Hello Keith, light of my life, beacon of light in the ever pressing darkness, my very reason for smiling every day even if you do have that stupid mullet, did you by any chance take my jacket when you left.

Keith: …maybe

Lance: Okay cool, check the front left pocket real quick.

Keith: *pulls out a few granola bars*

Keith: Why are there granola bars?

Lance: Hmmm check the other pocket?

Keith: *pulling out his chew stims*

Keith: …How

Lance: You always seem late when it’s a test day and forget them at home and somehow “accidentally” steal my jacket in the process so I improvised. Okay I gotta go I think Allura’s calling, love you!

Keith:

Keith:

Keith:

Keith: *calling Shiro*

Shiro: Hello?

Keith: Shiro I’m gonna marry Lance.

me: even though adhd is rough to live with, i enjoy aspects of it! i enjoy discussing adhd, advocating for myself and neurodivergent people, and i honestly don’t think i would give it up if i could. it’s an obstacle, but i love it and it gives me a unique outlook on life that i don’t think neurotypical people/people without adhd experience.

also me: wow it would be FUCKING GREAT if i could DO THINGS like not run into shit, arrive to places on time, and have a basic grip on impulse control!!! social skills would be cool too but you can’t always get what you want i guess!

I’m so happy with the way Nancy turned out. The response to her is really satisfying. A lot of times, there’s a lot of damsel and victim roles around. It was nice for me to get to play a girl who finds her strength, who is really courageous and does cool things. I was really happy with that. I hope that I brought that to life in some way. Nancy is all badass. I always love to give credit to the Duffers for giving the backbone to that character.

anonymous asked:

(1) Hi Viria, I hope you are well :) I am sorry to bother you with this, but it's really important for me, and I wanted to share it with you. It'll be long and kinda sad at first, but it gets better, trust me. I'm a 23 y/o latina art student. When I was a baby, my mom left my dad and remarried, and my little sister was born when I was 10. She is the light of my life and I love her to no end. Our mom, however, had had and undiagnosed and untreated mental illness for years, and one day

(2) during a severe crisis she hurt us really bad. I was 12. She was taken away to a psychiatric hospital and Child Services prohibited her from ever getting near us again. Since then, I have been taking care of my little sister and practically raised her while my stepdad worked 2-3 shifts to afford our education and payment for my mom’s hospital, living and meds. He was always working and I took full responsibility for my sis. As you can imagine, even though I loved her with my life, 

 (3) the situation was very stressful and exhausting for me. By the time I was 15, I looked every bit a teen mom. One particularly hard night when my little sis had been crying about mom, I couldn’t sleep. So I turned to something that calmed me: the Harry Potter books. I read them online, and somehow ended up searching for HP fanart. That was the night I stumbled upon your DA account. And boy, did I love it! I know back in 2011 your skills weren’t what they are now,

(4) but I was blown away, and what’s more, I felt inspired to draw. I had never tried to make any art before; it wasn’t “my thing”. But that night, you inspired me. As time went by I kept drawing and closely followed your improvements. Your art was so relaxing, calming, and inspiring, that it really helped me during hard times. You kinda dragged me into all the cool fandoms, series and animes, and I found life to be far more bearable with so many awesome things to love and think about.

(5) Your DA and Tumblr were some sort of safe sapce for me. It always cheered me up and gave me joy, peace, inspiration. When the time came, I choose to study Art at college. It turned out you did too, and you kept up all the good stuff in your blogs. Weirdly enough, I kept feeling a sense of pride whenever you improved and got better. I was so strange that you were so so far away and didn’t even know I existed but you helped me so much.

(6) I got accepted at my country’s top University to study Fine Arts; I moved cities and took my sister with me; she grew into a wonderful, sensible, peaceful child, and her presence motivated me to be the best version of myself, while your art motivated me to keep expanding my academic/artistic abilities. Life was hard but good at college, and I had incredible opportunities. I am graduating this spring with an advanced studies specialization, and was recently hired to work at

(7) of a movie. It’s like living a dream. And tonight, just a couple hours ago, the most incredible thing happened. After dinner, my little sis came to me, phone in hand, and said “Hey Ana, you won’t believe what I found. There’s this girl who makes amazing art of all the fandoms you’re in. Her drawings are gorgeous and she has so many!”. She showed me your tumblr. I wanted to laugh and cry. She was amazed when she saw your old drawings and your current ones; speechless.

(8) She fell in love, and you know what? Immediatly after, she went to draw. She’s been doing so the past hours. I know this was offensively long, but Viria, I needed to thank you for what you did. Your art has always been SO much more than just digital drawings of fictional characters. It’s been the source of peace, safety and joy that so many of us crave. You have wonderfully impacted and influenced many people across the world with everything you make.

