Don’t believe anyone who tells you that Abbie Mills is extraneous or secondary because she’s not and never has been. There is a reason why fans were concerned about the status of Abbie after the midseason finale, and there is a reason why these couple episodes for the latter half of the season have focused on her and how her absence has affected the other characters. For a show ostensibly about Ichabod Crane’s Rip Van Winkle Apocalyptic Hijinks, Abbie is the linchpin — she’s the axis around which everything spins, and without her, it would all fall apart. Last week we saw that it all almost did fall apart, or at the very least Ichabod almost fell apart and, through his desperate ineptitude and a lack of Abbie Mills, released an evil force that could have killed a lot of people.

I realize that I am a white-passing pagan claiming some extraneous number of Native heritage.  It sounds like literally every pagan you’ve ran into. But 1/8th is, I feel, fairly substantial.  My mom is Native passing at ¼th.  I was there as a child when my grandfather yelled at my mom “NO MORE QUESTIONS.” when asked about our lineage.  I was there the immense number of times my mom was discriminated against for the color of her skin. Yet I have blatantly said that I do not feel like I have a right to Blackfoot traditions because I was not raised in them and because I feel I am too far removed from them at one-eighth. All of that being said, it doesn’t mean that I also don’t feel like I’m missing part of a family or tradition that was absolutely denied to me.  And that duality is a part of who I am.  You cannot and should not deny that of me.  Just because you’ve never experienced not knowing your lineage, just because you pass as the race you were born as, does not give you the right to knock down others who are racially ambiguous or white-passing for feeling somewhat disconnected from one side or the other, or both.

For Shirley/ Happy Valentine’s Day Destiel Fans + Shirley! Love you lots!♡

As a child in elementary school, Castiel hated Valentine’s day and Christmas and basically any other holiday that required bringing gifts or candy to your friends at school. Every single one of those extraneous holidays, Castiel would sit in the back of the classroom, friendless, doodling away in his notebook.

Castiel was in high school now, a junior, but his feelings towards the holidays never changed. It was Valentine’s day and the Candy + Card grams had raised tons of money, Cas would know because he had been on the student council ever since his Freshman year.

Dean Winchester, a boy with pinpoint brown and orange freckles sprinkled over his cheeks and nose with the greenest eyes you’d ever seen, sat besides Castiel as Dean casually flirted with Lisa Braden, the head cheerleader who sat in front of him. Castiel tried not to take too much interest in it, but noticed that every few seconds Dean would look over his shoulder and smile at Cas.

Then, two senior girls who were assigned to deliver the grams walked into their advanced Latin class. Castiel rolled his eyes at their attire, which was basically nothing.

“Lisa Braeden.” One of the distributors said as she ran to Lisa’s side, emptying arm fulls of cards and teddy bears and roses at her desk. Lisa had pretended to be tangible by all the thoughtful gifts, which again made Castiel roll his eyes.

Names of tons of girls and a few boys later had been called out and Castiel still cared little, if not at all, doodling on his latin worksheet. Then, it happened.

“Is there a Castiel Novak?” One of the girls had asked. Immediately Cas felt the redness rush to his cheeks and his heart beat at a unsteady rate. Every eye turned to Castiel as the second senior had walked to his side and had handed him a small card with a warm a smile.

Castiel hesitated to take the card from her fragile, pink painted fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She whispered before she had walked out of the room side by side with her fellow upperclassmen.

As Castiel opened the small card with red hearts and bees on the outside, he felt his fingers tremble in fear. Was it a prank? Once he had gained the courage to finally unravel the card, a wave of relief and happiness crashed over his shoulders and anxiety seized to exist.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cas.” In between the sentences was a poorly drawn picture of a bee smiling as his wings fluttered into the air. “Bee mine?” Signed by Dean Winchester.

The redness of Castiel’s cheeks deepened into a thick red. As Cas had turned to face Dean, who was already smiling at Cas, he never felt happier in his entire life. His first actual Valentine’s gram was from Dean Winchester, possibly the sweetest person he’d ever met.

Castiel turned to Dean, who carelessly paid no attention to Lisa, and smiled sheepishly as his cheeks remained a light pinkish-red pigment.

