its kind of personal but not really

so I just had a really sharp, deep pain go through my wrist twice (the kind of intensity of pain that I only get once or twice a week) and I looked down and my hand was.. purplish.. like how my fingers look in the blue phase of Reynaud’s syndrome but it was my whole hand… and then it started tingling and returned to its normal colour. the wrist pain is still there but duller now. not sure how concerned I should be about this


Today when I watched Jack’s video on Far From Noise, I couldn’t help but feel so grateful. I was so happy that he played such a relaxing game, but on top of that, that game made its mark in my mind. It was such an amazing game and I was so glad that Jack was the person I got to watch play it. 

So I just wanted to say…Thanks Jack, for making me feel a whole lot better today. I wasn’t really haven’t all that good of a day, I was in kind of a funk and I didn’t feel like doing anything. Like always, I went to watch Jack’s new video and I didn’t think much of the game at first, but as I got more into the video I felt more relaxed and happy. And Jack’s message at the end to all of us was so sweet, it honestly made my day. It’s just so nice to know that he believes in us, it honestly almost made me cry a little (because I’m a baby! I cried like 5 times during The Last Guardian haha) but anyways, after that video my spirits were brought up and suddenly my day was a whole lot brighter. I had a different perspective of things and I’m just so glad that I took the time to watch that video.

Sorry I kept rambling, I just needed to share this… So thank you so much @therealjacksepticeye for making my day better *hugs* :3

i never associated discourse with my vent blog nor did the post of me saying it involve crytyping stop projecting ur shit onto me thank you also its kind of hard to tell who youre talking about when my name or url is in the same post as something about friendsick also dont tag a good friend of mine in it??? trying to turn him against me? hes a good fucking person and i??? dont you dare rope someone else into it. he doesnt deserve that. and idk why you care whether shit jokes are on my blog or not lmfao wow u really put a bullet in me. also I had you blocked long before i started reblogging your petty vague callouts that made me look like a fucking demon because you left out all of your parts. I wouldnt be able to reblog it if YOU had me blocked. You shouldve known that since youve been in so much discourse before, jim!!! Youre KNOWN for attacking people!!

anonymous asked:

Ale's baptism, I bet he was so sacred when it happened

Spain had the arrangements for the baptism made, being careful about the details. He had the epiphany the night before that it would be best to baptize the child while they were at sea. He could wait for them to return to Madrid and do it in a proper cathedral, but the priest serving as his personal confessor had already said he was willing to administer the sacrament, and what was really important was God’s presence, and Spain had no doubt that God had been on his side this whole campaign.

He walked down the hall to the room where the young Aztec prince was. He saw that the translator was standing outside the door, and he took that to mean that the boy was sleeping. It seemed that he had been doing that when he was not crying or asking endless questions about his new surroundings. It was a very good sign that Mexica was so curious about everything, but Spain was getting tired of the constant questions because he was not able to explain the little details of his routines that he had never thought about. 

He pushed open the door slowly so that it would not make a sound. Mexica was curled up on the bed with his blankets in his arms. Spain felt a pang of sadness that the little prince wasn’t holding onto him, as he usually did when he was asleep. But, there was plenty of time left in the trip, and he had no intention of putting Mexica in a different chamber. The child stirred in his sleep and whimpered sweetly, which made Spain smile. He was so innocent still, which gave Spain even more reason to baptize him now. He wanted to save the boy from a life of savagery and there was no better time than when he was still innocent. 

Spain closed the door, still being sure to be quiet. He could wait until the boy woke up, there was plenty of time. Once outside, he turned to the translator, and said, “Bring him to me as soon as he wakes up.”
She asked, “What should I tell him? He will ask why.” 

Spain knew that she was right, but he did not know how to explain. He said, “Tell him it is a religious ceremony.” He then paused for a moment as he remembered what was the boy’s experience of religion was, and he added, “Make it clear that no one is going to hurt him.” 

Mexica awoke and his immediate instinct was to look up for his mother, since he couldn’t feel her arms around him. But after blinking a few times, he remembered where he was. He saw the walls of the very familiar loathsome little wooden room.

