anonymous asked:

to the anon: may i ask WHAT exactly is abusive about ambrollins??? y'all do know that all the shit they do on tv is scripted right??? why do you idiots even define a ship on some fanfiction about abuse, mental illness, manipulation and idk what that dumb people write?? y'all call ambrollins shippers a mess yet you fucker are the ones who act like seth manipulates dean every second of the day and is using him for god knows what and that dean is actually really unstable and that they (c)

This is very true. A ship is something even more fictional than fiction itself, cause usually it’s conceived by fans’ imagination and not by the canon. This doesn’t mean that fiction can’t carry negative messages with it, of course, but when it comes to WWE there are definitely other things to criticise instead of focusing on what Seth’s tone of voice was when he apologised to Dean, like racism, antifeminism, xenophobia, wrong political messages, I mean, serious shit.
But what is fun to me is that the words abusive or toxic are mentioned only when it comes to Dean and Seth. Never seen anyone saying such things about Kevin and Sami, just to name a way more fucked up storyline, but whatever. Let them hate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Things i told my students today

-It’s the Age of Exploration. We’re here for God, Gold and Glory. And the fountain of youth. Dont worry about it

-I hate Christopher Columbus

-Me: they thought the earth was flat

Student: what sort of dumb, bullshit ass

Me: it looks like a flat line when you look at the ocean



Student: ….i would have died for the exploration


-Student: did they have the nyc draft riots because they were racist

me: i mean….partially? its the 1800s. lowkey everything was because they were racist

student: what the fuck miss


-Me: ok, so just as a reminder. the civil war is happening between these states on the map

Student: what are the western territories doing?

Me: stealing land and murdering native americans

Student: ….wait youre not joking

Me: nah


-Me: think of it like this. why would you let your first born son. your heir. your flesh and blood. go fight in this war in the south when there are poor people avaible

Student: but the poor people have families! 

Me: no, everyone knows poor immigrants and black people don’t have families

Students: WHAT

Me: im KIDDING. but also they didnt care


-Me: ok guys i need you to consider why this was so drastic as a battle.  consider if -student name- died on the first day-

Student: MISS

Me: -and this one -pointing- died on the second day

Student: no miss, come on i could last until the third day! make someone else die second

Me: ok, that one died second now you die third. who would be the easiest to identify? 

Students: the last one! because the animals didnt get to them yet

Me: yes! but also, we havent been running over them with our cannons and wagons and ourselves, digging them into the mud made from blood

Students: ….miss

Me: anyway read your documents


Students: are the battlefields haunted?

Me: most of america is haunted

Student: why? how?

Me: we have done bad things and we have to pay for it. 

Students: WHAT

Me: don’t worry its usually not directed at people of color we’re good

STORY TIME i was standing around my kitchen eating a Klondike bar (like ya do) thinking about going shopping when my alarm system starts blaring and I think “fuck is there a door open somewhere” but I get the pin in and the system informs me that someone will be calling

So I get a call right away and I’m like “sa'cool bro I’m just an idiot keys must have it the panic button in my pants (note not as sexy as it sounds) and the dude on the other end is like "sure yeah we all are dumb what’s the passphras”

And me being the highly intellegent responsible adult I am confidently gave them the wrong code. Granted, it used to be the right code. Heck, it was the code for the old alarm. Noooooot so much this alarm. But the dude being the consumate professional thanked me for the code and hung up.

So then a minute later I’m like “huh, maaaAAAAaaaybe I didn’t give him the right code” and I looked it up. And I was right, I was wrong. So then I call them back riGHT away to say “you know how I’m an idiot? Well, prepare yourself for this” give them the right code, and after a minute the operator says “yeah we canceled the police going to your house, let them know it was a false alarm”

And the story of how I narrowly avoided police raiding my house because I’m a big dummy dummerson

I’m still shook, even now at 5am on a Thursday, over what I witnessed a few days ago in the Barnes & Noble Starbucks. Absolutely shook.

