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@lynxshadowstalker
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=968555629833608&set=pcb.968555699833601&type=3
This was found scrawled on a wall in my daughter’s school...
Yet there was NO email sent to parents about this .... despite the fact that a student was arrested yesterday after a hand gun was found in his back pack while he was at school. Sure it may be a hoax or a sick joke, but can the school administration really afford to take that chance?
Because I’m in the mood to post sadstuck....
The Longest Night
He barely hears the blue blood guards enter his cell again. Between the suppressor collar around his neck setting up an annoying buzz in his thinkpan, the drugs in his system and the searing ache burning through his bulge, nook and ass, he doesn’t have much attention to spare for anything happening outside himself. Rough hands drag him to his feet. Rough voices grate on his ears, taunting him with the way he screamed and begged for them to stop the night before — and promising him more of the same once he is “hooked up and helpless”. Hooked up? His mind puzzles over this for a moment…then the meaning hits him like a spear of ice running down his spine. They’re taking him to his doom. They’re taking him to become the living battery on board Her flagship, to become the Helmsman. He struggles in their grasp, a hoarse scream coming from his lips. The guards only laugh and tighten their grip almost to the point of breaking bone and continue on.
They pull him along, simply dragging him when he stops walking because his legs refuse to take another step. The supressor collar whines audibly as panic sets in, and he desperately tries to focus, tries to power up his psionics high enough to overload that hated collar. Memories of his days in the slave pens scroll across his inner vision, and his consciousness flashes back to those days. He growls and snaps at the guards dragging him along, becoming that half- civilized psionic again, intent only on escape. Without even breaking stride, one of the guards slaps him across the face, and he coughs, half choking as his own blood fills his mouth and drips down his chin. The pain snaps him out of his memories and brings him jarringly back to the present. He tries desperately to stop the honey-colored tears that spill from his eyes and the sobs that force themselves from his throat, but fails completely. He hears a voice begging, pleading with his guards to let him go, to not do this….even to kill him rather than continue dragging him to the horror that awaits him, and with a sense of shame he realizes the voice is his. The jeers of derision and scorn fill his ears, and still they drag him onward.
He is vaguely aware of being drug through a doorway and suddenly there is faint sunlight and fresher air. He can hear birds and smell the faint tang of the sea a few miles away….and his mind fills with the image of his beloved seadweller, his matesprit….Dualscar. For a few precious moments his ears fill with the sound of that rumbling baritone, laughing, talking of the things they would do on their next anniversary — six whole sweeps of being matesprits, even though they had to keep their relationship secret. He can see that scarred, yet beautiful face, feel that wonderful, amazingly sensual touch….the trembling glory of their bodies uniting, the sweet ecstasy of their shared passion — He is not aware that any of his memories showed on his face, not aware that his voice had sounded in a soft moan, until one of the guards laughs harshly, jeering at him, saying that he must be remembering the “fun” they had with him the night before. Those beautiful images and sensations vanish and sick dread coils inside him as he is brought back to the hellish present. He raises his head and his blurred vision is filled with the vast bulk of the Empress’s flagship and the gaping darkness of the hatch that the guards drag him ever closer to.
As they pass through that hellish portal into the dimness of the ship, his fear and panic explode. He screams and struggles, the bitter tang of overloaded electronics filling the air as the suppressor collar starts to beep loudly and smoke under the pressure of his psionics, his terror pushing his power level to a new high. A sense of hope, very faint, thrills through him — maybe, just maybe he can destroy this collar and break free. His mind won’t even consider the consequences of espcaping. All he can think of is escape and going back to his beloved. The faint sounds of panicked shouts and running feet penetrate dimly through the miasma of soul deep fear. There is a sharp pain as something impacts his skull with just enough force to stun him but no quite knock him unconscious. He can feel the damaged collar unlocked from his neck to be replaced with another one. Shaking his throbbing head weakly, trying to clear his mind, he becomes aware that his guards have stopped moving.
Slowly he raises his head, not wanting to see, but unable to stop himself from looking. His body begins to shake violently, tears streaming down his face a his arms are yanked above his head and bound by the sickly magenta ooze that surrounds them. He stuggles, oh how he struggles, but there is no getting free of this. Again he screams, begging them to not do this, begging as gut wrenching sobs rack his body for them to please, please just execute him. Surely not even facing a host of Horror Terrors would be as fearsome as the future that lies before him. There is a sharp prick at the base of his skull and an explosion of pain that renders him voiceless. Then more and more of those pricks and explosions of pain until his system overloads and he goes blissfully numb — physically numb that is. The soul-searing emotional pain, the despair, the longing to see, to hear, to feel his beloved and his friends, burns through his being. He cannot take this! It is unbearable! He will break, go completely insane! It is beyond his capacity to withstand this hell that he finds himself bound to!
Then just as he reaches his breaking point, he hears his beloved’s voice in his mind. That dearest of voices seems to come from far away, as if from a place and time far from his present, but at the same time as clear as if his matesprit were holding him in his arms.
"No matter how long it takes, my beloved, my dearest Psi, I will be waiting for you. We will be reunited, my love! I know this in the depths of my being! Be strong and hold on to this hope, love of my life, heart of my heart, flame of my soul! Alive or dead, we will be together again!"
And faintly he hears a song that he has never heard before, yet it resonates through his being, leaving a calmness that soothes, a hope that heals, and a promise that strengthens him to endure.
"I have died everyday waiting for you Darling don’t be afraid I have loved you For a thousand years I’ll love you for a thousand more. All along I believed I would find you Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years I’ll love you for a thousand more.”