(9) I am so glad you exist and do what you do; you gave me the hobby that grew into my passion, thaught me so much, inspired me beyond belief and most of all, you helped make life more bearable. And now, you have made the same for my sister. Viria, the world wouldn’t be the same without you. You are truly a magnificent light among us, and for your existence and passion I’ll be forever grateful. Thank you, and may you always live the beautiful, happy, awesome life you deserve. Thank you.


I’m not even kidding I was sitting here peacefully chewing sandwich and by the end of these messages the sandwich was too salty so was my cappuccino I swear you got me to tears and now i’m just like

I’m a shaking emotional leaf but thank you so much for writing me! It means so much and i’m so touched and i just wish you and your sister all the best of luck, though it seems like you don’t really need it. Thank you, and I hope life goes wonderfully for you and your family! 

Rest Stop

Lance was never proud of the one thing that could make him stand out.

(The one thing that made him stand, even in his family, the one thing that destroyed the chances of affection and hugs and attention, the one thing he’d never move past, the one thing that’d always haunt him, the one thing that could get someone killed)

Lance was born with a smooth back, tan skin free of birth marks but full of freckles. Lance was born with beautiful blue eyes, deep tawny hair, and a dazzling smile. Lance was not born with a pair of wings.

Lance was wingless.

Less than 1% of the world was wingless, and that meant those who were….never had good fates. Abandonment, abuse, neglect, suicide rates almost a solid 100….anyone born wingless in this time and age was destined a shitty fate, to die for the lack of something they could not have.

But Lance did not.

His mother hated him with her very soul, but even she wasn’t heartless enough to murder someone, no matter how indirectly. His siblings might laugh with him, might eat with him, but they were never around for more than a few seconds, tossing looks over their shoulder for a parent or aunt or uncle. Lance was hidden away, kept out of sight by his parents and family for his whole life, living in the attic or traipsing the private stretch of beach that had been in his family for years, hearing the voice of the sky but never being able to answer it. (Not like he could without wings, anyway)

But then, he found a way he could.

The Galaxy Garrison, a military school where uniforms over wings were required, where group preening, cuddling, and flying sessions were encouraged but never mandatory. A place he could hide in plain sight and still see the sky. A place Lance signed up for in secret, got a scholarship, and shoved it all at his parents, the father who’d taught him the wingless were useless and the mother who never hugged him. A place that hate crimes couldn’t trace back to and murder his family if his secret ever got out.

It was too good to be true.

And it was. Lance was never the best, always mocked for trying to answer the call of the sky for the first time in his life. It wasn’t like when he’d answered the push and pull of the ocean. The ocean was cool, sometimes cold or freezing, but sage, wise and ready to crash and fall and crest back up. Ready to change, ready to grow, ready to soothe. Content to watch and learn, finding complexity in the simplest things, but brave enough to venture out on it’s own, to try on its own to live up and live past expectatons. The ocean was a gentle hand running over his back, swirling him around in currents of fate and past, gentle but wild, pushing but never shoving.

The sky shoved, but in what Lance saw as a good way. Watching gaggles of siblings and uncles and aunts swoop and soar, thrown out into organized anarchy midair, riding drafts. The sky was wild, insane. It could not sit still, it could not listen, it could not be gentle or understand. It was headstrong or helpful, stubborn or relenting. There was no in between. When it’s chicks matured and reached for the air, the sky threw them out, to the ground or the air.

A few chicks crashed, or came close, but they picked themselves back up, flapped with crooked or straight feathers, and chased the others. The ocean did not work that way. It could mimic, but it would never let it’s young crash or drown unless it was the best choice. Lance was glad for that, though he knew the sky would have pushed him faster, harder, to be who he could be, he knew he’d be the rare smashed egg, splattered on the concrete.

If it took years, he didn’t care. He was alive.

Lance remembers the looks at the Garrison at night or on weekends when he wore a bulky jacket and the issued pajamas, instead of snatching the chance to stretch his wings. The stares, the quirked eyebrows that the kid who joked, flirted, and screamed on a regular basis wouldn’t try for more attention.

Hunk, dear god Hunk, had wings big enough for both of them.

Beautiful, mahogany feathers that glowed golden on the ends when light shined on them. Thick, massive wings that he’d drape around Lance’s shoulder, wings that engulfed him in warmth and affection and took away unwanted attention. Too many people saw Hunk’s wings as plain. Lance saw them as a fucking savior, the first thing to treat him nicely and warmly.

But this savior need protecting from the savee.

