**tangents

Someone on Facebook mentioned how Armin had an opening to attack Bertl’s neck. I think if it had been any other character in Armin’s place, it could have happened. His combat skills are less than impressive (we’re talking about 2/10 here). He has neither the coordination nor the agility to pull such a move. Also, when I did a close up of his panel I noticed his eyes are closed and his facial expression looks troubled. Either I am reading too much into it and he was just blinking or he momentarily gave in to panic. Even if it was for a mere second, his mind hadn’t been on the right state to move and attack. Maybe he never really lost his focus and purposely stood still, but judging by his facial expressions on the next page, it could be the former. He had been trembling while talking to Bertl after all.

I’m going on a tangent here, but Armin and Mikasa are going to get a lot of backlash from fans when this is animated. (Brace yourself, the ‘Armin is useless’ and ‘Mikasa is impulsive’ comments will be coming). I’m not condemning her for her actions. Yes, they probably could have bought more time for the other squad to move in, but it’s not like she failed to save Armin after her sneak attack prompted Bertl to get more aggressive. I’m still unsure of how things could have gone differently had she not popped out like a ninja. What was Bertl going to do after he was done talking to Armin? Just walk away and proceed to turn into bomb? Try to kill Armin? Would Hange’s Squad arrive on time to finish off Reiner before he turned? If the outcome was going to be the same, then what difference does it make if she attacked? Anyway, I’d rather not dwell on could-have-been scenarios anymore because it’s making feel even more…uh, whatever I’m feeling about this chapter.

Something?

It wasn’t that the new arm was bad, really.  In some ways, it was actually an upgrade.  According to the representative sent by General Ironwood, it was the same material used to build Penny.  The metal had a name that Yang couldn’t pronounce, some state-of-the-art creation straight from the factories of Schnee Dust.  Weiss had finally called her father, solely for Yang’s sake.  The new limb had arrived in record time too, so quickly that the truck carrying it had to take several detours around debris left over from the invasion.

The doctors said that the surgery went very smoothly, and that she should be pleased but ready to face a lengthy recovery.  “It’s essentially an organ transplant,” the doctor had told her.  “Your body and especially your Aura need to adjust to it.”

Ruby described it as “snazzy”.  Blake called it sleek.  Weiss went on a short tangent about the high quality of the design and how she had asked for several custom features to be added so the thing would suit Yang better.

Personally, Yang didn’t know what to call it.  She supposed it was pretty fancy and that it was indeed suited to her preferred fighting style.  The arm was metal encasing a core of refined red Dust and a firing chamber that exited through a hole in the palm.  The metal was encased in thick, UberGlass (copyright, Schnee Dust Company) which was advertised as not only bullet proof but also temperature proof, able to stand heat as high as 2600 degrees.  She wasn’t sure what good that was if she herself could not stand 2600 degrees. 

All in all, her new arm was glorified flamethrower.  Now, Yang didn’t mind that, not at all.  The Dust in the core was powerful stuff, or so she was told.  It could roast a Beowulf in 7 seconds flat, or two seconds if she used “Flare Mode”.  It fired in two primary forms, a torrent of flame that went in a straight line but could be sent in any direction, and a grenade launcher that sent explosive blobs of death at foes.  Not bad, not bad at all.  And yet…

Like, ever since I was a kid even, I’ve hung out at video stores a lot. Like, not even to rent movies sometimes. Just to chill or get ideas and think about stuff. I worked at a video store for a while. I would still consider someday opening a video store if I ever could or I guess at this point a  video “museum”(?) or “library” of sorts.  In high school, I used to rent 5 movies almost every weekend because there was this place that had a 5 for $5 deal and sometimes I would watch them alone, sometimes I would have sleepovers with friends and we would binge-watch, sometimes I spread them out throughout the week, etc, etc. My friend & I used to play this game about deciding which movie to watch by placing them elaborately apart from each other on the floor and one person spins and closes their eyes and throws a coin and the movie the coin lands closest to is the one you’re supposed to watch lol. Anyway, this idea of collections being broken apart and video stores closing and maybe one day there won’t be any more and there not being a place to physically browse through a video library and choose things solely by show-box covers… like I know that they didn’t exist for forever and there will be a point when video stores don’t exist again, etc…. but it still makes me sad and I like don’t wanna see it happen lol.

