cherry valley forever
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Janaina Medeiros
noise dept.
Product Placement
★
Andulka
Peter Solarz
pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Xuebing Du
d e v o n
KIROKAZE
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
ojovivo
Mike Driver
#extradirty
art blog(derogatory)
No title available
seen from United States
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@zarcarbian
Shows that gen z/late 90s kids remember vaguely but still love so much
y'all the last three opened my brain to memories i didnt even know existed
Most of these I just vaugly remember but I still have the kipper the dog theme song memoriezed and it randomly pops into my head at least once a week as an unskippable ear worm.
-Jude
Smut Problems #9739029.3
a cunt can glisten with arousal, but sparkling would be like pussy fireworks. not ok.
a cock can weep, but if a pussy does, it just seems sad.
there’s only one way to say balls, and it’s balls. anything else sounds ridiculous or medical.
everything aches like everyone should be taking Aleve constantly.
there is no sexy way to use the word ‘humped’
everything is pulsing, even their pulses, and everyone needs an inhaler.
@coffee-obsessed-writer
Today’s International Self-Injury Awareness Day, so I wanted to make something. All alternatives are taken from this post, go there for more!
Remember that I love you, and I’m here for you. Please be safe.
Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
Kurt Vonnegut
(via
purplebuddhaquotes
)
190311 hw_add_b instagram update (trans): Today @m_v.film dongsaeng 🌙⭐️ Her hair colour is not a joke 👍🏻 This comeback is gonna be big because Byulyi is freaking cool, freaking pretty and gonna turn (the stage) upside down 😌 Wait for 14 of March
uhm uhm 61.“I told you not to fall in love with me.”
There’s a new boy at Castiel’s school.
He has grass-green eyes and a leather jacket one or two sizes too big, and when he smiles, there’s an edge to it, something hidden lurking beneath, like he has a secret that no one can know. He wields his sass and his biting wit like a weapon when he wants to, but there’s a younger kid a few grades down from them who is the only person to elicit a real smile, where the protective guards fall away just enough for a glimpse at who the boy really is.
The new boy’s name is Dean Winchester, and Castiel has never met anyone like him.
They share an English class, and Dean has the desk beside Castiel’s. He reads the books, but doesn’t share his thoughts unless the teacher calls on him specifically. If it’s a book he doesn’t like, he’ll make a joke about it, but if he’s one that he enjoyed reading…
Castiel could listen to him talk about Vonnegut with passion in his voice for hours on end.
Sometimes, though, he’ll look over to see Dean scribbling in a notebook—math equations, electrical configurations, a sketch of something that looks a lot like a Walkman. He’s smart, smarter than he lets on, and it only compounds Castiel’s interest in this mysterious, guarded boy.
One class, Dean catches Castiel watching him, and suddenly there are green eyes locked with his own. “Did you want something?” Dean asks, and while his tone seems light and lazy, there’s a guarded edge beneath it.
“Sorry,” Castiel says instinctively. “I was just… um…” He flounders for an excuse, and the corners of Dean’s lips lift in a smirk.
“Watchin’ me?”
He’s hit the nail on the head, and Castiel doesn’t have time to come up with a lie. “Yes,” he says quietly.
Dean is silent. Castiel can feel the weight of his gaze, but he doesn’t look up. He’s embarrassed himself enough already. The bell rings, and the students around them become a flurry of chatter and movement. Castiel quietly starts packing up his books.
“Did you want to see a movie on Friday?”
Castiel snaps his head up to find Dean still watching him—but there’s something almost… softer, about his gaze. “Yes?” he replies tentatively, not sure if this is a joke or something real. Still, he can’t pass up this opportunity to know Dean better. “Yes,” he says, more confidently. “I’d like to see a movie on Friday.”
Dean grins, packing his books into his bag and standing up. “Sweet. I’ll meet you there at eight. But, Cas, there’s just one condition.” The smirk is back, enough to make Castiel weak at the knees.
Wait, how does he know my name?
“You can’t fall in love with me.”
~~~
It’s been seven weeks. Seven weeks of bliss, of stolen kisses and holding hands in the school corridors, of lying curled up in Castiel’s bed before Dean has to sneak back to the motel. They spend every possible minute with each other, when they’re not in separate classes or Dean doesn’t have to go out and work with his dad.
It’s been seven perfect weeks.
And now Dean is leaving.
He’d been clear from the start that this would happen, but it still hadn’t prepared Castiel for the way Dean’s departure would make him feel like he was being torn apart from the inside.