Which was why Lance never told Hunk, or the team, that he was wingless.

Even Alteans had wings.

Coran’s were a gorgeous tangerine color, white, brown, red, and black speckles slipping between the feathers and coating them like candy sugar. Allura’s were an exact image of Alfor’s, deep, black wings the color of the vastness around them, silver streaks and dots making constellations that shined in lights.

The team’s may have been Earthen, but god, were they ethereal. Shiro, had a collage of slate gray and white, individual feathers breaking layers of colors, proof of the stress of the Arena. They peaked at the top, and were enormous, taller than Hunk’s but not quite as wide or thick. Pidge’s wings were peaked, but they curved out into cute little floofs. They only reached her hips, not past her calves or thighs like everyone else. They clearly weren’t fully grown, but Lance loved their speckled outsides, the tawny, earthy, color so close to her hair but clearly had a more hay-ish tint.

And Keith.

Holy shit, Keith.

His wings were like giant sparrow wings, angular but not peaked, wide burgundy curtains of feathers that fell to his thighs. They were warm, and firm, like a well trained muscle (which they were, technically). The ends were sharp and sleek, but the shy wing touches he sometimes gave Lance proved they were incredibly soft. Lance was always reminded of a wolf when he saw them; built for fast paced marathons. They were no where near as strong as Hunk’s, but Lance had watched Keith carry a Pidge in a simulated rescue. Wings weren’t designed to carry more than the weight of one person, the person with them.

He would never have a pair of wings.

So he reveled in the freedom that lacking a pair of wings gave him. Lance climbed, slept on his back, swam, and learned how to read emotions through little tics. The swimming came easily, like the ocean changed for him, parted and shifted to let him pass or propel him ahead. Lance knew he did. Wings weren’t an instant evolution. Generations of humans developed the genes and mutations of wings - Lance wasn’t just going to instantaneously sprout gills. He could, however, form a thin membrane as a sideways, second pair of eyelids. The same membrane acted as a moveable filter in his ears to hear underwater, and a slight webbing between his fingers. Strategically placed, retractable fangs a little bigger than his front teeth weren’t hard either.

The most notable change was when his legs stopped kicking, his knees disabled, and they swished back and forth. He could easily switch to kicking, but the longer he spent in the water, the more his legs acted as a single mass of flesh and bone. It wasn’t a tail, and Lance sometimes thought he was imagining it, but it was like a snake’s body, swinging side to side to move forward.

Wings were amazingly expressive, every angry twitch or nervous shuffle gave way to a mindscape, a scope of emotions and thoughts Lance learned to pick up on. Hiding your wings was seen as a sign of fear, distrust, and refusing to show them was a red flag in any relationship, platonic or romantic. It was normal to reach out and rest a wing on someone else’s as a sign of reassurance, and to purposely keep your tucked away meant you didn’t trust anyone with them. Your wings were essentially your life - if they got wet or mutilated you were grounded, tied to Earth and water.

And water drowned.

To his team, Lance was a hallow corpse without emotions. He was jello before it froze. They could hear his laugh, see his smiles, hear his cheers. But without his wings, the team couldn’t read him clearly. It was like they had lost their glasses, and Lance was the blurred board they couldn’t see, couldn’t guess, couldn’t decipher more than a few letters from.

They didn’t know, so they couldn’t understand. Lance wasn’t sure if he ever wanted them to understand.

Lana Del Rey says Donald Trump helped shape her album ‘Lust For Life’ — and the world needs feminism more than ever.
The singer has returned to the world of music with her fourth studio album in five years.

By Jacqui Swift for The Sun (UK).

LANA DEL REY’s latest album glitters with an all-star cast.
On ‘Lust For Life,’ her most impressive album yet, Lana teams up with heavyweights such as The Weeknd, Stevie Nicks, Sean Ono Lennon and A$AP Rocky.

They are the first collaborations in her career so far, which spans five studio albums, including four in the past five years — an impressive work rate for the Los Angeles-based star.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Maybe some time you could talk about Susan and what it would be like if she didn't desert Narnia

How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan?

What if, instead of sending a stag to lead them astray, the Pevensies had been given time to end their first rule– to have finished their reports, their negotiations and treaties, that letter in the bureau Lucy was half-done penning to Mrs. Beaver to thank her for the fruitcake and to ask about her grandchildren. 

They had lived there more than a decade then, grown from children to kings and queens, to brave young adults with responsibility heavy on their shoulders. They had lived through storms and wars, peace and joy, lost friends to battle and old age and distance. They had made a home. What if they had been given time to say good-bye? 

What if we didn’t tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn’t have again. 

