gross images

I have no clue why this has to be repeated so many times but a lot of people just want to be so disgusting and vile. This is truly unfortunate. 


this includes:

  • smut fanfiction/reaction/scenarios/MTLs etc
  • ^^ justifying these actions because it is “freedom” of writing and creativity 
  • posting highly inappropriate content on idol’s social medias 
  • attending their concerts, fan meets, etc and displaying disrespectful and gross images or sayings 
  • justifying sexualization with “age of consent”
  • wanting and anticipating for an underage age to become legal/ turn of age 
  • and many many

This is being very much so predatory/ pedophile 

You literally have no justification to sexualize minors.


So fuck yall lame ass dumb excuses about “freedom” and “creativity” or feeling like badasses and sexualizing anyways. Additionally, yall love to say someone does not look like a “child” so yall sexualize anyways. <—– THIS is also dangerous and sickening because no matter what they person looks like they are still u n d e r a g e. 

The industry that they are in is already horrendous with shady people and purposively marketing strategies that sexualize underage idols. Fans do not have any right to do this too. No one is right in acting and defending these poor actions.

Protect not just idols but children and teens in general because the world is already dangerous BUT we do not need sexualization. STOP looking at literal children as tools to feed your awful and dirty minded fantasies. They are not and will never be yall’s like this. 

anonymous asked:

What about team nice dynamite playing surgeon simulator on a real person

Oh jeez that gets awfully bloody awfully quickly. It’s definitely  one of their nastier games, which considering who they are and what they’ve done is really saying something.

The idea is probably born in Caleb’s office. Michael’s grumbling his way through stitches, reluctantly laughing as Gavin makes a nuisance of himself while he waits, opening draws, playing with tools, theorising about what everything does, miming out increasingly disturbing looking operations until Caleb finally banishes him back to the waiting chair under the threat of a first-hand demonstration.

Still, the idea is planted and not even a week goes by before Michael and Gavin decide to rob a hospital, pick up a few tools of their own, and play doctor. They get everything from scrubs and gloves to speciality instruments and various medications, alongside a few of their own concoctions and no small number of personal knives. Their ‘surgery’ is an abandoned warehouse; not even one of Geoff’s, just somewhere private where no one will notice them making a mess. And boy do they make a mess.

Their first involuntary patient is a very bad man indeed, cruel and nasty and just generally lacking in heart. So they take his out. Dig around for a bit, surprised by the effort it takes to get through the ribcage, wondering at the sheer amount of blood, the various strange bits and pieces they rummage through, organs they examine then toss to the floor to continue their quest. Astonishingly the patient does not survive, but they manage to extract the heart before it stops beating so at the end of the day they call it a successful endeavour.

For the next sorry contestant, who had the misfortune of witnessing something he shouldn’t have and running his mouth in the wrong company, there is a very delicate eye surgery, followed by a far less delicate experimentation to determine which vaguely eye-shaped objects found laying around the penthouse would make the best replacements.

There’s a dirty cop working for the wrong gang whose night ends with his brain on the floor, a noisy thorn in Geoff’s side who involuntarily donates his kidneys to science, a brief foray into dentistry leaves a crook without their teeth, an arms-dealer who got a bit too touchy loses an arm, and in a move that’s more petty than anything else, a wanna-be conman who thought he could manipulate Gavin of all people gets to accidentally teach them just how quickly a person can bleed out when they’re missing their tongue. 

With all the compassion of serial-killers, the selfish amusement of egocentric children and the in-built bravado born from the unwavering support of a best friend the only end in sight for this awful new game is the inevitable moment Team Nice Dynamite gets bored and moves on to something else.

The rest of the FAHC doesn’t know what they’re up to in their spare time but have seen enough shared looks and whispered plans to know they’re doing something, have witnessed more than enough of that particular brand of nasty delight to know it’s something devastating. Still, when casual inquiry reveals nothing more than a pair of matching grins, somewhat secretive and entirely wicked, it’s generally agreed that it’s best to just sit back and wait for the mayhem to roll in.

