what kind of excuse is that

Anxiety decided to just straight up punch me in the face today but I gotta sit here like

Originally posted by world-s--candies

anonymous asked:

I suspect that part of the reason Zizek's career has gotten so much worse is that (a) it's almost entirely writing-based (he quite vocally doesn't give a damn about teaching), so (b) he needs to keep selling books, so (c) he adopts ever more shocking, hasty positions in an effort to stay interesting and relevant; and (d) cheap contrarianism is bad politics what a shock. Not to excuse him (he could have acted differently), but there's an irony in how the commodity-form has perverted his work.

Yeah I kinda feel the same way, although there is also an element of like, that the Left exists in a way it didn’t a decade ago, and you can’t just be like a gadfly by being like hey communism is good and liberalism isn’t enough anymore (or you could but that would kind of give up any sort of privileged position within your peergroup)

See If He Bleeds

An angsty SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

No but seriously, I am so sorry about this


It had been a month since school had started, and still Baz’s seat remained empty.  Simon hated that Baz was still gone, but even more than that, he hated the fact that he hated that Baz was still gone.  What kind of hero worries for their arch-nemesis?

           A shitty one.

           But then, Simon had always felt like a shitty hero.

           As he climbed the stairs to the room at the top of the tower, he felt it happening again.  He was starting to wonder where Baz was, what he was doing, if he was okay. And worst of all, he was starting to not hate Baz as much as he needed to.

           How was he supposed to kill someone he didn’t hate?

           When Simon reached the door, he could almost feel it.  That teasing sense that something was off.  But before he could think about it, he pushed through the door.

           There was the Mage, in the middle of the room, moonlight from the window creating what seemed like a halo around him.

           And there was Baz, on the floor in front of the Mage, pale and bruised and more gaunt than Simon had ever seen him in his life.

           Simon’s books hit the floor with a bang.  

           “There you are, Simon,” the Mage greeted him as though Baz wasn’t even there, as casually as if Simon was just visiting for tea.

           Simon didn’t even look at the Mage.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Baz, kneeling with his head down, the picture of defeat.  Baz should never look like that.  Baz was graceful, dignified, fucking ruthless.  Never defeated.

           “Baz,” Simon tried, but he didn’t know where to start.

           “Ah yes,” the Mage seemed to notice Baz for the first time, “look who I found.”

           “Where have you been?” Simon asked Baz.

           The Mage had clearly decided to do all of Baz’s talking for him.  “It doesn’t matter.  You were right, Simon.”

           “Right about what?”

           “About him.”

           About what? That he’s cruel?  That he’s always plotting?  That he sneaks down into the catacombs at night and…

           Oh.

           “He’s a vampire, Simon,” the Mage said, “and you know how I feel about vampires.”

           This shouldn’t have come as any shock to Simon, but for some reason his heart still paused for a second, like it needed to keep up with everything that was going on.  Of course Baz was a vampire, Simon had never really doubted it, but to hear it said, and by the Mage of all people, made it so much more real.

           “All this time he’s done so much more than bully you,” the Mage went on.  “He’s been waiting.  Biding his time.”

           “Why didn’t you kill me years ago?” Simon asked Baz. “We’ve been sleeping in the same room for ages, you’ve had plenty of chances.”

           “He’s been trying to trick you,” the Mage hissed, “to make you trust him.  He should have known that you would never trust a monster.”

           Something in Simon suddenly snapped, like someone had flipped a switch in his brain.  He was angry. He didn’t know why, but he was angry.

           The Mage looked Simon in the eye.  “It’s time you show this creature how we deal with monsters.”

           Simon didn’t move, unsure of what the Mage meant. Normally, they would kill monsters, but… this was Baz.

           “Hit him, Simon.”

           “What?”

           The Mage hauled Baz to his feet and held him up in front of Simon.  “Hit him. See if he bleeds.”

           So Simon did.  He curled his fingers into a fist and he punched Baz square in the cheek, and it hurt, but he did it again.  He hit and he kicked, and he got angrier and angrier, until he saw nothing but red.  Baz didn’t make a sound, but the Mage kept egging Simon on and his fists kept flying, and he felt nothing but rage.

           Until finally Baz groaned with Simon hit him in the side of the head.

           And just like that, the rage dropped out of Simon’s vision, and he stopped.

           Oh, Merlin.

           Baz was supposed to have milky white skin like he always did.

           He wasn’t supposed to be covered in bruises, or have an eye swollen shut, or be bleeding from his mouth.

           “That’s enough,” Simon growled through clenched teeth.

           “But Simon, he’s-”

           “I said, that’s enough,” he all but shouted. It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at the Mage.

           After a moment, the Mage dropped Baz to the floor and, without a word, stepped over the crumpled body and out the door.

           Simon fell to his knees, his eyes blurring with tears.  He caught Baz’s face in his hands and nearly broke at the sight of what he had done to him.

           “Oh, Baz,” he choked, “I’m sorry.”  He wrapped his arms around as much of the boy as he could reach, terrified by how thin and broken and bloody Baz was, and held him as tight as he could.  “I’m so sorry Baz,” he sobbed over and over again.  Baz didn’t say anything, and he didn’t hold Simon back, but he breathed. He simply breathed gently into Simon’s hair.

           When they awoke the next morning, they were still there, entangled on the bedroom floor, clinging desperately to each other. As Baz slowly drifted into consciousness, he heard Simon whispering into his neck, over and over.

           “It’s alright.  You’re alright.  We’re gonna be alright.”

this was meant to be a doodle but then my hands slipped and made this terrible masterpiece ohmg.
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yes i ship pearlmethyst too, ok. and excuse my handwriting, i told you it was supposed to be a doodle i sWEAR. the colouring is also a lazy colouring, look i was just bored ok. god i’m terrible.
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but look at rose i’m actually kind of proud of her what.