 Then the image flashed across his mind again of his mother with Spain’s sword through her heart. The pain came back in the middle of his chest and the tears welled up in his eyes. His beautiful life with his mother seemed so far away now. He pulled in a sobbing breath.

The door opened and Mexica pulled in another sob. He was frightened with every fiber of his being that he would see Spain walk through the door. But, it was the translator who had introduced herself as Malintzin. Mexica did not trust her but she seemed to be the only person who spoke his language and had some concern for him. 

She saw the tears that had started to form in his eyes and immediately walked over to him. She kept a respectful distance but said, “Don’t cry, dear prince.” Mexica shook his head. His mother would have told him the same thing. But, he couldn’t help but let tears roll down his face. He wiped them away as well as he could.

Malintzin spoke to him, and when he looked up he saw pain on her face, “Spain wishes to see you, your highness. He is waiting for you.” Mexica knew he should maintain his dignity, but the last thing he wanted to do was see the man who murdered his mother.
He snapped back, “Why can’t he just leave me alone?” As soon as he said it, Mexica regretted the lack of dignity and said, “I didn’t mean that. I will go.” 

Still feeling like he was moving through a nightmare, Mexica followed the woman out of the room and down a hall. The few sailors he passed still stared at him and spoke to each other in that language he did not understand. He shrank away from any of them, scared of the blood he knew was on their hands. 

They reached the doors to a chamber, which were pushed open in front of him. Spain was standing behind it, and the sight of those green eyes made Mexica want to recoil and run. But, he stood still and did the only thing he could think to do. He questioned, “What am I doing here?”

Malintzin translated it, and Mexica saw anger flash over Spain’s face. He said something and the native woman flinched. She turned back to Mexica, and tried to explain, “He wants you to be part of a ritual.” 

Mexica felt uncontrollable fear overtaking his mind. What did that mean? Would it hurt? Upon seeing his face, she quickly added, “No one is going to hurt you.” Mexica looked around her at Spain suspiciously, but the man seemed to be trying to put a comforting expression on his face. Mexica did not trust it, but he hardly had a choice, so he nodded.

He got as close as he felt comfortable being to Spain and then he stopped. Only then did he notice that there was another man in the room, and he was wearing clothing that seemed stranger than even the usual for these strangers.

Spain stepped closer and put his hand on Mexica’s shoulder. He tried not to cringe away from the touch. Spain looked at him and said something, which Malintzin translated, “He says not to worry. This is sacred and it is for your own good.”

She did not seem to believe  the words, even as she translated them. Mexica felt fear rise again, and he could find nothing to comfort himself. He did not understand what was about to happen and was afraid to question it. Spain guided him over so that they were both standing in front of the unfamiliar man in the strange clothing. 

Mexica noticed a basin of water in front of him, and he did not know the purpose. There was some conversation that passed between the man he took to be some kind of priest and Spain in a language that sounded even more foreign. Mexica did not understand and it apparently would have been inappropriate to translate for him. He decided to stand perfectly still and hope for some kind of explanation.

The priest suddenly reached down and touched Mexica’s forehead with his finger, and left something wet where it had touched. Unconscious of his actions, Mexica stepped backwards. But, he couldn’t go far because Spain’s hand stopped him. Mexica looked up questioningly and Spain only responded with a smile that was supposed to be soothing. 

It did not have the intended effect; it only made Mexica feel less certain. Why was he being touched? What was on his forehead? It became even worse when Spain reached down and picked him up. It was not the first time Spain did it, but each time was more uncomfortable. Those same hands that were now holding him had killed his mother. 

Spain stepped forward so that he was standing next to the basin. The priest said something and then Spain looked directly at Mexica and said something. But with no translator present, it meant nothing to Mexica. He responded, “What?” but he realized that Spain couldn’t understand him either.

 He felt himself dipping backwards towards the water and took an instinctive breath before his head was completely submerged. He tried not to panic, but the thought occurred to him that Spain was trying to drown him. Was this a sacrifice to some water deity?

It lasted for only a moment before he was pulled back out of the water. Mexica shook his head to try to get the water out of his eyes. He pulled in deep gulping breathes and hoped that he would not be submerged again. 

But, thankfully, Spain put him down. He wanted to run, but Spain would not allow him to. Instead, he kneeled down next to him and took a necklace from his pocket and put it around his neck. 