“So,” Dean said as he took Cas’ hand in his, “bee mine?”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas grinned a dimpled smile as a sparkle entered his eye uninvited. “I will bee yours.”

Hearts all around

I’m rewatching the episode right now but I needed to pause to talk about this thing.

Harold had just had heart replacement(correction here) surgery, Arthur had “a broken heart” and they assumed Mildred would be the next one because of her atrial fibrilation. What all those have in common is that their vulnerability was their heart, so why was Dean vulnerable then?

Because of matters of the heart of course. There is an extraneous force calling for his heart, making him feel an attraction that scares him and that he doesn’t want. And when he confided this on someone close to his heart, he was told that it may be a good thing they could use to their advantage, instead of receiving the support and understanding he expected. There’s also the fact that unbeknownst to him he just confesed all his intimate fears to an enemy who will no doubt take advantage of that knowledge and unscrupulously use it to further his own goals. There is our Dean’s very vulnerable heart at the moment.

It’s also interesting to see how he was paralleled to the other three vulnerable hearted people this episode.

Stealing Harold’s viagra (just like he had stolen it from other people before) is yet another symbolic nod to Dean getting old. When Dean says “Maybe we oughta make a reservation” when they’re arriving to the retirement home, the camera very blatantly pans down to focus on the picture of the old happy couple staring out at the sea.

Arthur’s broken heart is due to his emoji-loving wife having just left him, and not returning his calls. He also would like to have sent her the heart, tell her how he really feels, but he can’t help being rougher than that to her. Now, I don’t know why, but this kinda reminds me of someone who has just left and isn’t giving any signs of life, and who Dean has some trouble showing his appreciation to¿? I’m just saying, maybe Cas said yes because Dean keeps sending poop emojis when actually he meant to send the heart.

[gif source]

And then we have Mildred, who told him to follow his heart, and was able to see that there’s someone else he’s pining for.

Now, knowing all those very interesting things about Dean’s heart, I would say his vulnerablity is as much about Amara as it is about his pining for Cas and his worry for whatever is going on with him, and even in a foreboding sense, the fact that he exposed his heart to a dangerous enemy and he doesn’t even know it yet.

Actually, the worst thing that can happen to the Regent is for him to have his power taken away in front of everyone and be publicly humiliated. And once that was done, the death was—it was just a coda, it was just extraneous. […] The more I emphasized the death in that scene, the less meaningful it became.
On Academia Producing Social Justice Bigots

Application of Marxism to the sociological world will always produce prejudiced views. Marxism is the idea that groups must be seen as a collective  and have their place in society defined by their dichotomized collective roles and must be seen at odds with one another. To Marx this meant the oppressed working class rising up against the privileged wealthy class. Is it any wonder that this thinking applied sociologically in our education system has produced the insane racist, sexist SJWs that is has. They like to make up equations and extraneous variables and add them to definitions to explain away the prejudiced nature of their doctrine. But I’ll take a page from them and propose an equation of my own. 

Collectivism + (Irrelevant trait) = prejudiced viewpoint

For example Collectivism + race= racism or collectivism + gender = sexism

The reason for this is that a prejudiced view is based on the belief that members of that group have a necessary inborn characteristic that they share.  So when you combine collectivism with race you get the idea that members of a race should be defined by group labels and treated as though they all share a specific characteristic and place in society…which is the definition of racism. Open up any textbook that includes feminism and you will see the name Karl Marx so it should be no surprise that a gender ideology that relies on his philosophy produces so much anti-male sexism. “I feel that ‘man-hating’ is an honourable and viable political act, that the oppressed have a right to class-hatred against the class that is oppressing them.”  - Robin Morgan, Ms. Magazine Editor

This is why feminism is inherently sexist, it’s why it has always been sexist and will always be sexist. It’s why feminism should have no place in academia or a civilized society for that matter. It’s also why Marxism is a garbage ideology that should never have been applied to the social world; especially when it even failed to get results when applied to what it was meant to be applied to wealth. 