There is nothing wrong with Lucy loving Narnia all her life, refusing an adulthood she didn’t want for a braver, brighter one she built herself. But there is also nothing wrong with Susan trying to find something new to fall in love with, something that might love her back. 

You can build things in lipsticks and nylons, if you don’t mind getting a few runs in them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be pretty, especially when pretty is the only power left to you. 

Let’s talk about being the last one left. No, really, think about it. You get a call in the middle of the night, in the little flat you can just barely afford, and you are told there has been an accident. 

Think about it, that moment– you scramble over everyone you know, everyone you love, and try to figure out where they all are that night. There are things rushing in your gut, your fingertips, your lungs, your ears– there are words in your ears as the tinny, sympathetic voice starts to tell you: it is everyone. 

They were on a train. Something went wrong. They probably died instantly. A rushing sound. A bright light. (You try to imagine it, for years. You try not to think about it. You imagine it, for years–a rushing sound, a bright light.)

Your little sister, who you always felt the most responsible for, who you never understood, really– Your big brother, who disapproved of your choices but loved you with a steadiness you could never regret leaning into– Your little brother, a smug and arrogant ass except for the days when he drowned in self doubt– Ed was going to go far and you knew it, were waiting for it, were shoring up your defenses and your eye rolls for the days when he’d think he ruled the world–

Your mother is gone. Your father, with his stuffy cigar smell and big hands and the way he got distracted telling stories– he is gone. Your cousin Eustace, who suddenly lost that stick in his ass one summer. That friend of his, Jill, who you’d never actually quite met. Gone. A rushing sound. A bright light. 

Go on. Walk through this with me. You can’t sleep all night long, because you still can’t understand it, still can’t quite breathe in a world where you are the last Pevensie. You finally fade sometime between midnight and dawn and when you wake up you don’t remember for half a second. You think ugh and you think sunshine why and then you remember that you are an orphan, an only child. You remember there probably isn’t anyone else to handle the funeral arrangements. 

Get up. Make tea. Forget to eat breakfast and feel nauseous and empty all day. Call the people who need to be called. Your work, to ask for the time off. The mortuary, to ask about closed caskets. Distant relations. Friends. Edmund’s girlfriend and Peter’s boss. You listen to Lucy’s friends weep hysterics into the phone while you stare out the kitchen window and drink your fourth cup of tea. You call Professor Diggory, out at the old house with the wardrobe that started it all, and it rings and rings. You don’t find out for three days that he died in the train crash too. When you do, you stare at the newspaper article. You think of course

You are twenty one years old. You have ruled a kingdom, fought and won and prevented wars, survived exile and school and your first day as a working woman. Nothing has ever felt worse than this. You have a necklace in your dresser you meant to give your mother, because she loves rubies and this glass is painted a nice ruby red and it is all you can afford on your tiny wages. 

Excuse me, a correction: she loved rubies. She is dead. You never wear the necklace. You cry yourself to sleep for weeks. The first night you don’t cry, the first morning you wake up rested, you feel guilty. You wonder if that will live in the pit of your stomach all your life and you don’t know. The years reach out in front of you, miles and eons of loss. You are on the very shore of this grief and you do not know how you will survive feeling like this for the rest of your life. But you will survive it. 

Get up. Make tea. Make yourself eat breakfast. Make plans with a school friend to do lunch. Go to work and try to bury yourself in the busyness of it. Remember that you’d promised to lend Peter a hand with some task or other, but you don’t even remember what it was– Collapse. Hide in the bathroom until you’re breathing again. Redo your makeup and leave work the moment your shift is over. Drop your nylons and your sweater and your heels in the apartment hallway. Fall into bed and pull the covers over your head. 

Get up. Make tea. Eat. Don’t think about them for weeks. Don’t feel guilty when you remember. Feel proud. Spend an indulgent weekend in your pajamas, reading Lucy’s favorite novel and making Ed’s favorite cookies and remembering the way your mother smelled and how it always made you feel safe. Love them and miss them and mourn them. Keep breathing. Cry, but wash your face after in cool water. Wake in the morning to birdsong and spend three hours making breakfast just the way you like it. 

Imagine the next birthday, the next Christmas, the next time you hit one of those days that herald the passage of time, that tell you how much you’ve grown and how much they haven’t. 

Lucy, Peter, and Edmund will be at the same height for the rest of your life. Lucy will always be seventeen for the second time. You see, you think you know, when you lose them, what the dagger in you feels like. But it grows with you, that ache. You grow with it, too, learn how to live with that at your side but it grows, that ache, finds new ways to twist– 

At the first friend’s wedding you go to, you cry because it’s lovely, those two smiling and promising and holding hands– but you also cry because you wonder what Lucy would have looked like in white, joyous and smiling and promising the rest of her life to a boy who deserved her. 