Which is all well and good for a while, but eventually Jeremy and Ryan are bored enough, curious enough, nosey enough to give up on patience and track them down. It’s not particularly difficult, they’re not really hiding, but what has been seen cannot be unseen and Jeremy, for one, desperately wishes he’d left Ryan to investigate on his own. Ryan stands in silence, reaction hidden behind his mask though Jeremy fancies that there’s something upsettingly amused in the way he surveys what is undoubtably a makeshift surgery, eyes sharply interested as they flick around the room, to the blood on the floor, the walls, to the body on the table, the wailing heart-monitor and an IV bag filled with something oddly glittery.

Jeremy is feeling slightly less impartial. Maybe it’s just the surprise of it all; he was expecting another firework bomb, maybe a kidnapped cop or the makings of an elaborate prank, anything other than the cold, still, Dexter-like vibe of this particular undertaking. It’s almost too much, too disturbing, even with everything the FAHC have done, everything he himself has done. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, maybe it’s no worse, not really, but in the shock of landing in what looks like a horror movie torture room Jeremy can’t help but think that this is something else, that this is terrible.  

Then Gavin tears through, squawking up a storm and holding two eyeballs up over his head like they’re watching Michael, who’s roaring with laughter and whirling something pink and fleshy around like a lasso as he gives chase, and just like that the moment is thoroughly broken. Ryan snorts, turning on his heel and heading out the way he came but Jeremy can’t quite make himself leave, can’t even stay silent, not when Michael slides through something unnamable, wiping out into a tray of instruments and going down under a bombardment of misplaces organs like the worlds goriest slapstick routine.

The sound has Gavin finally catching sight of Jeremy, eyes widening in shock before he grins, wild and disastrous as he crows out a greeting, calling for the illustrious Doctor Dooley to come in and save him from the heavy-handed fumblings of Doctor Jones, and honestly at that point there’s really little else Jeremy can do but start looking around the room for a spare pair of gloves.

Fixing a Daily Reminder Post...

Just your daily reminders:

  • Racists are a problem
  • White people are not (unless they are completely oblivious to the world around them and they think that everyone is equal and if you dare tell them that the world is LESS than equal, they will start explaining how you’re narrow minded and you’re the problem in the world,)
  • Homophobes are a problem
  • Straight people are not (unless they are grossed out by images of gay people and want that type of thing to not be “normalized” and fetishized certain aspects of it.)
  • Transphobes are a problem
  • Cis people are not (unless they want to keep them out of public restrooms, and reduce them to “freaks of nature” and not “real”)
  • Sexists are a problem
  • Men are not (however, let’s be honest. We don’t have to think of a lot of things that women have to go through because we have this belief that women are the softer gender and should be restricted to certain roles, where men get praised for doing something mundane as changing a baby diaper) 

And most importantly,

  • Hating an innocent person solely because of their race, sexuality, or gender makes you a fucking asshole - but most people would think that an ounce of criticism is hate, or think that jokes = hate, or pretty much ANYTHING that makes the majority and the “norm” = hate and is reduced to this aspect. 

It’s funny how we need a “daily reminder” for something like this when the people who write things like this takes offense because they can’t take criticism or think that their world is fading away because the norm is changing and they need reminders that “we’re the norm, not you!” 

Milkshakes and Hidden Love

     "Jughead!“ you made your way to your best friends usual booth at the Diner. He looked behind him and gave you a small smile, and then turned his head back towards his screen. You slid into the opposite booth and watched as Jughead stared down at his laptop, his green-blue eyes darting around across the screen. You admired Jughead in this moment, so concentrated and in his zone. You loved watching him write, it was one of your favourite things to do, although it didn’t last long.

    "I know I’m ugly but there’s no need to stare.” Jughead said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes and laughed.

    “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell went so wrong that caused you to look like that.” you teased, and Jughead smirked.