I think one thing Cookie Clicker has going for it that other idle games don’t is that Cookie Clicker didn’t start out as a particularly serious idle game and it had kind of an undercurrent of mystery and creepiness about it

like a lot of them are just straight up “click things and progress” with no extraneous fluff

but Cookie Clicker tells an increasingly surreal and nightmarish story about an unsuspecting cookie businessman unleashing the grandmapocalypse

you can’t beat that

the more i play digimon cyber sleuths the more i feel like the game was designed by life-long pokemon fans to show up pokemon in every way.

everything about it feels like they took pokemon and innovated on it in every way that it needed to be innovated, cutting out all of the extraneous bullshit that pollutes every pokemon entry and replacing it with focused, working features that make sense and a story thats actually worth following from the very beginning

i know i’ve posted on this a lot already but i seriously can’t say enough about how fucking good digimon cyber sleuths is compared to the pokemon series.

you can de-evolve your digimon if you want to train em up for some extra moves, there’s in-game items that can raise and lower stats so you can get digimon just how you like them, capturing digimon isn’t luck-based like in pokemon and is instead based on how many times you’ve seen the individual digimon, there’s an in-game farm that just automatically ev trains your digimon for you, the digimon elemental types for the rock-paper-scissors game are shown on-screen during battles so you don’t have to take random guesses at what type of ‘mon you’re looking at if you’ve never seen it before, all of the digimon are individually voiced with unique animations, any given digimon can evolve in to a number of different digimon with overlapping paths so you can always get the mon you want if you train it right, evolving happens on your own terms in a certain in-game location, the list fucking goes on

if you’re a fan of pokemon and have a ps4 or a vita, get digimon cyber sleuths. even if you don’t know anything about digimon, get the game. it feels like it was made from the ground up with the singular goal of utterly humiliating gamefreak, and it succeeds at that with flying colors.

between this game and yokai watch, gamefreak’s going to have to step pokemon up mechanically or else pokemon is going to get left in the fucking dust

Snowbaz Drips and Drabbles

These are all for THE AMAZING PATIENTLY WAITING @fuxkbaz (who is bloody cool and freaking awesome) I hope I did well, sorry it took so bleeding long

PROMPT #6 (“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”)

The night was already reaching its peak, and the stars were shining bright through the windows. The curtains were floating with the wind as it entered into the room; cooling down anything that stood in its path.

Simon sat on the edge of the bed, everything quietly sitting its place. Twiddling his thumbs hadn’t been a solution. Stuffing scones down his mouth hadn’t worked either. Everything was quiet without him. The slightest of sounds could only be heard, and the extraneous amount of gulping that was coming from Simon’s throat. 

Everything had been planned: dinner by the moonlight (as cliché as that might sound), and then a small quiet evening afterwards. Well, the dinner was obviously off, but the quiet evening was working perfectly fine just for Simon. 

Huffing in and out, he got up off the bed. There was no point in waiting as he walked to the bathroom; the wind guiding him into the marble plated floor. The hotel was a fancy one; the fanciest one they had been to so far. The floor was cold, just like the wind whistling outside against the cloth curtains. 

Stripping, Simon walked into the shower and let the smoke and warm water engulf his body. He tried to forget about Baz for a little, but nothing would work. No matter what he did, trying to eat soap, or fascinate himself with the many shower heads that were in the shower, nothing could seem to occupy him long enough to keep him away from Baz.

After the soothing shower, he slipped on his knickers, and pulled the covers away from the bed and slipped into the linen sheets. They encompassed his body, letting the warmth overtake him and relax his muscles. 

Baz will close the windows when he gets back. He can also try to find his clothes in the mess I left. Serves him right. Simon thought to himself as he tossed onto his side and stared out the window; trying to make his eyes close and to let the night go on.

An hour passed by and Simon was fully asleep already. Suddenly, he was awoken by the pushing of his shoulders.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” Simon groggily asked as he flipped on the lamp switch and turned around, pulling his torso up onto the pillow for support. 

Rubbing his eyes, he saw Baz standing over him. His lean yet muscular body was towering over him and his hair was out of place. 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Baz asked as he moved his hands to his hips, giving more definition to the tight pants Simon had just now noticed. 

“What? I’m…I’m not naked.” Simon stuttered out as he pulled the covers back, got up, and stood across from Baz, in nothing but his knickers. “And this isn;t your bed, this is mine. You have the couch.” Simon stretched up, reaching for the ceiling as he had been disturbed from his sleep just for a simple question.

