does that shit

Cor actually gives pretty good massages and Titus tense shoulders Drautos wont admit that he loves getting them because he’s stubborn but how does it feel so good?

say it with me, kids: barbara lake is an emotionally abusive, physically and emotionally neglectful mother who:

• intentionally or not raised jim to wait on her hand and foot, to feel responsible for her physical and emotional comfort and happiness, and to destroy himself for it

• to the point where he doesn’t seem to have any other hobbies that aren’t focused around doing so, at least at the beginning of the show

• this gutwrenchingly tragic, unhealthy ideal is now the cornerstone of his entire personality, and makes it much easier for the idea of destroying himself even more for more people to seem glorified and romantic and appealing. he’s easy fucking prey and in this case she raised him to be

• viciously rejected and insulted him the one time he tried to tell her something was wrong

• did so while he was in fact sending out massive red flags that he was being sexually abused by her fucking boyfriend

• constantly guilt trips and punishes him, explicitly or emotionally, for having problems, and makes them all about her own feelings (to the point where she even convinces most viewers to feel bad for her apparently lol)

• she’s consistently cold and hateful to him for OVER A MONTH, while he’s making pitiful little efforts to reconcile which are then snubbed, because he’s–again–displaying further signs of ongoing sexual abuse and not wanting to reach out to her after the behavior she showed last time he tried and she doesn’t like it; if she thinks it’s a specific thing like gang violence she should be asking him about it and sending him to a counselor

• speaking of counselors, guess what she doesn’t even fucking think to do until ‘oh lol i guess the school gave you one, aight?’ your son needs therapy, you’ve had at least a decade to seek therapy and clearly haven’t, fix your fucking shit you’re the adult here

• physically grabs his hands and yanks them around while looming over him in the hospital bed, uses cornering and aggressive body language while chewing him out (but haha it’s okay because he made her do it by telling her lies 8) ) (also she guilts him the whole time lol)

• stays in the ungodly shithole of a workplace that’s contributing heavily to her neglect when she could easily transfer to a less exploitative hospital, which speaks to mental health issues she’s refusing to address for her son’s sake

doesn’t even make sure that he eats. it doesn’t matter that he can cook, it doesn’t matter that she makes token protests and then doesn’t take any steps to do anything about it, fuck’s fucking sake she is his mother (edit for fairness’ sake: i forgot that she does try to cook sometimes and is just really bad at it, but also i get the niggling feeling that there’s still something Wrong there that i’m not sure how to articulate)

• the best part? HE DID TELL HER. HE TOLD HER EVERYTHING IN A LITERAL FUCKING SUICIDE NOTE, WHICH SHE THEN REFUSED TO READ BECAUSE SHE 'WANTS TO HEAR IT FROM HIM.’ SHE DOES NOT GIVE A GENUINE FUCK ABOUT HIS SAFETY OR WELLBEING, IT’S A PRETENSE FOR MANIPULATING AND LASHING OUT AT HIM BECAUSE SHE’S PISSY ABOUT BEING LIED TO (WHEN SHE CONFRONTS HIM TO HIS FACE ABOUT… SHIT HE CLEARLY COULDN’T SAY TO HER FACE). THAT’S WHAT THE WHOLE THING IS ABOUT. HER HURT FEELINGS.

the one really, truly shitty thing he does to her at the end of s1 is not her fault, but it is a culmination of how she raised him. everything else he does wrt her is him (at least as far as she should have the context for) being a teenager who needs her help and guidance, or is working around her failure to give it. or is coping with her ongoing methods of hurting him very much on purpose for being a child who doesn’t quietly, conveniently stay out of the way and take care of himself (and her) anymore.

i keep seeing really horrible abuse apologism about barb in the tags lately as we gear up for season 2 and it’s seriously fucking upsetting. so: barbara lake is an abusive, neglectful parent who has seriously fucked jim up for life, he’s not “'being shitty”’ to her by having adapted to her abuse in ways that inconvenience her, he does not owe her SHIT except an apology for the memory wipe, saying otherwise is insidious victim-blaming. okay? okay.

When someone has all the same mutuals as you, you like all the same stuff, you have the same opinions on things, and you’ve tried to engage them in conversation or get any sort of response from several times and they still ignore you.

That’s cool.

Oh my god people who look amazing and post snapchat selfies on their blog like “im sorry im so gross ill delete this later yall probably hate me now :(” like either just post the selfie and be proud of it or dont post it at all if u hate it that much like u have bright pink hair, perfect eyeliner and one of those snapchat flower crowns we all know damn well u dont hate this selfie

There is no need to talk yourself down this much you can say youre proud of this selfie ITS OK

“The Raven Queen is actually good good buds with Lady Istus.”

the power couple among the gods, to be honest

Noelle: I had my scanner on before, from when I scanned that crystal monster. It’s uh, I’m picking up- One of you guys isn’t a lich, are you?

Magnus: A what?

Noelle: A lich.

Magnus: I’m not!

Taako: No, not to my knowledge.

Merle: No, but I have a couple of friends who are liches.

Magnus: Yeah, oh yeah, I got lich friends.

Merle: They’re really, they’re good people.

Have you ever had someone lay their fingers along the spaces between your ribs and squeeze? Really find those fleshy bits between the bones and just curl into them? I have. The thing is, you can’t help your natural reflex in reaction to that strange, visceral, intrusive feeling. Your body knows, “hey, I don’t think I should be touched there!” and so it flails wildly, almost manically, to protect your most vital organs, even if there’s no real threat.

