today proved that

i know its asking for a lot, but consider dropping uber from your phone since they deliberately and willingly broke the new york cabbie strike today and proved themselves to be exactly what i worried they would be: a bunch of filthy scabs.

I have run out of ways to say I am here
so just take my Alien Registration Number: 002
-381-935. I kiss a boy in the bathroom
of a courtroom, he presses me against the sink
like a child, he bends things to break
like any good American, I let every boy hold me
like a knife. I let him coat my throat.
Sometimes I wonder where
outside my body am I today? Even
science cannot prove alien life. The rules
are: All blood is borrowed. All prayers must be saved
for what can be. I pray for reincarnation
as a garden on fire. I pray for fever, the kind of
heat that knows exactly
what parts of you to kill
—  consider me another dead white war poet, kristin chang

Today has proved how little the phandom has changed over the years, y’all call 2012 bad but you’re doing the same shit.

If you think it’s okay to bully Dan into coming out, bully him because he didn’t give you what you want, or bully him in general.

Unfollow me.

You guys want to call the year 2012 bad, check yourself.

And if you reply saying something like “we were just joking” no you weren’t you got called out, realized you were wrong, and you’re trying to cover your ass.

that's less than 10 years, frens

2007, age 17
-prove me wrong
-i’m a goner
2009, age 19
-march to the sea
2011, age 21
-glowing eyes
-be concerned
2013, age 23
-holding on to you
2015, age 25
-the judge
-tear in my heart
-not today

he did it. you can do it.


meanwhile whenever I smile I scare my dog away


The grass felt warm beneath your feet and the sun was warm against your skin. It was beautiful today, too nice to train but your master kept insisting.
‘Training’s important and you need to learn.’ That’s what he always said. He could be so stuck up sometimes. You were good enough and hell bent on proving it today by beating him.

Sword raised and feet firmly placed on the ground, you wait for his attack that shortly follows. Your swords crash, a noise interrupting the eerie silence all around.
Maybe you’d get him to do something else with you once you’d won? God, there were a lot of things you’d like to do with the man. One reason you were always unconcentrated during training was because you stared, a lot. Thoughts kept wandering to places they shouldn’t.
Your foot is pushed out under you, sword flying away. Distracted again. All you can manage to do is grab his shirt and pull him down as well.

“Your mind is somewhere else.”
He states, hovering above you with his elbows on the ground so his body isn’t crushing yours.
“Maybe I’ve been thinking about you…” Your fingers brush against his arm as you start to talk in a flirty voice. He never reacted but you tried anyway and it was seeing him squirm a little because he had to keep his cool.
“Then think about how I’ve beaten you the last time.”
“You’re no fun, master!” You make a pouting face and purse your lips.
His hand moves along your cheek for a moment, a familiar gesture that makes you lean into his touch. His brows are furrowed and he looks a bit sad, almost like he’s in pain. His head moves down, closer to your face. You blush when you feel his mouth against your earlobe and his breath tickling your skin.
“I’m not supposed to be fun…I’m here to keep you alive and that’s the most important thing to me.”

I had the honor and horror of explaining/proving today to my local comic book store owner, who is a born-and-raised Jewish dude, that the Black Widow is Jewish. I ended up making a drive home and grabbing my copy of the 83-87 run of her origin story and then going back in person to prove the point today (a week after the original argument)/sit there and watch him repeat, dumbfounded, again and again, “I thought she was Russian Orthodox or something.”

So then I had to explain that Marvel eventually retconned her into having had the Red Room rip out all her memories of life before her parents’ death and thus left her unaware of her heritage. He had a copy of the new version of her origin story. We went over it together in-store, curious, and left mutually disappointed. There’s not one hint of her original origin left other than her very Jewish patronymic still remaining part of her name.

As a Russian-descended person I find that kind of a fitting metaphor for how the Russian government has treated Russian Jews - Natasha can succeed, can be the best in her field, can be beautiful and praised for her moral fortitude, but only if she has all Jewishness forcibly removed from her. It’s sort of befitting the era in which her character would have grown up, especially if Marvel pushes forward with the idea they’ve hinted at that the Red Room’s treatments have stalled her aging and she might be nearly as old as Steve and Bucky.

Out of universe, though, please never forget that Marvel took out all the women from the Avengers except one for their cinematic adaptation initially, and the one they left, they made either atheist or secular enough to casually refer to Loki and Thor as gods. They had a chance to put the first Jewish superhero to the big screen and didn’t even consider it for a second.

