i think i could run a blog solely on the stupidity from it

In Name Only

The Winchesters are the richest family in your hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. John Winchester has his hands in just about everything in town. Oldest son Dean helps his father run the company. Younger son Sam wants nothing to do with the family business and is constantly getting in trouble. Your parents have just died and you find out that your father owed John Winchester a LOT of money

Characters: John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Donna Hanscum Winchester, Sarah Winchester (OC Dean’s daughter), Bobby Singer, Karen Singer, Amy Singer (OC Reader’s sister), Reader, Jody Mills, Fergus MacLeod

John Winchester sat in his office late on a Friday night doing paperwork with a tumbler of aged bourbon and a Cuban cigar. His cell phone rang, breaking his concentration. When he saw the name, he cursed under his breath. This wouldn’t be good news.

“Hey Jody. What can I do for you?” John asked.

Jody Mills, the sheriff of Lawrence, didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I need you to come down to the station. We have a BIG problem.”

John sighed with annoyance. He was tired of getting these calls. “What did he do now and how much is it gonna cost me to clean it up?”

“Just come John. I don’t know if you can fix this one.” Jody replied in her no-nonsense voice before hanging up.

John rubbed his hand over his eyes tiredly and dialed another number. “Hey Dean, it’s Dad. Meet me at Jody’s office. Your brother’s managed to get himself arrested again.”

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Between the Sheets - Max Stanley Imagine

prompt: “our roommates are fucking and its gotten to the point where we’re so sick of hearing them go at it all night that we have keys to each others places to escape the midnight moans, grunting and bed creaking and i don’t know where this is leading but i hope we end up fucking too” au (i would have linked the original post but the blog has since been deactivated)

Word Count: 1,665

A/N: it’s not really exactly nsfw because i don’t write those despite what the prompt implies, but there’s suggestion of it. But anyway, i just saw this prompt and i thought it would be perfect for max, enjoy !! and happy holidays !!

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The One Who Didn't Care

Request: Pairing for @obsessedwithmisha

Reader Description: 5'5", curly blonde hair, with feckles and blue eyes, loves to read, play, and listen to music, is a major people’s person and is easily excitable. (Side note: Babe ! Do you know how awesome you are solely for the fact that you have freckles ?? I adore freckles like there’s no tomorrow 😂😂)

Character pairing: Castiel x Reader(reader based off of @obsessedwithmisha ’s description)

Warnings: fluffity fluff fluff mcfluffersten

Word Count:1143

A/n: I actually just wanted a sweet one shot, no angst. Which is hard cause im sorta a little deppresive shit. 😂 But I really hope y'all like it ! Please please i begs for the feedback.

@supernatural-jackles @angelkurenai @frenchybell @d-s-winchester @spn-mudkip @waywardlullabies @waytooinlovewithdeanwinchester @crowleysplaythings @ilostmyshoe-79 @feelmyroarrrr @mrswhozeewhatsis @nitelotus @gabby913 @busybee612 @lipstickandwhiskey @winchesterenthusiast @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @deanscherrypie @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @allinhishands @catastrophic-carrie @bringmesomepie56 @lovespnwritersnetwork @torn-and-frayed @peaceloveandplumbots @xxtprecklessxx @supernaturalprincess67 @jpadjackles @maraisabellegrey @hasta-impalasta @candydean @winchester-writes @faith-in-dean @padamooseandgrasshopper @willowing-love @splendidcas @bluejayunit @skybinx-blog

• • • • •

“Crap, crap, crap.”

You were running absolutely late to work. About 2 hours late. “Boss is gonna kill me.” You murmured under your breath. You were speeding in your car until finally, you got to work. You looked at yourself in the rearview mirror seeing your abnormally curly hair sticking in every known direction. You were a therapist at an outpatient clinic. You helped kids who suffered with mental sicknesses and you helped them believe in themselves again. You loved your job so much.

You are what they call a “people’s person”, a social butterfly, and an extrovert. You knew you could talk to anyone of any age, connect, interact, it was one of the things you just loved to do. You loved to talk to people and get to know them. But not just know them, you wanted to learn their history, their culture, what’s tradition in their family, you didn’t just want to know what their favorite color was. It always excited you so much to hear a new story about their adventures, whom ever it may be. You know you were good at being yourself so you put it to good use. After studying in college and getting a degree, you became a therapist. You wanted to use your curiosity for good use and your patients loved you for it. They knew you cared, that when you asked if they were ok, it was genuine. You felt like this was the perfect job for you.

