now i am less of a tool

  • Anarchists: so we’re very similar to communism in our origins and ideals but what we want are decentralized self-governed societies based on voluntary participation and principles such as an end to all forms of oppression, mutual aid and a division of labor and resources in which each works according to their ability and received according to their need. Basic elements of how we want to achieve that are an end to capitalism, seizing the wealth of the rich, and the abolition of the state, police and prisons but also the end of white supremacy, sexist, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, anti-semitism, speciesm and all systems of oppression in every part of our life as well as an immediate end to environmental polution and animal cruelty. This includes the distruction of gender roles, the nuclear family and other normative systems that sustain inequality. Practical tools are community organizing, transformative justice, direct action, militant anti-fascism, cooperative illegalism and solidarity with all opressed minorities. Further...
  • Ancap: So, self-governed means no rules and lots of guns, am I right? Work or starve, am I right? Fuck taxes, am I right? Fuck regulations of any kind, am I right?
  • Anarchists: No. It sounds like what you like is Capitalism with even less restrictions than there are now. That's exactly what we don't like.
  • Ancap: No rules and lots of guns! Yay anarchism!
  • Anarchists: *punches ancap*

Blue said, “You seem upset.”
“Do I?” he asked.
“What did you and Adam fight about?”
Gansey cast a glance at Noah’s closed door. “How did you know?” he asked wearily. He threw himself on his unmade bed.
“Please,” Blue said, because even if Noah hadn’t told her, she would’ve known.
He muttered something into his bedsheets and waved a hand at the air. Blue crouched by the bed and leaned on her arms at the head of it.
“What now? With a lot less pillow in your mouth this time?”
Gansey didn’t turn his head, so his voice remained muffled. “My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them. Can you believe I’m only alive because Noah died? What a fine sacrifice that was, what a fine contribution to the world I am.” He made another little twirling hand gesture without removing his face from his pillow. It was probably meant to make it look as if he was merely joking. He went on, “Oh, I know I’m being self-pitying. Ignore me. So Malory thinks it is a bad idea to wake the ley line? Of course he does. I enjoy dead ends hugely.”

Ohhh well yeah!
Got myself a Surface Tablet couple days ago and of course I had to test out photoshop and illuststudio on it immediately!
I am quite satisfied with the results and it is extremely comfortable to draw on it, as soon as you get used to the glass surface. Rly love it so far.. And finally I was able to try out a bit the colouring technique with the lasso tool since it’s so easy now to switch between tools!
More to come, hopefully, soon.
And I couldn’t care less about if it might be boring to draw the same character all over again and again. I’m having fun here.

Growing Up

My third year started on inpatient medicine.  This, I would argue, is one of the two hardest clerkships of third year (the other being surgery).  The breadth of patient care, the pace, the hours… in many ways I felt thrown into the deep end of the swimming pool.  Now, I find myself back there as a sub-intern with a year and a half more experience.  The contrast between 3rd year me and 4th year me feels unbelievable. 

My team includes two third year med students, and this is likely the reason my self growth is so evident.  As annoying as they can be at times (one gunner in particular), I remember being in their position.  Looking back to my own experience, my level of arrogance, and ignorance, was monstrous.  I felt, coming off of a very strong step 1 performance, that I was going to rock the wards.  I was sadly mistaken.

Over the course of my third year I was given a heavy dose of humility.  I was constantly taught that patients are not like standardized questions.  They are messy, confusing, and often don’t know how to tell you truly what is wrong.  More importantly, they do not come with multiple choice answers as to their diagnosis.  And, they come with a whole host of issues that no one ever taught you about in medical school.

I look at the third years now and feel sorry.  I recall feeling like the dancing monkey, trying to prove your worth.  Now that I am treated a bit more like an intern, I can see how, for all their efforts, they are actually just complicating patient care - giving patients incorrect information, bringing up non-relevant topics on rounds, and frustrating nurses.  I am ashamed to say, I did all of this too. 

