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#okay to rb and add on

solsticeamaris · 2 years

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everyone supports people with ptsd until it's "inconvenient," they have severe mental breakdowns in public, it causes them to sleep a lot, they're not a military veteran, they're under 18, they cope through drugs, self-harm, and/or disordered eating, they struggle with disassociative amnesia, they pass on socializing at larger events, they seek compassion and attention, they dislike law enforcement, they assume the worst of everyone they meet, and when their trauma perpetrator is upper-class/walking free/in the family.. the list goes on and motherfucking on, it never ends

#ptsd recovery #ptsd tw #actually cptsd #tw cptsd #ptsd #complex ptsd #tw trauma #childhood trauma #cw vent #personal vent #okay to rb and add on #do not derail #ed ment tw #tw sh #drugs tw #drug abuse tw #disassociation

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inprotocreed · 10 months

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it just clicked that Shay's Versailles outfit has a red sash under his belt because traditionally that's what assassins wear. he's trying to be stealthy, he certainly gets that kill VERY stealthily, and he doesn't look out of place because he gets read as an assassin

rogue indeed

#disjointed thoughts are disjointed #okay to rb and add on #inprotocreed #ac #shay #shay cormac #assassin's creed #ac rogue #acr

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ispyspookymansion · 20 days

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lesbians can answer the poll here!

#gimme a sec to add the link!!!!!#kora.txt #okay now feel free to rb

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goatedgreen · 2 months

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i wasnt going to make a post beyond a simple support of shelby, and how brave she is for coming forward with her experiences, because many people have already said what needs to be said.

however i think i need to say a little as someone who has been a supporter of wilbur soot since his soothouse days. i've already articulated most of my thoughts in discord, so ill just post those for the rundown, but i want it to be known that despite my many years of idolising him, there is nothing left of that admiration now. i do not support him, and i will be unfollowing people who do, i think.

i think these messages sum up my thoughts pretty well, so i'll leave it at that. i just didnt want there to be any doubt i guess, as i'm known to a few people as a big fan of his. well, rest assured thats no longer the case.

#shubble situation #tw abuse #<- i dont know what we're tagging this whole thing as #calling it the shubble situation feels undermining but not sure what else to tag it as #tell me if anything else needs tagging #this is okay to rb as well btw if you want to add anything

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17isrighthere · 4 months

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tumblr has a lot of talk about respecting gifmakers and cc's and i completely agree but you guys have got to stop putting gifmakers on a pedestal especially when they can't take criticism about creating content for shows with racist and zionist cast and creators

like i promise you all that no amount of notes or validation for being the first to gif the latest episode of whatever show is hot on tumblr is worth the promotion of media that can harm others

#this is okay to rb or add onto btw #im thinking of someone in particular <3 liz i hope u see this bc i know we're on the same wavelength #and especially when they've been informed of it too!

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slayter-kinney · 2 months

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i've been trying to formulate how i feel about wad and this era of phandom since i finally got the chance to watch wad all the way through with my girlfriend last night and after sobbing violently following the smash mouth credits i think i have some semblance of a train of thought. long ramble incoming after the read more hehe

for context, i've been watching dnp for about 10 years, which for some of you is an extremely long time and for others is piddly. regardless, a decade of my life has been spent in varying amounts watching dan and phil and interacting with the phandom. and part of what i was trying to express to my gf after watching the show was that it really is a sense of pride to see the sad clown poster child for being, well, sad, to open up about his mental health struggles, to coming out, to making we're all doomed. i think this is a very similar reaction to the pride a lot of us feel for dan.

for me too, though, it's been the phandom (hi guys lol). I was really active in the phandom from like 2014ish-2017 (at which point i still watched videos as they were posted but i also just wasn't on tumblr as much and i had ~college~ to focus on), but that time was very formative teenage years for me during which i was going through similar mental health struggles, struggling with sexuality, regular ol' teenage demons, etc. and this sort of phandom revival has been making me feel this ridiculous nostalgia for those teenage years (even tho i was fighting for my life the whole time lol). i can sooo distinctly remember where i was when certain videos were uploaded, the feeling of being curled up in my bed at midnight in the summer with my iphone 5c catching up on the previous years' videos, making subpar edits on my phannie instagram while i was on a plane for my family's summer vacation.

