Prejudice is Just Ignorance.

Hi I'm Emily, I mostly friendly. I don't bite, a lot...... Before anything.... THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE BLOG On occasion I make Personal Posts. Dun. Dun. Dun. I will try to tag all of that and put most of it under a Read More but no promises ♡♡ ♡♡  ♡♡ ♡AMES TO DESTROY♡ ♡I SAY NAY TO SANITY♡ ♡It's Ellementary my dear ♡ ____________________________________ Gifs are not mine. ____________________________________

[anagnori-deactivated20201123]

You might be aromantic if...

Aromanticism can be really hard to figure out, especially since we’re often not sure what “romantic attraction” is supposed to be, so I made a list of things I’ve often seen in myself and other aromantic-spectrum people.

These are just generalizations. They won’t apply to every aromantic-spectrum person; and some non-aromantic people will have some of these things, too. Some of the list items are contradictory. Having any of the experiences listed below is not proof that you’re aromantic, nor are you any less aromantic if few of them apply to you. But if you’ve been trying to figure out your romantic orientation, and a lot of these sound really familiar to you…then it may mean something.

I also made a list of words relevant to aro-spectrum people in case that helps.

When you discovered the word “aromantic,” it felt like something finally clicked into place for you.

Identifying as aromantic makes you feel relieved, free, happy, or more like yourself.

When you discovered the concept of a “squish” suddenly a lot of things made more sense to you.

You have trouble telling the difference between romantic and friendly feelings.

You’ve never had a crush on someone, or fallen in love.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever had a crush on someone or fallen in love.

You have trouble telling the difference between a crush and a squish, or between romantic and aesthetic/sexual/sensual attraction.

You have doubted whether crushes or love really exist, or if they’re just cultural constructs.

You find romance boring, annoying or upsetting when it appears in fiction, even if it’s written well.

You once thought that having a crush on someone meant you admired them or really wanted to be their friend.

You thought crushes were something you consciously decided to have, and selected an acquaintance or celebrity to be your crush, because everyone else was doing it.

You forgot which acquaintance or celebrity you were supposed to have a crush on.

If you’re not asexual, a “friends with benefits” relationship sounds ideal to you.

You have trouble relating, or feeling involved, when your friends discuss their romantic relationships or romantic feelings.

Falling in love doesn’t seem very exciting to you.

You don’t understand why other people make such a big deal out of having crushes or falling in love.

You don’t understand why people do ridiculous, irrational or over-the-top things in the name of love.

You don’t understand why finding someone sexually/aesthetically attractive would lead you to want a committed relationship with them.

Or, maybe you sort of understand those things in an abstract way, but you can’t really relate to them.

You have never had a romantic relationship - not because you couldn’t get one, but because you just never really bothered to try, or you liked being single better.

When a romantic relationship gets serious, it makes you feel cold, distant or uncomfortable.

Getting a romantic partner feels more like fulfilling an obligation, or something you’re supposed to do, than something you’re really enthusiastic about.

Your romantic partners always seem to be way more into the lovey-dovey stuff than you are.

A likable person suggests having a romantic relationship with you, and you’re indifferent to it - you’re open to trying it, but you won’t get disappointed without it. Other people may find your indifference bizarre or think you’re giving off mixed messages.

You have felt guilty about not loving your romantic partner as much as they loved you, even though you sincerely cared about them and wanted to love them back.

You have felt suffocated, repressed or tense in a romantic relationship, even though you really liked your partner and they hadn’t done anything wrong.

When your last romantic relationship ended, you felt relieved and free more than you felt sad, even if your partner broke it off, and even if you liked them very much as a person.

You’re more excited by making a new best friend than by falling in love.

You wouldn’t mind marrying your best friend and spending your life with them, even though you’re not in love with them.

You’d rather spend Friday night having a sleepover party with your buddies than going out on a date.

You want a best friend much more than you want a romantic relationship.

It’s not so much the idea of being single forever that bothers you, so much as being alone or unwanted.

You are either oblivious to other people flirting with you, or feel uncomfortable or threatened by it.

You are sometimes perceived as flirtatious when you only meant to be friendly.

You live in a large community and see or meet hundreds of people around your age every year, but none of them have ever stirred romantic feelings in you.

You recognize whether something is romantic or not by comparing it to other gestures, words and signals that your culture has taught you are romantic, rather than “feeling” the romance of it intuitively.

When you say or do romantic things, it feels like you’re following a script or copying romantic things you’ve seen elsewhere, rather than something spontaneous and natural to you.

When thinking about what sort of person you’d want to date, your criteria are identical to what you would want from a best friend.

The main benefit you get from a romantic relationship is either platonic, sensual, sexual, or a combination of those; the romantic aspect is okay but it’s not really the part you like most.

You have trouble imagining romantic activities that you would enjoy, unless those activities are also fun or interesting for you on a platonic or intellectual level.

You feel like your closest friends and/or queerplatonic partners are better at fulfilling your emotional needs than romantic partners would be.

