#unrationalised
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Casada colocou mascara e fez boquete no marido
Louise prend une grosse queue de black dans le cul
Con mi suegra putona
Cumming in panties
Perras mastubandose pussy lick
Elfie summers knight sex stepsister kazumi
Conquering Sex Addiction By Chanell Heart
Asian Massage Sex
Sweet Asian Angel Ava Lee Give Sexy POV Blowjob
Masseur guy gets his ass fucked by TS customers
#leching#quotes#Mazatlan#bargelli#digestively#exquisitism#grisounite#literates#mindcontrol#graphics#tuberose#Ruel#manna#unrationalised#risorius#septenniality#pointsmen#limberest#projetoverboador#imposition
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I might be being stupid but can you block/report anons? Like I’ve had mean messages hating on Harry or my opinion in a plain unrationalised way before too and would love to just get rid of these people if I can
You absolutely can! You have the option of blocking anons every time before you answer the question. I’m using the app, so if you’re using it, you just need to click on the three dots on the right side and it will have the blocking option! But it also works if you don’t have the app, I’ve done it before! I think you can report as well, on the three dots there’s also that option! 💛
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farscape is a childhood fave of sci fi television simply bc it manages to have a don quixote episode IN SPACE (starring: funky costuming; the consuming power of grief; rationalisation of the unrationalisable) but also at the same time having at its core the theme of 'sometimes you cant go back home. the journey has changed you. and its okay'
#.text#also the premise involves getting fucked over by an imperialistic force bc you accidentally committ vehicular manslaughter in space
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Cold hearts causing accidents
Dean is so tired of it all. Of fighting, of running, of the sheer senselessness of it all. But he can't let it show. There are too many looking up to him for guidance, for direction. And it's the weight of those gazes that make him harden his heart, rationalise the unrationalisable, like the plan to kill Lucifer and Sam with him.
Sam.
'He's dead,' Dean tells himself. 'Long gone.' He said so out loud when Castiel questioned his path, when he looked at him with tears glistening in his now human eyes.
No, Dean doesn't like himself most days, but no one is asking him anymore how he feels. This is the apocalypse. Who cares about feelings and being reasonable? This is war, and all they have is a beating heart, as long as it lasts.
Dean fucks the anxiety away with other people but also plucks every genuine smile he can elicit from Castiel's lips. They are rare nowadays, few and far between stoned grins and gentle, sober eyes that Dean doesn't think he deserves.
Dean remembers Castiel's hand joined with his lying in the middle of Baby's front seat, and the short time of being openly in love they were allowed to live, before everything fell apart.
Dean regrets his selfishness in not sending Castiel away right then and there, hates that his angel needs to numb himself, does what Dean taught him so well. Sometimes, Dean wonders if Castiel feels just as little as Dean when he spends a night with a woman who doesn't touch his heart.
Dean knows he's a bastard for even thinking it, and still, he hopes Castiel does. Hopes that no one could ever compare to him, to his hands caressing Castiel's skin, of them kissing slowly in motel beds, of them fucking and making love how it suited them.
But that Dean doesn't exist anymore. His hands are bloody now, no matter how much he scrubs them. His expression is hard, no cocky grin thrown into danger's face, no compassion, no love.
Everyone in Dean's life is collateral damage in the making. He knows that. But what else is he supposed to do? He can't allow himself to feel anymore or he wouldn't be able to get up in the morning, to kill infected camp members, to be in the same room with the man he loves and who he hurts every single day.
Dean will get him killed, sooner or later, but what is new? His love was always poisonous. He tried to push Castiel away when it became clear that Sam had given in. Dean knew where this would lead. But Castiel was too stubborn to leave his side. He's his jester now, the only one daring to hold a mirror up to him, and still so loyal that he'd follow him to hell on Earth, to certain death.
One day, Dean knows, he'll sacrifice the man who holds his heart, for the bigger cause, a lost one he fears. But at least, it'll be him to decide when to let him go. Because no matter how cold Dean's heart has grown, Castiel can still make it melt a little, can make him feel human again, for longer than the few seconds an orgasm in some woman's tent lasts.
It's dangerous, of course. But Castiel is like a freshly closed wound Dean simply has to scratch.
Dean has tried to cut him out of his mind, sent him on patrols with others, ignored the events in Castiel's cabin, the nicest of Camp Chitaqua. But when Dean leans against the outside, listening to chants and moans, no one will ever see him in the darkness. He disappears in it, his heart and soul the same colour as the night.
Dean wishes he could walk in, throw the women out and curl up in Castiel's arms, listen to his voice murmuring that everything will be okay. He would lap up the lies from Castiel's lips, would taste and savour them like fine whisky.
But all Dean has is vivid memories of times that were slightly better, when he still had hope that he might have to fight until the bitter end, but that he would be able to love just as long.
But his heart is cold now, hardened, made of steel, and he trains himself in apathy. He can't go back to being the man who sobbed in Castiel's arms when he learnt about Sam's decision. He cannot ever be so vulnerable again, can't let his emotions take the lead. Emotions are what get others killed, more at least than rational thought.
Dean is in a deadlock, has manoeuvred himself into a corner. And so, he keeps the drugs coming to let Castiel at least suffer less. Dean's not sure if it's working or if it makes it worse. He just knows that he can't stop it, can't let go either.
So, he snuggles up against a body that feels wrong in his arms and wills his brain not to send him images of messy hair and toothy grins at night when he can't escape them.
He fears them coming just as much as he dreads the day when they might stop, when he'll lose the last human connection his heart still indulges in for a few seconds every day, the last remnant of the man Dean used to be.