But now my self-worth doesn’t feel tied to correctly answering each pimp question.  I am less afraid to tell patients that “I don’t know” and defer to the senior resident and attending.  Perhaps most importantly, I now understand the messiness inherent to patient care.

Perspective is perhaps the most powerful tool with which to view life events.  Looking back I see how I had to go through the crucible of third year to be who I am today.  I will likely look back each year from here on out with the same perspective.  Each time I felt humiliated on rounds, each terrible presentation, each day I climbed sleep deprived and defeated into my bed knowing I would have to wake up a few hours later… that was all so that I could be good enough to be trusted with patients in their most vulnerable states. 

My training is still in its infancy, but already I see the progress.  When advising pre-meds and younger med students I always use the example of marble sculptures.  Each trial we have to pass, the step exams, our clerkships, intern year, etc., serves as a chisel and hammer slowly shaping who we are to become.  Slowly our rough edges are smoothed, our imperfections corrected.  Then someday we look around and realize that instead of a hunk of marble, we have become something beautiful.  Unfortunately, we often can’t see those changes during the day-to-day chiseling.     


407 lbs. —> 255 lbs.

There are so few photos of me at my highest weight that it took forever to find these.  I was so unhealthy in the two left pictures.  Walking even for a few seconds left me out of breath, I had zero energy to do anything.  I was so ashamed to be seen by other people that I would avoid leaving my house whenever I could, let alone have pictures that documented just how bad things had gotten.

Flash forward to now: I weigh less than I did in high school.  I work retail on my feet for hours at a time.  I pick my little sister up from school because now I can walk the two blocks without feeling like I am dying.  I’ve taken my life back, and I won’t ever, EVER let myself go back to what I was.  Weight loss surgery was absolutely the tool I needed to get me on track to a better, healthier, longer life.  I will be thankful that I made this decision for the rest of my life.

You must be Spark.

The door chimed as it opened, and Spark put his books on a counter.

“Yeah, that’s me. What can I do for y–”

“If you decide to pay your due respects to a God, then that would be a start.”

“Oh, uh. Mianite?”

“Am I really that indistinguishable?”

“Um, no. I’m just confused as to why you’re here.”

“I’m here for you. To talk to you about my favorite sister.”

“Favorite and only. What would you like to talk about?”

“You do realize that she has romantic feelings surrounding you, correct?”

“Well, I hope she does. Can never really be sure when you’re with a god.”

Mianite stirred and raised his eyebrows.


“Mhmm. Oh, er, more like, around.”

“She is a goddess, and you are a human. There is a large power gap there.”

“And I am glad she doesn’t see it.”

“It doesn’t matter if one sees something or not, it still exists. Humans and deities were not meant to interact in this way. One is meant to worship, and one is meant to be worshiped.”

“That’s where we disagree. You were once as powerless as I am.”

“But I am not now. We gods have no end to our lives. We can keep on living for hundreds, if not thousands or more, years. Your life will end within a century. Less if you are unlucky.”

“So what? Humans are just toys and pets for the gods to play with?”

“You make it sound childish. Humans are tools for the gods to work with and shape the land with. Not have petty romances with.”

“It IS childish. We are all conscious beings, we can make our own decision. It is my decision that all beings of consciousness are equal. Ianite is able to see that, Dianite can too, I believe. Why can’t you?”

“Because they are incorrect ideals. My siblings do not see how much power they have. Instead of lowering themselves to such a feeble level, they should remain as the higher power they are. You two are not equal.”

“And? If you view the world in your eyes, no one is equal, but people still love each other the same. They fight each other the same, they hate each other the same. Power isn’t everything in this world, and it doesn’t even matter. Those with a lot of power should help those with little. It’s unfortunate that you don’t see that.”

“You are arguing with a god, Spark. Would you like me to prove my point and end your relationship at the same time?”

“Not only would that not prove your point, it would prove mine. Those that abuse their power have none.”

Mianite frowned.