Unfortunately, your mom had asked for a few errands and you didn’t realize they’d take so long to be completed. You were never late so you hoped it was excused. You ran and everyone seemed happy that you even came. After talking to a few patients for 3 hours, being scolded but forgiven, and then 7 hours later, finishing your last patient, you packed up, ready to go home. You walked outside to your car when you noticed someone. You placed your stuff in the car before you looked at the man again. He seemed to be staring off into space. He was just standing there, doing absolutely nothing. You thought maybe one of the patients somehow, got out. You approached him softly and carefully, not wanting to trigger an attack from this strange man.

The closer you got to him, the more gorgeous you saw he was. He was wearing a long brown trenchcoat and what seemed to be a suit underneath. And then his blue eyes moved and locked onto you.

“Hello there.” You breathed deeply, trying so very hard to hide the nervousness in your body. You had never dealt with loose patients so you didn’t really know what to do. “Im (Y/n). Are you lost?” The man kept staring at you, squinting, as if you asked him in chinese. “Do you need help getting back inside, sweety?”

“Where exactly?”

“The hospital.”

“Why would I need to go to a hospital? I am fine, and my grace can heal me.” Grace? What was he talking about? His mom? His wife? His daughter? His sister?

“What’s your name?”


“Well, Castiel, I think we should get you home. So if you don’t live in the hospital, where do you live?”

“I come from heaven, but I do not own a home at the moment.” You didnt mean for a small giggle to come out but it did.


“Yes, I’m an angel of the lord.” Your eyes went wide at his comment. You wanted to believe him but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So knowing yourself, you said the stupid two words: “Prove it.”

Of course, Castiel got close to you and grabbed you and somehow, you were in Europe. You were amazed at the fact that you just practically teleported. “Woah.”

“Yes, it is woah.”

“If you’re an angel then, where are your wings?”

“They’re here. Do not worry.”

“Can I, c-can I touch them?” At this point, you were jumping up and down like a three year old on Christmas day. He blushed at your sudden request. Castiel then grabbed you and took you back to where you had met. And to say that the words were knocked out off you, was an understatement. You saw his wings slowly extend under the one light shinning in the dark parking lot. You approached him delicately. You touched the feathers so lightly, so softly. It felt like heaven to you. The way his wings felt under your touch. The more you admired Castiel’s wings, the more he would blush and turn red. You practically touched and grazed every feather on each wing. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Cas, they’re beautiful.”

“Is that a flirtation ?” You laughed a little.

“No, it’s just, your wings are so very beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

You sat there in silence for a little bit. The best part was that it wasn’t awkward, it just felt like you fit together. You turned to look at Castiel and his piercing blue eyes looked back at you.

“Cas, can I ask ya something ?”


“Why did you let me touch your wings ? And I’m not asking in a bad way, I just want to know. It’s a big trust given out to just look at them, let alone touch. ”

“To be quite honest, I have no idea how I got here. I just felt very attracted to here. And once you got near, it got stronger. I’m attracted to you but I cannot process why.”

You stayed quiet for a while, soaking in his response. Then a humongous grin appeared on your face.

“Well I don’t care if your attracted to me or not, I made a new friend today and your awesome ! ” At this point, Castiel was having a super hard time trying to keep his laughing inside. He then got very serious and was staring at your face so intensily. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes, a lot of red dots.” You started giggling.

“They’re called freckles.” You had to tippy toe up to show him. You weren’t exactly tall to say, but you werent short either. You say it was normal height.

“Dean has those on his face too.”


“He’s, uh, a friend.”

“Oh, well, tell him you have a new friend, one with freckles too.” You started to walk back to your car.

“Are you leaving?”

“I kinda have to Cas, I’m sorry. I work.”

“It is ok. ” You turned around, grabbed a pen from your pocket, and grabbed his palm. You scribbled your name and phone number.

“If you ever need a friend.” You smiled and walked back to your car, leaving the gorgeous blue eyed angel back. However, Cas knew he didn’t just want to be friends with you, he wanted more.

I am so fucking angry!

Don’t be lured into a false sense of safety. Just because Trump didn’t put 50 Mexicans to the wall yersteday before his first speech doesn’t mean he changed. Because, guess what, despite being a spineless piece of shit - that man is no clown. It was easy to depict him like one during the campaign - with his silly hair and ugly grimaces - but this man runs a financial imperium - he’s not stupid. He’ll get advisers in, he already has them in place. Why do you think his twitter was blocked? Why do you think he took his time to appear yesterday before his followers? Because people briefed him and he listened. He’s not stupid.

Do not underestimate Trump. He has neither plan nor vision - but what he lacks in those fields he makes up for with a ruthless determination for power. Power just for power’s sake. And because he has no agenda it’s much easier for him to turn his coat ever which way to stay in power. I don’t know and I don’t care what’s behind that power complex that’s drives him (perhaps he has a very small penis?) - but that is his sole motivation.