(Christina Perri - A Thousand Years)
This was a fanart/Oc drawing I made last night when I probably should have been sleeping the lovely demons belong to their rightful owners, Seirath & Mathias belong to twinksandboobs , Frederic belongs to supadong , and Dark belongs to gummydicksandpixiestixs I hope they like this.
This is for all the little narrow-minded people who tell me I’m too old to be on Tumblr....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzwERqSfcpA
This song by Todrick Hall says it all.
Thanks, Todrick for writing just what I wanted to say! ^^
IIn reference to what II was needle felting here
Out and about as Decim, day one of A-Fest
.....wish I was there...seriously
hOnK hOnK mOtHeRfUcKeRs! :o)
CosDay 2015 Part 2!
Gamzee Makara: violetvenom
Photos: gunslingersteve & thebliindprophet
Photo Edit: speikobrarote
dear bisexual / pansexual women and political lesbians,
you need to immediately disclose to any woman you plan on dating if you are, in fact, a lesbian, or if you are something else. some lesbians are open to dating bi / pan / PL ladies. some are not. withholding this information is harmful, deceitful behavior that can make lesbians feel unsafe and devalued.
picture it: you’re a lesbian, looking to start a relationship. you meet a woman who claims that she, too, is a lesbian. this signifies that you have, at the very least, a shared sexuality, and you can bond about your experience as a woman who is attracted exclusively to women, which is outside of the patriarchal, heterocentric structure of the vast majority of societies.
now, imagine that you, a lesbian who is incapable of being attracted to men, get a confession from your girlfriend: she discloses to you that, yeah, actually, she could possibly be with a man and feel emotionally and sexually fulfilled. she, as a bi- or pansexual, is capable of thinking about having sex with a man and not feeling revulsion. your initial feeling of intimacy and security related to the sharing of a sexuality - one of the most basic aspects of your being, which is essential to you - is gone.
wouldn’t that hurt? wouldn’t that make you feel insecure? wouldn’t you get angry, if you were put into that position?
You know what would hurt me?
If I was in a relationship with a lesbian and her finding out I am bi was some sort of horrific secret that must be confessed like some shameful pox.
The fact that bisexual women are seen as being dirty or alien because we have or feel the capacity to be in intimate relationships with men is HARMFUL. It is biphobic and it is disgusting.
The entire notion that bi women are less valuable and less desirable as partners because we have and/or have the capacity to be intimate with men is so blatantly biphobic and bigoted that I can’t believe I even have to explain it.
How about THIS: Biphobic lesbians who would feel betrayed and insecure because of a bi partners identity have an OBLIGATION to disclose that they are biphobic assholes when they enter into a relationship, in case any bi woman they are interested in was unaware of what an asshole they are.
What fandomsandfeminism said..... 100%
a ferocious beast
i will reblog these everytime i see them because she is just such a precious little ball of predatory fury
Actual Kitten
[leaves this here and backs away]
Students don’t value learning because the school system doesn’t teach us how to think, it teaches us to memorize. It does not encourage creative intellectual growth, it encourages obedience and a strong work ethic.
Because our society doesn’t value thinkers, it values workers.
proposal: switch from “fuckboy” to “bratboy”
why not “fuckboy” (EDITED):
“fuckboy” is prison slang for a bottom, the one who gets fucked, usually meaning the one who gets raped (even prison rape is bad rape) (EDIT: did some surface-level research on its history)
appropriation of what’s known to be an AAVE word
so we have two different definitions of a word that both boil down to “why are we using this word”
has a swear word and thus is harder to incorporate into day-to-day language without being questioned
some dimplebrain is gonna think it means that you wanna fuck em or that it’s a compliment because they have sex
why “bratboy” instead:
uses two “b”s so it sounds more obnoxious to be called as a word in general
it has sounds totally corny af
it has no curse words so you can slip it into your everyday language
people know what a “brat” is in casual english language so there’s no questioning what “bratboy” means
has no problematic history
in fact it already has an urban dictionary entry that’s over 12 years old
plus you get google image searches like this which is 100% representative of what we’re going for here:
so in short:
#bratboy2k15
(edited, reblog this instead)
Wow 400 followers!! Thanks everyone!😊
Congrats on 400! ^^
Theory on why Sollux isn't coming back
home2tuck wa2 alriight but eventually ii ju2t had two cut tiie2 and move on wiith my liife. you know? my actiing career had two move on and, whiile my tiime iin home2tuck gave me a great boo2t, ii couldn’t let iit carry me forever.
Sollux the movie star....omf....Love it!
the idea that trans people’s experiences are only valid if we “always knew” is toxic and exclusionary pass it on
making “i always knew” the dominant narrative within the trans community is toxic and exclusionary pass it on
presenting “i always knew” as the *only* narrative in order to appeal to the cis majority is toxic and exclusionary pass it on
ive never actually tried croptops before?? so shout out to me for being confident enough to try
Shout out for being confident and for looking good in them! (And for the lovely pun in your tumblr name! XD)
reblog in the tags with who or what youd rather have president than donald trump
these tags are pure gold please keep adding
experimenting w gender identity is always something to be encouraged. transness is not a precious commodity. it’s not something u can appropriate. and even if u discover that you’re actually cis, that you feel most comfortable as a cis boy or girl, exploring gender will always teach u something new and important about yourself.
you’re not a “transtrender” if u aren’t or haven’t always been completely confident in your transness. u and your identity are 1000% valid.
And experimenting with gender identity can occur at any age.