    “Ouch.” he faked offense, putting his hand on his chest. Closing his laptop, he slid to the edge of his seat and stood up. “I guess I should spare your poor eyes and leave.” You shot up from your seat and stood in front of him.

    “Oh no you don’t.” you laughed, pushing Jughead back down. Jughead fell into the seat and looked up at you. His face had shock written all over it, but quickly turned into a mischievous smirk.

    “I always like it when a woman takes charge every once in a while.” Your face turned crimson and you rolled your eyes. Jughead winked up at you, and you sat back into your seat and winked back. You both stared at each-other for a second or two, and the both of you burst out laughing.

    “You’re so weird.” you said, and Jughead shrugged his shoulders. “Anyways, like you would even know what it’s like for a woman to ‘take charge’ of you, unless it was your mother.” Jugheads face twisted.

    “Gross, definitely not an image I wanted.” Again you rolled your eyes.

    “That’s not what I mean, smartass.” He laughed.

    “You don’t know what I do on my free time Y/N. I could have the many ladies chasing after me over every night.”

    “Oh whatever, all you do on your free time is get dragged around by me and write your novel.” Before he had a chance to answer, a waiter came over and brought you your normal order. Every waiter already knew your order, a chocolate milkshake with whipped topping and 2 cherries. One for you, and one that Jughead always stole. Like clockwork, Jughead reached over and picked a cherry off the top of your shake, gave you a small smile and ate it. He threw the stem on the table.

    “You’re right,” he said chewing. “I only have time for one lady, and her name is Y/N.”  

    Damn, you thought. You felt your cheeks burn and you looked over to the raven haired boy who sat in front of you. You knew you had liked him for what felt like forever. Hell it practically had been forever, it had been your whole life. But nerves always made it so you never tried to go beyond best friend. Maybe this smooth ass motherfucker actually loved you back!

    “Well lucky for you, I only have time for one boy, and his name is Jughead.” You smiled sweetly up at him and then took a sip of your milkshake.

    It was Jugheads turn to blush, and boy did he. Jughead smiled down at the table in attempt to hide the blush rising up. Not a lot of people, or even things for that matter could make him happy, but Y/N never failed to. He glanced up to find her looking at him, her same beautiful smile plastered on her face. He got a warm feeling in his chest that he only got when he was around her, a feeling of pride that he put that smile on her, a warm sensation that he could only describe as love. He loved Y/N, he loved her a lot, but he was scared that she didn’t feel the same way, that if he were to tell her she would push him away, and he’d lose his main source of happiness in his mess of a life. He couldn’t bare the thought of-

    “Jughead? Earth to Jones.” Jughead snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. “Are you alright there?” you asked.

    “I’m fine, I’d be great if you let me take a drink of your milkshake.” he said, reaching for the glass. You pulled it towards you, narrowing your eyes and staring him down.

    “But its mine.” you said stubbornly, but Jughead caught onto the sarcastic tone in your voice. He stood up from his booth and sat on your side. He scooted over until you were pressed in between him and the wall. He put his feet up on the booth seat and leaned his back into you.

    “Ouch.” he said, squirming and pushing back against you. “These booths are not very comfortable. Dare I say they move and yell?” You pounded on his back, not hard enough to hurt him too badly, just enough for him to move.

    “Jughead, get off me!” you laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

    “They’re abusive too.” Jughead said, squirming against you. After another minute of teasing you, he moved over just enough so he wasn’t pushing you against a wall, and you straightened your hair. You looked up at the boy beside you, as he sipped on your milkshake and you laughed.

    “How the hell did you end up getting milkshake on your nose?” you laughed, picking up a napkin and reaching up to wipe his nose. “You’re using a straw, this shouldn’t even be possible.”

    “I don’t know, magic maybe?” he teased. You chuckled and leaned your head against his shoulder and looked out the window. Somehow you hadn’t noticed it started raining, and you watched as the rain drops rolled down the window. Jughead leaned his head on yours, and looked down at you, and then the window.

