This is a video made by a dear friend, and I encourage everyone to watch it. It will change you.
The show Monster By Mistake, is a revolutionary program aired on YTV, the bane of children’s television, at an hour somewhere between ‘I’m at daycare’ and 'Mom wanted me to shut up so she stuck me on the couch by the remote’. It is about a boy who sneezes and turns into a giant blue playdough model of a yeti. Why? Who knows. A question for our generation.
Johnny the motherfucking trumpet playing ghost symbolises what each of us, as human beings with both a biologically empirical and psychologically metaphysical component, wish we could attain. He is a hellbeast from the otherworld, cursed to haunt the attic of two pinch-ass buggers named blonde boy I don’t care about (Warren) and shitty detective girl (Tracy) while they do fuck all. Truly a heartwarming companionship, delving into the recesses of human want and need.
Cower before the awe-inspiring quality of the CGI animation used to bring this spectacle to life, which looks strikingly like if I put a washcloth on a dead rat and dragged it around the house by a scooter. The jerky movements, the flaccid lip movement, the sheer pixelation and shit quality of the computer generated marvel is something that makes my non-existent sperm run and hide. There are no words.
And of course, the soundtrack, “Girl I Got to Go,” which I assume is the name of the music but really I don’t care, is directed and composed by some teenage heartthrob band I’ve probably seen on my neice’s wall but I couldn’t care less. The song speaks of love, humanity, and the things which Johnny the fucking ghost wishes he could achieve, but alas is bound by his ethereal form and cannot. It challenges the mind, makes the viewer question the reality of their life. And for this I am grateful.
Request: Can i req a promt that sam is sick and every night he will fight with dean about taking cpap mask while actually he hate breathing mask?
You’d been with the Winchesters for over a year before you saw one of them get sick. Dean was miserable for nine days, unable to shake a cold, refusing any help whatsoever. He did his best to clean up after himself so neither you or Sam caught what he had.
That was great until Dean sneezed as he rounded a corner, straight in Sam’s face. Sam had groaned, knowing his chances of suffering the same as Dean had skyrocketed. The three of you were treated to just one day where Dean was healthy again and Sam was hoping that maybe he’d gotten lucky. Until Sam walked in the kitchen the next day with a runny nose and nasty cough. Sam very much acted like Dean had, not letting you help out and Dean kept his distance.
Until you passed by Sam’s partially shut door that evening, ready to check on him before he tried to get some sleep and heard the boys talking.
“Sammy, wear it,” said Dean, his voice strangely parental.
“Dean, I’m not a kid anymore,” said Sam, his voice raw and ragged with something wet in there that made you feel unclean. “I don’t-”
“It’s in your chest and you can’t breathe so wear the damn thing before I have to take you to the hospital again,” you heard Dean say, his voice low and angry. “You remember that night, don’t you?”
“One night I’ll wear it, that’s it,” said Sam, the sound of something passing between them. “Don’t let Y/N come in. She’ll worry.”
“That’ll make two of us,” said Dean, his voice softer but stern. “I’ll keep her out if you promise to wear it tonight.” There was silence for a few moments before you heard Sam let out what you thought was supposed to be a happy sigh. “Better, aren’t you?”
“Goodnight, Dean,” you heard Sam say and you scurried down the hall before Dean caught you listening in.
In the morning Sam looked a little better but once again by the end of the day, he was sickly and practically coughing up a lung. You stopped by Sam’s room to bring him some vapor rub but you stopped when you heard arguing.
“Dude, I know you don’t like it but it helps you,” said Dean. “Wear it.”
“I’m not going through this again, waking up to find you half-dead in some bed because you had pneumonia and were trying to be tough for me,” said Dean, raising his voice. “You aren’t twelve anymore Sam. Stop acting like you are.”
“Fine, whatever,” you heard Sam say. “It’s on, what more do you want?”
