Jasper fans are so freaking chilly vanilla, I don’t know where the hate for them comes from.
I mean, I’ve talked with some of them and apparently people like…in the fandom in general don’t like them that much? like some get hate once in a while and making friends it’s apparently kinda hard for them.
I mean… why? they’re some of the nicest people I’ve met here, they are sweet, kind, nice, they almost never reblog/get in The Discourse ™ and tag their junk when it needs to be tagged…
If you want me to tag/trigger warn something: Tell me and send the link and I’ll do it
If you want me to answer something privately: Either message me directly or send me an ask with an ^ at the start. (I can’t not answer something privately on anon, so I will ignore it so it stays private)
If you want me to stop following you: Tell me
If you want me to block you: Tell me
If you want me to stop contacting you: Tell me straight away
If you want me to untag you in a post: Tell me, and send the link
If I send in an ask that makes you uncomfortable: Either delete it, ignore that part of the ask or use direct message to ask me to resend it without the part that makes you uncomfortable.
If you want me to delete a post: Tell me, I may do it if I find it offensive or problematic. This is the only case were I may not do as you ask. I’m sorry for that.
If I misgender you: Tell me
If I use the wrong pronouns: Tell me
If I reply to an ask that I clearly didn’t answer the question: I didn’t answer it for a reason, the reasons for not answering an ask properly or answering it at all will vary.
If I say something that offends you or hurts you in any way: I am deeply sorry that my words have hurt you.
If I say something racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic etc or discriminate: Please tell me, and whats wrong with what I said so I can learn and grow from my mistake.
If I tag you in a tag game: It is totally up to you if you want to do it or not
If you want to unfollow me: Just do it, I won’t get offended
If you want to block me: Just do it, I wont get offended.
I use bro, dude, man, girl, gurl, bruh, woman, lady, mate and more all gender neutrally: but if I call you any of these and it makes you uncomfortable, please tell me and I will change it.
Trigger Warnings: If you have a trigger, please tell me (send an ask or message me privately) and I will try my hardest to tag any posts. I’ll use food as an example to show you how I tag my posts. #food tw, #tw food, #tw. I already tag people with #body image tw and a few others that don’t come up very often, like abuse, death, knife, guns and food.
If I reblog something that wasn’t meant for me: Please let me know. Also by this I mean if I reblog a post about bpd, it wasn’t created for me to reblog as I don’t have bpd.
If you think that there should be something one this list: Please tell me as I want you to be comfortable and different people have different experiences meaning that they each have different things that make them uncomfortable.
A little side note: I edit this post a lot, I re-word stuff and add more to the list as well as other things. So please, every once and a while have a look to see if I’ve adding things. Also if the link in my description isn’t working, direct message me straight away please.
You being comfortable is very very important to me, do not be scared to tell me or do something that will make you feel better.
poetry prompt: there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt in your philosophy
you leave traces of yourself in my bones, your mania and unbridled desire (desire for more, for anything) licking at the soft marrow.
whenever i touch you, my heart is sixteen again, nervous and thumping off-beat. i touch my tongue to my teeth and forget to breathe when
you tell me to talk to you in latin (the fact that no one speaks dead languages anymore does not faze you); when i say, quid me nutrit me destruit, you do not understand, and press kisses to my neck in between repeated whispers of te amo, te amo.
you constantly tell me, horatio, you are always right, but later, when your skin grows cold and i taste the blood and wine in your mouth, i hope to god i’m wrong.
Obviously, it’s him filming, but is he playing the roll of camera dude, or… himself?
The way his mannerisms are leads me to believe he’s supposed to be camera dude. But, Dark was also there. His speech makes it sound like it’s probably supposed to be Mark. Mark is also audible with breathing and gasping. Maybe part of the character, maybe hint that it WAS supposed to be Mark? Idk.
But the way the video ends like that. What happened…?
I think it’s implied that whoever that’s actually supposed to be, might be in trouble….? Obviously, Dark in the tags. Telling us to go back to sleep…
Is it all a nightmare…..?