    “Are you sure they aren’t dating?” Veronica asked, putting her newspaper down on the table. Betty picked the newspaper up and shoved it back in Veronica’s face.

    “Yes I’m sure, and keep that up or else they’ll notice us.” Betty said, peeking through the eye holes cut out from her newspaper.

    “These newspapers were printed before I even got here.” Veronica said, looking through the paper. “Oh no, we cut the head off a puppy she when you made these!” She exclaimed and Betty shushed her. Veronica looked back up, and her and Betty watched as the two left the Diner.

    “In the words of a dear friend, they are definitely end game.” Betty whispered as she tried to look out the window.

Old West DS9 AU where Odo is the sheriff and his deputy wears a 20 Gallon Hat and when he needs to revert back to his goo to regenerate he just sloshes into the hat until his hour is over and he can get back to being sheriff.

Baze Malbus is so important to me, you guys. Specifically the actor that portrays him. I need to talk about Jiang Wen.

He is my favourite director and actor from Mainland China. And he’s just… so cool. And so brilliant. Man is a genius. I didn’t even know he could speak English until I saw Rogue One.

And now that he’s been in Rogue One, I can reblog fan art of Baze Malbus. I can buy a toy of Baze Malbus and have a tiny Jiang Wen to put on my desk and admire. There is currently nothing I want more in my life than a tiny Jiang Wen.


If you don’t know anything about him as an actor, imagine something like a Chinese Clint Eastwood with a hidden soft side, and you’re basically on your way to understanding the wonder of this man. For Western audiences right now, his appearance on the mainstream film stage is a chance to get to know another facet of Asian masculinities. Asian men in film can be stone-cold badasses without having to be martial-arts masters, without having to be made to seem asexual, without having to be set up as supervillains. They hit that on the head with Baze, who is super cool, genuinely heroic, and probably getting it on with Chirrut. And I am so, so happy that people in the West can get to know him now.

To look at an actor like Jiang Wen from the perspective of Chinese history is fascinating. He was an unsupervised army brat in Beijing when the Cultural Revolution was going on. That was a ripe time and place for youth gang activity, since everyone was either busy with revolution, or at labour camp. He’d likely have been part of/peripheral to that 1970s hooligan culture that romanticised heroism and bonds of sworn brotherhood like in Chinese kung-fu epics, and spent weekends clashing violently in the streets with bicycles and meat cleavers.

When the revolution was over, prominent male intellectuals were taking to the media to discuss how they felt ‘emasculated’ by Maoism, since gender roles (especially femininities) had been kind of in chaotic flux for ten years; now there were voices in the media calling for basically a return to gender essentialism. During that trend Jiang Wen sort of emerged as one of the faces of this ultra-macho post-Maoist masculinity, kind of a return to something essential and primal, something “natural” after all the political artifice of the Cultural Revolution. See Red Sorghum, a film that literally has him running around a stark yet idyllic rugged Northern backdrop, sweating and half-naked, getting drunk and engaging in ritual singing with his fellow male wine distillers. Of course, gender essentialism and machismo are problematic. Machismo in Chinese culture and history in particular has had and is still having tragic effects. But I’m inclined to believe that it’s the homosocial camaraderie that is the most important part of the work in this early part of Jiang’s career (from the 80s to about 2000), that offers space for exploration of a host of different Chinese masculinities, and that it’s important for Western audiences to be exposed to it. Plus, there’s that soft side I mentioned. The man brings his mum and dad on his shoots, for chrissakes.

All that is not even to say anything of his crazy talent as a director, which I’m way less qualified to talk about and I’ll probably vomit up a lot of meaningless words. Just go watch In the Heat of the Sun and Devils on the Doorstep right now, if you can handle gross images of war, violence and dubious sexual situations.

Anyway, tumblr, please keep the Baze art coming. I may or may not paper my office in it.