“I thought we agreed I had the bed and you had the couch?” Baz cocked up one eyebrow, his eyes roaming elsewhere other than Simon’s eyes.

“Well, that was before you decided to just leave me here.” Simon squinted my eyes at him, trying to add emphasize to his words. “So I decided to take my own leave. Thank you very much.”

“I didn’t mean to leave you Snow. Something came up and I had to go see what it was. I’m…I’m sorry.” Baz began to walk around the bed and closer to where Simon was standing.

“Apology not bloody accepted Baz.” Simon crossed his arms, and glared at Baz; trying to look intimidating in his space-themes knickers. “So fuck you.”

“Bloody hell Snow. If you wanted to move that fast, you could’ve just said so.” Simon felt Baz walk closer to him, and sudden;y he was pushed onto the bed. “I said sorry.” As Baz stood over him, and leant as close as he could towards Simon, blocking him from getting up off of the bed. “So accept it Simon.” Then, he leant in and kissed Simon right on the lips. It wasn’t one of those small pecks, but more like a “I’m okay with you being naked in my bed.”

PROMPT #8 (”Wanna Bet?”)

“How do you even know you’re going to bleeding win?” Simon yelled into Baz’s ear, practically deafening him.

“fUcK!” Baz yelled out, scarring any small child that was running through the amusement park. “Because, I’m a damn vampire. We can tell the future.”

“Wait, really?” Simon’s head perked up as he perched it on Baz’s shoulders, pushing it back and forth with the weight of his body.

“Crowley Snow, of course not. Who do you think I am? Gandalf the Grey?” 

“No, Gandalf is more attractive.” Simon smiled as he turned his face a little towards Baz’s.

“You wanna bet Snow?” Baz put down the mallet for the game and grabbed Simon’s hand. He pulled him out of the game section and into an unoccupied place in the park. 

“No, it was a joke Baz.”

“I bet that you can’t find one single thing about Gandalf that is more attractive than what I have.” He let go of Simon’s hand, and folded his hands as he leaned on the nearest railing. 

“Ha! You doubt me.” Simon yelled out, accepting the challenge and tilted his head up as if he had already won. 

“And if you lose, then when we get back home, the whole room is mine and I get to do anything to you and your things.”He cocked up one eyebrow, making Simon’s cheeks rise in temperature and smoke to mentally come out of his brain.

“Fine. Give me two minutes.”

“One minute.”

“One minute and thirty-seconds.”

“Your time starts now.” Baz checked his watch as my brain began to teem on Gandalf the Grey.

After the time passed, Baz yelled out “Time’s up! What have you got Snow?” 

Simon turned back towards him as he slapped his head trying to come up with something. His mind had registered to love Baz. (I mean who couldn’t?) He was too sturdy, handsome, a know-it-all, and perfect to find a flaw in Simon’s eyes.

“I…I lose.”

“Ha! I bloody told you Simon!” Baz jumped up from the railing and walked up toe-to-toe to Simon. “Looks like you lost the bet.” He said as he had a chilling smirk on his face and his eyes were glittering.

PROMPT #20 AND 28 COMBINED (“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” & “Marry me?”)

The hospital beeping wouldn’t stop, the sound was contagious and annoying at the same time. It had been twelve hours. The anxiety and stress was too much, and the tears hadn’t stopped. After the dance, a fire had abruptly started in the car in front of them and they had scrambled to get out. Baz and Simon had gotten out, but Baz turned back saying he had forgotten something important to him. Simon tried to stop him, but Baz pushed him away with a look of horror and sadness in his eyes. 

It felt like a war was going on in his heart and his feelings were all a mess. The doctors had put Baz on a good supply on blood, accounting for what he had lost and to Simon’s asking. He had tried to contact Penny, but her phone was off and Fiona was out of their reach. And Simon, well Simon was helpless without magic. He was just accompanied by an obnoxious  tail and wings that just got in the way.

“I’m so sorry Baz. I’m so fucking sorry.” The words left his mouth as the tears did his eyes. They splatted on the ground, causing his vision to blur in and out of vision. “You..You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you.” He said as he fiddled with the velvet box Baz had so eagerly retrieved from the car before it exploded behind him. 