Two grown-ass men, obviously friends but dressed like they were in two different high school cliques, were arguing, passionately about who Gerard Way was. The one wearing a Green Lantern shirt and thick-rimmed hipster glasses said that Gerard Way is the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. The other guy was wearing what I wore during my emo phase in middle school, mostly black with a skinny red tie and a grey vest, was arguing that Gerard Way was a comic book writer.

Then a third person comes up, obviously another friend as she put down a tray of drinks for the three of them, looking like she could’ve been a Kappa Nu with Elle Woods, and asks “What dumb thing are you two arguing about now?”

The two men reply. Elle Woods’ sorority sister says “They’re the same damn person, you idiots. He does both things.”

Absolutely shook. I feel like I witnessed the utopia suggested by the end of High School Musical where everyone from all the different cliques are friends and Wildcats or some shit…

Listen. That AHWU though.

Everyone knows no good comes of trusting information ascertained through interrogation and threats without checking to ensure it’s honestly truthful. Sure, most at this point are well aware of what the FAHC do to those who double-cross them but there will always be assholes trying their luck and the Fake’s didn’t get where they are by being sloppy.

Which means someone inevitably drawing the short straw, left behind to babysit a bound hostage while the others go out and check the accuracy of all their shiny new information. It’s necessary, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less tedious for whoever is stuck twiddling their thumbs and ensuring an increasingly frustrated captive doesn’t somehow worm their way free while the rest of the crew is out having fun.

The latest lovely volunteer, a paunchy red-faced benefactor of a rival crew, is kindly hosting this week’s little sit-in at his multi-million dollar mansion out in the hills, conveniently private and filled with tangible displays of his ill-begotten wealth. The man spilled the beans embarrassingly quickly, rolled over on his allies at the very first sight of Ryan looming into view, but despite the ongoing helplessness of his position the departure of the more notorious members of the FAHC quickly led to the resurgence of his overpowering arrogance. Which is unwise really, considering it’s Trevor who was left behind to keep watch.

Trevor is a bit of a mystery outside the Fake’s, his reputation full of contradicting stories and inexplicable behaviour; he is a background lackey or a secret member of the upper management, he is alarmingly energetic or disturbingly apathetic, utterly naive or hiding violent depths, he is simply support or yet another of Ramsey’s unstoppable killers. Whatever he is, Trevor is unquestionably unnerving as all hell, inscrutable and unscrupulous with the driest humour, silly jokes undercut by biting sarcasm delivered so impassively it takes a moment for the insult to hit.

Trevor is busy. Trevor is bored. Trevor has time on his hands, an idiot at his mercy and countless priceless objects at his disposal. Increasingly loud complaints from an entitled millionaire combined with ongoing updates indicating that the information is checking out and the victim need not lose any fingers leads Trevor to all of 15 minutes of restraint before he channels a cat and starts knocking things off shelves. 

It starts small, heavy objects dropped more for the sound than the damage, crashes used as punctuation, as punishment, but as the hostage’s anger grows so too does Trevor’s grin, escalating to smashing glass and porcelain, shattering statues and fine china, all the while running his mouth in exaggerated surprise; I wonder what will happen if… oops. Well how about this one? Oh no. Oh dear what a mess, better try this- no? Oh. Well this is pretty! I’ll have to be more careful- oh darn, butterfingers thats me, now i hope this isn’t important…

By the time the other’s swing back around the entire lounge room is a disaster zone, newly gagged hostage snarling muffled yells from his seat in the centre of the chaos, visibly incensed as Trevor pats his back on the way past in an unhurried stroll, tutting and tisking all the way; gosh what a mess, who could live like this? Someone really aught to clean this up, you should have this taken care of man, have some pride in your home.  

Paganism 101: Dumb Suppers

With Samhain around the corner (click here for a post about Samhain), you may see the term “dumb supper” crop up in posts surrounding traditions and activities done at this time of heightened liminality (click here for a post about liminality).

Originally posted by xesoteric-extraterrestrialx

What is a dumb supper?

