Pieces of mind

Name's Faith. ♀/she/her. Vegan. 🏠Home 🎈Curiosity killed the cat 💬Ask me 📚Archive

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Read before you follow...

I've had enough of this nonsense. I am not keeping another blog to suffer here from the same gross things we may find in real life already. I am a person who doesn’t read fanfics, browse fanarts, people’s blogs... In a few words, I am not able to know if you are fooling me. I’m tired of dealing with this madness. It follows me even on this little, pointless blog of mine.

I don’t want to be mixed with reblogs leading to those things.

If you reblog/post NSFW, If you are into/okay with:

Speciesism,

Racism,

Zoophilia,

Pedophilia,

Pornography,

Hypnosis/Lack of consent,

‘Ships’ involving kids w/ adults,

Aging up minors for your sick fantasies,

De-aging adults for the same gross reasons,

Sexualizing minors,

Don't follow, reblog, or like anything I post. Unfollow me and do not interact with me.

Leave this place. Get lost. You WON’T force your sick roleplays here. If you're looking for a place to mess with, I should warn you that you won't find it here.

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Fatherhood requires love, not DNA. 

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Beware of cacti.

The real reason behind the disaster of the K–Pg extinction.

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Wolverine & Gambit: Victims (1995)

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Jane, no!

Don’t drink from this bottle!

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Photography from CataWiki.

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The Men That Don't Fit In

There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin,    And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood,    And they climb the mountain's crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,    And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;    They are strong and brave and true; But they're always tired of the things that are,    And they want the strange and new. They say: "Could I find my proper groove,    What a deep mark I would make!" So they chop and change, and each fresh move    Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs    With a brilliant, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones    Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled,    Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,    In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;    He has just done things by half. Life's been a jolly good joke on him,   And now is the time to laugh. Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;    He was never meant to win; He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;    He's a man who won't fit in.

— The Men That Don't Fit In, from The Spell of the Yukon, and Other Verses by Robert W. Service (1907)

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