Ash.

| she/they | ♑️ 31 | bi? wlw?

[ch4nn3l4st4tic]

[therisingking]

[gotoemopunk]

Wings in the Snow

This idea came from this tweet.

☺️ The wing prints left by a hunting owl looked so incredibly beautiful that they immediately gave me Destiel vibes🤩

Sadly, burnout meant I didn't get around to drawing it until summer, lol. But I think I needed that time, because I finally managed to bring it to life exactly the way I imagined🥰

[warcrimesimulator]

[charlieisnotafreak]

spn text post pt 6

same thing :)

guys im listening to New Perspective by Panic! At The Disco rn its really yummy for my ears.

[nezeraphel]

Sketch Banner for my SPN obsession Tumblr

[nezeraphel]

Mom look I made a GIF.

[jusjuiceboxbox]

Welcome to being an adult! Featuring such injury causing events as

- sneezed wrong

- turned your neck a little too fast

- slept weird

- took the trash out to the curb and stepped at a slightly different angle than usual

- breathed

- failed to breathe properly

- breathed in the wrong stuff. Allergy time

- looked too hard at something too far away

- knees

[johnssoap]

tried to match the vibe of the older seasons

[eisenkrahe]

[flipocrite]

not she berry or he berry but no berry

and that is berry good

[wifihunters]

I heard this guy had an appreciation week that i missed out on which is really a crime

[maram-mo]

[hppjmxrgosg]

"going out to get milk" is a common turn of phrase used to describe a man abandoning his family.

the "milkman" is a common figure in stories depicting a woman's infidelity and adulterous affair.

this implies that the ability to provide milk would both decrease the likelihood of a man abandoning his wife and children, as it would eliminate the need for leaving to get milk AND would secure that man's marriage, as his wife would have no need to seek milk from an extraneous source.

therefore, all men should produce milk, through various means such as:

- being a cow

- being an almond

- being a woman

- being a coconut

- being in the omegaverse

- being an oat

(list is exemplary and not finite)

in this essay, i will redefine the nuclear family and explain the seductive and inflammatory nature of the 1993 "Got Milk?" commercials.

[feminist-space]

[johanna-swann]

[everydayconman]

The ancient texts were true… They DO have a reaction image for everything…

[sinyalat95]

I find it interesting how I always knew suspected the truth of why it happened. But to actually get a confirmation is a different kind of realisation. I always thought my father was selfish with his decision, and to be fair, there is an element of selfishness to what he did, but it makes sense. The treatment he gor from my mother for 30 years wasn’t justifiable. He should’ve been louder or more angry but he strikes in silence, is what he did. And at that time we were still blindly seeing only my mother’s pov. Never the full picture. But with time i got to see a side of her that i always chose to ignore, because why shouldn’t I? She is my mother after all. But yesterday I saw how she talked back to him, and that wasn’t the first she talked back, but it was the first time I realised where that came from and how it gets perceived. It’s not nice. Definitely not with respect or consideration.

And on top of it all, the way she sees us, her children. She sees us as an extension of her and not as individuals. How dare we have an opinion? How dare we share our concerns? How dare we not see the world through her eyes? How dare we not follow her devotedly, no questions asked?

I am 31 now, and still get a treatment for a 13 year old. Because how dare I try to make her see what I see?

I was manipulated into thinking something is wrong with me. Thinking it is a disgrace to have my father’s character and thinking and talking like him. Oh what a curse it is to carry my mother’s face and my father’s character. What a curse it is to be forced to wear glasses she prescribed, while trying to perceive the world with my own eyes.

[sinyalat95]

Interesting, this grief. My last living grandparent died 2 weeks ago. I never had any connection with him. To be honest i never had any connection with any of my grandparents. I didn’t grow up with them around, and i was too old to form a relationship with them when i got to back to my parents country. I always felt detached when visiting them. Never understood why my mother insisted on us visiting them. It’s the generational gap, and the cultural gap that might have caused it. We talked the same language, ate the same food, attended the same events, but there was a detachment. I never knew my paternal grandfather, he died before my father married my mother. He had two wives, my paternal grandmother, who i never got to truly know because she had dementia when i first met her as a 10 year old, and then the “step”-grandma, who is the mother of all my aunts and uncles. But there was also a detachment because she wasn’t directly blood related and i could feel her treating me and my siblings differently than her grandchildren. Then there were my maternal grandparents who lived long, but there was also that detachment, we weren’t allowed to bother my grandfather and only saw him during eid or to wish him good health if he got sick. No casual conversations and no playing or laughing around him was allowed. My grandmother on the other hand was so focused on being the “perfect” wife, always in the kitchen cooking for the day or taking care of the younger grandchildren whose mothers were at work and too busy for casual conversations or laughter, and by the time the children got older and better at taking care of themselves she developed Alzheimers to the point she couldn’t recognise anyone. I was 18 by then.

The grief isn’t in missing them and feeling their empty spots in our lives, the grief lies in the “what if?” It’s the feeling of never having something yet still longing for it. Longing for something that could never have been. Nothing could’ve changed anything.

And now this grief is also accompanied by the knowledge that my mother will never be the same. Her purpose in life was to always please her parents, in the name of Allah. To be the good daughter she was meant to be, but in that act she forgot to be a good mother. And now that her purpose has died, she no longer knows how to built up what has been broken ages ago. Because it’s too late.

It’s too late now that i know how to exist without her love. Any attempt from her feels forced, fake, or diluted. It’s not genuine. It’s just to fill a void within her.

It’s too late.

[inacatastrophicmind]

[rowenasamuel]

I circle you.

[to-orrr]

here are some more cats 🍓