“Keep it on and if you get out of that bed tomorrow so help me Sammy,” said Dean, suddenly whipping the door open,catching you duck around the corner but not saying anything to the grumbling younger Winchester.
The next morning you didn’t see Sam up and around and wondered if he’d listened to Dean. When you went to his room, you didn’t expect to find Sam looking so peaceful as he slept and certainly not expecting to see the mask on his face.
“He doesn’t get sick much,” said Dean, walking up and leaning on the other side of the doorframe as you watched Sam. “He’s got a predisposition or something to stuff going straight to his lungs. He got pretty bad once when I was 16, woke me up because he couldn’t breathe. I stole a car and got him to a hospital and they kind of sucked up the crap in him. Sent us home with that little machine on the table,” said Dean, pointing at the thing on Sam’s bedside table.
“It helps him breathe,” you said, Dean nodding his head as Sam took deep, long breaths.
“I knew the second I got him sick it’d hit him hard so I ran out and picked one up. He thinks he’s weak or some crap by using it,” said Dean, scuffing his boot against the floor. “I just don’t ever want to see him like that again. He’s a grown man but…”
“He’s your baby brother,” you said, patting Dean on the shoulder. “I won’t let him know you let me in on his secret.”
“He’d kill me probably,” said Dean, pulling Sam’s door shut as the two of you left him to rest.
“I don’t think…” you got out out before you were sneezing into your arm. When you brought your head back, everything suddenly stuffed up, Dean was sighing.
“Bed,” he said, pointing you towards your room. “I’ll check on you in little while.”
“You take care of Sam, I can quarantine myself on the other side of the bunker for a few days,” you said, sniffling. “I don’t want you to carry anything over and get him worse.”
“I appreciate the offer but Nurse Winchester’s in charge around here the next week,” said Dean, waving you into your room. “Get in bed and rest.”
“I really am fine-”
“Come on, do I have to fight both of you?” Dean whined a little. “Help me out, Y/N.”
“As long as you make sure Sam gets better, fine, I’ll stay in bed,” you said, throwing back your covers.
“Thank you,” you heard him say, just as Sam called out for him.
“Go on, he must not feel good if he’s asking for you,” you said, feeling a scratch form in your throat that was going to be annoying. Dean nodded and closed your door behind him as you heard Sam again.
“I’m coming Sammy!” you heard Dean shout as you coughed and hoped Dean didn’t need to run out and grab another mask for yourself.
It would absolutely make my day if you could do a blurb for how each of the boys would react to finding out that you were raped in the past, I know that might sound weird but it comforts me to read about things which i've experienced? like, it makes me feel less isolated, if that makes sense??? i don't mind if you don't want to write it, i understand, but if you do then thank you!! I adore your writing, you've helped me through a lot :)
Hey, anon. I know first hand how the word sorry means nothing in a situation like that, but I am truly so sorry for what happened to you; from the bottom of my heart, I hurt for you and I understand. I would be honored to do this for you, and I hope that this can bring some comfort and happiness to you. I want you to know that I’m here for you, whoever you are, and if you feel you can’t speak with anyone about this, you always can with me. I love you anon, and I’m proud of you. | I will be writing this from the ‘I’ point of view so the anon can specifically read it as if it were them self.
Do you understand what it feels like to feel a prisoner in your own skin, unable to claw away from the parts of you that you no longer want to claim? I do. Have you spent hours in the shower, scrubbing harshly at raw skin just to rid yourself from the constant scum that burrows you? I do. Have you ever wondered why, why me? Why did this have to happen? I do.
There is a certain kind of pain that stays with you all of your life, a kind that never lets you forget the very thing you pray you could. I am no different. It follows me, like a dark demon that perches on my shoulders, its bony fingers digging into my skin just to remind me that I am not whole. I wonder often if I ever will be, whole I mean. It doesn’t seem to be written in the stars, and no matter how much I have, that demon always takes.