“Abuse of power doesn’t exist. Those who have power should use it or have it taken from them. We cannot convince each other of our positions, so I believe I shall leave before you anger me too much. But, you will stop your romantic advances with my sister, and instead worship her like someone in your position should.”

“Hey, she is the one with the power to make me worship her. And she is 20 times my age, so how do you know she isn’t taking advantage of my immaturity?”

Mianite stifled a grin.

“At least you have a sense of humor. Good day.”

turtlebaes  asked:

How do the bros react to their girl buying them expensive gifts?

They would freak out a little bit. X3

Leo: She’d buy him a nice set of Katana Swords (he didn’t need new ones but she saw them and thought he would like them). She give them to him and he’d just stare at her with awe. Then he would reprimand her. And when she wouldn’t tell him how much she spent he would have Donnie look it up later…and probably reprimand her again (sexually). She spent $320 on them.

“You didn’t have to buy these…”

“I WANTED to. I saw them and thought of you”

“How much did these actually cost?”

“…..don’t worry about it”

“Don’t tell me to not worry about it, how much did these set you back?!”

“It’s fine! Just take them!”


Raph: She would see a really nice set of small woodcarving tools in a small craft shop and by them immediately. He would feel happy because she thought about him enough to get him something but then he’d get mad because HE wants to buy her nice things but he can’t. So he’d thank her quietly and then she would have to comfort him. She spent $250 on them.

“Ya didn’t have to get me this ya know…”

“I know baby, but I saw them and I wanted you to have them!”

“…it ain’t supposed to be this way…”

“What do you mean Raphael?”

“I’M the one who’s supposed ta buy ya nice things! I can’t even do that right!”

“Aw Raph, it’s fine, you know I don’t need much”

“But still…ya deserve nice things…and I can’t give em to ya”

“You know what you can do? Make me some nice things with this new set…”

“I guess I can Sweetcheeks”

Donnie: She would get him a really good monitor. For one of his main security feeds. Like, a really nice high dollar one and he would need out and just go on a spiel about how he was eyeing this specific one and how she was beautiful for thinking of him and then he would go behind her back and check her bank account to see who she had to kill to pay for the thing. She spent $400 on it.

“I’ve been eyeing this for so long! How did you know?!??”

“I just knew, Don”

“I just don’t get it, it has HD, it’s touch screen, it’ll hook up to any system!!”

“Yup! I tracked it down just for you”

“Princess thank you so much, do you have any idea how much this normally costs?!”

“I bought it Donnie, I can guess how much”

Mikey: You all know that my headcanon for Mikey is that he’s an artist. And he normally does traditional art. So Angelcakes would get him a full set of Copic Markers. It included 72 colors. He would freak out and spin her around and just kiss on her and then later he would feel a little bad. He always said that his art would look so much better if he had proper tools and not crayola markers and she took that to heart. He didn’t want her to pay THAT much for a Copic set and he would tell her that. She spent $310 on them.




“I know I am Mikey, but now you can show your best with all these colors!”

“Damn right I can, gurl! I’m gonna make something special, just for you!”

“If expect nothing less from you”

“But I gotta ask…why…these cost a lot”

“Well, I think your art deserves it, YOU deserve it Mikey”

“You the best, bae”

Help out Gharn!

Hi, most people don’t know me, but I’m a young adult Agender persons who is looking for a way to make an income. I’m currently disabled (mentally) and can’t do much in the way of actual labor. But there is something I can do and I feel I do it well.

I can write, be it short stories or helping with character development, I am able to write pretty diversely no matter what genre.

Now what am I offering?

Well, I figured I could use this tool to some good and try to make an extra income in order to make my life a little less stressful and relaxing. Currently my funds are being divided and shared amongst the household completely to the point where I have nothing to spend in terms of comfort.

What will my prices be like?

Well a four paragraph shooter would be - $3 USD

A short story involving your characters or setting (fan settings welcome) would be - $5 USD

A lengthy tell all description of your character, characters or setting would cost - $6-$9 dollars USD dependent on length and time.