Obviously people are allowed to want to recover and obviously mental illness is not a Good Fun Cool Time! But for some of us recovery isn’t even necessarily a feasible option, certainly not the kind of recovery you’re conceptualizing 

I’ve been traumatized and anxious and scared and sad and lonely since I was a little kid! All of these things have shaped my development into the person I am today! 

I’m not saying that traumatized people can’t recover ever but I can’t separate myself or my personality from that. Recovery, for me, involves accepting what happened to me and accepting how it’s impacted my life and development, and recovery is going to be a lifelong process, so excuse me if I use humor to cope with that :)

Personally? I’ve been in therapy for 5 years, I’ve been on antidepressants for almost 4, and guess what? Still traumatized, still have anxiety with obsessive-compulsive features, still have depression/dysthymia, still have social anxiety that could possibly be classified as AVPD, still have some kind of dissociative disorder (which actually developed during my “recovery”)

Mental illness is a normal part of my life, that I have to live with, every single day - not everybody has to think about mental illness in the same way, and you’re allowed to think of mental illness as a foe you have to vanquish if that’s what helps you get to a better, healthier place, but holy shit, please don’t tell me that I’m doing recovery wrong

madworlddiary  asked:

Dear Person I Like,

Dear person I like,

I think deep down you know how I feel about you. I’m kind of nervous that I like you because I know I could never truly have you. You’re smart, kind, caring, honest, sweet, and so much more. You deserve more than what I can give you right now. You deserve someone who will introduce you to her parents willingly when things get serious, and someone who will have a bit more money to spare.

Maybe you’re a dream, someone with qualities that I wish a guy would have because every guy I’ve met always treats me wrong. They try to push sex on me, they’re not gentlemen, and they make excuses for their actions. Meanwhile you ask if I’m okay, and you make me feel special. I don’t know how to end this letter because you as a person can’t be described how wonderful you are.

What’s going on

So I think I owe you all some kind of explanation. Three months ago I was in a class that had blown my anxiety out of the water and into space, making me a complete depressive mess the whole month. The past two months were my recovery from the previous month. The classes were simple but complicated and it actually had something I wanted to legitimately learn. Only downside is that they were time consuming. (Motion Graphics is no walk in the park let me tell ya.) But in turn I’ve neglected this blog as well as drawing anything. I’ve now become hesitant in what I want to do with all of this. I’ve met so many nice people here, but I don’t know if I can continue updating. I’m at a crossroad right now, so im sorry. I still need time to think.

anonymous asked:

I do love my family, but I hate talking to them about super personal stuff?? I have 4 siblings and I love hanging out with them, but I literally told my bro 'I'm gay' and he simply replied with 'No you're not' and his excuse was that I had no proof and was probably just joking about it. I'm kinda glad he forgot about that tbh??

yeah same, my family is okay but sometimes they’re just awful and they’re not good to talk about personal stuff
mine keeps saying they’ll Love And Accept me anyway but every time I talk about it they either make shit jokes AND complain bc I don’t like their shit jokes

and oh m y gOD what kind of proof does he even wANT

prove to me youre gay. kiss a guy in the lips right now. i dont even know.

I admire disciplined people so much. I admire people who can do what they need to do with a focused mind and unwavering commitment, not letting themselves get distracted and refusing to make excuses for themselves. I admire the kind of people whose eyes are on the prize, even if it’s far away, and who are determined, diligent, and adaptive. I look up to the kinds of people who refuse to succumb to any obstacle or challenge and transcend above the millions of things that stand against them and their goals. I admire people with that kind of hardened resolve so much and I aspire to be like that so much more.

6

Just between you and me…when he’s alone with me, your dad only talks about you! Though, he always looks mad and isn’t very good at expressing his feelings.

Phew, finally got this to a point I’m happy with.  I said earlier that what initially got me to watch Voltron was Space!Zelda, so here she is.  It was actually kind of hilarious how similar their designs are, I barely had to make anything up.

Also, I love pink/blue color themes.  This might be the heart of why I like Princess Zelda… and why I like space.

2

“It doesn’t count,” she murmured. “Not if all he knows is the perfect persona. That’s not me. Do you get what I mean?“ 

Adrien’s words flowed out of him without real thought, his tone casual. He was still reeling.  "I’m a model, Ladybug. I know exactly what you mean.”

She stilled, studying his face with growing horror.  He patted his own chest.

This is not me. I’m not perfect and warm and kind. I get jealous and mean just like everyone else. I can be impulsive and make stupid mistakes too. And no one knows that.”

–from a witch’s familiar by @metawohoo

this scene filled me with a mighty need to do some ladrien yesterday. i swear there’s so much potential for delicious angst in this ship, i love it. ;0;

  • Sun: Hey, so you're Ruby's dad?
  • Taiyang: Yup, that's me. You must be Sun.
  • Sun: Yeah. I mostly know her through Blake, but we're still good friends and-
  • Taiyang: Alright, fine, you can marry my daughter!
  • Sun: Excuse me? No, you're misunderstanding-
  • Taiyang: Oh, don't think I don't know what's happening. You're a fun, attractive, blonde male with a nice tan and killer abs. I know how you're kind works. Sure, right now you're chasing after the broody, long haired brunette who always runs away from her team, but eventually you're going to realize you made a mistake and so you settle down with her short teammate in a hood who you fall for after she starts helping you raise the child. And then she'll die and you'll get a case of clinical depression and then both of your precious daughters will leave you and you live your life wondering what the hell went wrong and-
  • Sun: I'll do whatever you want just please stop crying.