And he’ll do anything to stay in power. Don’t think this man will sit in the White House for four years, fondling his assistants and searching Canada on a world map. He’ll fraternise with any group that promises him power. With any! He has no conscience - he’s a true capitalist. He’ll take it to the max - always needing more, needing bigger, expand just for the sake of it; because he can. Not for some greater good, not for the people - just to stroke his ego (or said small penis).

But I already see people saying ‘perhaps it won’t be that bad’ - ‘he surely won’t do all the things he said during his campaign’ - ‘that was just rhetoric’.

No, it wasn’t. As I said above, this man has neither vision nor conscience. There’s no moral framework that will stop him now. Do you really think those weak, gutless people that allowed him into power will now stand up against him as he presents himself as the glorious winner? They’ve won both houses, for god’s sake!

So now Trump will start to cater to the whims of the people who supported him. He’ll give easy answers to complex questions. Of course, he won’t be able to do everything he promised - as some of the things were quite contradictory - but guess what? Instead of admitting that some promises are just impossible to fulfil  and therefore be debunked in the eyes of his admirers, he’ll blame someone else for his failure: the liberals, the establishment, the foreigners, the Muslims, the feminists… whichever marginaliesed group just fits his bill. That’s how demagogues work. It’s all been done before.

But you know what makes me especially angry? That I don’t see many people calling Trump out. I see people congratulating him - some perhaps a bit lukewarm, but nonetheless. I see people gently reminding him of his duties - but they accept him as the new president and just hope that it won’t get THAT bad. Over here, for example, there’s no mention of what Pence stands for - instead, he’s depicted as the force of reason on Trump’s team! Can you imagine?

I know - I, too, want to believe Trump when he says that he wants to be the president for all Americans. But I also know that you can say almost anything you want - it doesn’t really matter, it doesn’t have to have consequences. He’ll say he’s the president of all Americans and will still repeal civil rights, women’s rights, cut benefits, deport people. There’s a difference between deeds and words. He knows that. He knows the media. He’ll distract us with some soft words, his trophy wife and perhaps some pics of him petting small animals. There are lovely pics of Adolf Hitler petting a baby deer…

And we’ll lap it up. We’ll allow ourselves to be distracted from all the evil things he’ll do or set into motion. Because we are not used to get really angry anymore. How many posts I’ve seen since yesterday to calm me down, offer soothing music or cat’s videos? But I don’t want to calm down. I am angry! So angry that this world has come to this. Look where all the chill has got us! Look where it got Hillary, always being patient, always being reasonable, always being measured? The angry white man is in the White House now - while her life and all she ever worked for lies in shambles. But does she rant? No. That could come over unreasonable, embarrassing perhaps. You know what? Fuck this attitude. Fuck this attitude that women always have to be reasonable, controlled, ballanced.

You  might say: but we shouldn’t lower ourselves onto this level of (male?) behaviour. At least we have our dignity. We know that we are better. Well, congrats, but us feeling morally superior won’t help any illegal immigrant being deported, or any disabled person getting their benefit reduced, or any lgbtq person being attacked in the street. Sometimes we have to get your hands dirty, we have to climb down from our moral highground and shout and rant and fight!

Don’t hate. Hate destroys you. But there’s a difference between hate and anger. Anger can kick your ass and make you fight. So, get angry! Don’t distract yourself from your anger, don’t try to channel or swallow it. Let it out!

Get out and look around you. Trump is president. He’ll be president tomorrow and the day after and the day after. For four years! And he’ll deport people, disenfranchise people, cut the benefits of the weak and vulnerable, repeal civil rights. And no amount of calming music or cat videos will change that.

Do you really think women would have gained the vote if they hadn’t smashed windows? Stonewall wasn’t a retreat to teach mindfullness - it was a fucking riot!

Yesterday I couldn’t blog about Sherlock. I was in shock, I was numb, I was in despair. Then I saw posts saying ‘at least we have those two’. And that felt somehow trivial to me. You might argue it takes the edge of your negative feelings - but that is dangerous imo because it calms you down when you should get angry! There are things we have to get angry about! We fight each other some days over top- or bottom!lock - but now we should stay calm? Schouldn’t we instead take the energy we use to argue about who takes it up the arse to change the world we are currently living in?

You might say shipping Johnlock does that because it’s about representation - but do you really think that two guys snogging on a tv show will change a thing? Do you think this will stop Trump and his allies to implement conversion therapy? To repeal lgbtq rights? Will it stop people spitting on gay couples in the streets?

