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my boyfriend and I sometimes struggle to be on the same page when it comes to comforting- often i just want to vent and don’t need advice, whereas validation confuses him and he wants a plan of action

to counter this, we’ve come up with a system where we ask: “do you want advice, empathy, both or neither?” 

if it’s just advice, i know to go straight to action points and not spend time on fluffy words 

if it’s just empathy, he knows i want to be reassured and comforted and that’s all

if it’s both, it’s time for advice that recognises how hard the situation is and is perhaps gentler in nature

if it’s neither, just a hug is really good

i recommend trying to use this in your lives! it makes sure you’re giving and getting what you need, and reduces the risk of resentment or similar

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Every time.

me: [walks into a psychic’s shop and slams down my tarot cards] it’s time to duel

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This is actually ridiculously helpful for getting across what they are for

I made myself a little cheat sheet for the schools of magic

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Tkfw you're dogkin and ur gf scratches ur head and u want to waggle ur butt and tail and u feel so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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I take full blame for this.

Honeydew

Is my new favorite “insult” to cupcake, hun, darling in the condescending tone. Like you’re debating and they just bad mouth the entire time and they call you something so you call them honeydew in response.

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It's true.

society as a whole needs to take a step back and put more effort into appreciating the movie Stardust

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To those who have said that we as a populace didn't protest similar things in the past, or that we are just having a temper tantrum: we have changed. We have *seen* great change. We protest more because we do not want to have to stand by as what progress we had made goes to the wayside. We protest because it is our right. Our country was founded by a much more destructive protest than many in recent history, even with agitators coming in from the outside. We protest because we want change to continue, not regress. We want progress. We want our country to be greater than it ever was, not just as good as it has been. We want love to conquer all. We want peace. Maybe I'm wrong. But that's how I see it. If you want the same things, I am glad. If not, I will do my best to understand.

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please reblog this if your blog is safe for asexuals

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This HAS to go viral. This pathetic movie is abusing animals in order to film cheap scenes for human entertainment. The dog is clearly terrified but the “trainers” have no regard for her safety.

Please share and encourage your friends not to spend money on a movie that uses animal abuse to film!!!

http://www.tmz.com/2017/01/18/a-dogs-purpose-german-shepherd-abuse-video/

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dare i say it…leonard mccoy is a tsundere

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Me, though. I would be the patron saint of all broke ass artists, particularly the shy ones that have problems asking for help.

I want to be rich so i can spoil the FuCK out of my friends

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Can people just not be mean about other people’s artwork? Especially “amateurs" and literal children? Why is it supposed to be so funny that some people don’t draw “good?” Why is it necessary to be cruel about it? I’ve actually encountered people who defend that behavior like “harshness is what artists need to improve” and that’s a load of shit.

Friendly helpful tips and positive advice are what actually work, though nobody is actually OBLIGATED to take their work more seriously or strive to improve either. If they’re happy using their own spare time to draw the same odd things at the same skill level forever and they aren’t hurting anybody then GOOD. They’re happy. Fuck off with your mean shit.

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I AM the Chosen One

I was young when the monks came to my village and told me I had been chosen. I was a rice farmer’s daughter and knew nothing of fates and destinies, I had always believed I would grow up to tend the rice fields as my parents, grandparents and great grandparents had before me.

But the monks believed otherwise. “You’re the One” they cried, I had never been looked upon with such reverence as I was in that moment, “A girl with skin as black as night and eyes of earth and sea, she will be our saviour and bring about a new era of prosperity!”

Indeed I was a girl with skin as black as night, with an eye of brown and one of teal, this seemed as much evidence as the monks needed to insist that I be taken to their temple, to learn their ways and train for my destiny.

My parents, though they would miss me, were more than happy to oblige, I would be given a good home, with enough food to keep me well, and the monks would have herbs of healing if I were to get sick, my poor village had none of these luxuries and so my loving, caring parents sent me away, they were happy to believe that I could achieve greatness and make a change to our land.

The monks were kind and respectful, and as they had on our first meeting, would only look upon me with a shine to their eyes that I imagined a God would find in the eyes of their worshippers. Yet though they had only the utmost respect for me, they did not spoil me. My clothes, food and lodgings were as humble as any other monks, they would scold me fairly if I misbehaved and praise me when I did well, I trained among other acolytes and was not given any favouritism (though I could sense they wished dearly to).