Go on. You tell me if Susan deserted a world or if a whole life deserted her. You tell me who was left behind. 

So yes, let’s talk about it– what if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan? What if lipstick and nylons were things worn and not markers of worth? 

What if we had a story that told little girls they could grow up to be anything they wanted– all of Lucy’s glory and light, Susan’s pretty face and parties, the way Jill could move so quiet and quick through the trees? 

Because you know, some of those little girls? They were the little mothers, too old for their age, who worried and wondered, who couldn’t believe like Lucy or charge like Jill. Susan was reasonable, was hesitant and beautiful and gentle, was pretty and silly and growing up, and for it she was lost. She was left. And when Susan was left, so were they. 

The little girls who worried louder than they loved, who were nervous about climbing trees and who would never run after the mirage of a lion, who looked at the pretty women in the grocery store and wondered if they would grow up pretty too– some of them looked at their little clever doubting hands, after they read Peter and Eustace and Jill scoffing at Susan’s vanities, and they wondered what they were worth. 

Imagine a Narnia that believed in all of them. Imagine a Narnia that believed in adult women, lipsticked or not. Imagine Susan teaching Jill how to string a bow, arms straining. Imagine her brushing blush on Lucy’s cheeks, the first time Lu went out walking with a boy she was considering falling in love with. Imagine that when the last door to Narnia was shut, there was not a sister left behind. 

After some thinking, I want to politely point out a few things to those of you saying Touka and Kaneki’s sex scene was rushed and meaningless.

Did kaneki and touka rush into having sex? Yes. But that’s entirely the point - in no way does that make it meaningless or perverted.

Kaneki and Touka have seen all of this happen before. Their hideout has been found. Their faces have been unmasked. Kaneki is the most wanted ghoul in Japan, and this is pretty much the beginnings of war for them. People are going to die. And they both know it can be either one of them at any time. Neither of them were going to wait for the “perfect moment, ” not when there’s a good chance that neither of them will live to see it.

What you’ve got to remember is that people don’t always make the best decisions when it comes to sex. More often than not, people get caught up in the moment and do it before they should do. This rushed nature is actually quite realistic. Even with Yorirko’s life hanging, Touka is keeping cool because she knows jumping to conclusions and being rash will do no good - she’s seen this before with Hinami’s mother.

Touka has experienced enough loss to know that she has to live for the living, and do whatever she can to keep those people alive. Sure, she’ll fight to protect kaneki, but that isn’t always what it’s about; with kaneki being suicidal in the past, she’s trying her best to give him an incentive to live. She’s letting Kaneki know that he’s loved even though she struggles to express anything other than her primal emotions. Kaneki needs to know that he’s loved right now. If there was anything more about Hide right now, it would be a bad turn for kaneki since he’d be living for the dead. It’s so important that he learns other people than Hide care for him that I’m shocked that people actually want Hide related stuff instead of this. Even though Touken wasn’t my favourite ship, I’m so happy because this is such an important hurdle for Kaneki’s character being overcome.

So yes, they rushed into having sex. However, I honestly feel this was a perfectly natural action for two broken people under pressure. They weren’t going to wait when there is a good chance there wasn’t going to be any other time for them. They both wanted to do it. Even if this is a sort of humorous thing to add remember they were virgins in their twenties as well; touka has done enough waiting on Kaneki, haha.

Please stop saying that their relationship is meaningless compared to his and Hide’s because it just isn’t true. The only other time Kaneki cried during a happy time was their first visit to :Re when he was so relieved to see Touka alive and he thought about what a beautiful person she was. After this, Haise gazed at her the same way Kaneki gazed at Rize - which Kaneki didn’t deny. If this doesn’t show how much Kaneki loves touka then I don’t know what will.

I’m honestly so proud of Touka for being so bold and collected here. She’s developed in so many ways. Sometimes, when written well, sex can really bond characters in books. While it remains to be seen, I’m really excited to see their relationship change and, hopefully, kaneki opening up to her by learning that people other than Hide love him. This is a good turn of events for both of them.

The Signs From Leo’s Perspective

Aries: You’re cool peoples, man. I can usually count on you to have fun with me. But sometimes you shut down. I don’t think you ever really let me know what your true feelings are. I wish you would let loose a little more and have fun like we both know you can.

Taurus: You’re too reserved for me sometimes. You never really talk and you can be really selfish sometimes. It would be cool if you actually started up a conversation with me so that I won’t be so insecure and think that you don’t like me.