having both the boys and the phandom (more) active again gives me that nostalgic feeling but with the feeling that everything feels So Much Better Now. i get the same excitement and rush watching new videos, sharing around edits and gifs, being insane with you all, but with the knowledge that i am older and i am better now. in a lot of personal ways i'm literally living the life i so desperately wanted when i was a teen and now i get to live it but with the same things that brought me joy when i was a sad 15 year old. despite the nostalgia, i dont think i would choose to go back to that time, but getting to look back on it now, and watch videos where dan and phil are unapologetically gay and happy and soulmate-y, see dan living his theatre kid dreams and is so so proud of his work, and to have this community of you all where we're all old(er) and queer and so proud of our dads (sorry). it's indescribable despite my best efforts to describe it. and yes i know i don't actually talk to a lot of you that's cause im awkward and bad at replying but if you've made it this far this is your open invite to start a convo with me in dms/ask box. anyways. i love you all. i love our boys. im grateful to be here with all of you.

#okay to rb / add your own thoughts if you’d like!#dan and phil #phandom #dnp #daniel howell #we’re all doomed #phil lester #amazingphil #mine #phan

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clever-and-unique-name · 1 month

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I don't use Facebook for anything except keeping in contact with our ferret breeder, who I've been talking to again to get (hopefully) another couple kits this summer. I also don't keep in contact with anyone I went to high school with--people who make up the majority of my FB friendlist.

So, in opening FB for the first time in years, I was extremely amused to find that a solid 1/4 of the people I liked enough to friend them on FB have come out as some flavor of trans. Some I suspected, some were a complete surprise. But they all look so happy now, and I'm so happy for them. <3

#just feeling queer love feelings I guess #even though I don't keep in touch with anybody it still makes me happy that they've gone through a Gender Journey and made it out okay #hopefully happier than they were before #I hope they're all doing well #also yes I was part of several emo/scene/goth friend circles in the late 2000s so this is not Really a surprise #so many of us were clearly just baby queerlings in different closets #personal #ok to rb and add on but don't clown I'm very tired

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chaotic-stressy-depressy · 2 years

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thinking about dragging my pretty knife up their thigh, up their belly, up their chest, up their throat and finally using it to push their chin up and make them look at me

#I'm literally studying for my exam tomorrow #and I accidentally looked at my knives collection #they're really pretty #most of them are dull #so it's safe #lgbtq #queer #nblm #nblnb #nblw #nsft.#queer nsft #lgbtq nsft #mine.#knifeplay #tw knife #okay to rb #but don't add anything about blood play #minors dni

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newcronomicon · 29 days

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genuinely fuck every non psychotic who's using today to have a grand ol time sending their psychosis effected mutuals into episodes

fuck the non psychotics who refuse to explain what things are real or not to their psychotic friends who are genuinely mentally hurt by today

fuck this stupid fucking holiday and fuck every non psychotic who uses it to be ableist as fuck

#021 #okay 2 rb but if you act stupid ill nuke the post #NON PSYCHOTICS DONT ADD SHIT ON I DONT WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING YOU PEOPLE SAY ON THIS #YOU ALL SPEAK OVER PSYCHOTICS ENOUGH.

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hauntedpearl · 2 years

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but, dear, cling close to me

2k, Gen, Fluff

The first time they have a fight, it is over something silly. Dean storms out on him, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty house. Castiel stares after him, his heart in his throat, and doesn't ask him to stop. To stay. He doesn't think Dean will come back, either.

It startles him, then, when he hears the roar of the Impala just as the sun sets the horizon on fire. The creak of the driver's door opening, the slam of it falling shut. Footsteps coming up the porch stairs. He hastens into the living room just in time to see Dean lock the door behind him. Castiel watches him, panting, as he toes his boots off, drops his keys in the yellow bowl with the crooked rim that Cas made them.

His face is hard, still. Jaw set, eyes flinty. He doesn't meet Castiel's gaze, makes for the kitchen on steady feet, shoulders curving away as he passes him.

But he's here. He's here.

"You came back," Cas says. His voice is filled with surprise.

Dean turns to him, then. Almost rears back. His eyes dim and his jaw slackens. He looks — hurt.

"And where else would I go, huh?"

