LilRed

Source

Video of Tama

^Nitama majestic, and below with Yontama

Yontama.

The shrine of Tama Daimyōjin (Great gracious deity Tama), next to the Kishi station where she worked.

SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN

NOOOOOOOOO

https://gofund.me/9b764ae7 ❤️💚🤍🖤

Beauty and the Beast where you end up locked in a castle with a temperamental and harsh prince. over a few months though, he starts to soften. he apologizes for how he treated you and you start to form a deep and genuine connection.

It's clear that being all alone for so long has really messed with his mind and he's clearly trying his best to treat you with kindness. He opens up and tells you about his curse. He looks like a normal human man to you, but maybe there's something you aren't seeing. He calls himself ugly and well... he isn't a handsome man but he is just average.

You stay with him until you realize... you don't want to leave, you've fallen in love. As soon as you tell him this his whole body is engulfed with soft golden light and as the light fades, he's no longer a man but a huge, monstrous beast that towers over you.

"Do I scare you?" he asks, stooping down to your level.

"No... just, surprised I guess," you admit, you see it now, he really is beautiful like this, more beautiful than he was as a human. And beyond his looks, he just seems so much more comfortable in his own skin like this, it's nice to see.

"do you still love me?" he asks. you cup his big muzzle in your hands

When kurogiri needs some “me-time”; infinite warp is a good way to keep Shigaraki “ preoccupied”. Gamer time-out per say.

[kirishima, looking straight at bakugou]

kirishima: i could REALLY use some warmth to aid my hands right now

kirishima: warmth coming from a certain someone's most HANDY-

The whole thread is fascinating, and is based on nothing more than a single photo, with most of the stuff she relies on to make the ID not even being in focus, let along in the foreground. Stuff you might never think about, like the angle between two building or the exact color of the storage unit doors. 

Because you might think to yourself, “What is the harm of sharing a photo that shows the color of my storage unit doors??” But combined with your name and the fact that you live in, say, Eastern Tennessee, that might be all someone needs to narrow it down.

You should really read the whole thing, but to quote something she says at the end:

“The things that give you away are things that are not the focus of the shot. It’s details in the background, the foreground. Shadows, changes in coloration where they’re not expected. …  I have geolocated people from pictures of cranes in the background of images, and use local construction permits to figure out where they are. I have used the shape of downspout guards and styles of siding to identify neighborhoods.”

And as she reminds us: You should always assume that bad actors are capable of doing this, too. 

I could say that I’m a 15 year old trans indigenous girl named Jess who lives in the inner suburbs of Sydney, and NOT A SINGLE word of that is remotely true, but how do you know??? How do you know whether I’m telling the truth or not??

But you might read it and think “oh she’s a minor like me; she’s Safe to talk to” or “she’s trans too she understands me on a personal level” or “I know her; her name is Jess” or “she’s indigenous, I can take her stances on indigenous topics as Truth” – but I’m not any of those things. And if I wrote all that and stated that they were true and you believed me then you would be in an inherently vulnerable position, because you would be believing I’m your age or have the same gender experiences as you or that I’m of the same heritage, and meanwhile I could be a predator who’s specifically trying to target children by making myself out to be both a minor and two different types of minority.

And yeah, people can lie all the time if they want to; there’s nothing to stop me right now from announcing that I’m actually American, or I’m actually 52, or I’m actually a natural redhead, or I’m actually [insert something that I am not]. But if its becoming commonplace to lay all your “basic” information on the table from the outset then youre gonna start taking that at face value. Youre gonna believe peoples bios. You’re gonna check someone’s carrd out and go “oh they’re a fourteen year old boy from wisconsin” and every interaction you have with them from then on is going to be through a lens of “theyre a fourteen year old boy from Wisconsin,” and they might not be.

For the love of GOD please stop sharing your personal details online. You dont need to tell people your actual name. You dont need to share selfies. Godding fuck dont announce to the whole world that you live in a certain specific area and that you’ve just been kicked out of home. There are people who will take that information and use it against you.

And if you are ever, EVER going to meet up with an online friend in real life, here are some basic tips that you really absolutely 100% should do:

Do a zoom chat with them first. No, not selfies; selfies can be taken from anywhere. I could google “teenage girl,” screenshot it, and send it to you with the claim that its my face. I could steal someone’s Facebook photos and claim they’re mine. Its a lot harder for an adult to con you into thinking theyre a teenager if you insist on doing a zoom call or similar with them first.

If you have a facetime/zoom call/Skype/whatever scheduled, and they cancel it, but still want to meet up in person at the pre-arranged time, DO NOT GO. Straight up say “no, we’ll reschedule; how about we Skype at the time we were meant to meet in person instead.” DO NOT MEET UP WITH SOMEONE IF YOU HAVENT VIDEO-CHATTED WITH THEM. DO NOT. If they dont want to Skype with you or keep agreeing to and then dropping out, then thats a fucking huge warning sign.

If they video chat with you and you’re satisfied that they are who they say they are and youre happy to go ahead with the meet, then agree to meet up in the middle of the day in a crowded place. A shopping mall, a busy cafe, etc. Somewhere with lots of people around. Do NOT go somewhere else with them. Do NOT get in their car or go somewhere with fewer people or etc. Hate to break it to you, but it is NOT outside of the realm of possibility that the person you’re meeting is bait to get you somewhere isolated where someone else can grab you. This is a thing that has happened. Easiest way to avoid it? Don’t go places alone with your online friend until you know for sure they’re not dodgy.

