what year is itWoah, this place is dead. Or maybe it's just because I never hang out here anymore.More Like This
Anyways, for you guys who actually want to know what my life is like at the moment, I'll just go ahead and tell you.
I've been okay I guess. I just got my diagnosis for ADHD and I am eagerly waiting for the medication. I've made many more friends than last year, (which, well, was the time where I did not have anything else than internet friends). I've studied people and seen them make good and bad choices, I've seen people smoke, drink, going to parties while I'm at home at the phone trying to comfort them after what they did at the party. I like this lifestyle though. Straight Edge, I think it's called that. I've met a few guys and have had crushes on maaaany, buuuuut unfortunately no signs have been given back to me so I've pretty much just given up on that. After all, I'm young.
Everything is rushing by. I see 12-13 year olds smoke weed and have sex and I'm here wondering what's wrong with the
Ricin Letter Sent To ObamaI'm sure most of you have heard about the ricin-laden letter that was mailed to Obama.More Like This
And if you're like me, you've probably heard or run across comments expressing regret--not that some lowlife scumbag would send such a letter, but that the letter never reached the president. Yes, some people are deplorable enough to want to see the president's life endangered.
Folks, please don't act like that!
I'm no fan of Obama, but I don't want to see the man dead. I don't want him to be assassinated. I want him indicted with war crimes, or at least impeached. I may not like the guy, but I'm not going to wish death upon him. That's simply not American. Or human.
The Last TimeIt's January, or April. I don't know the year, it's been so long, and I'm trapped beneath the earth, in this freezing and disgustingly most, dark cell. These rusted chains are grinding and slicing their way into my arms, I know I'm bleeding out but, all that's left is this silent, unforgiving nightmare of a room.More Like This
I can't escape.
My body is numb.
I can't escape.
I try to move, it's too painful, and it hurts all too much. My arms just ache and thrive in agony; there is nothing I can do to break free. I feel like I'm being watched, constantly. Strange visions cloud my mind and mess with my head, are they memories? I don't know. Loud and unflinching, I shout out,
"HEY," No answer, "ANYBODY THERE? WHERE AM I" Still no answer.
I am too weak to try again, suddenly my ears catch a sound, the sound of bone being broken and grated against steel. My stomach churns as I try not to think about it. The sound came again, this time it was followed by a horrific scream. I thought I
Vox Day Is One Sick PuppyWhen I heard about Vox Day, I was ecstatic to learn about a prominent and outspoken Christian libertarian blogger.More Like This
I have since downloaded his e-book The Irrational Atheist, which I found to be a thorough and witty critique of the New Atheists and their arguments. So I only assume that his blog posts would be equally as witty and insightful.
Then I read his blog. Turns out the man is a nutter!
You know how most leftists consider libertarians to be privileged white boys trying to desperately protect their "privilege"? Well, Vox Day would be one reason why they assume that.
For starters, Vox Day once argued that working women were more detrimental to society than rapists.
I wish I was kidding!
But that's nothing compared to what he wrote
Where does your Art lead ( you/others) ?Hear what Father Rossignoli relates in his Merveilles du Purgatoire :More Like This
A painter of great skill and otherwise exemplary life had once made a painting not at all conformable to the strict rules of Christian modesty. It was one of those paintings which, under the pretext of being works of art, are found in the best families, and the sight of which causes the loss of so many souls.
True art is an inspiration from Heaven, which elevates the soul to God; profane art, which appeals to the senses only, which presents to the eye nothing but the beauties of flesh and blood, is but an inspiration of the evil spirit ; his works, brilliant though they may be, are not works of art, and the name is falsely attributed to them. They are the infamous productions of a corrupt imagination. The artist of whom we speak had allowed himself to be misled in this point by bad example. Soon, however, renouncing this pernicious style, he confined himself t
Misfortunate - Part 3VillainousMore Like This
“This is for the best.”
That was what Barton said exactly three seconds before he used a silky scarf to blindfold you. Which was totally rude! You had no idea why you needed the blindfold, or what they thought you'd see. Obviously this plan had been a new development, maybe meant to scare you. If so, it was totally working.
“How am I supposed to know whether or not there's something I'm going to trip over?” Maybe you could out-trick these tricky people. Maybe. You crossed the fingers on one hand, but not the other because Barton would have seen it if you did. You thought. You didn't know. Not being able to see created a whole new host of problems.
Suddenly, you felt an exhalation of cool air against your ear. You stiffened. Normal people don't breathe out cold air. It had to be him. Icy fingers trailed down your cheek, and you jerked your head aside. You didn't belong to him. He needed to take his grimy paws off you.