The man Castiel fell in love with, that the former angel still loves as if that Dean still existed in some dimension only Castiel can see. That man still had hope. But Dean lost it along the way, couldn't let Castiel nurture it. That's why he had to push him away, had to become a stone-cold leader.
Dean feels like drowning but he keeps on swimming against the current, keeps on fighting emotions that make him weak.
One day, he'll get there, will tear the last of his humanity out, and when he sends Castiel to his death, he'll feel nothing. It won't make any difference if Lucifer wins or not. Dean will be long dead inside then, anyway.
Capsized, at the hairpin
Cold hearts causing
Accidents
Accidents
Cold hearts causing accidents
#endverse#endverse dean#this is sad#inspired by music#Destiel#Deancas#Destiel fandom#Deancas fandom#Destiel fic#Deancas fic#Destiel fanfic#Deancas fanfic#Destiel fanfiction#Deancas fanfiction#Destiel oneshot#Deancas oneshot
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more new who thots
ok so Big Plot Line aside i really liked that juxtaposition they did with law and religion/belief with Rhino Police in the Cathedral.. could also be read as reason vs emotion if you’re feeling a touch spicier. like. there was a LOT to unpack there. the Character Reveal almost makes me want to crack out my hamlet thinkings of appearance (cathedral and her believed identity) vs reality (space police and bio-cloaking) and that’s just a surface level thought rn, im not standing on that hill im just spitballing here . like especially once i take into account the Space Police are basically a rather bureaucratic militia and not a True Proper tool for representing the law or any of the above
like . there’s a Lot i want to sit down and Un Fucking Pack there. like. a lot. a lot a lot. moving on to the other thing i need to sound off about after i declared my unrationalised love for this ep and i live in fear of being cancelled for being uncritical of my media intake when all i spend my life doing is analysing media i like until its ash and dust on the cold hard ground . yes.
i have no idea how to phrase this particularly tactfully so my apologies in advance. but given i have no first hand or particularly significant second hand (to my knowledge) with multiplicity / multiple identities (dissociated identities?) .. i do not really know how .. respectful this episode was in terms of that? like i’d say it was better than switch or similar garbage. I say respectful because whilst the episode reads quite clearly to me to have stemmed from that idea (past who canon completely aside right now).. i would not call that representation? i’d say its ‘stemmed from’ or ‘derived from’. and anyone is MORE than welcome to disagree with me, that’s absolutely fine. but when it comes to using things like that .. uh end of sentence. and i’m not calling it a ‘gimmick’ which if you’re critical of this, you’re welcome to call it such, but given how much weight the hidden identity thing had, i’d call it?? a trope? a plot point? idk.
to expand a little on my thoughts of ‘representation’.. my ideas about what we would call representation as short hand, or reproduction of marginalised and diverse identity in mainstream media for long hand, were forged in the fire of destiel and clexa and 2015. (i’m not going into the use and effect of representation rn bc that’s .. so much) i’m very aware my ideas on representation are both needlessly complex and simultaneously identical to common thought and quite radical. i have no jurisdiction to talk about anything in any official capacity, however this won’t shut me up.
sci-fi, horror and fantasy is where i spend a lot of my time thinking and even now i Really Really hesitate writing things down bc a) my opinion could change the second i press post and b) i may be seriously misinformed or ignorant of something and people have, can or will assume im acting in complete bad faith and mean harm when im actually just ignorant and my media intake is or has been interpreted differently for a million different reasons.
i just typed out a massive paragraph that even I didn’t understand so im nixing that one. i have no idea how to articulate my thoughts on representation as defined above , and that means i don’t understand them. which is fair. and then the layer of ‘i have to remember im posting this on tumblr so i have to be incredibly mindful of how i say what i say’ and i can’t do the first, let alone the second hurdle to articulating any of those thoughts.
the point of that above.. i don’t know how respectful it was to the condition the chameleon arch idea is derived from. im not qualified to give a proper judgement on it to be honest, i can have my own opinion but i can’t give it a passing or failing grade. i have genuinely no idea how critical i should be and under what lens i should look at it. my current opinion is i didn’t think it a tire fire of an idea, was at least in line with canon, and i enjoyed the ‘reveal’. whether or not the ‘reveal’ should have been framed like that, or happened at all, is up there with the previous sentences.
also either john barrowman forgot how to act, or someone forgot how to write, but either way that dialogue was about as bad as my current fic feels to me LMAO. (funny way of saying it was flat as uncorrugated cardboard and yes im being deliberately provocative with my choice of phrasing fdhfgbjfd)
#dr who wank for ts#doctor who spoilers#doctor who 13#LONG POST LONG POST#long post that says fuck all but 'i don't know how im supposed to think about this'#hfdihgjb
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2019
landing places - do you ever wonder about those. in the midst of the tumult and ups and downs of life, you somehow come to a place where you Land. The struggles stop and you discover who you are.
waking up early today i was wondering what my fears were due to, past and present, especially for 2019. some of them unfounded, and unrationalised because I didn’t take time to counter them with God’s Word. Stillness is important, to process my emotions and counter them with the word of God. Even so with my anxiety of what 2019 will hold, because it all seems wide open and I sense a new season, I choose to believe that God is good and He is good to me. That goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.
Thoughts for 2019 are:-
- Take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.
- Be still
- Work hard.
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I have a hypothesis that the Yoruba’s may have trouble been easily pacified for the reason of a form of “I’m sorry” being unavailable in the social vocabulary. This phrase in standalone instances bears the import of a direct attribution of blame to the aggressor; a total, unshared, unrationalised acceptance of fault.
“Ma binu” (don’t be angry) doesn’t do much to show remorse. Its effects even…
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