It won’t change a fucking thing! We should look around us and acknowledge that currently we are all sitting in a pile of shit! We have to stop sugarcoating our reality. This is our life now. We have to face it - and then fight it.

I have lived in that bubble for too long. I thought with my intelligent real life friends and my smart, liberal online community that everything would be fine, that people won’t be so stupid. Ha! Look who’s talking. I understand the need for distraction so well. I have an exhausting full time job, a mentally ill child, I carry some baggage myself (my father killed himself when I was a teenager, for example, I cut myself, did hard drugs, toyed with anorexia) - but in times like these that’s no excuse to not get angry, to not fight, to not stand up against it when the world goes dark. Real life triggers! Don’t close your eyes and pretend it’s not happening.

I don’t know what I will do - but I won’t swallow my anger. I’ll argue. I’ll fight people who come out as pro-Trump (or pro-AfD in my country). I’ll smile at the woman in the hijab opposite me. I’ll give some money to the beggar on the corner. Small things - but I’ll take my anger to fuel these actions, to make me bold and brave.

I’m just not sure I’ll be able to write about camera angles or intertextuality, narrative arcs or the ethereal beauty of Sherlock’s eyes just right now. Because I feel that there are more important things going on right now that need my attention.

I just had to let this out.

fic: fracture (1,900 words, maccready/m!ss, AU)

so i was talking with @asexualshepard, as i do, and we had the chilling realization that if the sole survivor hadn’t hired him in goodneighbor, there would be very few options left for maccready, and fewer that didn’t end in death. one of those was the potential for him to rejoin the gunners, and off the cuff of that thought was me, saying, “what if he rejoined the gunners but he and the ss found one another anyway?”

and then… and then i wrote almost 2k of it, because. erm. nobody stopped me?

the ss here is rook - who has a tag on my blog here, but for quick reference looks like this - although he’s never actually mentioned by name. honestly, i feel like i could write more of this? but for now, here’s this mess. muah.

MacCready isn’t expecting to find anything in the attic - the truth is, he doesn’t want to be headed up there at all. Right Wide is one of six slipshod residentials in this particular territory, but it’s got shitty roof access and busted out windows, and MacCready expects the whole place to collapse in on itself at any time.

He finishes his backward trek up the first flight of stairs, and makes an abrupt about-face to start his next - the last one before the attic floor.

Tessa knows he doesn’t like heights, of course she does. He’d been in the room when she’d assigned him to Winlock again (and wasn’t that proof enough that he was on her shitlist), had dismissed them both with a flick of her bare wrist and an order to ‘rough him up a little bit, teach him what we do to quitters.’


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anonymous asked:

To be fair, Catwoman and Elektra were terribly written movies. Catwoman's plot was completely stupid. I firmly believe that a female superhero movie given the same level of writing and the same budget that Iron Man was given would be be a spectacular success. Unfortunately, because they greenlit shitty movies with otherwise good female leads they now have an excuse to say 'well it doesn't sell' when the truth is they bombed because they were bad movies, not because of the leads.

I agree but I don’t think that’s the whole of it. I’ve been running a Black Widow blog too long to not think there aren’t weird double standards female leads get pulled to. Like, Catwoman and Elektra were bad and it was easy to see that they were bad, that the marketing served them up poorly and played up the action and sexy fights specifically to drag men into it. But there’s a reason there’s a perceived dichotomy between sex appeal and character depth and lots of bad lines in a trailer drove moviegoers away from Elektra but Daredevil did okay enough to get the spin-off.  There’s a reason the the Globe and Mail evaluated Johansson’s performance in the Avengers explicitly as a “token sexy female” stocktype and felt comfortable reviewing her literally in terms of his own fourteen year old boy lust.  (“A pale pink at best” he says, on a scale of his hormonal reds.) 

I mean, I don’t think a female led action movie is an impossible mountain. Hunger Games exists and has millions and millions of dollars in the bank. Lucy just hit #1 at the box office based solely on trailers that played up Johansson’s Black Widow action-cred.  It could sell, we’ve already been selling it, people are thirsty for this.  We’re in such a fucked up situation we’ve convinced ourselves that a movie about a white lady beating people up would be an important feminist triumph.

