#i just want to know if the way she pushes his hair out of the way is something talia probably did for them as children #some sort of comforting small touch to make them feel better when they felt sick #or was it just instinct for cora to touch her brother in a very simple but comforting way because he needed it or maybe she needed it #to make sure her brother was okay #im just very emotional and i wish they would have explored their relationship more


“Heaven, hell—I don’t care who wins. I just want it to be over. This isn’t about a war. This is about two brothers that loved each other, and betrayed each other.”

  • “Graham Nolan, you were named for a guy your sister had a thing with but at least we picked the one who saved her mother’s life and believed in her and got her a job instead of knocking her up and sending her to jail”
  • “Killian Nolan, you were named for your sister’s boyfriend which yes is kind of weird but at least we picked the one who’s always been there for her and saved our lives and he’s also Captain Hook which let’s face it is pretty cool”
  • “James Nolan, you were named for my brother who was kind of a jerk but at least he never hurt your sister”
  • “Leo Nolan, you were named for your grandfather whose choice in second wife was a bit questionable and whose treatment of said wife was also a bit questionable but at least he never hurt your sister”
  • “Leroy Nolan, you were named after a dwarf but hey it’s a cool name and he’s a cool guy who actually helped us a lot and never hurt your sister”
  • “Charles Nolan, you were named after a guy I met once long ago who convinced me not to give up on love and who also inadvertently helped save your sister from a dungeon and from never existing”
  • “Jake Nolan, you were named after no one in particular because we figured that just like your sister you ought to have your own name without any weird baggage or references to someone who hurt your sister”
  • “Luke Nolan, you were named after Luke Skywalker in Star Wars because he’s awesome and also your sister pretended to be Princess Leia one time and my little geeky heart exploded with feels but don’t tell your mother because she just thought that it’s a nice name”
  • “David Nolan Jr, you were named after me because let’s face it I’m pretty awesome”
This season is so wild™
  • Four returning “fan-favorite” players
  • Jodi 2.0
  • A flop of a teams twist
  • The Roadkill Competitions that replaced Battle of the Block
  • The Battle-Back Competition aka Big Brother’s Redemption Island
  • The return of secret rooms 
  • The suspense created by the Round-Trip Ticket 
  • Three opportunities for an evicted houseguest to return into the game 
  • Not one single alliance dominating the entire season
  • Jozea: the Messiah of the newbies
  • Jozea exposing #notgayCorey night one of the feeds
  • The house already divided week one 
  • The house uniting against Frank 
  • Tiffany’s ICONIC speech about how evil dictatorships never work out
  • Meech flipping the votes that kept Tiffany in the game
  • Tiffany becoming woke and raising chaos
  • Da’Vonne and Tiffany’s rivalry “I beat you, I beat you”
  • Victor’s redemption 
  • Big Meech and her outstanding rap and acting performances
  • All of the gifs Da’Vonne has blessed us with
  • Everyone underestimating Natalie while she’s been woke since Week 1
  • James and Natalie’s epic love story
  • Meech and Bridgette’s newfound friendship
  • Natalie, Bridgette, and Michelle flipping the votes to send Zakiyah home
  • Natalie exposing Paulie for the trash that he is and blowing up his game
  • “Round-Trip ticket baby!”
  • Meech surviving two evictions and exposing everyone in a single hour
  • Victor and Paul uniting alongside Natalie, James, and Michelle
  • The entire week of Paulie’s demise
  • Paulie not having the round-trip ticket
  • etc.
  • The most common phrase heard in the band room: "God I hate band so much. I'm gonna quit"
  • The least carried out phrase heard in the band room: "God I hate band so much. I'm gonna quit"

“…there must have been something we did in the series that provokes all these questions…In terms of your questions–what you saw was what we did. That’s the best answer I can give you.” Leonard Nimoy on slash fiction

Did Kirk have any relationships with aliens during TOS? “Only one, but it was continuous.” William Shatner at FedCon

“Certainly we all thought the affection was sufficient for that, if that were the particular style of the 23rd century.” Gene Roddenberry on whether Kirk and Spock could have been lovers

“T’hy’la–brother, friend or lover.” The infamous footnote about how Spock sees Kirk, on p. 22 of Roddenberry’s movie novelization.

o brother, where art thou

(baby bit of jones brothers feelings because reasons)

Killian Jones is seven years old when his father sells him and his brother into slavery in exchange for a rowboat.

Their new master is not a deeply bred sadist, not a man who enjoys cruelty for sport, but nor is he interested in any concern for the tender mercies of a pair of ne’er-do-well orphans, and he has a ship to run. He keeps them hopping, sending Killian up the spars to pick the tar-encrusted knots, down the black and evil-smelling hold to fish things out of the cracks where a grown man cannot reach, anywhere he is unable or unwilling to risk an actual valuable member of the crew. Liam, seven years older, is on the brink of manhood and of somewhat more use, and the only reason Killian is spared worse privations is because Liam stands up to the others and makes it clear that anyone who thinks his little brother an easy target is going through him first. They share a hammock, squashed together like a pair of sardines, and every night, Liam whispers to him to have faith. He’ll get them out of this.