You would rather be huggy, cuddly or emotionally intimate with all of your friends instead of reserving your intimacy for just one person.

You would rather have a queerplatonic relationship than a typical romantic relationship.

You don’t feel as if you’re missing anything in your life right now; having a romantic partner might be nice, but you don’t need it or seek it out.

The idea of being single forever sounds awesome to you.

You enjoy gestures and activities that are traditionally labeled “romantic,” but at no point during them do you actually feel attracted to whoever you’re with.

You don’t enoy gestures and activities that are traditionally labeled romantic, either because the romance aspect bothers you, or because all of them are just plain unappealing to you.

You avoid going places where people are likely to flirt with you, such as bars, parties, nightclubs, and concerts.

You’re not sure why other people enjoy romantic stories; you usually just find the lead characters to be annoying, boring or dysfunctional.

You like the idea of having a big wedding celebration more than the idea of actually marrying someone.

Feel free to add your own.

[forassgard]

[princess-bel]

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

[aplatonicjacuzzi]

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.

Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.

Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 

Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.

Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.

Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.

Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.

Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.

Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.

Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.

Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.

Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.

Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.

Imagine a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

[cinematicnomad]

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u)

[prismatic-bell]

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.

[gbcgraphics]

Visit Original Link

Inspired by this post from voidpunlc:

[strongbelwasforpresident]

This makes me want to die. 

[vox]

The Supreme Court just legalized same-sex marriage across the US.

[glacialispectus-blog]

SCOUTUS JUST RULED MARRIAGE BANS UNCONSTITUTIONAL!

[glacialispectus-blog]

Hannibal was canceled. (source)

.......

[luxlightly]

Honestly, Rick Rolling is the best practical joke ever. Like, there’s nothing offensive or mean  spirited about it. It’s just like “Oops you thought there would be something else here but it’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’.” which isn’t even a bad song. It’s fairly enjoyable to listen to. There’s no jumpscares, no screaming, no ill will. Just Rick Astley telling you he’s never going to give you up. I think that’s great. “You fell into my trap! Here, listen to this completely benign song that will have no negative effect on you.” 

[moonblossom]

I wish this were true. There’s a really good article about the problems inherent with rickrolling here.

[writeworld-blog]

Robert Plutchik created a wheel of emotions in 1980 which consisted of 8 basic emotions and 8 advanced emotions each composed of 2 basic ones.

Eight Basic Emotions

Joy

Sadness

Trust

Disgust

Fear

Anger

Surprise

Anticipation

Basic Emotion  ⇄  Basic Opposite

Joy  ⇄  Sadness

Trust  ⇄  Disgust

Fear  ⇄  Anger

Surprise  ⇄  Anticipation

Combination of Basic Emotions (A + B)  =  Advanced Human Emotions (Opposite Advanced Emotion in Parentheses)

Anticipation + Joy  =  Optimism (Disapproval)

Joy + Trust  =  Love (Remorse)

Trust + Fear  =  Submission (Contempt)

Fear + Surprise  =  Awe (Aggression)

Surprise + Sadness  =  Disappointment (Optimism)

Sadness + Disgust  =  Remorse (Love)

Disgust + Anger  =  Contempt (Submission)

Anger + Anticipation  =  Aggression (Awe)

[pugnaciousjester]

I actually had this diagram from my psychology class and I started writing a series or fics based on all the emotions.

But this one is way more detailed I’ll have to save it.

[briecheesie]

Derek Hale: Season 3

[heathyr]

Derek Hale: His Entire Life

[kiramour]

ASUE au (x): THE BAD BEGINNING

Dear Reader, 

I’m sorry to say that the book you are holding in your hands is extremely unpleasant. It tells an unhappy tale about one very unlucky child. Even though he is charming and clever, Derek Hale lives a life filled with misery and woe. From the very first page of this book, when the child observes two trespassers on his land, continuing on through the entire story, disaster lurks at his heels. One might say he is a magnet for misfortune. In this short book alone, the youngster encounters a greedy and repulsive villain, too tight t-shirts, a disastrous fire, a plot to murder what’s left of his family, and a wolfsbane bullet for breakfast. It is my sad duty to write down these unpleasant tales, but there is nothing stopping you from putting this book down at once and reading something happy, if you prefer that sort of thing. With all due respect, Stiles Stilinski

[imstrongerinthewallsofwinterfell]

[iwillmindfuckyou]

that was not ok

[this--sickbeat]

i’m crying why

[firefliesandacorns]

When friends won’t believe they’re cute and perfect

[inventrix]

when friends insist that you’re cute and perfect

[songofsunset]

shhhhhhhh you’re cute and perfect deal with it

[robotsquid]

Seriously though your period is like coming home one day and finding that your spouse has constructed this entire new baby bedroom inside your house and you have to tell them “Sweetie we don’t have a baby” and then your spouse FLIPS THE FUCK OUT like “The FUCK do you mean we don’t have a baby I DID ALL THIS WORK” and then they spend the next week tearing the whole room apart and throwing it out into the street and screaming at you and then finally when the room is completely gutted they calm down and say “It’s okay hon we’ll have a baby next month” and then they start building the room again AND THIS SHIT KEEPS GOING FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE UNTIL YOU HIT LIKE 50 AND THEN YOUR SPOUSE LEAVES YOU BUT NOT BEFORE SETTING THE WHOLE HOUSE ON FIRE SO IT’S NEVER THE SAME AGAIN

[thenoodlebooty]

actual best description of a period in the entire world

[hisnamewasbeanni]

Ok I get it now.

