Fuck Seattle Police and Fuck Seattle. Sincerely, a Seattleite
Seattle Police killed 32 yr old Charleena Lyles in front of her children today after she called to report a burglary. Charleena Lyles did not have a knife as police officers claim. She was also 3 months pregnant. Thanks again Seattle for proving to the world why you have one of the most racist police departments in the country. The same police department that was under federal investigation for excessive force, particularly against people of color. Y'all stay under the radar because you’re a “progressive, liberal” city but POCs in Seattle know the truth. Shoutout to my friends and acquaintances in Seattle who met with Charleena’s family and helped organize the vigil for her. I’m so sick of hearing about another black person killed by police. I’m so sick of excessive and unnecessary force that these cops use. For fuck’s sake, soldiers in the army can’t even fire at the Taliban unless fired upon but we got these motherfucking trigger happy cops that will shoot anything that’s black and breathes.
“America: Where a pregnant, mentally disabled black woman will be executed in front of her kids, in her own home, by the cops she called to protect her. Scream her damn name. #CharleenaLyles”
Snapchat Saturday because I have nothing better to do.
• I’ve been mostly absent because I’ve been so busy at work and by the time I get home I really just want to crash.
• Also, life in general just seems busy lately. Kid stuff and house stuff and stuff stuff…just wiping me out.
• Also also, I’ve been on some dates. I’ve had 3 Dates with airport guy and while he’s nice enough there’s a few nagging things on top of there just isn’t a connection.
• Speaking of connection, I’ve also tried really hard to like 32 yr-old guy more and I just can’t. No spark.
• And Tinder guy is a no.
• When I say connection I’m not talking at all about looks btw. I’ve had amazing connections with people who aren’t classically handsome and zero with good looking guys. It’s all about that mysterious spark.
• I’m starting to get really comfortable with being picky. I don’t have to be grateful for any attention from just anyone. I can be discriminating and that’s ok. This is sadly something I’m only recently embracing. Late to the party, that’s me.
• Related: my perpetually single ass needs a “+1” for a work gala in a few weeks. Who’s in?
Itchy itchy why am I so itchy POISON SEA URCHINS AAAAAHHHHHH
Age: 32 yrs
Height: 1.80 m / 5’11” ft DOB: August 12th Pronouns: She/They — “I may be many things, but a man I am not.”
Hale is a very playful and energetic person with the spirit and stubbornness of a warrior. She’s very proud of her nation’s strength and ways and never hesitates to flaunt their physical prowess in the other leaders’ faces. She tends to playfully poke fun at others’ attributes and faults, not realizing such behavior to be regularly considered rude.
Hale’s top-priority is to ensure that her people remain cooperative with one another and have open minds. She’s always ready to offer a hand (if only to flaunt her ability to manage the task at hand), but is very independent herself and tends to pile a lot of responsibility on her own shoulders instead of bending the knee in seek of support. If anything should put the people of Regna Ferox in danger, Hale will adopt a very serious and no-joking-around-persona, putting all of her focus into ensuring nothing bad will come to pass on her people. Patriotic to the bone.
onision is a 32? yr old man who makes videos about young girls if theyre attractive/skinny enough, jokes about trans ppl, called suicidal ppl cowards, has ex wives he started dating when they were minors, currently married to a 23 year old, met her when she was 17, him 26, has 2 kids with her. last year invited a 18 yr old to be in their marriage, she left so he urges his wife to seduce other 17/18 yr olds for him. yes this is all real (googl onision drama) Everyone should b the opposite of him.
so i rly like this guy... but he's 2 years older than me, which is kinda awkward cuz we're in high school. is it worth liking him... any tips for pursuing a relationship or should i just forget about it?
y'all I’ve been on a date with a 32 yr old it doesn’t matter i say do it
32 for macdennis if yr still doing that drabble meme thing?
ur damn right i am
“Just kiss me, you idiot.”