Dean's arms lift in a mockery of a shrug. He would sound caustic, if not for the faint tremble in his voice that Castiel notes. He doesn't know what to do with it.

The Bunker, he wants to reply. Home. But that wouldn't be true. The Bunker isn't home for either of them. Hasn't been for a while, now. It is just windowless walls of metal and concrete, underground. It is what it was once meant to be and nothing more.

Shelter, not home.

No, for better or for worse, this is home now. This kitchen with the cracked windowpane that needs fixing, still. The living room, cluttered, with its faded couch and thrifted pillows, Cas' pottery and Dean's books. The garden out back, whose soil is staining Cas' fingertips.

"I don't know," Cas says, and he knows it's the wrong thing to say just as he does. He wants to take it back, but he can't.

He doesn't know how to talk to Dean. Not anymore.

Maybe he never did.

Dean heaves a breath, eyes trained on Castiel, and Cas thinks he feels so impossibly far away.

There is too much crowding the air between them. Too many things unsaid, too many wants unsatisfied. Too many prayers unanswered. Castiel wants to reach Dean through all this, split the fog with his hands. But he doesn't know how.

There is something unnamed brightening Dean's eyes as they flit over Cas' face, the breadth of his chest. His damp, bare feet.

Then, he huffs. Turns away. Says nothing.

The silence echoes. The world darkens. The sky turns the shade of a bruise.

Castiel heads upstairs to wash the scent of the earth off his fingertips.

That night, Cas lies in bed on his side, back to the door. He listens for a croak. A chirp. A buzz. Something.

But the night is too cold. Too quiet.

He counts his breaths as they pass his lips, watches the seconds hand of the old-fashioned clock on his bedside table as it moves.

He isn't as startled as he thought he would be when the door to his room opens. When Dean pads in, and the mattress dips as he settles at the foot of the bed. He can almost feel the scratch of Dean's fingernails on the sheets.

Dean says nothing, just sits there. Watches him sleep. Breathes in this space that he doesn't often breach. Castiel keeps his eyes closed and breathes with him.

It is easier, with Dean here.

His thoughts are syrupy with sleep, and not for the first time, he wonders if he should leave. Go back to the bunker until he finds a place he can carve for himself in this world. (It would be easier, this time, in some ways. Harder in others.) He wonders if Dean keeps him here, chains himself to Castiel, out of a misplaced sense of obligation. Of pity.

Castiel doesn't want Dean's pity.

He just wants Dean.

Even if it is as he is now — angry and cold and quiet.

But he doesn't know what Dean wants. Dean doesn't tell him. And selfishly, Castiel waits, not willing to push him farther away.

Castiel waits, the weight of hope heavy in his chest.

He wakes to the soft caress of sunlight.

He blinks his eyes open. The sky in his window is lightening, the purples and pinks dissolving into nothing.

It is early — for him, at any rate — but there is a smile fighting his yawn, curving his lips upwards. He pushes himself up on an elbow, rolls his neck.

Finds that he is surprisingly well-rested.

He turns over and sees the top of Dean's head peaking over his mattress, the tips of his hair turning rose-gold in the sunlight.

Cas leans towards him and sees that he's slumped on the floor, leaning against the bed. The morning light falls over his face in strips, paints half of it golden. His freckles stand out in the light, a galaxy of them scattered across his skin. His eyelashes feather over the curve of his cheek.

He is beautiful here, asleep and uncaring. So very beautiful.

And Castiel loves him. He loves him so much that he aches with it.

He swallows, throat dry. Ignores the rapid thudding of his heart. Stretches his fingers towards Dean, watching as they hover over the lines carved into his temples, the corners of his eyes.

He is so tempted to touch them, to learn their shape.

Instead, he sets his palm on the ball on Dean's shoulder. His curled pinkie sits under the edge of the collar of his t-shirt.

"Dean?" he says, softening his sandpaper voice. Shakes him a little.

Dean flinches, then groans at the twinge in his back, and Castiel winces in sympathy.

The bones in their bodies are tired. Cas has learned that much, if nothing else.

Dean blinks himself awake, rubs the grit out of his eyes with his fingers. Smacks his lips together. And all the while, Castiel leaves his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean says, even now. Even when he's angry, and there are bags under his eyes, and tension in the skin of his temples. Even when he fidgets where he sits on the floor, not looking at Cas.