I don’t sleep very often without the help of medication and tiny pills, and more often than not I’d prefer to be sleep deprived than give into a feeling I can not control. My only savior in the narrow path that frightens me to near death is a simple boy who just listens. He never pretends to know how I’m feeling, to grip my hand with a half assed sympathetic smile and a half hearted ‘I’m sorry.’ He just is, and he allows me to be just me, and we just are. Those tormenting nights where I feel as if four walls are bound to come down on me, that very same simple boy comes to me with open arms and listening ears.
The cool breeze flowing through the open windows of his car give me enough fresh air and clarity to breath. If even for a moment, I feel as if the Earth is aligned enough to offer me some peace. He drives for an hour just to bring me to our favorite lookout spot, the entire view of Los Angeles crystal clear and always buzzing with life. We exit the car without a word, both of our bottoms hitting the dusty ground as my arms curl around my bended knees.
I am tired. I am tired of feeling lost in my own head. I am tired of feeling unclean simply because someone else made me so. I am just, tired. His tired voice floats over to me amongst the wind, almost missing me as it carries over the lights of the city. “Your head is going to spin off if you don’t say what you need to say.”
My glare at the ground could cause a forest fire if I let it. The anger boils to a heightened temperature, and I bubble over. “That son of a bitch!” Ethan doesn’t even flinch as my voice feels like it will rip in my throat. “How is it fair that he keeps on living and I’m stuck here running in place? Why do I have to be the one who suffers?” My dry hands clutch one another in attempts to keep their shaking at bay. “I am so empty and used up. He steals away every good fucking thing I have, and I don’t know how to throw him away. I don’t know how to step away from the truth and wash my hands of it. He took from me! He took my peace, he took my joy, he took my security. I can’t even fucking look myself in a mirror without feeling him all over me.” My eyes well up with tears that threaten to spill over, my heartstrings busting one by one as Ethan’s eyes cut into mine as he listens. “What did I do? Was I not good enough? Did I not try hard enough to be a good person, and this is my punishment? What did I do to deserve this?”
He scoots over to me in the dust, his hands pulling me into his chest as I let the waterfall go. His hands clutch the fabric of my hoodie, the only thing keeping me from falling into that deep and dark hole that threatens to swallow me up. “You did nothing. It didn’t happen because of you, it happened because of him. There are people in this world, Y/N, that hold no love or respect for anyone. He took from you, yes he did, but please don’t continue to let him take from you. If you do, he wins. Don’t let him win.”
I lean out to look up at him, snot surely running from my nose and I know I look less than desirable. “I don’t want him to win,” I whisper out softly, my voice rough and raw from yelling.
His fingers lace through my hair as he softly rocks us back and forth, the motion rocking me into a contentment. “Then be as strong as I know you can be. Get up every day and tell yourself that you are not what happened to you because you are so much more than that, Y/N. Prove to everyone that bad things have happened to you, but you don’t let them define who you are. You will be happy, and there will be days you won’t be, but you will be in the end. Give yourself the chance.”
I let the words sink deep down into that seeping wound that refuses to heal. I don’t say another word, and neither does he, and we don’t have to. Just having him here with me is enough happiness for me.
My mother always asked me why I kept such morbid paintings in my sketch pad. She didn’t understand that putting the ugly truth out onto paper helped to transfer them from me. She didn’t understand that there were things inside of me that didn’t make sense, things that ran in circles in my head, their footprints indented on every crevice and every space. She never understood me.
I never anticipated Grayson would find my sketch book, and I had hoped he wouldn’t. A part of me wanted to be able to share that deep and inner horror of mine just so I would be able to destroy that wall between us and grow closer, but I don’t think I can ever be ready for that. The book falls to the floor as I stand limply in the doorway, my eyes locked to the cover and unwavering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
My eyes snap up to judge him instantly, something I wish I couldn’t do. “What was I supposed to say? I was raped, I just thought you should know?”
His eyebrows furrow together as his hands shake and for the first time, I witness Grayson Dolan cry. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to look so gorgeous even through their tears. “I feel like I’ve failed you.”