But these blockbuster action films are traditionally laser targeted at men and boys aged 18 to 39 and Disney bought Marvel so it could sell toys to boys. Women make up almost half the audience of these Marvel movies but like, none of the lead roles, a fifth of the cast and a fraction of the merchandise. And the the problem isn’t just that there aren’t many Black Widow action figures, is that we tell girls and boys they need to play with separate toys, and we tell boys they don’t need a Black Widow to complete the set. Like, it’s that kind of marketing thought that makes “female led vigilante films” a category in the first place, and doesn’t make room for other contexts. It feeds back into itself, like a snake eating its own tail, and meanwhile we just get thirsty.

anonymous asked:

I know Russian girls. They are disgusting sluts. All of them join online marriage sites to meet foreign men to leave their stupid piece of shit country called Russia. Will you do the same?

It is nighttime. The air is damp and thick and Hannibel’s McHairynutts’ appartment smells of decay. Many things have died here. Hopes, dreams, a conscience, self-respect and, ultimately, every last bit of human decency. Have you, reader, ever been to an abandoned graveyard? Well, it is a sunlit park of roses compared to Hannibel’s dark, smelly appartment. We, once again, embark on an adventure with our troubled, extravagant hero Hannibel McHairynutts.

Hannibel lifts himself out of his improvised bed that consists of a sole mattress filled with holes and a stained pillow that vaguely resembles a sandy rock. He shuffles to the bathroom scratching his itching skull with his dirty nails. He really needed that shower. He tries to light the light in his bathroom but he didn’t pay his electricity bills so the dark embraces him. He sits down on his dirty toilet seat and contemplates life. What is he doing? He feels like he’s stuck between two worlds. His minds wanders off to the petite Russian girl who works in the pub where he often drowns his sorrows. He’s never seen her not-working. She’s always busy and arrogantly ignores him every time he tries to make conversation. Sometimes he can be found sitting at that pub hours after hours watching her like a hyena watches her prey, drooling from his niffy mouth. And yet she never even gives him a second glance after she brusquely sets down his beer in front of him every time. He hates her. She’s a bitch. All Russian girls are. They fail to recognize the genius, the man in him. They are worthless. He often spends his time searching through his favourite porn site looking for videos with Russian girls. His obsession and greed drive him mad. But there’s nothing he can do with his toothless rotting mouth and slanting eyes, his foul body odour and bitten, dirty nails, his shabby, beer stained clothes and pube-like hair. He shivers in disgust. Alright, he’s no Romeo, but he’s really not that bad, is he? He lifts his ass from the toilet seat and flushes down. The toilet makes miserable whistling noises and halts all activity. It’s broken and it won’t flush. He exclaims in irritation and kicks the porcelain pot with his left foot. He shouldn’t have done that, he thinks, as he exclaims even louder in pain. He might just have broken his toe. Shit.

He goes back to his barren, dirty bedroom. The wooden floor, once so clear and shiny, is now the colour of the excrements of a dog with diarrhea. Bugs here and there crawl over the cracks in the floor and a dozen or so spiders are spinning their webs in the dark corners. Hannibel sits himself down on his bed and opens his fuming laptop. He, once again, types tumblr.com in the search bar and opens the blog that he hates with every inch of his miserable being. The day before he sat for hours, thinking about the most horrible insults he could possibly send to that blogger, his brain worked overtime and he had to take an ibuprofen against the horrible headache he got from thinking so much. He finally had the courage to go and check whether or not she had already answered to his masterly composed question. And she has. He reads the text but he has trouble understanding certain words. Bitch, he thinks, trying to subdue me with her fancy words and stupid attitude. In an energetic outburst he goes searching his apartment for a dictionary. He’s sure he has one. His mother once gave it to him in the failed attempt to try to persuade him to finish high school. He laughed in her face and thrusted his dirty laundry in her pale, skinny hands. She left with her head bowed. His mother annoyed the hell out of him, but at least she did his laundry. He, a 40 year old man, still can’t figure out how a washing machine works. So it’s good to have some help.

He finally pulls out the English dictionary out of a pile of broken videogame cases. He goes back to his computer and looks up the words he doesn’t understand. 2 hours later he has finished reading the text and tears of fury and venom run down his pustular face. HOW DARE SHE, he screams in his thick, high-pitched voice. He cries like a little baby and stomps his feet like an out of control toddler. The sight of it is nauseating.

He calms down after a while because he has to think about his next step. If he could play chess, he’d understand that he has lost badly. Checkmate.