Only then did Spain guide him back to Malintzin. Spain said something to her and she, in turn, said, “He says that your name is Alejandro now.”
Mexica, shivering, cold, and wet, started to cry again and said miserably, “I don’t understand.”
Breaking the usual boundaries of respect, Malintzin hugged him and said, “You will survive this and thrive, little prince.”

i’m not sure why, but the scene where lup and barry become liches always gave me like, a wedding vibe. an extremely quiet and small wedding, like they eloped and taako was the only one they wanted to bring along. 

it’d be funny if that’s actually how they got married too. Griffin says they probably don’t tell the rest of the crew about the lich thing for a few cycles even, so what if that’s like, a reoccurring thing with them. Lup and Barry making these monumental life choices off on their own and just not telling anyone until years later. 
It’s just 

Davenport: wait, what do you mean you became liches? Back on the magic world? That was three cycles ago! 

Lup: guys, has anyone seen my wedding ring, I took it off to cook and I can’t find it
Magnus: Lup, why do you have a wedding ring?
Lup: uh, me and barry got married like, six cycles ago, that’s why? Did we forget to tell you guys? 
Magnus: yes you forgot to tell us!

Lucretia: Taako, you’re not bothered at all that lup and barry go off and do these things on their own?
Taako: What do you mean on their own? You think I wasn’t there for my sister’s and best friend’s wedding? Or when they ripped their souls out of their still living bodies? what kind of person do you think i am?


LOOK! I drew you this thing! Which… I don’t know why I did it, it took hours and a computer could have done a much better job. But I like it anyway, and I hope you do too! And I will send you a higher quality image if you want to use it for… anything. Which you are under zero obligation to do. 

But you ARE obligated to read the fic I wrote for you!!!!!!!

The Tail of Knee(zle) the Bard by Chicken Bake (me)

Summary: Being the master of a kneazle was absolutely horrible. (Or, Harry loves his kneazle to death even if he won’t admit it, and he’s extremely pissed that she keeps running off to Malfoy.)

Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff, Humor, kneazle, uncreative naming, Oblivious Harry, Jealous Harry, over a cat though, not over Draco, nice arms, wanking, Mutual Masturbation, potted sunflowers, sorry these tags are not in order at all, Cheese, Soulmates, Flirting, ignoring quidditch, Awkwardness, UST, linny in the background!, happiness

I hope this was worth the wait and that it makes up for even 1/10th of what you did for my birthday!!! <3<3<3<3<3

Victor’s Haircut

Am I the only one who thinks Victor might’ve cut his hair simply because he outgrew his old look? I know there’s a lot of symbolism in some cultures behind cutting hair–and I’d argue it’s at least associated with one type of change or another in general–but I just don’t know. To me, it’s just as likely that he no longer had an androgynous look and surprised the world by emerging looking like a suave, dashing man. It would certainly help to cultivate a more sophisticated image (as we all know Victor was always pretty sharp in the past when it came to his public image), or at least would re-vamp it.

Originally posted by vicchan

It could also be a mix of the two. Victor very clearly seems the type who doesn’t want to be repetitive, and I can see him growing bored with his long hair.

Originally posted by trustedealcosplayandcostume

Obviously, there’s no way to know for sure with what we’ve been given, but it’s just a thought. It’s one of those things that I feel is more left to interpretation, and I suppose I’m in a minority who doesn’t think it was necessarily a big life event or something of that sort that caused him to change it. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I just kind of see it as a way to separate the past and present Victor, but still show both as a part of him.

conflict is when u want to Make Content bc ur thirsty desperate ass requires validation but also when u dont want to Make Content bc u know that u won’t get notes bc ur a small blog and bigger blogs that have Even Bigger Mutuals to rb their stuff and seeing that comparison will make u feel even shittier and dejected 


…I wonder if that was actually a good decision to make there, Kuroo

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Team machine - Sameen Shaw

“I did work for the government and I do want revenge. But if that work taught me anything it’s that how you do matters as much as what you do

fandomhop  asked:

[Headcanon; the first thing Taako did after the Hunger was defeated was go to his bed and take a fucking nap. That was a big day, and cha'boy's all kinds of tired. He naps for like 14 hours.]