Or is that what he wants us to believe….?
Or am I wrong once more…? Ya boy needs to go further.
Lowkey, I am just thinking so much of STEM right now cause of TEW2. damn it.
…edit: also. WHO are we gonna see next… what is not to be remembered… is the van a portal to hell…
how am I suppose to find peace in my sexuality when all my elders and ministers around me keep telling me its wrong ?
you can’t look to other people to give you your own peace. you have to reclaim that peace for yourself, on your terms and god’s terms only. i know that can be hard to do, especially when you might feel some sense of value for the elders in your life, but listen, your sexuality isn’t wrong, their opinions about your sexuality are. god doesn’t make mistakes. your sexuality isn’t an obstacle to be overcome.
a verse for you, song of solomon 8:6-7– “[Love’s] flashes are flashes of fire, / the very flame of the Lord. / Many waters cannot quench love, / neither can floods drown it.” right now, in this very moment, you are perfect in god’s eyes. you are unquestionably divine not despite but because of the love in you. god wants you to keep seeking peace. you’ll find it, i promise
Something that really bothers me is people acting like we’re somehow bad cat owners for keeping indoor cats and ‘not letting them go out!’. Most UK cats are outdoor cats, and so we get bad looks and accusations of being ‘cruel’ for keeping our two boys indoors.
But there’s just so much wrong with that mentality.
1. They’re not the usual wild-at-heart moggies. They’re ragdolls, a breed that is extremely well-suited to indoor life. Whilst I am a huge supporter of adopting and have many issues with breeding pedigree animals, we got our two specifically because ragdolls make good therapy/emotional support animals and my husband grew up with one. We went out of our way and found the most responsible breeder we could. But the point is, these cats are bred to mostly be indoor pets.
2. We hope to own our own home in the next few years rather than rent, and our first 'home improvement’ priority is going to be to build a large outdoor run attached to the house, so they have the freedom to enjoy the sun and fresh air.
3. Even for those with moggies, you’ll find that most cats can live content lives indoors providing they have adequate stimulation. Our boys have a large cat tree, many toys (including interactive ones they can use when we’re not home), and until recently also had a water fountain and a 'cat grass’ pad to graze from. They have a lot of things to keep them entertained.
4. Bonus of having them indoors; they don’t hunt or hurt any local wildlife, which in the UK is being decimated by cats. Instead Marius brings us offerings of potatoes, christmas baubles and freezer bags from around the house.
5. Truth be told, I don’t trust people; there’s a lot of dodgy people in this town, and I don’t want to run the risk of someone stealing or hurting our babies. I also don’t want them getting run over by cars. The honest truth is just that indoor cats = less chance of injuries that may require veterinary treatment.
6. We always have cats in the house to cuddle! Win-win!
No one can say we’re not responsible cat owners. Our boys are neutered, vaccinated, regularly get health checks, are microchipped and have collars with name/ID tags AND a 'I am microchipped!’ tag just in case…even though they never go outside.
I’m never going to tell someone they’re wrong for having an outdoor cat. Not ever. I’m sure there are some cats that simply cannot be kept indoors - it’s not in their nature. But likewise, I’d like people to stop acting like having indoor cats is some kind of crime against catkind. Trust me when I say our boys are spoiled and happy beasts.
(On top of all that, Enjolras has an anxiety disorder and literally doesn’t like being outside. Sometimes we let them into the high-walled courtyard to stretch their legs, but Enjolras dislikes the outdoors and rarely ventures out of the house even when allowed.)
i’m just.. ok, you hate everything about andromeda, that’s fine. You do you. Can we just.. let people be happy about it tho? I really, really loved it, and idk if that’s just me being positive or what, but i’m getting real tired of people telling me i’m wrong and stupid for liking it like??? get away from me
“It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor’s body: a red, flowing gown of chiffon accented with gold cuffs, and combs fashioned like gilded leaves swept back the waves of her unbound hair. A wisp of shadow curled around Azriel’s ear, and his eyes snapped to mine. I schooled my face into bland innocence.”
