Taehyung: i have killed my abusive father out of rage towards him and loss of my friend instead of finding a solution that does not involve violence better call my remaining friends to a special spot so they can be with me when i drown myself
J-Hope: my friend is suffering an illness he will surely die from however will i deal with this depressing information and not do anything to worsen the situation for my companions *swallows 20 pills*
Yoongi: everyone around me is becoming sad i cant with yall l8tr
Jungkook: i shall walk into this street at night full of dangerous thugs *gets beat up* better get home fast and walk through this road full of traffic *gets hit by a car*
Jimin: Everyone around me is okay. i am okay. everything is okay. *lies lies lies*
Namjoon: This. is. so. terrible. that. this. happened. to. my. friends. Guess i’ll compare their situations to rly poetic mythology
“With Buffon it’s the BBBC. It is certainly a wonderful group of friends, of people who – apart from the rapport that we’ve built on and off the pitch – reached a certain level because there’s something magical in that relationship. With all due respect, we have never been and are currently not the best defenders in the world, but together we each raise the game of the other. That is true. There is also profound friendship, something deep that makes us share everything. We have our strengths and weaknesses, but when you care for someone, you don’t dwell on the defects and only see their qualities. At the end of the day, all four of us are people who live for our work and put heart and soul into it. If there’s no passion in there or a human connection, you can get results once in a while, but not in the long-term. It all stems from the passion. Heart is the main ingredient, then follows hard work, quality, character and desire to win. Without heart, solidarity and that understanding, believe me, you won’t get the results we’ve achieved over so many years.” - Giorgio Chiellini
I was born the same year as Medicare, Medicaid, and the Voting Rights Act.
My childhood was Vietnam and Watergate, the Great Malaise and the Iran hostages and disco. It included two years spent in a majority-Muslim nation, which forever informed how I would view the world and meant I would always see shadings and subtleties in every political interaction and a profound skepticism of those who deal in demonizing and simplicities.
My adolescence was Reagan and Thatcher, the glittering false facade of grotesque wealth covering profound inequality, the sense of cruelty as a guiding force. It was the existential terror of nuclear armageddon. It was postpunk and androgyny and AIDS and the view of a world that was deeper and darker and beautiful and resistant and angry, pushing hard against the facade. It gave me a sense of where home might be for me, and what I wanted to value and cherish.
My first decade of adulthood was full of failure and missteps and figuring out who I wanted to become, even as my nation entered a period of prosperity and the fear of dying in a nuclear strike waned. I remember less about it than I should–not because of anything exciting or dramatic, but simply because I was not yet a person of full spine and spirit and I didn’t know what I was doing.
My second decade of adulthood was largely spent in the thrall of an abusive, gaslighting narcissist, who took the spine and spirit I had begun to find and pleasured himself with trying to crush and pulverize it out of me. It was also when the towers fell and our nation went with them into its own thrall of terror and endless war and the first stirrings of irreparable division and authoritarian control.
Then came the next decade, and I married a veteran of the endless war who will always bear scars from it, and rebuilt my spine and spirit even stronger than before, and learned my own foolishness and new wisdom, and watched my nation find hope and joy and love and acceptance, even as the division became ever more fraught and damaging. And I failed to listen closely enough to the noise it made, the evil hateful threatening rumble that ran underneath everything.
And then it was the night of November 8, 2016, and everything cracked and broke and the rumble was a full-throated roar crashing over everything I value.
And now it’s January 20, 2017, and there is a new President, and there is ground glass being slowly rubbed into my spirit so that the wounds will stay open and oozing for as long as this reality is in existence and I am already watching the world I value being sliced away in bloody skewed pieces and the fear is as overpowering as it ever was in the old days of nuclear peril.
I dyed my hair the color of deadly nightshade, and I wore blood-red lipstick and a skirt of repurposed fabrics in the tartans of my postpunk heritage and the homely knit of working clothes, and a pair of old stompy boots that are worn but still solid, and necklaces of various links with heart pendants for the love and the energy that must power me, and a jacket painted with wording from a film that had come to represent so much to me even before the election happened and now is a terrifying portent of what could well come.
Of course these things are just symbols, things to show, talismans of what I wish to be. They will not, in themselves, change anything. But like all talismans, they give me the sense of power, and the sense that I can go forward, and the image to others of what I am and what I value.