“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispers into the air between them. They’re tucked around the corner of the motel from where Sam and John are packing up their car. The wall against Castiel’s back is cold, but Dean’s body is warm, and Castiel clings to him.
He knows Dean doesn’t want to leave, can feel it in every kiss, every touch, the pain in his eyes and the shake in his voice.
“Please don’t go,” he begs, but he knows it’s futile. A tear slips past Dean’s lashes, and he shakes his head, giving Cas a watery smile.
“I told you not to fall in love with me.”
How could I not?
They stay there, pressed together against the wall and trading kisses like each might be their last, until John starts hollering for Dean.
Dean has Castiel’s number in his phone, but Castiel knows there’s a good chance that this will be the last time he ever sees or hears from Dean. He pulls him in for one last desperate kiss, then slowly lets his hands slip from Dean’s jacket.
Another tear tracks down Dean’s cheek, and Castiel can see him breaking apart in front of him. “Bye, Cas,” he says quietly, and then he turns and walks away.
Castiel watches as they finish packing up the car, as Dean looks towards him one last time before climbing in, as the engine starts and the car peels out of the parking lot.
He watches until tears blur his vision and the car has disappeared out of sight, and then he scrubs at his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to start the long walk home.
(since @saltnhalo gave permission to write a sequel and this has been haunting my dreams since I’ve read this >.<)
“I told you not to fall in love with me.”
Sometimes Castiel still hears Dean’s voice. It’s clear as day and most of the time it happens out of nowhere in the oddest moments. Right now he’s watching a video with two cats grooming each other and the last time it hit him in the grocery store right next to the frozen pizzas.
There’s no sense behind it, no pattern.
It’s just a thing he got used to live with.
“I told you not to fall in love with me.”
It’s been years since he last saw Dean and Castiel could never forget. His friends and family told him he would get over it, that first love strikes hard, but fades eventually. Castiel couldn’t really fathom it at the time – leaving Dean behind and getting on with his life –, however, everyone was insistent that it’d happen rather sooner than later.
And perhaps it seriously would’ve been preferable if that would’ve come true at some point. Dean never called, never texted, vanished completely from Castiel’s life like he never existed, and sometimes Castiel feels like a fool for still clinging to those few weeks. He achieved so much since Dean went away – graduated high school, got a scholarship to a prestigious college, published a novel that became more successful than he ever imagined – and it seems ridiculous to be so hung up on the past.
But still, Castiel can’t help it.
He never met anyone quite like Dean ever again. The liveliness, the wit, the joy for the little things, the fierce love for everyone he cared about …
Castiel could never forget.
He still hears Dean’s voice, over and over, he still sees his stunningly green eyes and his bright smile. Mostly at night, in his dreams, but also sometimes next to frozen pizzas in the supermarket.
There’s just no escape.
No chance to wake up from this dream.
So when on a sunny Thursday afternoon someone knocks on the door of his apartment and Castiel suddenly finds himself face to face with just the man who has been haunting him for years, he can’t help assuming that he obviously fell asleep in his study again at some point and entered dream land without him really noticing.
Because there is no way that Dean Winchester is seriously standing in his doorway.
“Hey, Cas.”
Castiel frowns instantly. That’s not the voice he remembers. It sounds deeper, hoarser. Rougher.
It suits him, but Castiel is still weirded out by it. His dreams usually don’t change their known path and Castiel finds himself hesitating.
“Um … long time no see, huh?” Dean starts to fidget, looking like a nervous child having to tell his parents that he broke their favorite vase.
And Castiel just stares. Silently.
Dean licks his lips, obviously getting anxious by the lack of reaction. “You look, uh, good. Real good.”
Castiel still doesn’t answer. He waits for this dream to take its familiar course, for Dean to pull him into his arms and whisper all these sweet things into Castiel’s ear. Just like he does most nights.
“I know it’s not very polite to just show up unannounced,” Dean continues after apparently accepting that Castiel wouldn’t reply anytime soon. “It’s just … I was afraid you’d tell me to piss off or something. I mean, I never called, you have every right to punch me in the face or whatever …”
He trails off, squirming some more, and Castiel starts to have his first doubts. In his dreams Dean is always confident, cocky. Like the boy he remembered.
But this Dean … he seems to be none of that.
And Castiel simply knows that his brain would have no reason whatsoever to create an anxious version of Dean for his dream world.
So does that mean …?
“I just …” Dean runs his fingers through his hair. “Do you want me to go? Just say the words and I’m gone from your life forever. I won’t blame you.”
Castiel blinks, once, twice, before stating, “No.”
Whatever is happening right now, he doesn’t want Dean to disappear. Ever.