Gemini: You’re my bestie. I love hanging out with you and going to all the hottest parties. You know how to have a good time the same way I do. But you can be really flaky and you lie to me a lot, which makes me mad. I wish you would be more honest with me.

Cancer: I love you so much and I don’t even know why. You’re clingy and babyish and emotional, which I usually hate, but, for some reason, I can’t even be mad at you. I love how caring you are and how much attention you give me. You love just as hard as I do. I just wish you weren’t so depressed sometimes.

Leo: You’re the bread to my butter and the peanut butter to my jelly. We’re like yin and yang. You are just as fabulous and fun as me and we always have fun for days every time we hang out. The only thing that sucks is we know how to push each other’s buttons which makes us fight a lot. I wish we didn’t have to go through that so much.

Virgo: You get on my nerves so freaking much. At the end of the day I still love you, but we just can’t ever seem to get along. I hate how much you criticize me and tell me I’m not living my life right. I also don’t like to be around you all of the time because it can be kind of depressing.

Libra: I love you so much. You’re super fun to talk to and you always have the latest gossip. You’re really fun and nice and you always try to get along with everyone. The only thing I don’t like is that you can be kind of nosy and get into my business.

Scorpio: You’re cool, but you’re fucking crazy, too. You get a little to hyped on your exes and want to talk about revenge plans, which puts me off. You can find better. You can handle a lot of liquor and fun when you’re not moody, and I like seeing that part of you more.

Sagittarius: You’re the person I can always call when I need a little pick me up. You’re a clown, but in a good way, and you’re really down to earth. I enjoy cracking jokes with you and just chilling and smoking weed together.

Capricorn: You’re the one I call when I need advice and someone to listen to y problems. You always know how to examine both sides of the story and figure out every possible solution. When I come to you for advice, I know I’m leaving with the best answer. The one thing I don’t like is that you never call me…you get so wrapped up in your work that you never reach out unless I reach out first. It makes me feel less important.

Aquarius: You’re pretty out there, and I think that’s why we get along. You accept me for who I am and don’t judge me for anything. You’re always doing something crazy that makes me laugh. Sometimes, you get pulled into your own dimension and I have no idea what you’re thinking about. I don’t like to feel like our relationship is detached.

Pisces: You truly know how to make me feel special and loved. You’re always complimenting me on all of the things that make me insecure deep down inside. You like to talk with me one on one and hear about my problems without anything in return. Then you make me feel better. The only thing that throws me off is how sensitive and emotional you can be. I don’t like to have to bite my tongue in case I might hurt feelings.

-Deja

anonymous asked:

You promise me that all of this is temporary?

Yes, I promise.
Keep in mind that this goes both ways; for good and bad. You need to appreciate and cherish the good times when you have them. Take advantage of your positive energy. Marvel in the beauty you see in your surroundings. Love. Laugh. Smile. Make friends. Build something cool. Pursue a passion. See the world for all of that the opportunities it possess. And, when life is bad, just down right shitty, be consoled in the fact that life won’t always be this rough. Your heart will mend, you will make new friends. Your grades will improve and life will be more figured out and complete soon. Just be patient. You got this :)
Xoxo,
Cwote

cool stuff about mental illness community

-being able to vent and laugh about our problems to make ourselves feel better

-being able to ask for advice from others who face the same issues

-providing or getting resources and information about ur illness



not cool stuff about mental illness community

-making mental illness a competition to see who’s the illest

-the culture of not recovering because “im only mentally ill if im always showing my worst symptoms 100% of the time”

-not accepting advice from other neurodivergents because it sounds “neurotypical” 

-making so much fun of our problems that it belittles them 

How I imagine Hades comes to sire new demigods
  • Persephone: Honey, our sex life is getting repetitive again.
  • Hades: well, I could...
  • Persephone: For gods sake, Hades, there are only so many times you can analyse the Kama sutra and find something new. Go fuck a mortal, they always have cool new tricks.
  • Hades: what if I have a kid.
  • Persephone: bring it down here, plenty of room. I love babies.
  • Hades: why do I always have to go up to bang the mortals? Can't you do it once in a while?
  • Persephone: well I would honey, but I can't leave you here alone. You're too soft on the new souls.
  • Hades: I am not! I'm the fearsome lord of the underworld!
  • Persephone: Sisyphus.
  • Hades: *sigh* I'm going, I'm going.
  • Persephone: try to find a blonde this time. They make such cute babies.
  • Hades: *distressed god noises*

