theatening

anonymous asked:

so is the threat of hurting a child rly worse than ACTUALLY hurting a child? bc grunkle stan is nothing but kind and caring to kids he interacts with... and jasper actually hit steven. and hurt him.

wtf yeah? R U KIDDING????? R U SERIOUS? HAVE U NEVER HAD AN ADULT THEATEN TO SERIOUSLY HURT U?  if u are a human adult that takes care of chlidren i expect u to not talk about hurting or killing kids? what the fuck? and stan has done alot more thn just talk ahaha he has made me uncomfortable multiple times..like wtf? remember when he made dippo dress in tht freaky comstume so ppl could throw money at him??? that seriously scared me alot and i see that as alot more abuse thn jasper ignorantly hitting a kid once lmao

jasper hit steven yeah i said tht ahaha but jasper is an alien and she thought steven was rose ? gems dont have the same understanding of age u know that right ? was jasper jsut supposed to know immediatley that the small person with rose’s gem was a kid and just stop her mission? idk ahaha i think we gota b realisitic here….. its like if a shark saw a baby and bit it.. the shark is not a child abuser? it is completely different context

hazel-maria-cartoon-trash asked:

she had a black jacket tht would have given her a theatening air had it not been for her sunny smile. her chocolate colored hair flowed in small waves down her head. her nose was a bit wide, but it only made her lovelier

Oooooh my goodness. Thank you!! (⌒▽⌒)

Friday Night is for the Writer

Friday Night was only written for the artist …

a seranade for the poet,

especially when it rains.

The companionship of not knowing what to do 

combined with the pain of not falling in love

and all the while, on a mission 

to express that which theatens to burst 

out of the writer’s or artist’s veins.

The very purpose for their birth.

Enough silence to hear the truth,

enough motivation to take us 

into the dawn of the morning

because Friday night

came without distractions

and was only made for the 

writer and the artist baby.

Crazy to think it’s making love to the Universe

mind contending between left and right hemisphere

capitalism and the writer and the artist

can be anywhere but on this Friday night

God showed itself on the smeared

blood, sweat and tears on that old white canvas

Tip-toed across a poem.

Like a their  in the night

and left that writer and