Madison Ancel - Post #3

Donald Trump’s “Ban on Muslims”

An open letter to Donald J. Trump

*sorry professor, this contains some adult language

*Also, I hope the assignment was properly completed, even though I went off on a tangent, I do believe I met the necessary requirements

To quote you, Donald Trump, from your interview on Jimmy Kimmel

“We have a problem”

“We have a problem”

“There is a problem”

“The problem”

“Problem” “Problem” “Problem”

We do have a problem, Donald.

You’re a piece of shit.

To compare yourself to FDR? A man who served our country as President for nearly 4 terms (His last term being 3 years, 9 months, 9 days), who established Social Security, drastically decreased unemployment from 25% to a measly 2%, developed the Good Neighbor Policy, AND whose likeness and image precipitated the name for the “Teddy” Bear? Please, fuck off.

You know the 2014 slogan, “Starbursts: A pack of contradictions”? Well, Mr. Trump. You’re kind of like a Starburst. A big, toupeed Starburst. The lemon one, of course (no one likes the lemon one). You, yourself have made countless, and I do mean countless contradictory statements. Such as:

“It’s not about religion” BUT “We have to look at mosques. We have no choice. Something is happening in there.”

“I have great respect and love…for people [and] they’re Muslim” BUT when asked if you’re a bigot, “Not at all. Probably the least of anybody you’ve ever met.” When asked why you weren’t a bigot, your rich response was “Because I’m not.” Thanks for the elaboration there, pal.

“I have great relationships with people…they’re Muslim… and they agree with me, 100%” BUT you cannot speak for an entire religious group. You can only speak for yourself.

Yes, I’m aware @ McDonaldJTrump is not your real Twitter handle, and, YES, I’m aware it’s not an actual quote, not all who are “without money” are uneducated. However, it’s true. Your grandparents IMMIGRATED over here to America from Germany, another country, but they are OK because they subsequently made you.

I’m sure you watch the news because you love to see your face everywhere - so - do you ever listen in when scholars and politicians not only proclaim, but prove your proposal is unconstitutional, and therefore, illegal? Check this out:

AND

That’s awkward,

Seriously, it would violate the 1st AND 14th amendment; “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion” and “ Section. 1. All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

Listen, bub. There are 1.6 billion Muslims in the world. It’s the second largest religion, behind Christianity; 1 in 4 people around the world is Muslim. One in four. Religion isn’t listed on passports, so, how the hell are you going to identify these Muslims, huh? Are you going to require the TSA to racially profile every single person that stands in their line? Allow me to chose a random airport, say, ATL, the world’s busiest airport. 95.5 million passengers fly in and out of Atlanta every day. You’re trying to convince America that, not only is this policy moral/practical, but it’s ACTUALLY achievable? What if somebody lies on their passport? What if a person with tan skin claims their a Christian, or an atheist? Will you forbid them, too? It’s funny, because, you keep saying it’s going to happen, but you’ve yet to establish HOW.

In summary, you’re an idiot.

- M.

Had a very bad night last night, and so wrote half an essay about why it’s supremely weird I don’t like Sherlock Holmes. Insomniac me had some pretty interesting ideas.

anonymous asked:

First kiss headcanon (when they get back together): They've been hanging out more and more with each other and had little moments here and there but each time they have gone to kiss each other they have been interrupted by someone or something and end up not doing but then one time after they have been interrupted Aaron just pulls Robert back to him and kisses him because he's sick of waiting for it to happen.

Awww I love this!! I love the idea that it’s Aaron that takes control and makes the first kiss happen, I really feel it needs to be that way tbh. To have him be in control and make the first move, he knows Rob is there for him and he’ll wait. I’m going on a tangent. Right. Yes. Good kiss. Then the door opens again and they just ignore it and keep kissing and the person just backs out and leaves quickly…..

My AP Biology teacher went off on another one of her tangents on Thursday

“When you go to college, when you leave this bubble, you’ll find out real quick that you’re not as smart as you think you are. At this high school, yeah, you’re all at the top, no doubt about it. The principal only cares about keeping the parents happy, and the grade inflation is insane. But when you go to college, just remember–there will be lots of very, very intelligent kids. And,” she paused, directly addressing her favorite student (who’s smart but his backpack is a portable garbage can), “they’re going to be organized, too.”