oh yeah. hunger’s gone, adrenaline’s over, all the cheering and celebration and people hugging each other and what the fuck ever is over, and taako is immediately and abruptly real fuckin exhausted. listen. he just remembered a hundred years of his life and also saved the world and got his boyfriend out of the astral plane and hachi machi, he needs a nap.

not sure whether he just like, leaves, goes to find his bedroom (where the fuck even is the moonbase now, actually? is it still up?) or whether he like, shouts “ALRIGHT, CH'BOY JUST SAVED THE WORLD AND WANTS A NAP,  HOW THE FUCK DO I GET BACK UP TO THE MOONBASE,” and lup is like “taako, you’re one of the best wizards in the planar system, you can just teleport, babe” and he’s like, “oh, right.”

then he’s like “NOBODY BOTHER ME FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS,” and then teleports, dragging kravitz with him cause he wants to cuddle while taking a nap, and then he walks across his room shedding clothing [hat, cloak, w/e) and collapses into bed with his boyfriend and zonks out.

around hour three, magnus wanders in to check on him and is like “oh okay they look comfy” and then kind of. sits down. accidentally falls asleep.

hour four and angus has been fussed over by like a million people and stuff and wants to see where taako and magnus are and goes looking around their apartment and finds them asleep and he doesn’t exactly join them but gee, a nap sounds good right now, so he curls up in the big armchair across from the bed and nods off.

around hour five merle - after checkin in with his kids and making sure they’re okay and stuff, wonders where the other two guys are and accidentally does the same thing magnus does. this bed is getting crowded.

around hour seven after barry and lup are done Talking And Crying and going to get barry’s extra flesh body, they go to check on taako cause he’s probably awake by now right? he’s not awake. theres like three other people in the bed. “aw,” lup says. by now kravitz is awake, but he can’t move cause taako’s like. clinging to him like a vine on a tree. its wild.

“we need to talk,” kravitz says, trying to glare, looking personally affronted by lup’s fiery form, but it doesnt really work cause taako is like. drooling into his shoulder.

“yeah, but later,” barry says, yawning, and he’s sitting at the foot of the bed and kind of nodding off. it’s been a LONG day. lup kisses him and is like “go to sleep babe i’ll handle it” and he falls asleep on taako’s bed too. its getting REAL fuckin crowded.

around hour 12 (after kravitz has fallen back asleep and merle has woken up and gone to talk with davenport, and come back with davenport, and magnus woke up and went to find something to eat with lup and angus because lup was like ‘no way do i trust u in a kitchen maggie, ten years aint shit’ and etc, and taako has been sleeping through everything and for some reason they’ve decided that taako’s bedroom is like. central HQ for the ipre family reunion minus lucretia plus kravitz and ango) and lucretia finally comes in, real tentative, she’s just here to make sure that everyone is okay and stuff, she has director things to do, and she gets if they dont want to see her, thats fine, and lup rolls her eyes (she’s sitting on the floor playing cards and eating snacks with magnus, davenport, and merle, and angus) and is like, “get in here, Creesh. you can be guilty later.” and davenport nods sharply as if to say “you are not forgiven but you are still family” and lucretia wipes her eyes and comes in and they play cards.

hour 14 and taako wakes up and looks around and is like “why the FUCK is everyone in my room????”

It shocks me that y’all readily understand that the reality of cops is in direct contrast to how their role in society is described, upholders of law, protectors of the peace etc etc, but your broader understanding can’t perceive anything else having a similarly contradictory social reality.

During the civil rights era, while cops were out in the streets locking up black protestors in jails for civil disobedience, psychs in mental hospitals were diagnosing black men with schizophrenia and locking them up in asylums because of their expressed discontent with white supremacy.

This isn’t some grand society undermined by a few bad apples which fill roles necessary to its function, it’s a corrupt and fetid abomination wherein any person who fills those roles is culpable because by allowing the society to function, it allows the violence and oppression inherent to the society to continue.

Just like a cop who rescues kittens from trees or tries really hard to be fair and just does nothing to erase the violence inherent in policing, a psych who is legitimately kind and compassionate and strives to help their patients be their best selves does nothing to erase the violence inherent in psychic medicine. 