The funds would be going directly to me and could not be touched by my family and would make my life a little less stressful. So, if you want to give it a try, just give me an ask or message over Tumblr and we can discuss some sort of situation to come out of this.

Rules: I will not write anything blatantly racist or homophobic

I am willing to write NSFW scenarios, ask me and I’ll probably write it.

Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day

- Gharn

There was once a time, 
in which I thought I was happy,
living a life where I was actually dying. 

I used to believe that the pain,
the deep rooted agonising desire,
and sorrow was what I deserved.

Manipulated by my own mind,
I was hypnotised, alone and confused,
every judgement I made disgustingly warped.

I longed for the past, for the false memories,
which I had constructed, desperately,
in search of a reason to carry on.

Yet, everything and anything destructive,
I craved as long as it reduced the years,
in which I walked the earth. 

I had lost my fight for life,
for a future with ambition,
I forgot everything that I once was.

But overtime I learnt to let go,
developing a new ability to survive,
the opportunity and prospects unravelling. 

Holding onto every hint of a future, 
the daily uphill struggle,
the battle with myself, allowing me to grow.

For the first time I could accept what was,
no longer filled with resentment, nor sorrow, 
I could embrace the difficulties I faced.

The arguably unfortunate journey,
in which I almost resigned,
was the reason I have continued to blossom.

Only as I now rise above the demons,
which once ruled my existence,
can I reflect on my achievements. 

I am happy to have persisted,
currently equipped with the tools to challenge,
to conquer all that is to come, to cope.

Filled with knowledge, a little less naive,
I can accept that the bad days aren’t over,
but now I can embrace the opportunities,  

Collectively, at last I can acknowledge,
that I am truly something incredible,
I am a fighter, I am a survivor.

And nothing within me can ever change that.

—  n.f.

Desk Diaries: Your environment effects your efficiency. 

“10 ways to really start taking care of yourself.”

“5 methods to better organize your work/life balance.”

“3 ways to guarantee a boost productivity for everyone.”

Headlines like the above overwhelm me. I don’t know about you, but I often find myself filtering through many how-to articles, resources and the like. Sifting through list-after-list not only distracts me, but it also creates an unnervingly present sense of self-doubt. Are my priorities in the right place? Am I organizing my days correctly? Did I remember to breathe? Should I SoulCycle?  How much am I actually getting done?

As I approach the one year benchmark of taking on The Style Line full time, I know I can only address things like this to a certain extent. But whether it’s 1 year or 10 years, when you make the shift from turning your passion into a reality, you learn a lot along the way.

For starters, I’ve recently been getting asked a lot about my day-to-day and what it’s like running a website basically on my own and at times in my own home. If I can impart any wisdom to future entrepreneurs, is that being in an appropriate environment is essential for growth. At this point in my career, I am still in the extremely-young startup mode, which means that for a while I’ll remain a traveling office. (Coffee-shops are my friend.)

In my case, at this point it’s definitely nice to have the flexibility over your work-environment, but maintaining a sense of structure can be a bit tricky. If you can manage to establish organization in a live/work situation that proves to hold equal value - I personally find it nice to return to some sense of consistency, even if it’s at home. So yes, my desk is my happy place.

Here are some insights on how to improve your live/work environment that may (or may not, but hopefully do!) improve your productivity: 

- Create an aesthetic that inspires: The Style Line was born with style in mind, so naturally aesthetics have always been something I’ve been drawn to. But eye-candy aside, having a space that provides constant inspiration will help maintain a sense of motivation.

Whether that means creating mood-boards, hanging up inspiring photos or quotes from people you admire, or something as simple as having a fresh bouquet of flowers on your desk… This can all make such a huge difference. I’ve noticed that lighting holds a influence on my mood and overall ability to concentrate. This is pretty specific to the person, but it doesn’t get much better having a ton of natural light pouring through your window!

