what we think we do

anonymous asked:

okay so what's your take on what's happening right now?

I think none of us know anything adkjfhskjd

and everything we think we know or think makes sense doesn’t even matter becasue there’s just too damn much we don’t know

2

*whispers urgently* beautiful sparkle ice nymphs

someone please murder me I can’t handle this why am i so gay for them

4

I don’t think we would be able to do what we do if there hadn’t been people before us […] who subversively articulated a queer aesthetic through the mainstream, not-queer-friendly apparatus. The best I’ve ever heard it described was Justin Tranter saying, “You greased the hole from which we came.””

PWR BTTM for BillboardMarch 2017

My favorite thing about this painting of the Washingtons and Hamiltons working on the Farewell Address is Ham’s casual lean on Betsey’s chair.

5

bizarre nightmares

A Khajiit, Elf, Pixie, and Half-Orc fail to walk into a church

Context: Our 3 characters have been set on a mission to enter a church and steal the relic inside it. However…

DM: You cannot enter the church.

Nameless (our elf): We talk to the priest inside.

DM: Alright. What do you want to talk to him about.

Nameless: About why we can’t get in.

DM: “This church is protected by wards. Only people with pure hearts and no bad intentions towards the church can enter.” The priest says.

Nameless: Ok. I exit the conversation.

Trump-Tinyhands (the half-orc): So, we need a pure heart, right?

M'riqa: Holy skooma the half-orc half-understands what we need to do!

Trump-Tinyhands: Therefore I think that we should find someone with a pure heart, take their heart, and use the pure juice from it to make us seem pure to the ward!

Nameless: The guards already want us for trying to blow up this fucking church we can not risk this shit.

Ricky (pixie): Well if we get caught we’re getting sent right back to prison for life so I don’t see why we shouldn’t.

M'riqa: Fuck this plan. Ricky, take Trump-Tinyhands to the bar and keep him supervised. Nameless, give me a fucking boost up. I’m going to climb the church and enter through the chimney.

DM: Roll a dext- Actually no. Hand me that Jenga set

M'riqa OOC: Wait, what??

DM: If you can move 15 pieces then your character successfully climbs the church. If you can’t, you fall.

M'riqa OOC: Khajiit does not land butter-side down.

DM: Well then. All the more reason to not fail then!

Trump-Tinyhands: I offer encouragement.

DM: Roll charisma.

Trump-Tinyhands: *rolls a 2*

DM: You try shouting “YOU CAN DO IT!!” At M'riqa, but your booming voice sends tremors through the ground.

DM: *starts shaking the table while M'riqa is trying to do the Jenga challenge*

M'riqa OOC: THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!

DM: Blame the half-orc, not me. I’m just doing my job.

As an autistic person, PLEASE refrain from reblogging content of us where we are aggressively referred to as “pure” and “good” and similar terms.

We’re no more or less good or pure than anyone else, and implying that a developmentally disabled person is somehow pure is incredibly ableist and suggests that we aren’t capable of understanding things that are bad, complex, gritty, or dark because our minds aren’t developed enough to do so.

This is the same type of thinking that enables our abuse, because people think we don’t understand what happens to us when we really do have a conscious perception of the abuse - people who think we can’t possibly know what abuse feels like don’t believe us when we say we’ve been hurt.

It’s especially dehumanizing when attached to a video, because comments like “GOOD AND PURE” are put onto videos of cute animals, and tacking the “GOOD AND PURE” comment on inspiration porn of autistic people - and other developmentally disabled people - is treating us exactly like those animals and no, it isn’t cute at all.

Have enough empathy/sympathy/decency to curate the videos you reblog please, and if a video of autistic people is treated like a video of cute kittens keep that shit off your blog for fuck’s sake.

Day 23: Magnus + Battle

The portal shimmied into existence and Magnus glanced up, face set into a smile, a greeting on his lips that soon died when instead of his tall, lanky and dark haired boyfriend, he was staring at his blond, cocky, more compact brother.

“Where’s Alec,” Magnus asked as his eyes darted behind Jace waiting for Alec to step through the portal. The portal closed, leaving him and Jace alone in his loft. “I didn’t grant you all a private portal so you can drop in any time you please Wayland.”

Jace shrugged. “Sorry.”

Magnus arched a brow. “Well? Where is he?”

Jace winced. And if that wasn’t enough to give him away, the way his eyes darted about, unwilling to meet Magnus’ eyes confirmed it.

Magnus growled. “No.”

Jace took a step back. “Magnus…”

“You didn’t.”

Jace held his hands up. “Hey. I couldn’t very well tie him down you know. Alec can be quite insistent.”

“Insistent,” Magnus hissed. “He hasn’t slept in four days Jace. Four days. And you let him accept another mission?”

Jace shook his head. “I wasn’t in the institute when he got called out. By the time I got back, he was already gone.”

Magnus pushed off from the seat, a snap of his fingers changing his red draping shirt and jeans into a dark purple military jacket, and black cargo pants that he’d specifically had tailored to fit his body like a glove; his spiked combat boots on his feet. He walked around Jace, ignoring him as he went to the drawers and pulled out his jeweled daggers, a twin set Ragnor had gotten him back during the witch trials, so he could defend himself without necessarily resorting to magic. Ragnor had had them spelled so even when they left him, they always returned to him when he called for them.

He still carried them with him any time he entered a fight.

Keep reading

10

Saturday, March 24,1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062. Dear Mr. Vernon, We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed. - The Breakfast Club (1985)