Mac hadn’t agreed to any of this. Well, sure, it had been his idea to play Vic Vinegar and Hugh Honey again, but it didn’t count if it was for a scheme! Schemes are where all bets are off.
But even Dennis knew that they were beat by now. They should have given up the pretense an hour ago and called it quits, but for some reason, here they were, still in the fancy schmancy restaurant, while Dennis was giving a speech about how they’d ‘fallen in love.’
Mac had had enough. For one, Dennis was using their story! Their real one, how they became friends, heterosexual best friends, instead of inventing a new one. For another, it had gone on way too long and the other patrons and staff were giving them weird looks. It gave Mac the heebie-jeebies, being put on the spot like this, and he didn’t like it (he refused to acknowledge that this had in fact been his idea to start with.)
Their original scheme had gone down the drain, but Dennis was adamant that they could still get a free meal out of this whole gay schtick, if they played their cards right, and an engagement in one of the fancier restaurants in Philly with their very pro-PC attitudes would be like taking candy from a baby.
It still made Mac uncomfortable but he went along with it; he really didn’t want to have to deal with Dennis blowing up tonight, and they didn’t have an emergency stolen credit card anymore since Charlie nicked it.
Finally, Dennis ended his long-winded speech and got down on one knee, fishing out a ring box that he just so happened to be carrying with him, and uttered the words that gave Mac a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Will you marry me?”
Dennis sounded so genuine that Mac wondered why he had never auditioned to be an actor; out of the twins, clearly Dennis was the more talented, yet Dee continued to go to auditions only to come back rejected. If Dennis went instead, surely he’d get cast, and then get famous. Then they wouldn’t have to pretend to be gay to pay for meals, or to try and trick people into buying into their fake plans, or deal with Frank anymore.
Dennis cleared his throat, his face turning an angry red color, and Mac jumped, pulled from his thoughts. He blushed, the reality of all these faces waiting for his answer hitting him, and he mumbled a soft, yeah, sure.
Dennis rose, rolling his eyes and pulling Mac into his arms. Mac’s brows pulled together, and he started to push Dennis away, until Dennis touched a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he murmured, glancing away at all of their spectators, “just kiss me, you idiot, and we’re home free.”
Mac allowed Dennis to press their lips together, and even participated a tiny, small, very minimal amount (because if someone is kissing you, it’s only polite to kiss back, especially if it’s your best buddy, you can’t leave them hanging), until, finally, Dennis drew back, smiling triumphantly.
The bill came back with the waiter waving them off, tears in his eyes as he told them about his plans to propose to his boyfriend, how witnessing this had helped him make his decision.
Mac felt sick.
I’m an asshole. This is pre-Mac coming out, obv. Hope you liked it, dude!
Send me a number from this post and a ship, and i’ll write you a drabble!
introducing Cosmas Thorakis - 32 yrs old. Captain of the guard in the powerful city
of Faros. Only daughter of two influential nobles, who divorced when she
was 13 because her mother had an affair with Sevila, and remarried years
later. Now they each have different spouses and families, leaving her
the inheritor of both their estates and also a handful of young
half-siblings. She is highly influential politically, and holds a great
deal of clout with the local garrisons. Keeps her hair short but still
manages to have terrible helmet hair. Secretly really good with kids.
Ambidextrious. The worst at taking a compliment.
FYI the person that started this “gay is an slur uwu” lie is a 32 yrs old white cis non-lgbt fandom mom/kwyrz elder with “anti anti” rules on her blog so uhhhhh maybe all those inclusionists can stop supporting this bullshit fabrication.
Last time I checked, spas were supposed to be relaxing. Instead, I’ve been pummled by some 800 pound Swedish man who smelled like meatballs and I think they burned off half the hair on my body instead of waxing it like a normal fucking place.
That’s the last time I leave the city to do something I should have just gone uptown for. Fuck ‘nature makes it more relaxing’. Vermont is disgusting and I’m never going back. Guess I’ll just have to stay at home in bed for a few days to relax from this very trying experience.