Warnings: panic attack, anxiety

Requester: Anon

Gif Credit: Gif

Panic settles in your stomach, clawing its way up your chest and around your heart; squeezing it like a vice. You’ve had panic attacks before, and only one person has been able to stop them. That person wasn’t here. That person had pushed you away from him earlier. That person could be dead, or worse, been bitten.

After you scream at him for trying to comfort you, Deaton paces the floor as you fall apart.

The ticking of the clock on the wall only fuels your panic. It’s time that Scott is searching. It’s time that Peter could have bitten him. It’s time spent imaging every gross scenario your twisted mind can come up with.

You don’t hear the bell above the door.

You don’t hear the footfalls as they hurry down the hall.

You don’t see the feet stop in front of you.

You only feel the warm hands against your face, sweeping through the tears that have fallen.

Brown eyes search yours. “Breathe.”

You grip the front of his shirt and do your best to match your breathing to his. Your fingers work over his shoulders and rest on the back of his neck, pulling him close until your foreheads are pressed together.

“Just breathe. That’s it. You can do it.” Gone is the panic his voice clung to earlier. Replacing it is concern, love.

By the time panic has released your heart and slithered back to where it came from, you notice he’s crying, too. Not much, just a few tears have slipped past his eyelashes.

You nudge his nose with yours before pressing your lips against his, tasting your own tears. His lips are cool, nothing like the heat of his tongue as it sweeps over your bottom lip.

You can’t stop the whimper in your throat when he pulls back. “I thought… I thought he got you.”

He shakes his head, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Nah. I was too quick for him.”

Scott scoffs. “Dude, I found you hiding in a cave.” Deaton hides a smile behind his hand.

“Don’t listen to him, it was all part of my plan.”

In spite of everything, you find yourself smiling. You lean into his touch. “Your plan? Since when do you have a plan, Stiles?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, he winks playfully. “When it comes to protecting you, always.”

Warmth spreads in your chest, replacing the cold ache that panic leaves in its wake. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Written by: mamapeterson

Negative Manifestations of Ni

I’ve noticed that I can categorize the typical negative manifestations of my Ni into three rather distinct states: hopeless existentialism, paranoia, or obsessive visualization. This is written entirely from my own perspective and experience as an ISTP, but I’d assume this applies in varying degrees to other Ni-users.

Hopeless existentialism tends to be, “Nothing I do has any purpose because the ultimate end is death, which is unchangeable.” It seems that Ni overpowers my Se in this scenario, deeming life as ‘meaningless’ because there is no ‘ultimate underlying meaning’. Se can’t pop in and say “c’mon now, look at things realistically”, because, well, death is reality. Se can’t find a way around it, so it reinforces Ni’s negative spin on reality.

Note that Ni could just as easily be like, “Hey look, there’s no fixed, ultimate meaning to life… which means I have the freedom to derive my own meaning.” That would be a healthy perspective produced by Ni and Se.

Paranoia is more like, “There are so many hidden meanings everywhere. These people have hidden motivations and I have a hard time trusting their words at face-value. For example, I believe this person has bad intentions and is trying to smother me and take away my freedom… even though I have no evidence.” The thought process is never that specific, mind you. I experience those words as more of a baseless gut instinct or figurative alarm bells. But my point is that I derive certain meanings from my environment without solid proof. This is Ni quickly glancing at the information provided by Se and prematurely perceiving meaning. It happens when Se fails to give proper balance to Ni. I get stuck seeing subjective implications and fail to see that what’s actually in front of me really has no inherent / unquestionable deeper meaning.

Most Ni-users should be able to know the reason or source of their distrust (though INxJs and maybe a few ENxJs would naturally have trouble with this, due to lower Se). Healthy Se/Ni would clue them into what isn’t immediately obvious, based on specific environmental cues.