These issues are bigger than the actions of individuals.

amazonqueendianaprince  asked:

...or, you know, some of us think Cap is and was right about the whole thing because we're also opposed to the real-world implementation of similar fascist legislation such as The Patriot Act and it has nothing to do with liking him more?

That quote basically says, yes oversight is the right ethical and logical choice, but Cap is a good person, and that puts us in a quandary and I am saying that that is bad math.

It’s also a similar bad math that comes up in A LOT of 616 CW discussions, where Captain America himself (and the anti-reg side) essentially takes the position to non-metas that they should accept that metas occupy a position above the law/beyond equal prosecution by the law, because, you know, they’re different, and their circumstances are different, but you trust CAPTAIN AMERICA, riiiiight? Let the metas judge their own and police their own, what do you need the Constitutional right of equality under the law for? Obviously, this base position is immediately complicated by the clusterfuck of everything else in CW, but I’d argue that that’s deliberate. It’s one of the reasons I’m not a fan of the event, because I really like Cap, and I hate the things it makes him argue and I find them antithetical to him as a character.

I also don’t exactly get why so many people find a difference of opinion on a comics event, or, apparently, an actor’s opinion on an upcoming film none of us have seen as a personal challenge? I mean?? Yes I hate fascism? And the Patriot Act? And I think Cap’s political position is largely wrong in CW though I understand why, as the plot is manipulated, he fights? These things are not incompatible?

I get what you’re saying, but I’m responding to the quote as written and many, *many* other posts and comics CW itself, which initially sets up the problem as a constitutional legal problem of supers as American citizens whose identities allow them to avoid legal repercussions and prosecution and that’s constitutionally unacceptable under the law. Once that actually gets stated, there’s a problem.  

I’m not talking about the Patriot Act here, which I abhor, because it wasn’t part of the quote or what I was responding to, and I think the CW treatment of post-9/11 politics was really terrible, tone-deaf, and inconsistent in its understanding of xenophobia** and power dynamics. 

behind the cut

 for long rambly stuff about comics CW that’s more for future reference to point anyone to should they ask.

Keep reading

i downloaded Sam Winchester saying,
“No, we have guns and we’ll find you ” and then put it as my alarm in the morning. so im woken up every morning by a deep male voice threatening me and it’s honestly alarming and refreshing at the same time

Make You Scream - a Vikings Imagine

Pairing: Ivar x Reader
Rating: Explicit (really, I mean it. No fade to blacks here. Only follow the link if you’re over 18)
Warnings: dubious consent (social duress - lost a bet), cheating, threats
Words: 1415
Summary: The Reader loses a bet with Ivar and he comes to collect from you. Sexually.

Notes: This piece was inspired by @sansasandorshipper​’s imagine: “You are with Ubbe but Ivar is always trying to get with you.” Thank you so much darling, for letting me publish this homage to your brilliant idea. My story is an alternate ending to that tale, in mine the reader LOSES the fight and the bet.

As always for my smuts, the setting is an AU where the time jump in mid-season 4 lasted long enough to make Ivar older than the age of consent in your country ;)

Excerpt: Before you can fall asleep, the door scrapes open again. “Ubbe, remember how you mother scolded both of us when she caught you in here at night last time,” you call out.

“Not Ubbe,” comes a chuckling voice from near the floor.

Your heart starts racing as you watch Ivar pull himself up to your bedside. “Are you ready to settle up on that bet, y/n?”

“Go to Hel, Ivar,” you spit back, pulling your furs up to your chin. You are wearing nothing but a thin linen shift under there.

“Think of your honor,” he smirks, resting his elbows on the edge of your bed. “Do you really want to be known as someone that goes back on a wager?”

You grit your teeth. Your word and your honor mean everything to you. You narrow your eyes, bringing your face close to Ivar’s. “If you truly think you can make me scream your name, you are welcome to try,” you challenge. You hate Ivar. You hate his smirks, and his ridiculously blue eyes, and the way he always has to have the last word with—

His hand is under your furs, sliding up your thigh.

Finish reading on Ao3 here, this thing is waaaay too smutty to put in the respectable tags on Tumblr