He decides, after long reflection, to send another message. But this time, it has to be perfect. It has to be evil, he has to show her his true villainy mastermind. He feels the anger flow through his veins, his heart bumping with an electric dementia. He types the words “I know Russian girls. They are disgusting sluts. All of them join online marriage sites to meet foreign men to leave their stupid piece of shit country called Russia. Will you do the same?” and shrieks in pride and filthy enjoyment. This is perfect. He suddenly recalls the Fox News educational documentary that he watched when he was a little, fat, mouse-toothed brat. It was about mail order brides. He watched it with his pink, drooling mouth open, and couldn’t take his eyes off the dusty old tv screen. He was a dirty little kid and a slowly but surely developing psychopath. He thinks back to the website he visited full of gorgeous goddesses that were just a paycheck away. Only, he’ll never be able to afford them. Almost crying of desperation, he slams his meaty, sweaty fist against the shaky wall and hits send. In his accelerating anger, he throws his old Acer computer towards the opposite wall, clearly not thinking about the possible consequences. He grunts in indignation and rage. The world has always been so unfair to him. He has never even had sex…

anonymous asked:

What is with people coming into the tag saying Kabby is platonic? Or they are irrelevant? Why even tag that kind of nonsense? What did we do to deserve this hatred?!?!


All right, kids, strap in, Kabby Mom has A LOT OF THINGS TO SAY.

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warning: long post

“Going to be real honest. I come here for Shingeki no Kyojin, i come here to find out what’s new in the world of AOT and to see what funny stuff people have created.

i did not come here to read about police and the links to the Ferguson case. I understand its important to you but just saying ‘were gonna post a load of stuff, hope your okay with it’ does not help anyone. Im finding less and less reasons to check this blog every day because each time its something new about the Ferguson case and not about AOT.

There are 20 million other blogs all around the internet that are dedicate to the Ferguson case, post your stuff on one of those or create a new blog but seriously stop showing information down our throats about how  ’police are bad’.

we already get that from Facebook, Reddit, Twitter, Funny junk, ect. Don’t take part in it, or if you feel the need to, make a new blog. Because as much as the Ferguson case is a tragedy, i guarantee we heard everythign there is to know about it on day one and no one wants water down facts and accusations like ‘Acne that could be disguising violence’.

For god-sake, this is SnK, not Properganda ‘r’ Us.”


and heres our reply, broken down into a simple list:

1) we literally do not give 2 flying fucks about what you want to see on your dash. you can control that yourself. you can unfollow us if you want, but that just really further proves a point as to how much people are willing to turn a blind eye and would rather look at some stupid fandom shit which in essence is purposefully IGNORING real, important social issues that are happening in the world we are currently living in.

2) this blog does not exist solely for you. we are not here to tailor to everyone’s needs.

3) reblogging and raising awareness for the situation DOES in fact help. we are trying to circulate information that has been repeatedly CENSORED by the media. we are here to promote the voices of the PEOPLE who are contributing to this cause, not the sugar-coated stories that you hear on the telly. because these are the people who need to and who deserve to be heard. by everyone. even people who are a part of fandoms can take a break for a sec, and we have a huge number of followers who we feel deserve to recognize and be educated about this situation.

4) it’s rosacea, not acne. if you’re going to try to denounce us while using medical terms do it properly (although i highly doubt you have the capacity to hence the need to point it out just cause i feel like being bitchy). there are 2 med students who run this site, don’t insult our intelligence. also his rosacea WAS in fact tried to be passed off as a bruise and people who are contributing to his ‘cause’ are using that as ‘evidence’ that he shot mike brown in self defence.

5) don’t tell us what to do with our blog or what causes we should take part in. if it makes you unhappy, there is but one simple solution: leave. 

6) for fuck’s sake, snk is an ANIME. it is FICTITIOUS. we get that you’re trying to escape the current world that you live in by replacing it with fantasy, but that doesn’t mean that real life events aren’t happening around you. and that doesn’t mean that we should ignore them either.

7) it’s a lot more than just the ‘police are bad’. that is not the message we are trying to get across. if you read into the issue a little bit, maybe you would understand. 

8) there is just an overwhelming amount of redundancy in my points but i think you get the gist of it. 

please don’t send us any more of this. i’m studying for exams rn and i dont have time to listen to any more unwanted opinions. also if i’ve said something that’s stepping beyond the line/is problematic because of my privilege pls let me know.



i don`t think i could`ve said it like you did, megu. thank you so much for this. also to this person, if u want snkcrack go make your own. like megu said, we aren`t blogging for you.


everything wrong with official-nhl guy's post

You probably saw it, but it’s here, and it’s stupid. After starting out with a weird bit that everyone already knows about social media (“it’s just like marketing…except that it’s…just like marketing” - real wise words), it gets pretty wacky in a hurry.

As an avid Tumblr user and die-hard fan of the New York Rangers I was already running a relatively successful New York Rangers blog at the time(2012). 

And we were all so impressed. 

It was as though all 30 teams of the NHL had their own chair and were arranged in a circle. What I found was missing was a chair in the middle. The one that encompassed not just all teams but encompassed hockey and the NHL as a whole.