Obsessive visualization is something along the lines of, “I feel insecure about my ability to perform this task even though, in the back of my mind, I know I can realistically get through it. I must analyze and visualize every single step I will take in order to complete this task well. I don’t have confidence in my abilities to improvise and adapt to the situation.” This is is an example of what happens during some of my Ti-Ni loops. Se is pushed completely out of the picture. I fail to take a step back and perceive the situation objectively. I often become uncharacteristically focused on rehearsing my future actions. I’m so focused on searching ahead that I fail to operate effectively in the moment. The loop typically lasts until I have completed the task and have nothing else for which to mentally prepare.

Visualization to a certain degree is your typical Ni, but not when it surpasses reason. If an Ni-user knows beyond a doubt that they absolutely can accomplish something without excessive planning… and yet they still obsessively focus purely on what they believe will happen and lose total focus on the present moment… that’s not healthy Ni.

There comes a point when you can’t play everything off as coincidence anymore, and Harry and Louis passed that point about a hundred “coincidences” ago. All signs point towards larry, and i’m sorry if you think that’s delusional thinking, but honest to god there’s too much for antis to debunk. It’s been nearly seven (7) years and larry is STILL an ongoing debate, to the point where this fanbase is literally separated between antis and larries. The amount of shit they could have done to deny larry, like for instance, IGNORING IT. Instead even more attention was brought to it when they decided to bring in beards and babies and sending out a “hate” narrative. And it’s continuing even now to the point where Ben Winston is trying to erase the fact that H and L lived together by telling lies and resorting to enforcing Harry’s unwanted womanizing image. It’s gross.
Louis’ entire public image revolves around his relationships rather than his music and all the amazing shit he’s done for charity and the fans. We know who he’s dating at all times, we knew B was pregnant before she even started showing, we get pictures of every single time he’s with El including at his fucking public house. We’ve predicted practically every single thing that’s happened with elounor, it’s at a point where I’m no longer laughing at how poorly everything has been carried out. I’m an optimist, so hopefully this is the year they finally have their happy ending, though I doubt anything major like that will happen before the release of Harry’s album, By the way, speaking of the album, Harry’s constant need to the allude the number 28 is an example of one of those unfortunate “coincidences.” If you don’t think the dates all going back to 28 is on purpose, then please explain to me the likelihood of two people being haunted by a number. Also, while you’re at it, explain the corresponding tattoos and explain the new bee tattoo. Explain Louis’ treatment towards Freddie. Explain why Louis’ manager followed El on the same day within minutes of Louis following her BEFORE anything was confirmed or publicly set up. Explain the poorly laid out timeline of everything and how the narrative just makes Louis out to be a lowlife cheater. Explain why Harry can’t even say Louis’ name in an interview. Explain why Harry said he hasn’t dated in a while and yet is so seemingly in love and has filled his album with songs referring to a certain someone. Explain why Hendall is still being talked about when both teams have denied ever dating more than once. Explain Haylor and why Louis was so miserable at that time and why he always showed as much dislike toward it as he could. Explain Harry’s love of all things rainbow and for gods sake thE BEES. Explain the song Home and why Louis changed pronouns. Explain why Harry hasn’t used a single pronoun when describing a partner since practically the beginning, other than the times he’s straight up used male pronouns. Explain the lyric changes and the fond stares. Explain Wellington and rbb. And fucking hell, someone please explain why before Elounor 1.0 Louis tweeted AIMH, and before Elounor 2.0 he tweeted “Always” and captioned a very sad black and white selfie with “You.”
This literally isn’t even half of the shit I could have brought up. Louis and Harry don’t owe anything to me, and I’m aware we don’t know shit about their actual lives, but you can’t attack an entire group of people and call them delusional and use ableist terms and tell us we need to be checked into a mental institute when everything is so completely black and white. All you have to do is open your eyes and realize that people lie, the music industry is not a happy go lucky place, and people in the industry get closeted all the fucking time. Homophobia exists, heteronormativity exists, fear exists, forced closeting exists, pr stunts exist, and not everything is a glorified Hollywood dream