The monks were weary of raising me spoiled, and had mastered the art of avoiding such tragedies. So it was that I came of age, a wise, strong and competent young woman who was ready to depart on my journey.

I was to travel and the fates would throw tests upon me, the great size and strength I had been gifted aided me well in battles against savage beasts. The meditation and mindful thought practices taught to me by the monks proved an asset when faced with manipulative Fae creatures who prayed on loose thoughts and rampant emotion to bend you to their will. Growing up in poor farming conditions had taught me to be humble and kind to those who had little, and to always break bread and share rations with those who so kindly gave me lodgings.

Over the years of my journey I had become battered and bruised, leaving scars to remind me of my past triumphs and losses, my will had been bent and nearly broken but in the end was all the stronger for it. I made friends and enemies and learned lessons about naivety and ignorance and all the flaws I had grown with were gradually swept away by the experience and knowledge I gained on my quest.

Until finally, with a warm heart, a full mind, and a lifted spirit, I returned to the monks, a sight different from how I left. A scar gained, an arm lost, strength doubled, will unbreakable. A warrior, a diplomat, a hero, a Legend.

I expected a humble hero’s welcome, I expected proud faces and shining eyes.

I received none of these things. “You have returned.” the single monk at the gate regarded me coldly. “We thought you may have perished.” I did not miss the disappointed tone in his voice.

He took me inside and I met with the head of the temple, he kept his composure well, but I could read from his body what his face would not betray. He was furious.

“You are not the Chosen One.” he told me.

It was the first time I had ever been told such a thing. I would have thought this a test some years ago, before I learned how to read through lies, and sense deceit. There was no deceit here.

“We spoke with your parents after you left for your journey, we spoke to them many times, they asked about you and we kept them informed of your progress when your letters came. When you wrote of a male colleague you were journeying with we were concerned about… accidents… occurring. It is difficult to quest when you are with child after all.”

He had poured himself tea, he did not offer me a cup. I would not have been able to swallow even a mouthful anyway, I knew where this was conversation was going… and I was terrified.

“Your parents told us something interesting. You are not capable of carrying a child, they said. We had always assumed your physical development was simply the way you were built, broad shouldered and small waisted, we believed it was the fates giving you the body of a warrior.”

He sipped his tea, taking longer than was necessary. He was watching me, watching me sweat and shake.

“You have the body of a MAN.” his composure finally slipped, he slammed the cup back down on the table, an acolyte outside the door jumped at the sound but did not come in to investigate. “The prophecy told of a GIRL, a GIRL with skin as black as night. A GIRL with eyes of earth and sea. SHE will be our saviour and bring about a new era of prosperity!” I had heard these words many times over, but never had they felt so sharp, so raw, so painful.

“You have lied to us from the very beginning! You are no Chosen One, we wasted all these years, all this effort, all our hopes and dreams all for just some common rice farmer’s SON.”

He waited for my denial, he waited for my excuses, my apologies, my grovelling for forgiveness. I did not give him any of these things. I gave him the truth.

“I have the body of a man,” I said to him, “But I am a woman, from birth I have been a woman, as soon as I could speak I asked that my parents call me by a woman’s name. I wore women’s clothes and grew women’s hair, all my life I have spent being a woman to all those who have met me, all those who know me know me as a woman. You taught me yourself that your mind and your spirit can hold truths that the body could never know, and my spirit knows that I am more than my body, my spirit knows that I AM A WOMAN.”

It was my turn to lose my composure. My voice blew open the chamber door, it thundered through the temple halls and onto the grounds. It brought with it wind and energy and POWER. Magick that I had learned and woven into my voice, imbued into my very being. My words were power, and that power rattled the hearts and minds of all those who believed me to be what I was not.

A man.

The head monk sat speechless, eyes wide. I waited, time passed.

He pointed to the door. The look in his eyes made it clear that I was no longer welcome here.

I left, I did not bow in respect as was custom, he had lost his right to my respect. I had given up my family for his prophecy, I had given up my home, my hand. But it was not enough, because after everything I had gone through, the journeys I had taken, the quests I had completed, the tests I had passed, none of it was enough for the monks.

Because the Gods gave me a body that was not meant for me.