’We’ve walked down different paths, but it brought us here together.’
You were a ‘normal’ person. You graduated from pharmacy school at the age of 24, with dreams of what you could do and the people you could help. You were top of your class, so naturally you were easily hired into one of the most desired jobs in LA. You had been working at a prestigious private hospital for a little over 2 years, one that mostly catered to celebrities and those of extreme wealth. At first, you would be starstruck to see a celebrity who you admired, but that quickly wore off. It was clear to you that everyone who came there felt entitled. The job was, needless to say, starting to wear on you.
One day, you received a message from one of the doctors upstairs.
‘32 yr old male, admitted for ruptured appendix, surgery this morning completed at 0800 hours. Currently receiving: 10-325mg Norco q8h for pain, 500 mg Clindamycin antibiotic q12h. Pt requests to speak with RPh stat. Room #826.’
You knew that this would take more time and effort then you wanted to put forth during the last 30 minutes of your shift. But you begrudgingly drew yourself out of your chair to go see if it was just another celebrity wondering if the 'medicine’ they took on the side would have any adverse affect with the prescription medication they were receiving at the hospital. You reached the 8th floor quickly, wanting to get this out of the way so you could go home. You reached room number 826 and knocked on the door.
“Yeah.” You heard a deep voice call out. As you entered the room, you were face to face with none other than Chris Pine. As instantly as the moment happened, the glass was shattered from beneath you with just a few words. “Thank fucking God, you’re finally here. When am I getting out of this hell hole??”
“Nice to see you too.” You said with an entirely straight face. As you realized that yes, one of your favorites actors was going to act like he was entitled too.
He raised his eyebrow at you and said, “Look lady, I just need out of here so I can grab a smoke. I’m dying here.”
This angered you. Being in the medical field, you felt strongly about cigarettes. “Tell you what, how about you just go 'grab a smoke’ and when you end up dying of lung cancer then you can get off this 'hell hole’ of an earth a little bit quicker.” You realized later how rude you sounded, but your buttons were being pushed that day.
He raised up in the bed, shocked by what you said. “Do you KNOW who I am?”
“Yes. You’re an ass who thinks he’s better than everyone here. I have news for you, you’re not the first celebrity I’ve ever seen in this hospital, and you won’t be the last. Do YOU realize who I am?” You ranted.
“Yeah, you’re the worst doctor I’ve ever met.” He muttered.
“Excuse me, I’m a pharmacist, not a doctor. And might I remind you, YOU asked for me to come up here because you had a question for me. If you don’t have one then I’ll be taking my leave, and you can have a nice freaking life.” You quipped.
Finally, he quietly asked the question you had been requested for, “I’m allergic to morphine, is that in the medicine I’m getting right now?”
“No. Anything else?”
And with that, you turned and left the room. Hopefully to never see him again.
The next day your supervisor came to you and relayed a message from a doctor upstairs. “Hey, Y/N, there’s a patient upstairs asking for you. You specifically. Room 826.” You immediately realized which room and which patient that it was.
You reached the room, knocked on the door, and pushed it open to see Chris sitting on the bed in his normal clothes. “Going home so soon? You mean you don’t want to stick around to be an ass some more?” You said sarcastically.
“Look, Y/N. I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry. I was such an asshole to you yesterday. The pain medicine I was on made me act…well, not like myself. Please let me make it up to you.” He was almost begging.
You sighed, “From experience I can tell you that however you act on strong medication like that is usually just a more intense version of what you normally act like. So no. Thanks for the offer, and the apology. But no.” You turned to leave and heard him try to get up off the bed.
“Oh God, ow.” He fell back down against the bed. “I didn’t take the pain medicine earlier today so I could be in my right mind when I talked to you.” He explained, holding his hand to his abdomen. “Please, let me take you somewhere to eat and make it up to you. Please. I feel terrible.”