The Green Place is gone. There is nowhere for us to go back to, no space of bounty and safety and peace. We can only go through the disaster and fight together for the vulnerable and the disadvantaged and the world that we want to see instead of the one we have.
I will continue to work at my non-profit job, the honest, meaningful work that provides income and meaning and value. I will continue to volunteer and pursue my passion, connecting people with the wonder of nature and wildlife and the value of protecting it. I will continue to stand up and provide safety for those in my community who are at risk from the awful roar of hate. I will continue to speak and amplify and counter the distortion and re-shaping of reality, because I have been through it both personally and politically and I understand what it looks like. I will live my life as I can, but I will incorporate resistance and anger and every bit of skill I can bring to this fight into the life that I live, and I will learn new wisdom and try new things to the best of my ability. I am scared that I will be harmed or imprisoned and I am scared that I will fail. But I will still do it, because it must be done, and I will do it for as long as I can. I will build my spine and spirit even stronger.
I have watched a lot pass in the decades I have had so far, and I have learned so much from it. I have never seen what is happening now. Our country as it existed yesterday no longer exists, and this thing we call the United States of America is likely to end. And part of why I will fight is because I believe that those who fight will make something better, in a different shape, and I need to help us make that. And this might take the rest of my life, however long that ends up being; my remaining decades will be so very different from the ones that have already passed. But I will spend them fighting.
Congratulations Dani and welcome to Crimson Revolt as Sirius Black.
Admin Note: Wow. While I wasn’t sure if I could ever get an app for Sirius that completely convinces me, yours simply blew me away. It was so long and detailed that I’m still a bit overwhelmed, to be honest. It’s pretty clear that you’re really passionate about Sirius and that you already have a very profound understanding of him. I just loved reading your whole app and I can’t wait to see Sirius back in action!!
Prior to roleplaying, please refer to the post-acceptance checklist which can be found here. Once you’ve set up your blog and have followed all steps on the checklist, please send us a message so your follow can be posted. I could not be more thrilled to have you here now!! Welcome to our little group and have fun roleplaying!!
There are so many creative projects rattling around in my brain lately that I don’t even know what to do with myself… a letter and artistic depiction of her birthday reading for my recently relocated bestie… the post on Sagittarius/The Fool from my Cosmos study that’s been sitting in my drafts awaiting editing, as well as its page in the new sketchbook I got specifically to serve as my very own fancy guidebook for that deck (!)… more altar boxes and other various trinkets to list in my prospective shop… a crocheted deck bag for Slow Holler (yes, I finally got a copy and it is nothing short of profound!)… a shadow box for some of my bugs and bones… paintings and doodles…
It’s nice to have plenty of creative inspiration again, though so much at once can become a bit overwhelming. I’m beginning to suspect that I’m subconsciously distracting myself from projects with ideas for more projects, ha.
I’m also sitting on a few asks and would like to put together new blog posts at some point in the relatively near future. I’m going to refrain from forcing anything though; a lot of my blog activity occurs during work hours, and it’s tax season, which means I have been and will continue to be busier than usual until around March.
P.S. I apologize if you’ve tagged me in anything or commented on something of mine and have yet to (or never) receive a response from me. I do my best to stay involved while also respecting my limitations in terms of active interaction/participation, which means some things just get away from me. Please know I appreciate you and wish you the very best nonetheless!
Omg yes to all these answers. Also? I WANT TO SCUBA DIVE SO BAD THATS A DREAM OF MINE
omg ok this is so much less complicated than it might seem, you can so tick this off your bucket list:
1) google diveshop (yourcity)
2) they will have some 3-day weekend course you take for $200 to get your basic open water dive cert
3) go on first dive. experience neutral buoyancy 60 ft under, aka the closest you can come to flying / floating in space on this fine planet of ours, and the profound serenity of the deep, and become addicted to the experience for life
4) pee in wetsuit for the first time
5) boromir’s hand sign here will become less of an objection to entering mordor and more a reassurance that everything is ok
Anyone who unveiled to us the nature of the world would produce for all of us the most unpleasant disappointment. It is not the world as thing in itself, it is the world as idea (as error) that is so full of significance, profound, marvellous, and bearing in its womb all happiness and unhappiness.