I would love to say I was above it all. I was above feeling hurt by the monks’ rejection, I was above feeling furious and betrayed and lost and… and… I didn’t even know what else I felt, but I did know that out of all the heartbreak and loss I had ever experienced in my travels, this day left them all behind. The monks had been my family and they had deserted me. The destiny I had been promised had been taken away in a fleeting moment.

Perhaps they were right, perhaps I was no Chosen One. I was just a rice farmer’s daughter. If the monks had rejected me for my false body, why not destiny? Why not fate? Perhaps there truly was another girl with skin as black as night and eyes of earth and sea, one with a body that truly matched her mind, perhaps all this time I had been playing someone else’s role…

I did not know what to do with myself after this revelation. I had no path without the monks’ guidance. So I went home.

My parents were more than happy to see me again. We hugged and kissed and they served me a bland dinner of rice and fish and it tasted like home and love and acceptance. My mother told me I had grown to be a beautiful strong woman, my father told me I had made our village proud. They had heard stories of me, would you believe it? Stories of my exploits had spread so far and wide they had made it back to my little village, to my home.

Despite everything I slept well that night.

The monks continued looking for their Chosen One, but could find nothing. Some years passed, I tended the fields with my mother and father, I helped the village in ways no one else could, blowing away storm clouds with my magick, setting complex rodent traps that only I knew how to build. I could carry more supplies than any. I helped everyone. I was loved. It was nice. It was calm.

It was wrong.

Everything within me yearned for bigger things, my spirit wished to soar, my body ached to battle, my mind was desperate to be challenged. There were people I wanted to see, places I wanted to visit, problems in the world that had yet to be solved. My home village, as peaceful and quaint as it was, could not be my home any longer.

I rubbed a hand over the stump of my right arm, I gently touched the scar marring my perfect black skin, the scar running over the eye that was the colour of tilled earth. I had lost so much, things I could not get back, my sacrifices had been wasted here in the rice fields. I had a destiny to fulfil, and if the monks weren’t going to tell me where to find it, I was going to track it down myself.

I travelled the roads on which I began my journey, back then a tall, wiry sprig of a girl with a heart full of adventure, I travelled this road now with shoulders that could carry the world, a heart hardened by pain and softened again by love. It was ready to begin this journey anew. My quest now was not to better myself, not to prove to anyone that I was worthy, that I had to be given my path, that I was reliant upon any prophecy.

My quest now was to make my mark upon this world. To help it and to change it, I would aid those in desperate need, tear down the walls of the ones who hoarded their treasures, I would start rebellions and topple corrupt systems.

Because regardless of the body the Gods gave to me, I AM the girl with skin as black as night and eyes of earth and sea, and I will be your saviour and bring about a new era of prosperity.

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…hi hi, so I wrote this thing because the idea of fairytale scenarios involving people of different genders and sexualities is so interesting to me, so I gave writing it a shot. I am not trans so I don’t have the insider info on what it’s like but I tried very hard to be respectful. If there is anything offensive, disrespectful or just wonky about my portrayal I am very sorry and please let me know what I can do to fix it.

Made respect for all y'all non-binary folk out there, I very much hope I did you justice ~

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Have these Shiba dogs that believe in you like I do!

Motivational shibas for your blog ☆

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I love Guillermo del Toro.

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HOLY SHIT you're alive

It is true, I am alive.

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v1als:

severus-snape-is-a-butt-trumpet:

what do we do tho? like, honestly? what happens if he’s elected? what do we honest to god do?

Coming from the UK after our own catastrophe: you make his life hell. You make his government’s life hell. Anything and everything shitty that they want to do, you protest, you campaign, you petition, you lobby. You tie the whole thing up in so much red tape that Mr I’ve-Never-Had-Anyone-Say-No-To-Me starts loathing his job.

You create private safe zones, you look out for one another, you let your now validated racist, homophobic, transphobic neighbours know that their bigotry will not be tolerated through any means you feel it’s safe to do so. You join forces. Despite everything, you thrive out of spite, out of survival, out of a need to protect your own.

All of these communities have faced untold amounts of hell before and we’re all still here. It’s in our history to survive – in our genetic makeup. There will be losses and there will be casualties but in four years you’ll still be here and you’ll vote him out and the time to grieve will be then. For now, fight. In any way you can, even if all you can do is get through each day at a time. Fight him every step of the way.