I don’t know how to feel about this. I simultaneously feel so discouraged and mediocre and lackluster but I also want to grit my teeth and say, Even if I’m not intelligent, I’ll make up for it in work ethic.

The funniest thing about the new Barbie Fashionista dolls is that Lammily now has NOTHING going for her, the one thing she could hold over Barbie (the ‘average’ body shape) has been ripped out from beneath her and done 1000x better.

Lammily had nothing else going for her, she was plain and boring, she could barely pose, she was designed to be what the creator (Nickolay Lamm) finds attractive in a woman, and there was no indication of the ‘fashion’ part of fashion doll. Barbie has just created a line that not only has the ‘average’ body type, but also has tall and petite versions, not only has a whole spectrum of skin tones, but also racial features (as in, not every doll has the exact same ‘pretty white girl’ sculpt), has a whole host of different hair colours and types, and as always, Barbie is fashionable. There is not one ‘hide-your-flawed-body-tent’ in the bunch, every single doll is dressed in an outfit that was clearly thought-out and made to flatter their body type. 

Which is a big difference, Lammily is dressed nicely (if blandly), but looks as though she’s wearing an outfit to hide her average body, with a loose shirt and a pair of shorts that don’t seem to fit the body they’re made for.


Whereas the Barbie line features a whole variety of clothing that flatters and extenuates the features of the bodies they’re for, especially the curvy bodies. The clothes are stylish, tailored, casual, dressy, and interesting, there’s a ton of variety in the clothing for the curvy girls and some of it is stuff that even real clothing manufacturers forget that fat girls can wear. 

Lammily’s whole shtick is that she’s ‘average’, that she’s more realistic than Barbie (with an underlying misogynistic/slut-shamey tone, but that may just be what I’m picking up on). Barbie is all about being who you want to be, Barbie says you can have any career you want no matter what, and you can be pretty and stylish at the same time (but that’s just a bonus). 

Lammily says she’s better because she looks like everyone else and wears sensible shoes. Barbie says you’re great because you can be anything in the world. 

RWBY: Black Trailer: Blake and Adam work in tangent with one another to attack a SDC cargo train. “Don’t be so dramatic” is said lightheartedly- possibly even flirtatiously to Adam. Both individuals show a clear partnership and relationship built on mutual trust, often jumping in front of bullets the other might not have been able to avoid. Adam saves Blake from getting stepped on by the Spider drone. Blake completely trusts Adam when he hangs back and says “buy me some time” indicating that at the very least she trusts him with her life and knows that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her while he readies whatever attack he might be readying. Blake looks genuinely solemn when she cuts the engine off from the rest of the train, as if it was a tough decision to make.

RWBY: Best Day Ever: Blake: *draws Adam in her notebook

the drawing is completely non-threatening and decently detailed, indicating that she at least is thinking about him in some positive light and misses him. His back is turned, indicating that she might feel distant from him when she might not necessarily want to be feeling that way*

RWBY: Mountain Glenn: Blake: *Calls Adam her partner and mentor. Calls him a monster after discussing how his views had changed while she knew him, and she could no longer support his lack of morals- at no point does she mention or even imply that he was abusive towards her or that his views regarding humanity had become so militant, only stating that “his idea for a perfect future turned out to be… not perfect for everyone.”

RWBY: Beginning of the End: Adam: In an extremely uncharacteristic move for an “abuser,” personally cancels the search party constructed by the White Fang that was set to look for Blake. (Abusers are normally extremely possessive over their victims and would not have allowed them to escape so easily, see also: 50 Shades of Gray)

RWBY: Destiny: Blake: “I had someone very near to me change. It wasn’t in an instant, it was gradual. Little choices that began to pile up. He told me not to worry. At first they were accidents, then it was self defense. Before long even I began to think he was right.” Again, neither a mention nor an implication that Adam was ever abusive towards her. She’s clearly painting the picture that at one point Adam was someone who she felt close to and could support 100% however he began to change in ways she couldn’t support. With ample opportunity to say something to the people she cares about and trusts the most she never says Adam so much as mistreated her.