“The first time I met Jack, I thought to myself: ‘Here’s a gay guy who’s not cynical, who’s not sarcastic, who enjoys life.’ He had so much energy. He was a fifth grade teacher and he’d always get so excited when he talked about his work. He’d produce these plays where he’d let the kids choose their own characters. He’d spend hours writing out their dialogue. And then I’d pretend to be one of the fathers and go sit in the audience. It was so fun. We had so much fun together. But the whole time we were dating, there was always part of me that thought I could do better. I was a fancy lawyer. Jack never seemed ‘cool enough’ for me. And so I left him for a gorgeous twenty-one year old. Jack and I remained friends. We even continued living together. But his therapist told him never to date me again. So he dated other people. And he got sick. Both of us got sick, but Jack was the one who died. And he might have lived if I hadn’t been such a bad person. If he’d been ‘enough’ for me, he’d never have gotten HIV. The funny thing is I’d grown up thinking that I’d never be loved. Then a wonderful person loved me. And I left him to have sex with somebody who wasn’t a wonderful person. Jack died thirty years ago. I dream about him almost every night. It always feels good to see him alive. For a moment, I don’t have to blame myself for his death. I usually ask him for forgiveness. And some nights he forgives me. But other nights he doesn’t.”

frustrating — peter parker

prompt: you and peter both have immense crushes on each other, but say nothing, because best friends aren’t supposed to think about kissing each other

warnings: language and fluff. plus this is super long rip

notes: prompts like this fuck me UP man like I am a sucker for cliché tropes done correctly and in a way that isn’t sexist or toxic. hope you enjoy requests are open! i’m thinking of making a sequel to this bc it’s super cute and I have so much more I want to happen, but y’all can decide if that happens or not :)


Though he hasn’t known you for that long, Peter can’t help but admire you and the person you were constantly. He finds himself thinking about it when his eyes glaze over the room, searching for you landing on you, and he can’t help the corners of his lips tugging up into the softest, most appreciative smile you’ve never seen.

He doesn’t know how, out of the two years you’ve been best friends, you hadn’t notice his wandering gaze and his staring, but he’s glad you don’t catch it. He’s sure that you’d find nothing of it, mainly because that’s just the person you were, but still. There are times when he’d wish you’d notice his eyes poring over your entire being and you’d actually say something to give him an idea of how you feel about him. He doesn’t actually expect you to of course, because by nature you were quite awkward and would never say something that you thought would embarrass you, nor would you ever actually tell him if you liked him. It’s not like he would either.

And it’s not like he thought you would ever like him in the first place.

Keep reading

Sitting down to work and suddenly hearing “Hey, you’re not busy, can you-” from the doorway

Originally posted by slytherin-bookworm-guy

people generally get tattoos for one of two reasons. either a) it’s for someone important in their life, or b) they think that certain piece of art is cool and they direly want that forever inscribed on their body.

but every time I look at ral’s artwork my first thought always lands on that goddamn meme “who is she

so… who are they. who is this dragon. i can’t quite tell if ral’s the kind of guy to say “hey the izzet guild has plenty of cool dragons, i want one on my arm forever” or “me and this dragon in particular go way back. that dragon is a huge prick. that’s why the tail goes down my middle finger. fuck that dragon.”

@zsaszmatazz tagged me to do the “six movies I can watch any time” meme (LIKE 10 YEARS AGO I’M SORRY) so here goes!

1. Road to El Dorado

Don’t tell me you can’t also watch this whenever. It’s lolzy, it’s feelsy, and it’s the source of one of my three OT3s. If Miguel/Tulio wasn’t allowed to be canon, I’m making Miguel/Chel/Tulio my headcanon dammit. Fight me.

The story is a fantastic adventure every time. The music is amazing, the animation is GORGEOUS. The jokes are funny no matter how many times I hear them. “Stars.” “Holy ship.” “Apparently ‘El Dorado’ is native for GREAT… BIG… ROCK.” 

And don’t get me started on the armadillo. Is that thing a spirit guide? A god? Probably. I’m for it.

Originally posted by garytheprophet

2. Chicken Run

I consider this one a guilty pleasure. Again, always a funny, fun adventure. Just serious enough to balance out the lolz. And Ginger is one hell of a snarky character. I love that she’s simultaneously mom friend and rebel friend.

Also, it’s that claymation Wallace and Gromit animation, which is just… nifty! I always find myself watching certain characters move, checking out different textures, especially with Babs and her knitting. Just… excellent.

Also, also this:

Originally posted by alexanderhamiltonisthebottom

3. Stardust

What can I say about this movie? Well…

I was based on a book written by my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, is a fantastic adventure that addresses the line between magic and non-magic worlds and includes such fun things as evil witches, falling in love, warring princes, falling stars, unicorns, ghosts, and sky pirates in drag (which Neil said he’s pretty sure he didn’t write, but it’s such a good scene you guys).

