soapsud

  • Emma:Regina!
  • Regina:What?
  • Emma:It's your turn to do the dishes.
  • Regina:Is it?
  • Emma:I swear it is.
  • Regina:Are you absolutely sure?
  • Emma *chuckles*:Yes. I did them yesterday.
  • Regina *groans before pouting*:You know you love me....
  • *Emma laughs before throwing the towel over Regina's face*
  • Emma:Come on.....help me!
  • *Regina chuckles pulling the towel off of her face*
  • Regina:You know this means war?
  • Emma:Soapsuds war?
  • Regina:Followed by..."drying off"?
  • Emma:Yep.
  • Henry:Every day....I swear it would be easier if I just did the dishes...

anonymous asked:

Ugh, that closeup of Gambols. Looks like he was trying for Dylan and missed badly. It reveals much about Soapsuds that she prefers that schlub to Benedict, but then Gumballs doesn't have Ben's money. What a tiresome bunch.

They truly are a tiresome threesome…

It sure seems to me like Dylanesque Gambles is not going to rock many boats….

Anyway, last time I checked Ursula was married to Ben, wasn’t she?  And carrying Ben’s pillow?  While wearing an old clown’s outfit?  Perhaps Dylanesque G chose it for her?

The coincidence of the fiftieth anniversary of the Court’s ruling in Griswold and its anticipated decision in Obergefell makes this, inescapably, an occasion for considering the past half century of legal reasoning about reproductive and gay rights. The cases that link Griswold to Obergefell are the product of political movements that have been closely allied, both philosophically and historically. That sex and marriage can be separated from reproduction is fundamental to both movements, and to their legal claims. Still, there’s a difference between the arguments of political movements and appeals to the Constitution. Good political arguments are expansive: they broaden and deepen the understanding of citizens and of legislators. Bad political arguments are as frothy as soapsuds: they get bigger and bigger, until they pop. But both good and bad constitutional arguments are more like blown-in insulation: they fill every last nook of a very cramped space, and then they harden. Over time, arguments based on a right to privacy have tended to weaken and crack; arguments based on equality have grown only stronger.
— 

From Griswold v. Connecticut to Gay Marriage - The New Yorker

What an exquisitely written article - and a truly intriguing look at the difference between evoking a right to privacy versus a right to equality.

Remembering the sound of your voice still stops my heart in its tracks and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to shake you out of my bones. The way I felt when you entered the room still lingers with me like the smell of your cologne you left with me when you hugged me goodbye for the last time. Smelling like you for the rest of the day was the sweetest torture that haunted me – if only showering could wash away my memories – if only our moments together could swirl down the drain with the soapsuds around my feet. My mind is so cruel in the way that I will forget why I entered the next room, but I can’t get thoughts of your hand in mine, your arm around my waist, or the rise and fall of your chest as I rested against you, out of my mind. I’m just sorry I didn’t know how much I’d miss you, until missing you became the only option I have.

“Our dead weren’t braver than we were,” Hannah told her once, after conning her to help with dishes in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. “We weren’t better than they were, for surviving. Living through something like this—it’s luck as much as anything. The thing we got to choose was to fight in the first place. And we chose, Susie, you and me, Fred and Lavender and Colin, all of us. I’m so proud of them.”

“So am I,” Susie said, shakily, hiding her hands under the soapsuds.

“I am proud of them,” said Hannah, “and I am proud of me, and I am proud of you.”

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Remembering the sound of your voice still stops my heart in its tracks and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to shake you out of my bones. The way I felt when you entered the room still lingers with me like the smell of your cologne you left with me when you hugged me goodbye for the last time. Smelling like you for the rest of the day was the sweetest torture that haunted me – if only showering could wash away my memories – if only our moments together could swirl down the drain with the soapsuds around my feet. My mind is so cruel in the way that I will forget why I entered the next room, but I can’t get thoughts of your hand in mine, your arm around my waist, or the rise and fall of your chest as I rested against you, out of my mind. Maybe I simply want what I cannot have—or maybe I fell in love. I’m not sure exactly, but I’m just sorry I didn’t know how much I’d miss you, until missing you became the only option I have.
-I still think of you and it hurts like yesterday.