- Pen + Paper + (i)Pad: As someone in online media, I constantly go back and forth between what mediums I should use for note-taking, calendar upkeep, and brainstorming. I force myself to keep track of meetings and appointments using both my phone and a tangible agenda notebook. It provides a nice duality - My phone is a much more accessible tool in case I misplace or forget to bring my day-planner, and the agenda itself also provides room to quickly jot down notes or ideas… Plus it’s a great excuse (and arguably a necessity) to not focus my attention on a screen…

- Size matters: While it’s nice to have so many tools and things at your disposal, when it comes to staying organized, I’ve really learned that sometimes less is more. Having too much on your desk can cause distraction, misplaced items/docs and a whole lot of stress! Learn to limit what you need and have things that will enhance your creativity and ability to perform…

Simply put: If you’re happy in your home, then you’ve got more of an incentive to work to maintain those good vibes… Am I right? Now it’s your turn to talk:

Where do you work/what do you do and what’s the work environment like for you?


     Genos had gotten lucky this time, if you wanted to call his current position lucky that is. He laid on the ground, his metal form torn and broken, his left leg two yards away and his right arm just off to the side a few steps. Smoldering pieces of monster flesh dropped around him as the head of the creature hit the ground with a wet plop. One of it’s eye rolled forward in it’s skull, watching the light in the cyborgs eyes flickering to stay lit.

Keep reading

Things that made this episode; Joan-centric, Joan’s done with your shit face, immense success in building her life without Sherlock, female antagonist with a female crew. JOAN and everyone worshipping the hell out of her.

And Joan is still as compassionate as ever, inserting in a ‘don’t kill him, get him help’ after she aids that man. And snap deductions! Joan and Marcus joking around each other! Joan please lend me your wardrobe and your ability to run in heels. Elana gunning after Joan because she saw her as her biggest threat! 'Keep her on a leash?’ for someone that was awfully confident, she sure was concerned about Joan being at every corner. So I’m convinced that although it took her two months, she would’ve had Elana, Sherlock merely streamlined the process. 

JOAN FINDING SHERLOCK IN THAT RIDICULOUS MASK WITHOUT AN OUNCE OF FEAR OMG. I would’ve screamed until my lungs popped, but Joan is just like, 'is there a time when you not make an entrance?’ I imagine after seeing that letter, she would’ve been furious. Five sentences? This is the man who spews monologues of facts before getting to the point, who tangles his emotions in a web of words to conceal his true feelings. I love that Gregson willingly addresses that their relationship is one based on need, but to receive Joan’s blessing first. Joan who is a lot less volatile and just as superb at her job as he is. 

I am convinced that Joan is a magician regarding that disappearance and had she had gotten into that elevator, they would’ve passed through her. Like gregson had described Holmes in season 1, 'there are guys who can walk out in the rain and not get wet’. Now I wonder, did Joan continue to practice single stick in Sherlock’s absence or was she always that exceptional? Would she have kept the dummy in her closet? used it to hone her mind like a meditational tool every morning? That glance she made when Kitty drew out her own stick, you could see the suspicions already forming. 

'Be better’ Sherlock has this tendency to use the least amount of words to convey the greatest disappointment. The upturning of the box, along with Kitty affirming that he mentions Joan frequently, just serves to prove the amount of bullshit that he tries to lie to himself that he isn’t as dependant on Watson as he’d like to be. And she knows this, but like past indications, she’d rather have him understand it himself after realising just how full of it he really was. 

Elena and Joan’s interactions are so delightful. And really, Joan has always needed her own nemesis to have words with. It’s not even smugness, I swear there’s a kind of flirting exchange, one you’d get from the adrenaline of playing with fire. That your life is on the line, and you’re battling yourself out with your wits. 

Joan’s apartment is just so her. At the Brownstone, even her room didn’t reflect who she was. Like she was ready to leave at a second’s notice, because Sherlock despite his growth, was still hmmm.. I want to say vaccination but not quite. Like a weakened strain of disease for her to gain immunity to but her body just can’t seem to fight it off and it’s destroying her rather than healing her. 