Thinking about Az because of having Thoughts with @squaddreamcourt and found this… I love Azriel’s shadows. I’m so fascinated by them. And I love moriel. And Mor. And I want to know better how they work. The shadows, that is. I know there have been some posts on this, but I’m just… going off on my own thing here. Because I searched my book for “shadows” after I decided to talk about this quote, and they are everywhere.
It was Rhys who suggested that the shadows came to Az when he was locked away:
“There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw. In the centuries I’d known him, he’d said little about his life, those years in his father’s keep, locked in darkness. Perhaps the shadowsinger gift had come to him then, perhaps he’d taught himself the language of shadow and wind and stone.”
It is interesting to me that Rhys wouldn’t understand where they came from (at least with 100% certainty). Is this a thing that just… happens to people? When they go through trauma?
And also this:
“Yes—Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her presence.”
If his shadows came to him when he was in such a dark place… and they fade away around Mor… tbh I’m dead? Like maybe they will… disappear when he is finally FREAKING HAPPY WITH HER? Or… maybe it has something to do with her power?
(And them disappearing is not necessarily a bad thing - I also have a lot of Problems with the work he does for Rhys - honestly he’s the last person who should be torturing people, and I really think that Rhys is taking advantage of him in the sense that Az would never tell him he is uncomfortable or doesn’t want to do that work. Clearly, he throws himself into it. But he shouldn’t? And who is going to stop him? Mor tries, we’ve seen, to at least get him to take a break.)
Anyway, I’m just having some Half-Developed Thoughts™ while I grade, so… do with all of that what you will. Don’t take them too seriously.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS (SPN SEASON 12-13 HIATUS FIC)
**Hey guys, this is gonna be a multi-chapter fic, and as I’m no longer on Ao3, it’ll be exclusively on my Tumblr blog- if you don’t want to miss a chapter let me know and I’ll tag you in future instalments! Starts out angsty but I promise will end happy!!!**
“Where am I?” The question came instantly, unbidden, before his eyes had even had a chance to adjust to the blackness. Speaking felt different somehow; the words hung heavy and strange on Castiel’s tongue. Something was wrong. He blinked, reaching his hands out in front of him, trying to orient himself, trying to verify this was real, that he was somewhere tangible, but the darkness was so impossibly thick he couldn’t even tell if he was moving.
“You’re in the Empty,” a familiar but unwelcoming voice answered calmly. Other voices sounded distantly, a faint hum.
“No,” Castiel said, automatically denying. He tried to furrow his brow but again had the disorienting sensation of not really existing, of somehow being disjointed from his body- any body.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it? You’ll get used to it,” the voice continued contemptuously. “If you decide to stay, that is.”
“Stay?” Cas repeated blankly. “Why would I… I don’t belong here. I’m not- I’m not-”
“Dead?” the voice supplied. Castiel tried to convince himself he was imagining the mirth in the rich female voice.
“Think, Castiel. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Cas wracked his brain.
“The portal,” he answered slowly. “Lucifer. I stabbed him… I knew it wouldn’t kill him, but I hoped it would buy me time to escape before the portal closed…”
“And did it? Buy you time?”
He remembered stepping through the portal, back to the dirt ground outside the lake house, night falling. He remembered just one glimpse of Dean’s face, relieved and hopeful, impossibly beautiful… and then those brilliant green eyes widening in fear, in shock-
“He- Lucifer. He followed me?” Cas questioned uncertainly.
“You’re dead, Castiel. You tell me.” It was hard to tell, of course, given the pitch-blackness, but the voice sounded gloating. Why was it so familiar? A woman’s voice he’d heard before, several times…
“No,” Cas repeated, but the sinking feeling betrayed him. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. In the Empty? Was it possible?
“And now, you’re gonna stay dead.”
Castiel’s chest clenched in horror. “Billie…” he whispered.