Dean’s eyes widen a bit at the sound of Castiel’s voice, looking a lot like he figured himself in some kind of dream himself until that very point. He studies Castiel for a moment, his gaze so intense a shiver runs down Castiel’s spine, and takes a deep breath as if he’s preparing himself for something really big.
“I’m just … I’m here ‘coz I could never forget you,” he says in a rush, like he wants to get this off his chest as soon as possible. “And I know it’s been years and I never contacted you and I’m actually not sure if you even remember me at all, but I just had to come and apologize and explain and …” He shuts his eyes for a minute, obviously collecting his thoughts. “I wanted to call you. So badly. I wanted to see you again, hold you in my arms again. But there was Sammy and so much stuff happening you wouldn’t even believe half of it, and my Dad … and I was telling myself it’d be better for you in the long run, y'know? That you’d be better off without me. So I never called, to spare your feelings. And to spare mine as well, if I’m being honest. Because there were a lot of them. Feelings, I mean.”
He sounds like an anxious baby deer, his words stumbling over each other, and Castiel finds himself endeared by it. This is something new about Dean, something Castiel’s only seen in brief glimpses before, and his heartbeat picks up its pace as he suddenly realizes that his brain isn’t making up some weird dream right now after all.
No, he is wide awake.
Looking straight at the boy – at the man – who has somehow been with him this whole time.
“Just a week ago I was looking through some old pictures and I found one of you and suddenly I was missing you so badly,” Dean explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno, it just hit me. Like a ton of bricks or whatever. After shoving everything down for years that one picture of you smiling into the camera broke all of that open, just like that. I was helpless and all of a sudden I just needed to see you again.”
Dean steps closer, a little tentatively, and Castiel feels his breath catch in his throat. Is this really happening? Are his dreams finally coming true, after all this time?
“Because it wasn’t only you that messed up back then, y'know?” Dean offers him a shaky smile, suddenly looking exactly like the boy who said goodbye to Castiel years ago. “I told you not to fall in love with me, remember? … But I was a hypocrite, Cas. ‘Cause I fell in love, too.” He pauses for a moment, apparently gathering all his strength. “I’m still in love.”
Castiel chokes on air as his eyes grow big as saucers.
“And I can totally understand if you don’t wanna have anything to do with me now,” Dean hurries to add, his cheeks tinging pink. “I mean, you probably have a good life, without me, a great job, probably an awesome boyfriend or even husband who doesn’t bail on you, because you deserve all of that and more, and I’m sorry for messing up your afternoon by stopping by like that and spewing love confessions right into your face, years too late, and I’ll get out of your hair if you –”
Dean doesn’t get any further since Castiel cuts him off by grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss, hard and sensual and desperate, like a man just breaking the surface and greedily gasping for air.
Dean looks bewildered and debauched and hopeful at the same time when they eventually pull apart again, blinking rapidly, apparently no idea what to say or how to react.
Castiel, however, just smiles warmly at him as he gently threads his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Hello, Dean.”
And Dean beams in response, like hearing Castiel say his name is the most amazing thing that ever happened to him, and Castiel can’t help kissing him once more, reveling in the feeling of his soft lips forming into a smile.
“I told you not to fall in love with me.”
Thank God neither of them had been very good at doing what they are told.
Vellichor
Loki Genfic Synopsis: Loki has an affinity with books. Prompt: Loki + Vellichor
VELLICHOR - (n.) the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time – filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured
Loki wandered down the shelves of the bookstore. His fingers skimming over the spines of the countless volumes held there. Stories about other worlds. Of battles fought. Victories won and of loss. Stories of his people and stories of people he had no knowledge of.
Loki loved books. He loved the stories they held. The history within them. The way the stories of the time held the hopes and fears of the people. They reminded him of his mother and how she would sit patiently and tell him story after story while he sat with her, completely lost in the worlds she opened up for him. The smell of the store, that dry, biblichor that was formed from the mixture of paper, leather, dust and the slow decomposition reminded him of when he was a child.
The stories told by his mother in the library as he listened intently, always asking for one more. The study he did, going late into the night as he learned magic. The corner he hid in while he planned out the trouble he planned to cause his father the following day. Books were a comfort to him.
He just wished he had time to read them all. Even as old as he was and as many books he had read there were always more. While he was the god of mischief, she was also the goddess of stories. He both loved and hated that he would never know them all.
His eyes were drawn to a newer book. It was bound in green and gold with the familiar sigil of his horns on the cover. He picked it up and turned it over. His name glittered on the embossed cover.
‘This one.’ He thought, taking it to the counter. While he may not ever know all the stories, it could be fun reading this one from someone else’s point of view.