You couldn’t help but grin a little. “Are you asking me on a date, Pine?”
“Maybe.” He smiled that million dollar smile at you. He quickly followed with “If you want to, of course.”
“Sorry, I don’t date patients.” You said, and you could see his face fall.
“That’s fine…” He said quietly. Then more brightly added, “Next time I ask, I just won’t be a patient.”
You said your goodbye, and left the room shaking your head. He was definitely…an interesting guy. You weren’t quite sure how to feel about him. But he made your heart race when he said he would be asking you on a date again. Not that you expected it to actually happen, but you knew what you wanted your answer would be if he ever did ask.
First it was the flowers. They were beautiful, two dozen red and white roses. They showed up at the hospital one day about a week after your encounter with Chris. There was a note stuck on the side that simply said 'How about now?’. You simply grinned and took them from the delivery man, saying your thanks and a 'tell him no, please’ to which he frowned and said he would pass along the message. You were endlessly teased about it by your coworkers, with questions of 'Who’s the guy?’ or 'Why’d you say no?’. You brushed it all off, still thinking about him and that damn smile of his.
Then there was notes, more flowers, more teasing from your coworkers, even a cliché box of chocolates. Finally after a month, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to give up, you told the delivery man (who you later learned was his assistant) to tell him 'yes’. He smiled and gave you another note that simply said you were to be picked up by a driver, a few evenings from now, at 7 pm, and to wear whatever you felt comfortable in that was somewhat dressy. You noticed it was written in the same messy script that the previous notes had been written in, obviously Chris’ handwriting, since he himself signed them. He was putting so much effort into this and you didn’t understand why. You aren’t famous, you aren’t anything special. So why? You sighed, wondering what you were getting yourself into.
Garren stirs amidst the sheets and his lover’s arms;
eyelashes fluttering open over sapphire hues to fix with adoration upon
Rementhil’s slumbering form.
Bowing his head, he presses his lips to the
younger man’s brow; gently running his long fingers through tousled blonde locks
before extricating himself from the bed.
Still nude, he moves into the bathroom
to run a warm bath for the other man before moving out of their suite to the kitchen to salvage
what remained of his culinary work from the night before. They hadn’t even made it to the entree.
Eying the untouched espresso mousse cheesecake he’d intended for them to share the night before, he made an executive decision of sorts.Dessert for breakfast, I think.
Retrieving a silver tray, black tea and several accessories, he returned to the
bedroom; depositing them all in the bathroom, near the tub.
Turning off the tap, he arranges the items he’s brought for
his companion’s pleasure before vacating the room.
After retrieving his
wardrobe for the day, he casts a final look at Rementhil, his emotions torn
between unwavering devotion and several regrets as he closes the bedroom door.
Slipping into most of his attire as he makes his way to the upstairs study,
he’s left only with shoes and socks pending as he takes a seat at the small
writing desk. Taking a seat, he retrieves paper and a mechanical quill, pausing
to gather his thoughts before penning the letter to his Paramour.
November 09, YR 32; Silverlight Temple; the Nishan Marche.
Seated in a meticulously perfected lotus position opposite his Guardian, Sir Lycan Maddox, Garren Nishan closes his eyes, not for the first time, attempting to find some quiet corner of his own mind which doesn’t betray him.
If I had but known that would be the last moment we shared, I would have let Kiden burn. There would have been no simple letter explaining my reason for departing that morning. For never would I have left your side; not for all the disaster which would have transpired in the wake of my absence. As I have often said,
‘I would burn the whole of Azeroth to fetid ash to save my love.’
Only, I cannot reach you. I cannot hear your thoughts lingering against my own. I cannot feel your press against me in hope or hell. It is as if you have consigned yourself, or I, to some barren wasteland where nothing exists but the dead and the damned apparitions of our past devotions.