Then they made the Scarlet Witch not only not Jewish but Christian in the sequel. Just to twist the knife a little deeper, they made her non-Rromani and went with a fake nationality to top it all off.

And thus I stood before a man whose job was (in part) to live and breathe Marvel and he had no idea Natasha Romanov was Jewish. This new and improved origin story that has no trace of her Jewish roots (in freaking Novosibirsk where there’s a large Jewish quarter of the city, are you kidding me with this Marvel) comes during the same year Marvel published a storyline headed by writer Nick Spencer where Captain America was a Nazi/HYDRA agent all along, a storyline that only got canceled because the fan protests and outcry was so great that between the petitions, boycotts and actual Marvel actors like Clark Gregg (who is Jewish and who Nick Spencer sent the issue personally) publicly stating disgust with it that Marvel realized they weren’t going to be able to sell overt antisemitism. Covert antisemitism, though, we’re still buying - the Iron Man anti-villain/anti-heroine The Mad Thinker/Rhona Clytemnestra Cohen had her surname changed to have always been Burchill and her backstory retconned into her family being the victims of ‘a criminal car bombing’. Not ‘an antisemitic car bombing motivated by the fact my mother was a brilliant Jewish scientist whose coworkers had it out for her’. Just ‘a criminal car bombing’. I have seen all of three people complain about that even though it takes her motivations as a Jewish woman who hates that superheroes don’t save or stand for people like her and turns her into another generic supervillain.

I see what you’re doing, Marvel. There’s a reason I go out of my way to buy my comics from a place that will let me leaf through comics before purchasing them. If you want to keep going down this path, please just be aware that one day, kids will be shown that Captain America panel of him saying ‘Hail HYDRA’ in history class as they learn about the 2016 antisemitic upswing. You are made of the same stuff videos labeled ‘crazy propaganda cartoons’ on YouTube are.

(And yes I know one person’s rants are another person’s no big deal but I am not merely out of fucks to give, I am deeply, deeply in the red right now.)

I Like Your Accent

Author’s note: This isn’t a repost. My account got deleted and I am slowly rebuilding. Click here to read more about what happened.

Warning: The following story contains fucking hardcore smut, you pervert.

“Newt!” A grin split your face as you spotted your favorite former-runner walk across the field. You and he had grown close in the short time you had been in the Glade. He had always been there guiding you and protecting you, even though you didn’t really need it. But lately, things had started to change. Newt had closed in on himself, building walls between the two of you. Today proved to be no different.

Newt looked up at you, immediately averted his gaze, clenched his jaw, and then began to stride purposefully into the opposite direct.

What the hell,” you murmured, “Why the hell is he doing this?” The bubble of anger that had gathered in you began to bubble to the surface, and the longer you stared at his retreating back, the more anger you felt. Before you realized what you were doing, you were sprinting after the son of a bitch. To be honest, you weren’t in tip top shape and couldn’t run quite far at a sprint. There was a reason you weren’t a runner. At last, when you thought you could take no more, Newt slowed, turned, and jogged into the map room. You followed behind him without a noise, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you purposefully.

Newt turned, void of any expression whatsoever. It made you want to punch him. “What do you want?”

Without a word, you strode up to him. “I hate you.” You stated, shoving him in the chest. Your hand met muscular tissue, solid as rock. You did the best of your ability to ignore it. “I hate you.” And you shoved him again. You went on repeating this stupid mantra until you had Newt backed up against the wall. The two of you were face to face, and you were close enough to be able to look deep into his dark eyes. His fair boyish hair had begun to dip into his eyes, and it took all of your will power not to brush it away. Tears had begun to brim in your eyes, caused by the realization of just how much you had missed him and his quirky smile and stupid jokes. And his accent. Oh, that stupid, absolutely attractive accent. You forced the tears down, raising your arm once again. “I hate you.” This time, your hand didn’t connect. Instead, Newt raised his own hand, his long fingers circling around your wrist and effectively holding it in place. It was then that you broke apart. Tears poured out of your eyes, leaving ugly trails down your cheeks.  “I hate you,” you whispered, choking on silent sobs. You wrenched your hand free from his grasp, using it again to pound at his chest. “I hate that you act as if I’m not even here. I hate that you ignore me every day. I hate that you do your best to avoid me whenever you can without even giving me a reason why.” With every word you said, the more and more you cried. Your vision was blurry and your hands were starting to hurt from hitting Newt so many times. Worse yet, Newt hadn’t even said anything. He took every single blow in silence, his eyes searching yours.

Suddenly, Newt spun you so that his arm pressed you back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as you struggled to compose yourself as dry sobs wracked your body.