"Good morning, Dean," is his reply, like always. He squeezes Dean's shoulder before letting go. Sits up. Curls his fists in his lap. He feels soft, in the morning, like this. Soft, and small, and so very sad.

What are you doing here? he wants to ask. Why did you sleep on my floor?

Instead, he watches, quiet, as Dean stretches and groans. Then lifts himself onto the bed. Settles into the same dip in the mattress as the night before.

They sit across from each other, not quite looking at each other, and Cas feels his skin crawl. His eyes are starting to sting. He tilts his face up to the ceiling and blinks to keep them dry.

"Fuck," Dean swears, and Cas closes his eyes. "Fuck, this is stupid. I'm so fucking stupid."

Castiel's only warning is the rustle of the sheets before Dean's body slams into his, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a vice like grip. It is only instinct that keeps them upright, Cas' broad frame managing to brace them somehow. His arms wind themselves around Dean's waist.

"I'm sorry," Dean says into his shoulder, tightening his grip. Their hearts race against one another under their thin, cotton shirts. "I'm sorry I was being an ass. I'm sorry I left. And—"

Here, he gulps, and the air around them tenses like it's waiting for more. But then, Dean just sighs. Buries his face in Castiel's shoulder.

"Just — Okay. Yeah. I— Yeah."

He's nodding against Cas' shoulder. And somehow, that — that's enough. That Dean is holding him. That he says Okay like he's bracing himself and like he's said what he wants to, all at once.

Cas holds him back. Thinks he's starting to see past the fog, in the clear light of this morning. Thinks he's beginning to understand.

It settles something in his chest, this revelation. Loosens the pressure around it.

"I hate fighting with you," he mumbles as he closes his eyes and presses his face into the crook of Dean's neck. Breathes.

He is allowed this, for now.

"Me, too, Cas," Dean says, a palm coming up to cradle the back of Cas' head. "Me, too."

They eat their breakfast on the deck out back, sitting on the stairs next to each other, their knees knocking together, plates in their laps — French toast and scrambled eggs, Cas' share of it drenched in honey.

The morning feels quieter. Calmer. Nicer.

Or, maybe, it's just Castiel. He doesn't know. Doesn't think he particularly cares, either.

He is beginning to learn their language, his and Dean's, dissonances and all. And it's setting the hope in his chest alight. He is almost buoyant with it.

Then, Dean sets his half-finished breakfast aside. Dangles his elbows from his knees, presses the palms of his hands together, bows his head. Supplicant, almost. Like he's praying.

Cas watches him, his pulse jack-rabbitting. Sets his own plate aside and turns, when he notes the slight tension in Dean's shoulders. He wants to quell the rising tide in his chest but he can't. He can't.

"What is it?" he makes himself ask when Dean is silent for too long. He's surprised his voice is as steady as it is.

"I...," Dean swallows. He tilts his gaze up to Cas'. His eyes are summer-green and gold and Castiel can't look away.

"I won't leave you. Ever. I'm always going to come back, Cas," he says, and it is a promise. It is a promise and it sets the fire in Cas' chest roaring. "Even if I'm pissed off as hell, even if I say stupid shit that pisses you off enough to kick me out....I—I'll still come back here. As long as you'll let me, I'll stay. I'm not going anywhere."

Castiel swallows. Searches Dean's face for something. Something, something.

Something.

When he asks, "Why?" his voice buzzes, thick and sweet.

Dean looks at him with an exasperated fondness that is familiar. He shakes his head, gaze lifting to the sky a moment before it lands back on Cas. Almost as if to say, Why do you think?

But, Castiel waits him out. He wants Dean to tell him. He wants to know, wants to be sure.

The smile slips off Dean's face, but it is replaced by an expression that is softer. More tentative. Almost shy.

Castiel feels a little like he's flying, a little like he's falling.

"Because," Dean gulps, licks his lips. "Because this? Us," — a palm moving in between their bodies, folding the whole world into the space there—, "This is it. This is home."

Oh, Cas thinks. Oh, Oh, Oh.

Then — "Alright," a gasp, a blink. Fireworks in his chest, his throat. "You can stay."