“You must be utterly honest with yourself, or the Sha will destroy you, Lord Nishan. You, and perhaps the whole of the Marche as well. Maybe more.”
Baron Ja’nin Ninro’s low bass and even tone are a candid reminder of how far from grace I have fallen in your absence, my Light, my Love. For while I would allow all of Azeroth to burn to spare your life, I can offer no excuse, absent such motivations, not to preserve as many lives as I hold power to salvage in the wake of my self-destructive urges.
“What must I do, Master Ninro?”
The Baron sits in the same lotus position to my right - Lycan’s left - not quite between us. “Accept your truth. Whatever truth it is wounds which your spirit so deeply you would rather destroy yourself than face it.”
Ja’nin’s head shifts in the negative. “Your Truth, Lord Nishan. What thoughts pain you like a blade in your heart? What words steal your breath?”
He doesn’t love me. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He never loved me. “If I did, do you not think I would end this–”
“What I think is that you are denying assertions I have never made. You know your Truth. You refuse to speak it, but you know what it is.”
He doesn’t care if I live or die. “You don’t know what the fel you’re talking about!” He never did.
“That.” The Baron replies, lifting open his left eye to stare meaningfully at me. “What thought came before that outburst.”
“Nothing.” That he harbors no more thought for me than Daniel. “I was thinking nothing!” Except, he kept Daniel. “Nothing, Damn you!”
As Garren lunges at the man to his right, Lycan physically and psychically intercepts him. *You’re right, Master. He doesn’t love you. Never loved you. If he did, he would be here, now.*
“Shut up!” the Marquis growls, reversing his assault; turning it on Lycan, only to find his entire body suddenly rigid. A moment later, he lies unconscious across his Guardian.
Lycan looks up at the abruptly risen Baron of Silverlight angrily. “He was making progress!”
“He was going to kill you.”
“He was going to kill you. This is not your Charge. This is a man ravaged by three Sha. This is a man who can destroy the entire Marche with his thoughts. We will help him fight, but we will temper our intent with wisdom.”
Cradling the unconscious Lord in his arms, Lycan scowls darkly at the Baron. “Then we’ll set a bracer on him.”
“Who can he not order to free him?”
Bowing his head in defeat, Lycan shook his head. “There’s…“
“Until we have a way to restrain him he cannot overcome with his gifts, we have no choice but to disable him at the first signs of violence.”
Pulling his Master across his lap, he offers a curt nod to the other nobleman. “As you wish, Master Ninro.”
The Baron returns to his original place, returning to his own perfected lotus position and closing his eyes. “We will continue. He will join us when he awakens.”
Looking down at the exhausted man in his arms, Lycan closed his eyes, doing his best to find a place of peace in his own mind amidst his Master’s inner turmoil. “Yes, Master Ninro.”
As the Baron returned to his meditations, Lycan turned his thoughts outward for a few precious seconds. “Ync. Contact Malura Underchild. She has something we need. Now.*
*What is that?*
*The only Nullstone we don’t require Karrista fucking Felstorm to secure for us.*
It truly baffling how the party of family values the party of Christianity is confused and crickets on how to handle The Roy Moore rape Scandal. Remember Roy Moore at the time he did this was a 32 yr old prosecutor. He knew better he was the law. Yet the Replubicans r still confused and crickets.
anyways her and said woofer pals ended up murdering john goodman and then naomi ended up dropping out of school and moving to crescent hollow where she has been lying low ever since
well as low as you can lie when you are a danes
still has a landline and pays for every purchase in cash so if you want to get ahold of her you actually have to physically present yourself to her face or perform a series of rituals at midnight to summon her presence
or you can stop by the dinky ass run down coffee shop on the very corner of town that she inherited from her deceased neighbor betty because betty’s kids said ‘no thanks we don’t want this shitty coffee shop’ and naomi has a terrible guilty conscious
luke danes if he were gayer and a wolf and if he believed in conspiracy theories