[antdonut]

The mental image is hilarious.

[veganinspo]

[crazysexyfierce]

I’ve actually been waiting for this all my life

[jerakeenc]

(god i hate my brain sometimes)

You know how in most random-werebaby-acquisition fics Derek’s like *grumpyface* WE CAN’T KEEP IT DON’T BE RIDICULOUS *grump* *grump*  which is fine, it makes sense, but also.

Derek had his own betas. That’s a lot like having kids. And he eventually lost all of them. What if now he’d be the exact opposite? What if when he finds the random werebaby now he’s like MINE GO AWAY and he snarls at anyone who tries to take it away?

[stele3]

THAT IS HOW I SEE IT GOING, TOO. Like, I have this whole storyline in my head about him finding a werebaby in the deep, deep woods, next to her mother who had been shot with a wolfsbane bullet and clearly got as far as she could before the end. The baby’s a bit malnourished and cold and she’s sort of stuck in her beta form; she probably shifted in response to stress. When Derek picks her up she screams for a bit until he peels her out of her stained onesie and tucks her inside his jacket against his chest, rumbles out a soft growl. She quiets, sniffling, and starts gumming at his shirt, clearly hungry. Derek cups a hand over her furry head, wincing at the sting of little fangs, and feels something hook itself deeper into him.

He has no idea who killed her mother, if it was the Argents or some new pack of hunters, so he’s loathe to take her into town. But he’s been living out of his car lately and if he’s…he needs supplies. For her. Needs to hide her from the others, because there’s no way that Isaac or Stiles or Lydia wouldn’t tell Scott if they found out, and Scott would either tell Allison—who would tell her father—or he would try to claim the baby for the McCall pack. This is technically his territory now, and the idea of that, of some other pack claiming the ground where his family lived for centuries, where they are fucking buried, burns in Derek’s heart, keeps him lurking around in his car even if he can’t bring himself to lay down a permanent dwelling in another wolf’s land. Scott would have the right to take her. In fact he would probably be better at caring for her, or at least his mother would. Scott is a better Alpha in many ways.

"Baby," Derek whispers, rocking her a little in his arms and leaning close to inhale her scent. "Baby baby baby."

Baby’s only response is to bite straight through the nipple of the milk bottle that Derek had bought from the 24-hour Ralph’s, taking the chance to leave her in the car while he dashed through the store. He doesn’t know what would draw more attention: Derek Hale shopping with a naked, dirty, fur-covered baby in his arms or Derek Hale sprinting down the baby aisle, grabbing things half-blind and wild-eyed.

Derek quickly takes the milk bottle away before it can leak everywhere and, without looking, grabs another from the row in his passenger seat.

[ursavorpalis]

He gets a black cloth sling online, orders it from his phone to a PO box like he gets most of his clothes. With the baby nestled tight, close, nobody notices when Derek has to venture out with her. Nobody gives him too close a look, anyway; nobody knows him in this town and they prefer to stay out of the way of the vaguely homeless looking man in a leather jacket.

In an odd way, living out of his car like this, baby in tow, kind of reminds him of his early teenage years. When his mom made all the decisions, or Laura if Mom wasn’t around, even uncle Peter at a pinch; and all Derek had to do was take care of the younger cubs.

That’s the easy part, always has been. Babies’ needs are few and simple; warmth, food, touch. When the baby whines because she’s teething, Derek lets her chew on his finger with nary a wince, drains the pain away once she’s obviously tired out and needs to sleep.

Every single time she does, slumping in Derek’s arms, her tiny warm weight settling evenly, he feels like he’s done something right. That even though he’s abandoned his family’s territory, ceded the remains of his pack to another Alpha, even though he still lives out of his car—

He has a pack member, and he’s managed to keep her safe and happy for another day. That’s gotta count for something.

[pepperbox]

Canon Lore in Teen Wolf

I decided to compile a tiny encyclopedia of lore in Teen Wolf, largely for fic writers! I know that a fair number of people weren’t thrilled with season 3A and I think a lot of the lore got lost. So! I made this. Because I have great ideas at 2 or 3am.

Everything here is canon, to the best of my knowledge, through either the TV show or Word of God. There is a teeny tiny bit of speculation where appropriate, but I tried to keep it factual and give sources where I can.

If I’m mistaken about something, need to clarify anything, or I’m missing anything at all, feel free to let me know!

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