Joan wanting to be a detective I think embodied what she wanted out of all her previous careers but at a grander scale. No one is can die directly from her negligance or her own hands and it benefits the entire community as a whole by having the perpetrator locked firmly away behind steel bars. I was entirely leery about Kitty being intriduced as I was certain they were going to put her against Joan and have a kind of battle royale of sorts. But here, Joan looks to be like she’ll be taking Kitty under her wing herself! Here’s to hoping I guess. 

So did not intend on this being so long, I WAITED MONTHS FOR THIS. SACRIFICING MAKING NOTES FOR THIS. 

Easy to assemble, and I’m a girl!” is the gist of several reviews left on World Market furniture pieces I’ve viewed today.

Ladies, ladies, ladies. Using tools doesn’t require a man. In my household I am the primary user of the tools and assembler of furniture. In fact, most of the tools we own were originally mine, and they live in the toolbox I’ve had since prior to even meeting Eric. Including the power drill which my dad gave to me for Christmas one year.

Doesn’t make me more manly, and it doesn’t make him less. From now on, just stick to “easy to assemble.” You’re very capable. 

Okay, I have a thing to say and imma say it.

I went back to get the exact quote, but I can’t find it now. If I am misinterpreting, let me know.  I mean no insult or harm in these comments.

As regarding those who aren’t into/against the slore movement as ‘tools of the patriarchy’, lemme splain you a thing:

If you wish to include everyone, it’s not typically considered good manners to insult them.

I’m not into the slore movement because of reasons I won’t share here–frankly, they’re none of anyone’s business, and I don’t have to justify myself in it. I love looking at the gorgeous manips, the gifs, the steamy smut–all that is great for me, but I’m not part of the group for reasons that are my own.

But to accuse me of being a tool of the patriarchy? Um, no.

See, I have been a tool before.  I have parroted sexist and rape culture and bigoted SHIT because it’s what I was taught was 'right’ by my church. I’m not that person anymore, largely because of life events over the last several years and the amazing people I have met through fangirling. 

I used to hold my tongue to not rock the boat. I used to deny what I was feeling because it was 'bad’ or 'unholy’.  15 months, one stupid floofy headed English actor, smut writing, sexual revolution and amazing friends later, I’m not that person. 

So if I disagree with/am just not into something for my own reasons, I’m a tool of the patriarchy? Friend, I live in a consensual d/s relationship. I have more or less completely disowned myself from my faith, which inadvertently preaches rape culture.  I say what I think now, when I think something is wrong.

So to accuse people of being tools of the patriarchy just because they don’t agree with one’s view of the slore culture is, at best, wrong, and at worst, completely against the what is claimed to be the movement’s purpose: all-inclusion.

I get it. Maybe it’s the first time you’ve been able to say what you think, or maybe it’s the first time you’ve felt comfortable enough with a group of people to be able to express your opinion. That’s GREAT. But to insult other people who choose not to participate (maybe because they’re too shy, maybe because they don’t like sexualizing Tom, maybe because they think it’s excessive, or maybe because they just don’t care for it) is not cool, y'all.

Vive the slores. But vive those who don’t want to be labeled as such.

COEXISTENCE. You don’t get it through insults.

Screw TWD

fucking piece of shit writers everyone on tumblr is so pissed like why the fuck did she have to die? what the fuck was the point of giving her her own storyline and episode and romance with daryl if they were just going to fucking kill her off and fucking rick got the chance to give her more affection than daryl did all daryl got was a fucking hand on the back and then she was dead like what the fuck ive been waiting for a bethyl reunion for forever and you give me this fucking garbage and another thing why the fuck would they put emilys fucking name on the god damn opening credits now i know why they put the two fucking characters on the same page cuz now theyre just gonna take Emily off what a bunch of tools
“I made it”

“I am strong”

“I’ve survived”

lol let’s just kill her with a stupid accident
i would be less pissed if daryl and beth got to reunite but noooo

- an angry Bethyl shipper who doesn’t care about grammar anymore