“You bloody idiot!” He screamed out in the room, the echoes bouncing off of the wall and back into his ears. 

He continued to hold his hand, hopefully he would slowly come back to life or sign a small sign of something. He would never let him down, even if it meant to stay like this for eternity.

“Marry me?” He silently said, chocking on his words as his head hung low, escaping the sight of Baz’s unmoving body.

S…Say that a lit… little louder Sn…Snow.” A small voice said as Simon’s head shot up and he grasped Baz’s hand tighter. 

There he was, his mouth moving, his eyes slowly fidgeting, and his legs were slowly moving up and down.

Simon chocked on his laughter and grasped Baz around the neck and pulled his close into his chest. “Marry Me?” 

“Sim…Simon fucking Sno…Snow, is that ev…even a question?” Baz asked from underneath the protection of Simon’s scone scented shirt.

PROMPT #31 (“You lied to me.”)

“Baz, what the hell is wrong with you?” Simon asked as he paced around their dorm room, waiting for him to plot against him or something that he did best.

“What the hell are you talking about Snow?” Baz asked back, as he tried to avoid eye contact with him because Simon had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was a mess abut he looking like a bloody angel. 

“I’m talking about you Baz Pitch. Something is fishy, and Crowley if I can tell then I know you’re hiding something.” Simon said louder this time, trying to get him to turn around and face him.

There was a small pause as the quietness hung in the air. Suddenly Baz turned around and walked towards Simon. 

“You lied to me.” His deep voice erupted form his throat and he was at least an inch away from Simon.

“I what?” Simon asked confused by Baz’s sudden outburst.

“You lied.”

“About what?”

“About this.” Baz said as he gestured to Simon and then to himself. “You said you don’t see anyone attractive, after you broke up with Agatha. But you’re lying, and I know you are.”

The redness rose in Simon’s cheeks and he backed up a little, but run straight into the bed frame. “I…I…” He trailed off, but was also cut off my Baz’s lips pressed against his.

The kiss was passionate and Baz held it. Simon leaned in, confused on what to do, but it felt like a good thing to him. Baz wrapped both of his arms around Simon’s waist and Simon’s arms found their way around Baz’s thin yet muscular neck. Crowley, it would be horrible if Penny just walked in.

TL;DR, you are your own person, subject to your own autonomy and you know how you study best. If you like pretty stationery and work the best studying from pretty notes, I think you should be completely allowed to indulge in whatever supplies you wish. If your desires don’t necessarily lie comfortably in spending $15 on pens or paying for extraneous shipping fees, that’s absolutely fine,  too. Your academic endeavors do not depend on the type of pens and notebooks that you use. The supplies don’t matter, the student does, and people shouldn’t be so quick to judge those on either side of the spectrum. 

The kids at my school, where 4.0 GPA’s and 5′s across all AP exams aren’t too uncommon, likely take notes using everyday pens and loose leaf paper and I think that it works wonders for them. For others, the aesthetic appeal of something so mundane is crucial for them to be able to be productive and enjoy segments of the stressful life they cultivate at school. 

However, I will say this. If you know you do not want to be the type of person concerned with “aesthetic” studyblrs, notes, or followers, or if you were not initially that kind of person before joining this community, then it is you who needs to recalibrate your priorities and put yourself and your studies first. It is you who is succumbing to a pressure that you don’t want, and it is you who needs to take that by the reigns and throw that toxicity out of your life. Everything is in YOUR control. Realize that, and consciously work around that. Take notes in a notebook you already own. Ace that test, and prove to yourself what was true all along; it is not the supplies that make the student, it’s the student who makes themselves. Supplies are merely tools of the trade, and that varies from person to person! 

 (sidenote, I’ve seen plenty of 5k+ posts with everyday pens and college ruled ringed notebooks. Sometimes, it’s just luck.)

This is an outlet for sharing your progress with the world, not a center stage for who has the nicest supplies. The issue of “aesthetic” may be an extra tag that comes with the studyblr/tumblr community, but the world itself is already a cultivation of trends, so it’s time to get used to that and encourage each other to do, instead, what the studyblr was made for–studying and enjoying/managing life as a student. 