I guess some girls grow up wanting to be Supergirl. I always wanted to be Soledad O'Brien or Christiana Amanpour.
Opinion on “an appeal to the young”? I love it personally. It’s actually really motivating and makes me feel a lot less helpless in my attempt at praxis.
Never heard of it tbh
It’s a text by Kropotkin and it’s pretty great: https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/petr-kropotkin-an-appeal-to-the-young
If you reason instead of repeating what is taught you; if you analyze the law and strip off those cloudy fictions with which it has been draped in order to conceal its real origin, which is the right of the stronger, and its substance, which has ever been the consecration of all the tyrannies handed down to mankind through its long and bloody history; when you have comprehended this, your contempt for the law will be profound indeed. You will understand that to remain the servant of the written law is to place yourself every day in opposition to the law of conscience, and to make a bargain on the wrong side; and, since this struggle cannot go on forever, you will either silence your conscience and become a scoundrel, or you will break with tradition, and you will work with us for the utter destruction of all this injustice, economic, social and political.
Every one of you, then, honest young folks, men and women, peasants, laborers, artisans and soldiers, you will understand what are your rights and you will come along with us; you will come in order to work with your brethren in the preparation of that Revolution which, sweeping away every vestige of slavery, tearing the fetters asunder, breaking with the old worn-out traditions, and opening to all mankind a new and wider scope of joyous existence, shall at length establish true Liberty, real Equality, ungrudging Fraternity throughout human society: work with all, work for all — the full enjoyment of the fruits of their labor, the complete development of all their faculties; a rational, human and happy life!
Don’t let anyone tell us that we — but a small band — are too weak to attain unto the magnificent end at which we aim.
Count and see how many of us there are who suffer this injustice.
We peasants who work for others and who mumble the straw while our masters eat the wheat, we by ourselves are millions of men.
We workers who weave silks and velvets in order that we may be clothed in rags, we, too, are a great multitude; and when the clang of the factories permits us a moment’s repose, we overflow the streets and squares like the sea in a spring tide.
We soldiers who are driven along to the word of command, or by blows, we who receive the bullets for which our officers get crosses and pensions, we, too, poor fools who have hitherto known no better than to shoot our brothers, why, we have only to make a right-about-face towards these plumed and decorated personages who are so good as to command us, to see a ghastly pallor overspread their faces.
Ay, all of us together, we who suffer and are insulted daily, we are a multitude whom no man can number, we are the ocean that can embrace and swallow up all else.
When we have but the will to do it, that very moment will Justice be done: that very instant the tyrants of the Earth shall bite the dust.
shoutout to all the girls & women in their late teens and twenties who have never been kissed, never dated, never had sex, etc. society loves to make us feel isolated and like we’re doing something wrong or we’re failures.
just know that ur time will come and that life’s not all about that stuff anyway. you do you and don’t let anyone define u by ur experiences or lack thereof. ur amazing, ur beautiful & i love u
*passionately thinks about story instead of writing it*
Photographer Mattias Klum from National Geographic gets close and personal with a lion.
“and all of a sudden you feel very small” damn right
IT JUST WANTS TO BE LOVED AND SAVED
please, if you are able, do what you can for the asiatic lion. donate, get involved, spread information. there are only about 300 left in the world, and they all live in Gir Forest National Park in India.
the african lion is also estimated to be extinct by 2050 due to habitat loss, sport hunting, and loss of their prey base to the bushmeat trade. these beautiful creatures could be extinct in our lifetime. the next generation may not ever have the chance to see these creatures, there will be no more cute lion vines, there will be no more documentaries, there will be no more zoos or sanctuaries containing lions. there will be no more lions.
if you have any love for nature, any love for animals, any love for life, and if you care at all about the permanent loss of a species, especially one so beautiful and iconic, if you care and if you are able, please donate to help save lions.
The Lion Conservation Fund
The African Wildlife Foundation
The World Wildlife Foundation
Not relevant to my blog, but my inner nature lover is calling
Saw someone once posted a review on a book that said lions dont live in India; sad that some people dont even know they exist.
WE DONT OWN THIS PLANET AND WE SHOULDNT HAVE THE POWER TO MAKE OTHER SPECIES GO EXSTINCT!
YOUR DAILY CHOICES MATTER IMMENSELY AND WE ARENT AS HELPLESS IN ALL OF THIS AS WE THINK!!
we’re almost in the ‘20s and dadaism is thriving, europe’s in a shambles, everyone is broke and the right wing is on the rise so i guess we really don’t learn a goddamn thing huh