“Welcome to your afterlife, Castiel.”
“Dean,” Sam’s voice sounded gently. “It’s time.”
“No,” Dean answered immediately. His voice was hoarse from disuse.
They were still at the lakehouse.
“Dean,” Sam repeated softly. His hazel eyes brimmed with concern. “It’s been two days. We have to say goodbye.”
“No,” Dean said, with a little more force.
After spying the Nephilim in the corner of the nursery, Sam barely had time to react before the yellow-eyed human-angel hybrid vanished with an eerie grin. Sam had searched the house and yard top to bottom but the Nephilim was long gone. Reluctantly, Sam had gone back outside to his brother who was still kneeling, still as a statue, next to his fallen best friend.
The image of the tattered, black wings scorched onto the ground was too much- too final, but Dean couldn’t look away. He’d stared at the black outline of feathers and bone because he couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas, at the familiar trench coat and tie splayed on the ground; at the dark hair that the angel had learned to style but that Dean always secretly preferred messed up; at the strong limbs bent at an awkward angle where he’d fallen; at the eyes that once were once an unusually bright blue but were now closed forever. He’d sat there, broken but dry-eyed, not caring about the Nephilim, not caring about anything, until Sam returned and found him.
Sam retrieved a grey blanket from the Impala and draped it across Dean’s shoulders before sitting himself down cross-legged beside him. The brothers sat in silence, tears finally allowed to streak down Sam’s cheeks, Dean stone-faced but clearly devastated. It was dawn before Sam finally made a move to go inside. He put a hand under Dean’s arm, tugging upward, but Dean shrugged him off.
“I’m staying,” Dean said gruffly.
Sam didn’t argue. He did a final once-over of the house, checking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that needed to be cleaned up or destroyed. Kelly’s body had vanished with the Nephilim and while Sam was greatly concerned, he was somewhat relieved at not having to find her family or bury yet another victim of the supernatural world.
He gave Dean an hour before rummaging through the house and making Dean a strong cup of coffee with lots of sugar. Dean accepted the cup but didn’t drink.
“We can give him a hunter’s funeral,” Sam said finally. “Do you want to come with me to chop some wood?”
“No!” Dean burst out immediately.
Sam blinked in surprise. “Dean… we can’t just leave him.”
“I’ll bury him myself.”
“I said I’ll do it myself!” Dean roared.
Sam bit back his reply. Cas was an angel, after all- he shouldn’t have a soul; not that he was likely to come back as a ghost anyway. “Okay,” Sam sighed, resigned. “Whatever you want.”
“Just… just not yet,” Dean said, and he tore his eyes away from the scorch marks long enough to glance at Sam.
Sam nodded in understanding. Dean looked so vulnerable, his bottom lip trembling, the muscles in his jaw clenching as Dean struggled to keep himself together. He turned back to Cas, this time his calloused hand gingerly clasping the angel’s.
That had been two days ago, and while Sam was still mourning as well, he also understood that they needed to get moving. Their mom- who knew what was happening to her this very moment? Not to mention, it was surely only a matter of time before angels and demons alike came sniffing around- it wasn’t safe for them to stay here any longer. And Cas… Sam wasn’t sure what happened to the bodies of fallen angels whose vessels were not really a vessel, but their own body personally hand-crafted by God, but Sam didn’t want to wait to find out. They needed to put their friend to rest.
Finally Dean broke. “I can’t, Sammy. I can’t do it. I can’t.” For the first time in two days, Dean wept, deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shuddered through his whole body. It was too much- Cas, their mother and Lucifer back, both of them lost, the Nephilim escaped, Cas…
Sam itched to comfort him, but he knew Dean would probably reject the affection. It was uncharacteristic of Dean even to allow himself this kind of public grief. Sam settled for kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. The younger Winchester wasn’t entirely certain he fully understood the bond between Dean and Cas, but it was painfully obvious that to Dean, this was a loss unlike any other. “I’m sorry,” Sam murmured quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
Eventually, Dean’s ragged gasps slowed and evened out. His eyes remained glassy and red-rimmed, but his tears stopped. He looked exhausted, world-weary; he had every right to, of course, but it wasn’t often he let himself own it.