“Mornin’, sunshine. Want some coffee?” Dean nuzzles into Cas’s hair and breathes him in, tightening his grip on the angel’s waist, pulling him back against his chest “I can drag my ass outta bed for a few minutes to go put some on.”
“No. Thank you,” Cas grumbles, shifting to snuggle back against Dean. His voice is sleep-rough and low, and Dean can’t get enough of it. He tugs Dean’s arms tighter around him. “We don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do today. I’d like to stay here a while.”
Pressing kisses to Cas’s neck, nibbling his way around to his jaw, Dean finds himself grinning as he murmurs against Cas’s warm skin. He’s perfectly content to stay here for as long as Cas’ll have him. “Awesome.”
Friendly reminder, lest we lose all common sense and decency. The Ten Commandments are neither profound nor difficult, at all. They are meant to distinguish us from barbarianism and narcissism. They are basic rules for being a human—bottom line. You don’t even have to believe in “God” or read these terms “literally” to comprehend the basic principle of love at any cost and the very clear prescription for humanity. Don’t do as your corrupt leaders do. Don’t do as your corrupt celebrities do. Don’t do as I do. Don’t do as the world implores you to “get what’s yours.” You are not entitled to anything. The breath you breathe is on borrowed time. Your days are numbered. Take captive all selfishness and evil and be abundant in life! Eradicate your bullshit. This is the day the Lord has made. Do as kindness and love concede to purity and grace and gratitude. Love your enemies. Love yourself. Give up your life for your brothers and sisters. Be a servant and a steward and nothing less than a saint. The world is abundant and I am so happy to be in it with you. Amen! — Sufjan Stevens
It all began with a series of flirty anon messages in his inbox one day, which turned into something almost profound over time. A year after the first message was sent, Dean’s almost positive that he’s fallen hard for someone he’s never met, on Tumblr no less. He wants to tell this person how he feels, but there’s one problem. He’s been in love with his best friend Cas for years, and will need to get over him before he can truly move on.
But what happens when things aren’t what they seem, and Dean meets “Angel” in person?
There are three things in his life that Dean wants to keep a secret.
1. He watches Doctor Sexy on the regular and has never missed an episode.
2. He liked how he looked in Rhonda Hurley’s pink satin panties so much that he bought a pair of his own after they broke up.
3. He’s probably, possibly, okay, really in love with a guy who he met on Tumblr.
Dean knows how cliché it is. Fall for some guy you’ve never met in person? Who is he, a character in ‘You’ve Got Mail?’
But Dean can’t deny that he’s in love with angelcake67. How else can one describe the way his heart races in his chest when he sees the little ‘1’ hovering above his inbox, or the way a smile bursts across his face when a ‘ping!’ rings out from his computer speakers? And if that isn’t enough proof, Dean has a thousand other reasons written down on a piece of paper that’s tucked away under his mattress. He’s in love with the guy because besides Sam, he knows more about Dean’s true self than anyone else. To Angel (Dean’s not-so-clever codename for the man), he’s not Dean, the star baseball player for Lawrence University, or the nurturing older brother to Sam, or the cocky womanizer every girl on campus takes him for. No, for Angel he can stop putting on personas and just let everything be. Angel knows him for his Star Trek blog, his love of math, his dorky text posts that he thinks up while he should be studying in the library. He knows many of Dean’s deepest insecurities, like his fear of his father ever finding out about his bisexuality, of his guilt over not doing enough for Sammy, of if he’s being selfish by enrolling at Lawrence U at all.
And Dean knows a lot about Angel, also. He knows that Angel’s from a religious family who would clutch their pearls and faint if they ever found out he’s not only asexual, but biromantic too. He remembers Angel telling Dean that he hates PB&J sandwiches after an ex-girlfriend fed them to him all the time. And perhaps the most important thing of all is Dean knows that Angel’s loved him for a long while, maybe ever since the first time he went on anon and asked Dean if he liked pie.
On paper, everything looks perfect, and the next step should be easy. Meeting in person is a topic they’ve talked about many times, but Dean’s never gotten up the nerve to go through with it. He cites not being good enough as his excuse, but Dean knows the truth. There is one clear, obvious reason why he’s hesitant to meet Angel.