My wife loves the spaces between my ribs, but has kindly refrained from squeezing them since I’ve asked her to stop. Still. I’m a nervous person, and the guard just goes up sometimes – can’t help it.

The other night, we were laying in bed and cuddling, and I was about on the brink of passing out while baby lay curled over me. Her hand rested on my chest, her head lay nestled between my shoulder and my chin, and I was smelling her hair – a vague scent of shampoo, still a little wet from the shower. Everything felt warm and right and peaceful, but for the fact that (as exhausted as I was) baby was like a shaken up soda can of hyperactive lesbian. She was happily chatting away when her hand traveled a little lower, then circled around my side and her fingertips moved into those vulnerable little dips.

“Noooooooo,” I whined, and I yanked her hand away.

“But I can’t sleep!” She protested, laying her leg over mine and lifting her head to give me that wide-eyed, entreating look. “I won’t squeeze! I just want to count your ribs! It’s soothing.” I can never deny her anything when she gives me that look. (She has very long eyelashes and very blue eyes. It’s my kryptonite.)

So I let her hand go, cautiously, and relaxed a little bit. She teases and jokes, but she never lies to me, so I knew she’d at least stop herself from squeezing even though I know how much she loves it. She moved her hand back over to my rib cage and I took in a breath.

“You know,” I offered as her fingertips began to dance gently over each individual rib, “you could count sheep instead.”

And baby chuckled lowly, snuggling closer, warm and soft and sweet. And then she proceeded to say the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth, in a voice that sounded like it should have been wafting inexplicably down the halls of an abandoned building.

“There are no sheep here,” she whispered, “but there are plenty of your bones.”

And somehow that simple statement was more instinctively horrifying than the feeling of fingers in the spaces between your ribs. Turns out, it inspired the same reaction. I flailed, and she laughed and laughed and laughed until I was laughing too.

It took us both a while to go to sleep.

Everything

Sam Winchester knows his brother. He knows what he’s thinking—what he’s dwelling on, what’s tearing him up inside.

“What about Cas?”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Dean? It’s Cas.”

“Maybe he can come back …”

Sam asks the questions and goes over all the possibilities because he knows that Dean won’t say a word of it out loud.

Dean will stay quiet … at least, he will when someone’s looking.

But that was the main focus in this episode, wasn’t it? What happened when Sam—when we weren’t looking, made all the difference in the world. At the start, the plot went on and left us asking questions. “Why are you leaving the cabin? Where’s Cas’s body? Did you just leave him out there?”

I was genuinely worried that that is what they were implying went Dean and Sam left in the impala—but then, the next scene comes and we see Castiel’s body, inside—covered with a sheet.

High off the ground.

Respected.

Missed.

It was not shown, yet—it happened.

Dean carried Castiel into that house and laid him out on the table. He went and found a clean white sheet to cover him with.

The chair by Castiel’s head was pulled out—where Dean had most likely sat and cried, and tried to will his best friend to open his eyes.

But they didn’t open.

Castiel didn’t move.

So Dean got quiet again.

He got quiet and dismissive and spiraled, just like Sam thought he would.

But then, Dean prayed—as soon as he was alone and had the chance to scream and shout and explode the way he wanted to, he did. And he prayed to God to bring back all that he lost. “Everything” he said he lost everything, and that list began with Castiel.

Every time what had happened the night before was remembered, the first name on Dean’s lips was “Cas.”

And when Sam was busy leading Jack into the room to say goodbye to the mother he never truly knew—Dean was back beside that table, hoping that when he pulled away  the sheet, it would be someone else underneath it. But it wasn’t—it was still Castiel, and that other angel’s words suddenly rushed back into his head. “He’s dead—really dead.”

And the silence is all Dean has now, so he covers Cas’s face once more and looks around—noticing the yellow curtains … yellow, the color of a fallen soldier and, that seems fitting. If any of this is to seem right at all, then maybe it’s that. So he tries to switch to autopilot—bind the body so it can be burned; but as he lifts that weight and begins to wrap the cloth around it, it’s suddenly all too familiar in his hands.

He has felt that weight too many times—in too many ways.

There is no denying what that weight means to him, and with its absence, it’ll weigh heavier on him with every breath he breathes.

So he stops.

Dean stops and looks back up the lines that he has looked up so many times before—times that we also have never seen, because now we know: there is so much that we don’t know.

There is so much we haven’t heard, haven’t felt, haven’t experienced … but Dean has.

He has experienced everything—and everything, well … everything is lying dead on a table in front of him.

“namjoon stans are overreacting” 
“all the members get hate” 
“there’s only a few people like that get over it” 
“stop whining” 

okay so using the eyes that I have on my goddamn face I can see that this bitch, this loud ass namjoon anti featuring a whole slur in her bio, has 10.9k FOLLOWERS. she’s not some little attention whore. she’s got 10.9k fucking followers reading her tweets. 10.9k armys supporting a namjoon anti.

first of all, go report her bc that shit needs to get shut down. and second of all, fucking trust namjoon stans when we call out this fandom? y’all don’t even care enough to defend him half the time so when we start talking open ur ears and stop talking out of ur ass 

thanks

im dying