"Yeah?" Dean says, and he's grinning, eyes bright and joyful, and Castiel wants to say, Idiot. Goddamn Idiot! "Good."

Emboldened, Castiel leans forward. Rests his forehead against Dean's collarbone. Dean stills, for a moment, but then he lets him. He lets him.

When Cas slides his palm into Dean's and slots their fingers together, Dean holds fast, curling his hand into Cas' touch.

Castiel brings his free hand up to Dean's neck, holds him close. Breathes him in.

"I love you," he says, because he can't hold it in. Because his chest feels so full. Because he wants to say it again. To let Dean know. "I always will."

Dean sighs, then. Shifts so he can hold Cas better. Closer.

There's a dry press of lips to the warm skin of Castiel's temple.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean says, and there, in those words, in the softness of them where they touch Cas' skin, is everything. "I know."

#destiel fic #fanfic #deancas ficlet #doe's writing #spn fic #okay see if this is stupid don't at me #i spent like too much time on this but atleast it was fun?#i'm sorry i write the same thing in fifty different ways i just think it's neat when they do love confessions for the first time #uhhhh oh yeah lmk if you want me to add you to the tag list. like in the rb/notes #OKAY BYE

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thedegu · 6 months

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I cannot stress how highly I recommend going to your local farmers market especially becoming a regular.

I got a whole-ass loaf of really nice rye bread for free from my favorite baker as "an emergency loaf" because he wasn't there last week and he felt bad I didn't get my bread then (note: there are other bakeries at the market which I got bread from and told him as much)

The guy I get lunch from, a Turkish restaurant with a tent at the market, sells to me at-cost anymore. Because I buy from him every week.

The laudy I buy mushrooms from regularly holds the best of her harvest for me. Sometimes i ask for a half size of mushrooms she'll give me the full size for the half-size price.

Like I've been going to the market every week for the past two years, seeing the same vendors every time and buying from them every week. So its not out of nowhere, but like, if you show up, are kind, and don't expect anything, people will notice.

Also, many markets have a two-for-one deal for people who are on food assistance. At my market for every dollar I exchange for tokens I get two dollars worth of tokens when using my ebt card.

It's still a touch more expensive than going to the grocery store for a few things, but essentially everything is half price for me, most things are at or less then grocery store price, especially for the quality offered.

#farmers market #good vibes #positivity #okay to rb but dont clown or add negitive things please

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djsangos · 5 months

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not to post 2 pics 2 days in a row or anything (does it anyway)

but i accidentally burned dinner like the fucking scatterbrain i am flopped to the floor in pure rage and frustration heard giggling only to open my eyes and find my GIRLFRIEND that TRAITOR standing over me with their phone out laughing at me like how DARE you make fun of me in my lowest moment i was trying to COOK FOR US

so we ended up just ordering doordive instead cant have shit in inkopolis

#ic img #ic text #muse selfie #mun art #//done with pen and colored pencil then took to krita to brighten up the colors a bit and add a halftone filter bc I LIKE IT OKAY #//and yes i know those dogs are fucking terrible but look this isn't about how fucking bad i am at drawing feet it's about angy squit #//ok to rb for lik other rp blogs but NON RP BLOGS PLS DO NOT THANKS #//damn captain your kithcen tiles are uneven as fuck might wanna call a mason about that #//also who is the girlfriend u ask? man idk it's only the like most popular ship in this fandomf jflkjlkfj #//BUT MOST POPULAR DOES NOT MEAN OVERRATED #//'GETTING YOUR SHIT ROCKED BY YOUR FUTURE PARTNER' IS THIS SITE'S FUCKING MO #//anyway #//yes those feet belong to 8 fjklfjkl

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17isrighthere · 4 months

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saw a tiktok from a zionist living in tel aviv posting a video of her with her roommate in a clean, modernist apartment talking about how it was the '100th day of the war' but at least she could dance with her roommate in her apartment (and comments underneath her post agreeing with her about how the palestinians had brought this upon themselves) and then you see videos of palestinians on the 100th day of the genocide where doctors tried to disinfect the open forehead skin of a little girl, directly onto her skull, but she ended up dying in agony on the floor of the icu hours later anyway. anyway that really puts things into perspective

#free palestine #so so tragic #okay to rb/add onto btw

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