Personally, I do enjoy pretty supplies and nice working areas, but that is important to me and to me only. I do not judge others and their academic endeavors based on what kind of table they own, and neither should anyone else. I love you all a lot, ok!!! ^^ so let’s not forget the foundation of what a studyblr really is–life and academic management. 

Don’t dismiss Ghomeshi’s accusers over their after-the-fact behaviour

In most sexual assault cases, a victim’s apparent lack of resistance commonly becomes the focus of assessment and intervention. Of course, it’s Ms. Henein’s job to probe the witness – especially in a he-said-she-said case, and witness credibility is important. But it is unlikely that the witnesses here ever imagined that the extraneous minutiae (Were you wearing hair extensions? Did he slap you first and then choke? Or choke first, then slap?) or socialized human nature (“I felt sorry for him,” one witness said) would become such near-algebraic tests of memory, implied complicity, implied consent – or worse, implied dishonesty – before the courts.

Add to this that, like most sexual assault cases, the accused here is known to the accusers. This conflates violence with normalcy and rapport, affecting a victim’s capacity to resist or react to what happened – or even, for that matter, define it: “All I could register was not being able to breathe, and shock; surprise,” Ms. Decoutere told the court: “It’s pretty shocking when someone hits your face,” but she didn’t think what happened qualified as an assault.

I’ve learned that some survivors will maintain contact – reasons can include being uncertain about whether the violent incident was in fact violence, wishing to improve the relationship, feeling responsible for improving the relationship, or seeking clarification or explanation for the behaviour.

The witness in this case shared a poignant reflection that many survivors I’ve worked with, who are victimized by a highly-respected or loved offender could likely also relate to: that this was a redeemable relationship.

It’s not only the witnesses we’ve heard from who wanted to share this perspective: Many Canadians initially joined in the hope that these allegations were not all that serious.

“I was thinking maybe this assault was a one-off,” Ms. DeCoutere said. “Everyone makes gaffes.”

anonymous asked:

Im a fairly new fic writer and I've been good with one shots, but chapters fics just take a toll out of me lol. How do you manage to write such big chapters at a time? I always feel like pressured to update because I don't want to let my readers down so I write like 2k word chapters at a time and I'm annoyed with it ;-; how do you do it!

i would say quality over quantity, but when dealing with teenagers who are foaming at the mouth for updates, id say dont even update those 2k chaps - youll get only negative reactions. people expect to sit down and have a decent read, not start and finish within two minutes. and man will they let you know it too.

the next tbs chap is one of my shortest so im trying to lengthen it in the revision. i try to cram all the morsels of plot/emotion etc within the chap without any extraneous information and i think thats key. before writing have a clear vision of what you want to convey within the chapter and especially, most most importantly - how the chap will end. this is how i write, it makes it so much easier to fill in the flow between start and finish and before you know it you have pages and pages complete.

So here’s a cool thing about making the Castaway Stories neighborhood deco placeable in lots and stuff: I can turn my henge temple thingy into a visitable community lot, since all the vegetation I stuck around and in it will now no longer refuse to exist on a lot and thus make it impossible to place a lot. And it looks pretty good from above, extraneous Roads That Must Be Destroyed (Or At Least Covered Up) notwithstanding:

And from inside the henge, too:

But here’s the thing about some of the neighborhood deco. It floats above the terrain. Like this:

So that if I were to place, say, a bonfire, in the middle of the henge so that I can have my natives dance around it, only the tip of the bonfire and the upper half of the natives (maybe less) would be visible for picture-taking and stuff.

Whyyyyyyy?! Why does landmark-y neighborhood deco do this when the trees and rocks and stuff are quite happy to sit right on top of the terrain where they should? Who thought this was a good idea? And why do they want to drive me insane?

*sigh* Well, I suppose it’s time to see if raising the terrain underneath will work or if the Great Floating Henge will simply adjust itself accordingly so that it can remain floating…

But first, I suppose I should go to bed.

I won’t rant about it because I’m on mobile but this 1:5000 variant crap has to stop. DC and Marvel really don’t understand what led the comic industry to crash do they???