We both stare at the floor, unable to move although our hearts scream in their cages to embrace each other. “You didn’t fail me, Grayson, he did. It’s not your fault.”
He wipes away the tears with anger, looking to the book and to his hand as if it had burned him. “It’s my fault for letting you suffer alone.”
I fight the sickness that rises into my throat, my feet pushing me to meet him by the bed. “You didn’t know. No one really does. I guess I didn’t really want you to. I didn’t want you to know because I don’t want you think of me differently.”
He looks up with disbelief and sadness, more tears spilling as his hands reach to grasp for mine. “Think of you differently? There is nothing you can tell me that could ever change the way I feel about you. You are still just as gorgeous and pure and special to me now as you were ten minutes ago. I love you, Y/N.”
Now I’m crying, feeling the onrush of pure love spilling through my veins and calming that sickly part of me that controls my every move. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, someone to take me for what I am and not pity me, not judge me. Someone to understand I won’t always be rainbows and sunshine, that sometimes I will be pessimistic and unable to experience joy. Someone to take my hand and say 'I am here for you every step of the way.’ Grayson Dolan is that hand, and I take it, wrapping him in a hug as the sorry’s that fall from his mouth are the only ones that have ever meant anything to me, because he meant it. He understands me.
The Dungeon Master leaned back, taking a stunned pause to fully comprehend what had just happened. “You killed a plot-critical NPC,” he said aloud in a harsh, gravelly voice. His eyes narrowed upon the player at the center table across from him, and their gazes locked. “You just derailed my entire campaign.”
The half-elf rogue, knowing full-well what was coming next, bit his lip and squeezed his dice bag, nearly quivering with anticipation. “I’ve been a bad, bad, role-player.” He then took a sharp, deep breath through clenched teeth. “Punish me, Sky Daddy.”
so i heard this sorta high-pitched chattering outside and went to look and i found two raccoons play-fighting in front of my window
i chased em off but they climbed the wall and just kinda defiantly looked me straight in the eye and proceeded to continue with what they were doing a couple minutes before and believe me, it wasn’t play-fighting
is it wrong that I discovered that I'm bi through accidental lesbian porn?? It showed up on my dash once and I instantly fell idk is it wrong i'm so confused by all of this. after more exploration i realized but like i feel so unclean idk
Okay, some uncensored #nsfw truth right here.
I know now that the porn industry is in general like super shitty but a few years ago I used to watch porn because?? Idk?? I heard people talk about it I guess
Anyway I ended up watching this one girl/girl video and I was like?? This is so much better than the girl/guy stuff?? They seem happier and nicer (which might have to do with the fact that the majority of the video was just them making out.)
So then I realized I was bi after a short denial period.
The point of that is that you aren’t alone! I’m sure there are other people who realized it that way as well. I’m assuming you feel dirty because it’s sexual content, but sex isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and neither is sexual attraction to girls.
I hope you have a good day hon 💟
i'm so unbelievably nauseated by the fact that emma now canonically cares more about h00k than children being tortured by a villainous fairy. like, i knew the real emma swan was died in the season 3 finale, but it hasn't really sunk in until tonight's episode. i almost feel unclean for ever loving her character. i have to remind myself that seasons 1-3 is who she truly is.
A&E need bitch slapped for what they’ve done to Emma’s character.
Fangirls of mass shooters are bad enough, but racist mass shooters? Someone who shot up a black church, because they were black, and made this abundantly clear in every interview and trial since?
If you’re a Dylann Roof “fan” you are unbelievably disgusting and I want you to stay far as fuck away from me forever. I don’t give a shit what weird excuses you tell yourself, you are toxic and your “fandom” is toxic.
also on the ride home today when the sun hit my face and i saw myself in a mirror or in my phone reflection it just..i hate myself so much ik it’s emo and cliche but it’s so true and it’s so overwhelming