RWBY: Heroes and Monsters: Adam: *Kicks her Blake in the fucking face. Says multiple times he wants to see her suffer for “betraying” him. Pimp-hands the fuck out of her. Claims his undying love for her in full M’lady fashion. Claims he still loves her but says he’ll make it his mission to destroy everything she ever loved? Fucking stabs Blake who is unarmed in the stomach without a second thought?? Slices Yang’s fucking arm off????? ATTEMPTS TO FUCKING DECAPITATE BLAKE?!!??!!?

People who’ve been analyzing RWBY since the trailers: ??????????? IS THIS THE SAME PERSON???? IS THIS SERIOUSLY THE SAME PERSON WE MET THREE YEARS AGO??? WHERE DID THIS MAN COME FROM???? WHERE IS THE CONSISTENCY IN THIS MAN’S PORTRAYAL????

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 59

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 58

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 57

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 56

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 55

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 54

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 53

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 52

En Mode Salvail Season 3 Episode 51

Storyline:
What to expect: interviews, musical performances, a fierce band, surprising stories and most of all, guests who are more than happy to play along and follow Éric Salvail on his beautifully crazy tangents!


Casts:
Éric Salvail

5

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There are a bunch of cameos in Always Human this week. Thank you to @suspucious @omyostudio @hannapirita and @instantmiso for letting me borrow your characters :)

And if anyone is looking for some really awesome webcomics to read, you should check out ShootAround, Salty Studio, The Immortal Nerd and Where Tangents Meet <3

Don't Fear the Reaper.

I’ll say it right now, I grew up in a broken home. Dad drank. Mom drank. That might be why I’ve never touched a drop. But I’m getting on a tangent here.

Most of you already know where this story is going. Dad used to get drunk and blame mom and I for all his problems. Mom used to lock me in my room while he… while you knock what aggressive drunks do when they’re upset. i’d say more often than not my mother’s screams and my own sobs were what rocked me to sleep.

Then my mom started drinking and became numb to the whole thing. First dad kept hitting her and left me to cry in my room. I guess he got bored eventually. Three days after my fifth birthday dad came up to my room for the first time. He had never done that before. Mom had stopped him. He broke my nose that first night. We went to the hospital and I told the doctor I fell down the stairs. He seemed to believe me.

It was clockwork after that. Mondays dad worked late and we rested. Tuesday nights and Thursday nights he was at the bar until well after my bedtime. Wednesdays were the worst. Fridays were normally insults, an occasional slap. Weekends he drank himself to sleep around four in the afternoon. But Wednesdays. He’d come up to my room and do his business. It I blocked the door, it was a dozen rounds with the belt. If I cried, it was a slap for every tear. But if I was quiet and let his knuckles crack against my jaw and let him pull my short hair, I’d never have to make up stories at school. I was an adventurous boy and no one looked twice when my hands were scraped or I had a bruise on my cheek.

I lived for two years fearing that one night dad would hit me two hard and I’d end up with the angels. Death scared me. One Wednesday, I was sitting in the corner when I saw him. A tall man in my corner.

At first, I thought it was a woman. It looked like a black dress fell from a black face. I realized after a moment that it was a robe. A cloak, but I learned that word years later. I knew what I was looking at. I’d watched TV. I’d read books. I knew what Death was supposed to look like.

But I couldn’t cry. Dad would come in. I’d get the belt and Death would take me away. But for all the pain in my life, I knew that I wanted to live.

That night I fell asleep on the floor, huddled in the corner of the room with a halo of moonlight coming from the window resting around my feet. Death simply stood in the darkest corner of my room, behind the door leading to the hall.

He was there every bad night after. Always Wednesdays. Some Fridays when dad was in his worst moods. Every night he got closer. After two months, he would sit on the toy box at the end of my bed, sitting with his back against the wall, turned sideways so I always caught the profile of the shadowy hood.
“Why are you here?” I asked him one night. He stared at me from the toy box, knees pressed against his chest and arms curled around his shins, almost a fetal position, though there was no fear in the position, just boredom.
“TO WATCH” He told me. I swallowed at those first words. I had expected a quiet rasp, like on TV. Death’s voice was something more. It was a burly man’s confident and strong. It was a caring mother’s nurturing tone. a mad man laugh and a child’s giggle. It disturbed and comforted me.