Also: TELL SOMEONE WHERE YOU ARE GOING AND WHO YOU ARE GOING TO MEET. It doesn’t have to be a parent. Lord knows some of you kids don’t trust your parents, and I understand that. But tell SOMEONE. A friend, a sibling, a cousin; whatever. Tell them when you’re going, where you’re going, who you’re meeting, and what the other person’s online details are. If it turns out that theyre a normal human person who is just keen to meet their online friend, then great. But if they turn out to be some kind of creepy whackjob who kidnaps you or something, then at least there is someone out there who can give the police a start point about where you were and who you were meeting.

marionravenwoodisstillhere:

inquisitorhotpants:

an-avaar-skald-and-bearsark:

prismatic-bell:

writing-prompt-s:

Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise!

Oh my god, this is beautiful.

A small child enters Valhalla. The battle they lost was “hiding from an alcoholic father.” Odin sees the flinch when he slams the cup and refrains from doing it again. He hears the child’s pain; no glorious battle this, but one of fear and wretched survival.

He invites the child to sit with him, offers the choicest mead and instructs his men to bring a sword and shield, a bow and arrow, of the very best materials and appropriate size. “Here,” he says, “you will find no man who dares to harm you. But so you will know your own strength, and be happy all your days in Valhalla, I will teach you to use these weapons.”

The sad day comes when another child enters the hall. Odin does not slam his cup; he simply beams with pride as the first child approaches the newcomer, and holds out her bow and quiver, and says “nobody here will hurt you. Everyone will be so proud you did your best, and I’ll teach you to use these, so you always know how strong you are.”

————

A young man enters the hall. He hesitates when Odin asks his story, but at long last, it ekes out: skinheads after the Pride parade. His partner got into a building and called for help. The police took a little longer than perhaps they really needed to, and two of those selfsame skinheads are in the hospital now with broken bones that need setting, but six against one is no fair match. The fear in his face is obvious: here, among men large enough to break him in two, will he face an eternity of torment for the man he left behind?

Odin rumbles with anger. Curses the low worms who brought this man to his table, and regales him with tales of Loki so to show him his own welcome. “A day will come, my friend, when you seek to be reunited, and so you shall,” Odin tells him. “To request the aid of your comrades in battle is no shameful thing.”

———-

A woman in pink sits near the head of the table. She’s very nearly skin and bones, and has no hair. This will not last; health returns in Valhalla, and joy, and light, and merrymaking. But now her soul remembers the battle of her life, and it must heal.

Odin asks.

And asks again.

And the words pour out like poisoned water, things she couldn’t tell her husband or children. The pain of chemotherapy. The agony of a mastectomy, the pain still deeper of “we found a tumor in your lymph nodes. I’m so sorry.” And at last, the tortured question: what is left of her?

Odin raises his flagon high. “What is left of you, fair warrior queen, is a spirit bright as fire; a will as strong as any forged iron; a life as great as any sea. Your battle was hard-fought, and lost in the glory only such furor can bring, and now the pain and fight are behind you.“

In the months to come, she becomes a scop of the hall–no demotion, but simple choice. She tells the stories of the great healers, Agnes and Tanya, who fought alongside her and thousands of others, who turn from no battle in the belief that one day, one day, the war may be won; the warriors Jessie and Mabel and Jeri and Monique, still battling on; the queens and soldiers and great women of yore.

The day comes when she calls a familiar name, and another small, scarred woman, eyes sunken and dark, limbs frail, curly black hair shaved close to her head, looks up and sees her across the hall. Odin descends from his throne, a tall and foaming goblet in his hands, and stuns the hall entire into silence as he kneels before the newcomer and holds up the goblet between her small dark hands and bids her to drink.

“All-Father!” the feasting multitudes cry. “What brings great Odin, Spear-Shaker, Ancient One, Wand-Bearer, Teacher of Gods, to his knees for this lone waif?”

He waves them off with a hand.

“This woman, LaTeesha, Destroyer of Cancer, from whom the great tumors fly in fear, has fought that greatest battle,” he says, his voice rolling across the hall. “She has fought not another body, but her own; traded blows not with other limbs but with her own flesh; has allowed herself to be pierced with needles and scored with knives, taken poison into her very veins to defeat this enemy, and at long last it is time for her to put her weapons down. Do you think for a moment this fight is less glorious for being in silence, her deeds the less for having been aided by others who provided her weapons? She has a place in this great hall; indeed, the highest place.”

And the children perform feats of archery for the entertainment of all, and the women sing as the young man who still awaits his beloved plays a lute–which, after all, is not so different from the guitar he once used to break a man’s face in that great final fight.

Valhalla is a place of joy, of glory, of great feasting and merrymaking.

And it is a place for the soul and mind to heal.

THIS! This is the Hanged God who owns my loyalty, Old One-Eye who’s call I answer above all.

He is not one to turn the brave aside, asks no more than what one can give (Even if, at times, it doesn’t look that way.)

I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING.

It hurts so much when people thank god for making them strong enough to defeat cancer. Because my mom didn’t win her battle. Thank you, @prismatic-bell.

PSA from the boyz