His quiet laughter caused m
Knowing (pt 23)More Like This
Nissa's eyes flew open, but she managed to keep her concentration intact. She heard rather than saw Lorcan enter the room, his boots clicking on the hard floor. She didn't move. She couldn't. Everything hurt too much and The Knowing still lingered.
Lorcan lifted her enough to settle himself on the couch, and set her head down on his lap. His fingers absentmindedly stroked her hair, cool against her hot skin.
“It is The Knowing, is it not?” Lorcan asked.
Lorcan's fingers faltered, then resumed. “Please tell me what it says.”
Nissa blinked as moisture filled her eyes.
“Little mortal, you need never fear me. I will not harm you.”
She had never told anyone what The Knowing said to her before. She had been too scared. She was a freak, and she didn't want to make that well known. She hadn't even told E.J. what it said. She had wanted to, sometimes, but the fear kept her from doing it.
“What are you thinking of?”
The First Divergent (One-shot)You couldn't really understand what was happening. The black-hooded men dragged you through the hallways and past places you knew. And places you didn't. Toward a room you had seen before, but never tried to enter. It was forbidden.More Like This
You fought them. Kicked and scratched and clawed. Or, at least, tried to. Your uniform ripped in more than one place, but you didn't care. Why were they doing this to you? You hadn't done anything wrong. You were the top of your class. Passed your practice test in under three minutes.
Was that really a reason to punish you?
You should have chosen Dauntless when they gave you the choice. You would have, you reminded yourself, but Boaz had warned you against it. Said it would crush your spirit. Like he would have known. But he begged, so you didn't.
You were sure he would have protected you, had he known.
The men deposited you on the floor, and you scrambled to your feet. Guns around the room already pointed in your direction. You stood still and tried to see
End [Loki x Reader (pt 32)]Even relaxed, Loki looked rigid. Straight back, hands folded neatly in his lap. He didn't look like he was looking forward to this explanation. That kinda made you dread it, too.More Like This
“The Aether knew about you, because it knew it must use you to gain my assistance.”
“How did it know that? We just met.”
“No.” That pained look crossed his face again. “We have met before.”
You tried to register some shock, but The Avengers team had already told you that much. Surely he knew they would.
“They didn't tell you everything, because they didn't know.” Loki smiled, as though he had read your mind.
You laughed, but it sounded tight and strained. “Are you sure you got out of my head?”
“Yes.” Loki laughed right along with you. It never reached his eyes. “I want to tell you those other things they couldn't. You should know.”
“They told me that you stalked me. Sent me gifts. And that I came to them for h
Knowing (pt 22)More Like This
Nissa saw everything that went on. The people who coyly spoke in corners. The dancers who enjoyed themselves too much. Everything. And all the while, The Knowing pressed in on her mind, screaming that he was coming.
Octavian sauntered by and averted his gaze, and The Knowing left Nissa wondering why. He had been so friendly, until his brother had seen him comforting her. Why didn't he like her anymore? Why did he look away like she hurt his eyes?
Nissa blinked to keep the tears from building. She wouldn't cry. Not again.
“I would burn worlds to see you smile.”
Nissa lifted her chin. Lorcan's voice. She would have recognized it anywhere, but this time it had a more soothing quality to it. Something that calmed her. She hated herself for thinking that way. She looked up to see him smiling down at her. Experience told her not to say a word.
“Oh, yes. You think no one sees you there, sitting all alone, but I do.”
She blinked again and diverted her gaze.
Gods GiftAn Angel perches within stride,More Like This
Watching over the prophetic tide.
Marveling at the dexterous diction that came from the inside,
A soul of brutal purity. Mine.
One constructed on sparse nurturing.
On the verge of mind and body Rebelling.
An Angel perches withing stride, Delighted.
I ponder the ocean, land and people,
My Shadow made, left to its own devices,
Should outlast to become their coequal.
With its own Hierarchy and acceptable vices.
I ponder very curse i write,
Every maker I smite.
All knowing a Demon perches,
Within Stride, as my mind searches
For a way to scrawl my way out of time
Back into an existing sublime,
While Heaven and Hell perch within stride,
I mustn't shift the tide.
I walk a very delicate line.
Triggers, Triggers Everywhere"Trigger warning."More Like This
If you browse art on dA or Tumblr, you've probably seen these words before.
What exactly is a trigger?
Triggers come in multiple flavors.
Trauma triggersA person who has experienced a severe traumatic event—which isn't just limited to war veterans—may find that a particular sensory experience sends them back to that trauma. Although as camelopardalisinblue rightfully points out, it may not always be a full-scale flashback. Plenty of grey areas. Learn more about PTSD here.
I knew someone who had been abused in a room with fish-themed wallpaper. (Details changed to protect privacy.) So while something like the Jesus fish was tolerable because it was so abstract, they found real fish uncomfortable, and sudden exposure to a similar type of fish drawin