Newt tilted his head forward slightly, his lips brushing the tip of your ear. “Do you know why?” He whispered, his light breath rustling the hair by your ear.

“Does it look like I fucking know?”

Newt ignored your poisonous sarcasm. “Do you really want to know why? Do you know what you do to me?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Do you know how much I care about you, how much I-” Newt took a breath “How much I want you? Do you know how much willpower it takes for me not to walk up to you every day and rip your shucking clothes off?”

A shaky breath escaped from your throat. “What’s stopping you?” You reached back, gently pulling his head further down from your ear to your neck. “What’s to say that I didn’t want that too, hm?”

Newt groaned a little, the small breath tickling the hollow of your throat and making you shiver. In one quick movement, he spun you around and pressed you against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to your rising temperature. You looked up into his dark eyes, watched the rise and fall of his chest with quick, aroused breaths. His hair was completely in his eyes now, throwing shadows over his face and making him look- godly. You were calm now, all signs of the broken mess you were gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

A muscle in Newt’s jaw tensed, and he slammed both hands against the wall next to your head. His eyes darkened even more. “You have no idea what you do to me- what I’ll do to you.”

You placed both of your hands on his chest, gripping the thin fabric covering his chest. “Then fuck-” You leaned in “-me. Now.”

It was all the confirmation he need. With a dark groan, Newt crashed his lips against yours roughly, biting and nipping whenever he could. His hands slid down your body, resting on your ass and giving it a tight squeeze before traveling back up and under your shirt. A small warmth began to burn in the pit of your stomach. It was comfortable at first, even pleasurable. But it grew. The rhythmic push of his lips against yours became too little for you. You wanted more. Your hand slid down to Newt’s pants, stroking his erection through the fabric. “Newt, please,” you gasped, “Get rid of the fire. Please.”

Newt smiled against your lips and ripped your shirt and bra off with ease, as if he had done this before and often prior to being put in the maze. Immediately, his hands went to fondle and play with your breasts. Newt stopped kissing you, only to let his lips trail down to the hollow of your throat and begin suckling gently there.

“Newt, please,” You moaned, your voice dripping with want.

“I love when you say my name like that,” He murmured, his voice rough. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

Newt made quick work of the rest of the clothes you were wearing as you pulled his pants off. He turned you again, pushing your naked front up against the cool rock of the wall. His warm hands slid up and down your waist, slowly dancing closer and closer to where you wanted him. A small whimper slipped out of your mouth. Newt smirked. Finally, his hand reached your core, which was dripping with need. He stroked it once lightly, chuckling darkly as he brought the wet finger back to his mouth and licked it clean. “You’re so wet, (Y/N). Is this all because of me?” Again he stroked your slit, allowing his finger to dip in teasingly before he pulled it back to his lips.

You moaned. “Please.”

“Please what?” Newt had positioned himself at your pulsing center and it took every ounce of control in you not to ram yourself against him.

“Oh my god, Newt, please fuck me!”

Without warning, Newt forced himself deep into you, the pleasure you felt immediate. He was not at all gentle, not even giving you a moment to adjust to his size- and he was big. He sunk himself deep into you, pulling almost all the way out, and then sinking in hilt deep yet again. You tried hard to be quiet, but the moans seemed to slip uncontrollably out of you, increasing in volume each time Newt buried his cock deep inside of you. Your hand traveled down in between your legs to touch yourself, but Newt grabbed it and pinned it above your head against the wall. He leaned in by your ear, biting down- hard. “I’m going to make you come, (Y/N), don’t even think about touching yourself.”

“Please,” you moaned. “Faster, harder- please.”

Newt complied, driving in and out of you at a near incomprehensible speed. Grunts began to escape from his mouth, and it turned you on even more. As Newt pounded into to you, the wet slaps of skin against skin filled the room. One of his hands grabbed on to your hip and guided you against him. You began to move a little slowly by yourself, understanding what he wanted you to do. Your movements were clumsy, but it increased the pleasure tenfold. Newt let out a loud moan of appreciation as your hips met his. His cock slid in and out of you at an inhuman pace, the pleasure building deep within your stomach. The hand that wasn’t pinning your wrists above your head pulled you closer against him and suddenly, he was able to hit an entirely new angle deep within you. You screamed loudly in pleasure, dark spots dancing across your vision. “More! PLEASE!” You screamed, your head falling back against Newt’s chest as he increased his speed even more, hitting the spot within you with each thrust. He pounded into you almost animalistically, forcing you to scream again and again in intense pleasure. Every thrust brought you closer in closer to the edge, and you could feel yourself beginning to fall. “Oh god, oh god, OH GOD!” Your vision exploded into white, pure pleasure rolling in waves throughout your entire body. The coil within your stomach had unraveled with force, your orgasm breaking through every wall in you. As you descended down from your high, you became aware of the fact that Newt still continued to pound into you, his face tight in concentration. He was fighting to hold his own climax back, wanting to make you come once more.  