“I looked around and I thought…damn…I could be a chair. Watch the throne, because I’m the damn throne, and you’re sitting on me and using me like whoa.”

I spent a lot of time thinking about how to go about undertaking this. I had no doubt in my mind it would be a success (due to a proprietary trick up my sleeve that I’ll explain later) but to achieve the maximum success it would have to contain the right voice and community from the very beginning. 

Hmm. I wonder how to run a successful blog on tumblr. I wonder what his answer is, to this question. It’s probably the voice. The voice is important. No one followed him for the gifs, but for his stupid fucking voice.

At first it began as nhl-highlights.tumblr.com. I didn’t want to mess with the NHL so I added ‘-highlights’ to the end of it. It gained about 1,000 followers in about a month. That was pretty good for a hockey blog so I contacted the NHL. 

I’m CRYING. Imagine if I got to a thousand followers on Twitter, where all I do is post stupid puns, and was like, “Hey NHL listen… You and me could be pals. Hear me out.”

This disappointed me but the LED lightbulb in my head lit up immediately when something came to my mind, they never said no. They also didn’t say stop. It essentially gave me the go ahead to go full on into a mini-case study for fun.

Turns out that the NHL didn’t have a problem with him throwing his life away in pure and unadulterated devotion to their cause. Crazy, right? 

I began by creating the blog as an entity and changing the name to official-nhl.tumblr.com. I wanted to prove to the NHL that there was a market for hockey fans on tumblr and I wanted them to know they missed out big time (Slight bitterness and intrigue all in one). 

The NHL should probably have a tumblr, because maybe then they’d learn how to react to things like Semyon Varlamov and Gary Bettman wouldn’t sound so stupidly tone deaf when he talks about how great the league is. If the league wants to post gifs, it turns out they already have a website to do it. It’s called nhl.com. You may have heard of it.

The only way this was going to work though was if nobody knew it was me.

Did anyone honestly believe this guy was the NHL? Every time I saw the URL on my dashboard, I thought it was a fucking stupid URL for some random person to use. 

Anyway I still don’t know who this guy is, so mission accomplished I guess.

I studied the NHL’s voice and marketing strategy endlessly to ensure it was as realistic as possible. 

It must have been very hard to sound so vanilla.

As are all my side-projects, I included no ads. I was doing this for fun and solely to help the NHL. I didn’t want to use the NHL’s entity to make money. 

I included no ads, because I'm the best marketing major on the face of the planet. Marketing major?? Making money???? Not actually related.

As I said before, I had a proprietary trick up my sleeve. That trick was a method of creating gifs that allowed me to upload highlights nearly 5X faster than any other user on tumblr. 


I drove out nearly all team fandom blogs and I accumulated those followers as well as the hockey fans who weren’t die-hard enough to follow a team blog. In a matter of months (2013) we had 17,000 followers. I wasn’t finished there though.

“Hey, you know that tumblr website, that extraordinarily inclusive website, particularly for women? Well, I did the opposite of that. And No, I’m Not Fucking Done.”

We’d get at least 3 messages a day saying, “Thanks to this blog I now love hockey” or questions like that asking how to get into the sport. We’d also get some saying they just bought their first jersey thanks to the blog.


The blog was featured daily alongside MLB, NBA, BleacherReport, CBS and other ‘real’ tumblr blogs. The gifs created were almost always used by yahoo and other news sites. At the end of the year we had one of the top 10 sports posts of the year selected by Tumblr. Mind you this was all while people still believed I was indeed the NHL.


At the end of this campaign we also reached one of my long-time goals, being the top result on tumblr if you googled ‘NHL tumblr’.

if you google “wheelsofarmageddon tumblr”, mine is the top result. My brand is booming.

It was after this campaign that I decided to reveal myself. The blog had begun to take a toll on me. It was amazing and I loved the community but there were days where I was working on the blog 16+ hours a day and going to school full time.

This is just sad. Dude. Do something else. You literally have no time in your day to enjoy yourself. 16 hours a day is insane. You did this for no money. FOR NO GAIN! I FEEL SO BAD FOR YOU.

A lot went on and I probably left a lot out but I’ll never forget when the NHL was me.