In layman’s terms, a dumb supper is a meal that is held in silence with food reserved for invited spirits. This ceremony is mean to be a time of remembrance and connection to those you have lost. That’s the simplest version of it.

The term “dumb” simply refers to the silence that is observed during the meal, as no one shall speak, no phones shall ring and no external noises such as radios, televisions should be able to be heard. Essentially, a dumb supper should be done in total, utter silence.

How do you do a dumb supper?

There is no staunch set of rules for this, aside from the silence. A basic template to follow if you’re unsure or doing this for the first time, may be as follows:

  1. Cleanse your space; empty of it any energy, even if it’s residual. You can do this by burning incense, spritzing or chanting - however you feel is best. If you want to, or are wont to do, cast your circle now.
  2. When you set the table for the meal, set a place for every physical being in attendance, making sure you make it so that the head of the table is set for the spirits who will be joining the supper. You may want to set a place for every spirit you want to invite, but this isn’t always feasible. If you like, you can use tealight candles set around the plate to represent them.
  3. There is no set colour scheme for this ceremony, but black is typical of the season and activity. You may want a black tablecloth or candles on the table itself.
  4. If possible, use candles as a light source.
  5. Upon entering the room in which the supper is being served, no one may speak. 
  6. Only once everyone’s food has been served - spirits included - may anyone begin to eat.
  7. During the meal, you may want to speak to your spirit guests in your mind; tell them you think of them, remember memories, share laughter. You may want to simply think about them, if that is easier.
  8. Once the meal is over, you may want to say goodbye (silently of course).
  9. Only when everyone is finished eating may you all leave and exit the room in silence. Once you are out of the ceremony space, the silence can be broken.

Food, drink and menu choices:

The food you serve at your dumb supper is entirely up to you. You may want to incorporate some of the traditional Samhain foods, e.g., apples, game, cider, late Autumn vegetables, etc,. but remember that you may want to serve food that pleases the spirits you invite too.

What do you do at the end of the supper?

This depends on you and your traditions.
If you’ve cast a circle, you will want to remove it and cleanse the area. When it comes to the food, there are a few things you can do to dispose of the food.

  1. Some people choose to burn the meal afterwards - it is said that the smell of the burnt food can bring happiness to the spirits.
  2. Some people will divide the meal out between the guests afterwards to make sure nothing goes to waste.
  3. Some people simply bin it.

On Off Topic Gavin talks about doing a shot with gold flakes in it, and RL Gavin is of course like listen to this utterly ridiculous thing i did, but FAHC Gavin would just be like yes. This is the acceptable way to consume liquor, from now on only this.

FAHC Gavin who carries his own real gold flakes, sprinkles them into anything from obscenely expensive cocktails to $4 rotgut with equal enthusiasm. It’s a quirk the rest of the crew don’t even blink at anymore but it has the other patrons of whatever dive bar they’ve ended up in watching on with fascinated disgust. Has any unfortunate enough not to know who they are looking at turning up face down in a gutter come dawn, greed pulling them in like moths; ignorantly mistaking Gavin for pretty flame rather than raging inferno.

When Los Santos’ finest manage to grab a Fake they’d pin them with any infraction they can manage, desperately trying to make anything stick in an attempt to finally reclaim the city. When frisking Free reveals a handful of little black baggies they think they’ve finally got him for something, concrete evidence he can’t possibly wiggle his way out of, until of course the bags reveal not white powder but fine gold leaf. It’s as unexpectedly absurd as it is devastating, a blow made no easier by the smug amusement radiating off Gavin, lounging in the harsh metal chair like it’s a throne, golden from his hair to his accessories to the flecks still on those sharp white teeth.

at the garrison #1
  • Lance: [staring at Keith]
  • Keith, ironically: Take a picture, it'll last longer.
  • Lance: [taking out his phone] Well, if you insist.
  • Keith: What, no-
  • Lance: [snaps a picture]
  • Keith: It was a figure of speech, you're not actually supposed to take a picture! What are you, dumb?
  • Lance: [looking at the photo] You're so adorable.
  • Pidge: Is this how our year will look like?