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” He moaned, his accent roughening. “You’re so beautiful.” Sweat dripped off of him, his body glistening in the dimly lit room. The hand that had been holding you against him traveled down to your clit and he began to rub small circles. Again you could feel the pleasure building up in you again, less than three seconds after your last orgasm. He pushed himself deep within you, rubbing your swollen clit with force as he thrust into you. His moans were increasing in volume, turning you on even more even though you were still sensitive. His head fell to your neck, his jaw and nose brushing the sensitive skin their gently. His mouth fell open and his deep breaths of pleasure fanned out across your skin. “Say my name,” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible. “Say my name.” He continued to pound into you, whispering your name in pleasure. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N),” he groaned his broken mantra.

You closed your eyes. “I hate you,” you whispered, even as he repeated your name again and again. “I hate you, I hate you.” The fire continued to build, and with a powerful thrust into you, you fell apart into pure white bliss. “Newt.” His name fell from your lips in whisper of a breath, but it was enough.

Newt came with a loud groan, riding out his orgasm loosely in you.

As you sunk down from yet another high, your legs gave out from under you. Newt caught you in his arms, holding you against his chest tightly.

With a content sigh, you leaned back against him. You were both sweaty and the room smelled of sex. A small giggle bubbled out of your mouth. “We’ve tainted it. We’ve tainted the room”

Newt pulled out, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit empty. He chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “I wouldn’t mind tainting it a few more times.”

You turned so you were facing his chest and placed a few light kisses along his prominent collar bones.

Newt hummed contentedly, his chest vibrating with the sound as he stroked your hair lightly. “You’re addicting. You’re also too beautiful for your own good.”

You smiled. “I like your accent.”

Newt laughed, the rich sound filling the room. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. He was beautiful when he smiled, and you felt as if you had shared deep moment with him.

“Promise you won’t ignore me anymore?”

Newt smiled again. “How could I?”

You nodded. “Don’t leave me, okay?”

“I won’t. Ever. I promise.”

And so you lived in bliss.

“Today modern science is proving that this whole existence is just a reverberation of energy, an endless vibration. Thoughts too are a reverberation. If you generate a powerful thought and let it out, it will always manifest itself. For this to happen, it is important that you do not impede and weaken your thought by creating negative and self-defeating thought patterns.

Generally, people use faith as a means to banish negative thoughts. Once you become a thinking human being, however, doubts invariably surface. The way your mind is made, if God appears right here this moment, you will not surrender to him or her. Instead, you will want to conduct an investigation to find out whether this is the genuine article or not.

There is an alternative to faith, which is commitment. If you simply commit yourself to creating what you really care for, now once again your thoughts get organized in such a way that there are no hurdles. Your thoughts flow freely toward what you want, and once this happens, the manifestation of your desire is a natural consequence.

To create what you really care for, your desire must first be well manifested in your mind. Is that what you really want? Think this through carefully. How many times in your life have you thought, “This is it.” The moment you got there you realized that was not it at all! So, first explore what it is that you really want. Once that is clear and you are committed to creating it, you generate a continuous process of thought in that direction. When you maintain a steady stream of thought without changing direction, it will manifest as a reality in your life.

There are yogic processes by which you can touch another dimension of intelligence, unsullied by memory, called chitta, which we have mentioned earlier. Realizing the power of chitta is called chit shakti, a simple and powerful process through which you can access the very source of creation within you.”

Sadhguru, Inner Engineering: A Yogi’s Guide To Joy

Help me become independent of my abusive mother

Today my mother proved once again that my well-being can be completely jeopardized whenever she is in a bad mood, and I can no longer rely on her for housing and financial stability. That said, it looks like it’s going to be a pretty cold winter. I can likely find places to stay throughout December until I can return to living at school, but I do not have nearly enough money to feed myself in the meantime. So! I am opening commissions in order to help me make it through the next month or so.

Prices are flexible, what matters most right now is having any sort of income. 

I can draw oc’s from text descriptions, and I would be willing to produce a reference sheet for those characters. Send me a private message or shoot me an email at with any questions.

If you can’t afford to commission me at this time, I understand, but please consider reblogging this post to spread the word. Thank you very much!