“To watch what?” I asked. He simply look at me. I saw his eyes for the first time that night. I had always expected soulless pit there. Instead, I found blue orbs in a bleached skull. Those orbs held galaxies, eternal and nonexistent. everything and nothing lived in the shadows of his cloak. Those contradictions comforted me.

“OVER YOU CHILD” Death responded. I had though he lied to me and I grew upset. I asked him why he never stopped my father.
“IT IS NOT MY PLACE TO INTERVENE.” He told me. I asked him what he meant. He told me that he couldn’t stop my father if he tried. He simply was there to guide me if my nightmare ever came true.

After that night, Death was more of a father to me in the way my own never was. The next week, he brought a thick leather bound book. Within were fairy tales, dark and light themes in countless languages. He told me stories in the voice of my grandmother, who died when I was four. When I got older, he stopped bringing the book. Stayed up until the crack of dawn talking. I asked him about the afterlife and why things were the way they were. He always answered vaguely, telling me that I’d understand one day. He stayed with me and comforted me until dawn peeked over my neighbor’s roof. Then the sunlight would touch his black robe, turning it into blinding white. Then he was gone. He’d be back next week and I’d get ready for school. I never tired when Death spoke to me.

Life went on. When I was twelve, my doctor fixed my nose for the third time and started asking questions. Within three weeks I was taken from that home and put into an orphanage. In a Hollywood moment, my family doctor, who had heard about what had been happening from a friend at the hospital, adopted me. He and his wife had been trying for a child for years. They never did.
I lived a happy life after that. I never forgot what happened to me in my youth though. I followed in my “father’s” footsteps and became a physician. Sadly jobs were tight and I took a role in the morgue. All those years around Death helped me work with my new job and I enjoyed it.

My heart broke when my “mother” was in an accident. I was the one who put the tag on her toe. I had to take the rest of the week off. But death was there that day. He stood in the corner of the storage room when I closed the drawer. Holding his skeletal hand was a little girl with green eyes and chocolate hair. I had seen my mother’s family pictures and knew this was her, around seven years old. It hurt me but Death nodded to me and I knew that he would take care of her.

In my lifetime, I’ve closed the drawer on four parents. Dad drove into a storefront while driving drunk. I had to leave the room when they wheeled him in. I would’ve spat on his cold husk of a body if I didn’t. Mom drank herself into an early grave a year later. I pitied her when I closed the drawer. He had broken her soul and she died in pain. Though my mother left that morgue the same way my “mother” did, I still remember the screams when Death dragged my father through the floor, a red hot chain and metal collar strapped around his neck.

My father, the man that saved my life, died four years ago. He went quietly in his sleep. I volunteered to close the drawer on him. When I did, Death arrived and took a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes.
You may wonder why I’m writing this. In truth, I’m not quite sure myself. I guess I want to tell people not to fear Death. He’s a gentle being with a crappy job. And he saved my life.

With the life he gave me, I’ve married, I’ve raised three children, two girls and a boy who look just like their mother. I have nine grandchildren and two great-grandchildren with a third one the way. I lost my wife last year to a heart attack. It hurts me to think about it but I know she didn’t fear Death. She knew my story, the one I’m telling you now. And she went in her sleep, holding my hand.
As I write these final thoughts, I look to my window. Out there I see a figure in the street, snow blowing white on black robes. a moment ago I opened the window and invited him in. When you live as long as I have, you learn to treat a guest right.

Now he’s standing in the corner, patient as the day I met him. When I’m done this post I’m going to turn off my laptop, put the little girl he brought with him into my lap and close my eyes. My wife will close her brilliant blue eyes and rest her crimson locks on my chin. I’ll take one breath and fall asleep. When I wake up, I’ll be with my family. I’ll see my mother and father again. I’ll see my mom, happier than she was in life. I’ll see the four dogs I’ve had in my lifetime too, hopefully.

“MORTIMER” Death calls from the corner. I sigh and type faster. If I can say one last thing, I’d like to quote Blue Oyster Cult:
“Don’t Fear the Reaper” because after all, people are the real monsters.

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