I am always happy by the end of it. The growing-up story is so good. And Tristan kind of bumbles through it like I totally believe I would were I thrown into a story like that. It’s just… such a satisfyingly complete and fun story, and I love it every single time.

Originally posted by kingofthecarrotflowers

4. Megamind

Shut the hell your mouth this is the best villain-to-hero story I know. I am always so proud of Megamind. Like, real talk, how often does our favorite adorable villain get the girl? How often do we get to see the bumbling bad guy actually get a cool-ass happy ending? And the emotional journey he goes on gets just serious enough without killing the funny vibe the whole movie carries.

The writing is tropey, but in a way that totally plays on those tropes while making fun of them. Trope-ception is my favorite trope. And I love, love, LOVE the design choices. This movie is so colorful, and the proportions are so over the top. It’s just a visual salad. 

And, as always, the jokes are good no matter what. I don’t think I’ll ever get over, “And I love you, random citizen!” This movie is such a fun time, please go watch it.

Originally posted by littlecubbie

5. Strange Magic

Have you heard of this movie? Well, now you have. Please go watch it. 

Much like Megamind, Strange Magic got pushed to the back burner by more popular movies coming out at the same time. And that’s just a shame, because it’s just so good.

It’s a jukebox musical with reenactments of all sorts of songs, all of which are brilliant (half the time because Evan Rachel Wood My Queen is singing them, but also Alan Cumming, and sometimes they sing together and I die). The story is predictable, but the characters are what make it for me. They’re fun enough that even though I saw the end coming a mile away, it was nothing but enjoyable watching them get there.

This fandom is also dear to my heart. It’s full of some of the sweetest people with some of the most interesting fan fiction that I’ve ever read. When I think good writing, I think @abutterflyobsession who has made me cry on more than one occasion, and @jaegereska whose lore and OCs add so much to the world beyond the movie. 

Major draws: good music, lovely animation, self-confidence story, princess with a sword, SWEET SWEET VENGEANCE, and did I mention singing by Evan Rachel Wood, Alan Cumming, and Kristin Chenoweth? Bruh.

Originally posted by deluxetrashqueen

6. Labyrinth

My favorite movie for now and always. Set it at the bottom for full effect. Get ready.

First off, music by David Bowie that is fuckin’ catchy as heck. If you don’t want to at least tap your foot along to ‘Dance Magic Dance’ you’re lying. ‘As the World Falls Down’ was the first song I remember wanting to know the lyrics to. 

Side note: If you didn’t think the Fireys were creepy as fuck, you’re also lying.

There has never been so much glitter in one place ever. The visual gags are always funny. Like, there are Bowie faces I still can’t find to this day hidden in the scenery??? The muppets are all adorable because Brian Froud is amazing, and I want a pet goblin. Everything is just so much fun to look at. Don’t even get me started on the ridiculous fantasy fulfillment that is the ballroom scene. I just. 

The jokes are always funny because they run on a dry sense of humor like mine. “Well, come on feet.” One I missed for years. “No, that’s the dead end, behind you!” Ha, hubris. “It’s a piece of cake!” Shut up, Sarah…

But you also can’t not love the characters? Like, come on, who doesn’t wanna hug Ludo just a little. And Didymus, the fox knight that rides a fuckin’ tiny dog into battle?? And Hoggle who collects jewelry and pretends to be bitter as hell but cares so much??? Heck off, they’re all awesome.

Fave movie. Always. 

Originally posted by jimhenson-muppetmaster

Honorable Mention: Big Fish

Added this one because I can watch this any time, but it always makes me cry, so I usually save it for when I need a good cry. (Srsly, @may10baby can vouch, I once tried to explain the end to her and started sobbing in the car).

It’s just such a cool story. We get to see the life of the father as told through his own hyperbolic stories, which include a star-studded cast playing funny scenes in between serious family time. And the end… christ, it’s just such a satisfying ending. Such a good play on storytelling and what it can mean to people. Which, as a writer, means a lot to me.

Also, it’s the only Tim Burton movie I’ve seen that doesn’t look like… that. You know. How Burton movies look. Helena Bonham Carter plays like 3 different people, and none of them are Mrs. Lovett. That’s a feat, honestly.

I’ve said this about a few of these, but please watch this movie.

Originally posted by wayofthinking

Ummm I guess I’m gonna send this along to the people I already tagged, @abutterflyobsession @jaegereska @may10baby and also @fandomizedwonderland @thetrendywitch @pkmndaisuki for shits and giggles.