You write like a 4-year old.

juliwt  asked:

Hi, this is probably a weird/dumb(/maybe rude but I so hope not) question, but you're doing your Bachelors, right? I am 22 now and applying for uni next year (I'll start at 23, finish at 26/27), and I have v.v.v. mixed feelings about being that old when I graduate (4 years after everyone I know and 2 after my baby sis). Is it a dumb thing to worry about, being An Adult but still a student? I can't reconcile my Adult Life I Want with Being Stuck at Uni Doing What Everyone Else Did Years Ago. 1/2

I don’t mean to ask your life story or anything like that, I just don’t actually know anyone else to ask? I guess maybe I am just doing the “it’s fine, right?” as in, I know it’s fine, it is fine, but it’s fine, right? thing. I have dropped out twice before and I’m really scared of doing it again (even though things are so different now and I know better and have thought more and am better prepared) and I’m scared of getting a degree and being no better off/no further forward. :/ xx 2/2

the short version is: you are fine. it is fine to be “behind” an arbitrary timetable of arbitrary designations of adulthood. it is also fine to feel weird about that, and i do, constantly, but most of all and most importantly it is fine to be where you are when you get there.

this is always true, by the way. if you were not able to do this before (i also dropped out twice), you were not able to do this before, and that is true and therefore fine. life is too short to blame yourself for things that were hard, although it is a difficult habit to break. life is also, actually, kind of long, and, well: my blog title (very filled with dreams) is taken from a louise gluck poem – the full line is “life is very weird, very filled with dreams” – that ends:

I thought my life was over and my heart was broken.
Then I moved to Cambridge.

here is another louise gluck poem that may be of use to you, if solace in poetry is your sort of thing. it is not mine, except for every poem louise gluck has ever written (and FINE a little sylvia plath).

a cool thing about being in your late twenties is realizing that being in your early twenties, and, also, being in your late twenties, actually means that you are very, very young. this is extremely difficult to believe when you are 22! i don’t try to convince people of it who don’t believe it yet, because it’s kind of obnoxious and condescending considering i am also a baby, and it is also sort of like conservation of liquids i.e. a thing that can only be learned from experience and the strange indifferent miracle of time. but i mention it to you as someone who has shared similar concerns because it has helped me to think of how much time i have ahead of me. it has helped to think that i may feel behind now but honestly probably eventually i will not. eventually it will stop mattering to me how long it took me to get to wherever i am when that happens. it has already started to matter less, if you will believe it. i have a useful example in my mother, who did not divorce her abusive husband until her early thirties, and a few years after that dropped out of a phd program in a field where she had, actually, excelled. now she is a massage therapist who runs community meditation sessions and is dating a man with an earring and multiple tattoos. absolutely she could never, ever, ever have foreseen this, 33 years old and long used to existing in devastation and deeply opposed to men with earrings.

did you know that you cannot predict the future? isn’t that strange to really believe? isn’t it scary but also marvelous?

i will also say, although perhaps i still would have preferred to get things done quicker, in addition to the fact you can’t change the past, i really do think i have gotten a lot more out of college as an educational experience, even with all my terrible habits, than i would have when i was younger. interestingly this has been the case of most people i have talked to with similar backgrounds. there are many valuable things to be learned from Book Learning but Book Learning, i have found, is often more valuable when you have something else to bring to the conversation in your head with the books. you have been doing a lot of learning, whether you know it or not, and it is my suspicion and my hope that that will make itself more apparent to you as you go on. (i mean………like……….the difference between me after just one year off and the people in my sociology classes at a Fancy Institution……….not to brag because this is honestly a VERY low bar………..but like…………………..)

you are already fine. i hope you will feel more fine. it is a struggle and a process! it has been helpful to me to commit to believing it even when i don’t believe it. it has been helpful to me to commit to believing in it as a process even when i don’t believe in it as a process. some tools i have found of use: advice columns, particularly dear sugar and ask polly; journaling even when i do not feel i have much to say; latching on to things that i can use to tweak the story i tell myself about myself (vita nova, one direction, iron man 3, human - cher lloyd dot mp3), even if they seem very, very stupid; creating–this came as a surprise to me and only retroactively–creating things i could look at and say, “this is a thing on which i worked hard, this is a thing that was possible because of all the life i have lived, this is a thing that i made because i wanted it to exist” (britney week being chiefest among these); tumblring about these things and finding that in none of them am i unique; talking to people–this is scary and hard and not always possible! but for me–talking to people i love and just saying, like, “i feel weird about this,” “isn’t time bizarre,” “do you also feel scared,” both the act of saying it aloud and noticing the world has not ended, and the way that moment reminds me that no one cares as much about this as i do, it does not have to be the sole defining feature of me, i do not have to wear it like (sorry) a scarlet letter.

you are fine. it is fine. and, would you believe it? in some ways–in particular aspects of the concept of fine, in a way (i want to be clear about this) that does not contradict all the ways you have not felt fine and all the ways life has not been fine for you and things have happened which were not fine–in some ways it has always been.