Neither Winchester was prepared for when Castiel’s once-lifeless body suddenly shuddered before them, sucking in a loud breath.
Castiel pushed himself up to sitting, chest heaving as he blinked around at them.
White as a sheet, Dean stared in terror, scrambling to get off the ground. Sam pulled him to his feet, shaking.
“Dean?” Cas rasped in his gravelly voice. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet as well, his eyes flicking briefly to Sam but remaining chiefly fixed on Dean.
It was a split-second before Dean’s face tightened, his hand pulled back, and a well-aimed fist connected harshly with Castiel’s jaw.
My first bit of tinkering w @queenscrownvn‘s game, which even as a demo is one of my absolute faves. Uhm. I’ve actually been sitting on this for a while and keep adjusting, but at this point I think I just want to post and be done with it. Mostly self conscious because I play a lot with things that are purely my headcanons for background info. Also, I know jack-all about horses, so please suspend disbelief while reading lol…
Behind them the palace sat high, and before them cold fog obscured the path wound down and around the hill. Like a salt-heavy ocean in furious flux, the air shivered inscrutable before them, squeezing and stifling their world. Still, his companion seemed to know her way, and her loyal guards were silent.
That pricked him, to be sure. The two men riding behind, their small movements and the quiet of their oiled armor, not to mention their belonging to a previously enemy nation– their presence rankled Noah on an instinctual level. But they were enemies no longer. He would never turn down a friendly sword at his back, and, of course–
“Propriety” had to be followed.
The way they treated women here had a clear point of origin: their fixation on bloodline and the purity thereof– or at least the appearance of purity. Any perceived dishonor endangered their nobles’ power, both political and economical, and invited “outsiders” into the inner circle of the elite. A most grievous state of affairs by Sinado standards.
I was wondering what your opinion of Israel/Palestine is. I personally believe that both have claims to the land, and that there is a problem with how a lot of the Palestinian are being treated, but there is the problem of how some of the Palestinians are reacting to that treatment, and if there is a reason that I am missing here, please tell me, I would appreciate knowing more.
This is a frequent and exhausting topic. I would recommend looking through our “israel/palestine” tag.
The short version is that I support the right of both peoples to stay in the country and to find an expulsion free, rights protected solution be that one-state or two-states. I don’t support any solution that is centered around the expulsion of either of the peoples. I find that the loudest voices in the pro-Israel and pro-Palestinian movements are wrong in their desires to completely villify and displace the opposition in one way or the other. I’m also against economic boycott against any part of Israel that isn’t the settlements and any form of Academic or Cultural boycott. The trend of demonizing the opposition is only making matters worse. The only possible lasting solution is co-existence. That needs to be the focus. Not blame. Not demonization. We have to accept the reality that no one is going anywhere.
Sooooo, I could be horribly wrong (and please tell me if I am) but isn’t this image Fanart? Does Hulu have permission to use it? And if it is fanart, does anyone remember who the artist is? I know I’ve seen this image.
This is on my freshly updated Hulu app on my PS4.
(Sorry ahead of time but tagging the major ships just for maximum reach)
I never understood words, and maybe that has to do with the fact that I can barely read without them getting out of order, sometimes everything looks like alphabet soup. Instead, I turned to colors and learned to mix tears with paint just to see what color they’d create. One day I cut my wrists open to see if watercolor really did flow through these veins, but all I got were pills. I was simply tired of everyone telling me I had it wrong, when you learn to paint with every tone you realize that grey is just another color, because sometimes you can drink yellow paint and never reach happiness just ask Van Gogh. So if my crayon box only consisted of blue I wouldn’t mind, it’s a reminder of you. So I’ll just continue to paint these thoughts into my art like flowers pressed into books, and tucked away until it’s shipped to you with a tag reading