Killian is eleven years old when they escape. The captain often sends them ashore to beg when the ship is in port, or for Killian to play the lost, adorable, blue-eyed urchin and beguile well-meaning ladies out of their charity. This time, he and Liam simply do not come back. They hide in an attic while the sailors angrily hunt for them, then decide that it’s too much bloody trouble for a pair of scalawags. They give up and depart in a huff, and the boys are utterly alone.

It’s Liam, eighteen years old, tall and strong, who sees a new opportunity, looking at the proud Navy ship that’s just put ashore. He tells Killian that they can join up, work their way like any other honest man, and be paid for it to boot. This is the life they’ve always known – order, discipline, the rhythms of bell and anchor and rope, the changing watches, the color of the sky before a storm, reefing sails and charting courses. Indeed, the idea that he could ever do anything for himself, be master of his own fate, is a terrifying one to Killian. He wants to be told what to do; he wants to obey, he wants to know that the world makes sense. The Navy offers that, and more.

Killian is fifteen years old when Liam is commissioned lieutenant, then second mate, then first mate, and when their captain is killed during an unfortunate side venture, takes over as de facto master of the vessel. It’s a post he never relinquishes, as the men quickly warm to his command. Royal Navy captains are supposed to be as brutal as possible, to instil order through fear, but Liam rules his roost with a firm but fair hand, wise beyond his years, this young man who was never really a boy and has been father and brother to Killian for as long as either of them can really remember at this point. Killian loves him more than anything in the world, more than he thinks anyone can be loved, ever. It’s Liam who has done this. It’s Liam who has always had his back, and now Liam is the only man he has to obey. And he knows Liam is the wisest and smartest and best. He can always trust Liam.

Killian is nineteen when he earns his own commission as lieutenant. The rough democracy of the Navy has done its work; while the ranks are still packed with plenty of purchased officerships, when you’re at sea and struggling through your third gale in the last fortnight, when you have to keep a crew together and manage the fragile tempers of fifty men trapped in a small wooden box for months at a time, divide tasks and watches and rations, the wheat is separated from the chaff. The useless don’t last long, no matter how serried their pedigree. Only talent endures, and after a lifetime following the rules, of having it beaten into every sinew of him at the most fundamental level, Killian Jones is unbelievably good at it. This way is safety. This way is truth.

Killian Jones is twenty-two when all truth, everywhere, loses its meaning. When he sees what a fool he has been.

When twenty-two years of following the rules has brought him nothing but heartbreak and madness, he does the most transgressive thing he can: he breaks them. Not that, he breaks all of them, and as violently as he can think of. Now he is his own master, now he is captain, now he says where they sail and when. Now he can gut anyone who looks too insolently at him, now he can order what he pleases. He is as drunk on liberation as he is on rum (and he is often drunk on rum, but never to the point of incapacitation, of forgetting the abyss he balances on). How has he never realized this before, the remorseless joy of command? Of meeting the first mate of the ship he was a slave on, one of the men who tormented him the most behind Liam’s back, and burying his knife hilt-deep in his neck? Watching him bleed out at his feet? This is glory. This is power.

This, now. This is truth.

Nobody will take it away from him again.

And as The Darkness spread across the earth, God paused his DVD copy of Supernatural The Musical and proclaimed, “Shit.”


I can NOT deal with this. I can’t and will never understand why a white man, shooting up a church gets arrested and kept safe with a damn bullet proof vest, but a black or Hispanic man gets killed on the spot! This is home. This hit me. This could have been my brother or cousin. He lived just 15 minutes away. I cannot believe this. There has to be some kind of justice with these damn cops. There’s all kinds of alternatives rather than just to kill. It’s so devastating.

Rest In Peace Anthony.

the signs as things I heard at band camp

Aries: “what time is it?” “it’s band time!”

Taurus: “i don’t speak chineseian”

Gemini: “i eat the souls of tortured children”

Cancer: “my skin is crying”

Leo: “it could have been his evil brother; he’s a communist ninja”

Virgo: “Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you?! you CAN’T date him!! he’s 24 !!!”

Libra: *waving finger back and forth* “that door’s not for youuuuuu”

Scorpio: *singing* “you should die, you should die, you should die, everyone should die, the world should die, the sun should die, everyone needs to die”

Sagittarius: “I SMOKE WEED”

Capricorn: “welcome to hell”


Pisces: “we have to march AND play at the same time ?!?”

You know what I wanted more of?

Thomas and Jimmy behaving like bickering siblings.

Thomas stealing Jimmy’s towel so he has to run naked, arms in the air, through the corridor with cries of “LOOK AWAY NOW YOU PERVERTS!”

Thomas and Jimmy kicking each other under the dinner table and getting steadily more competitive until Thomas accidentally misses and kicks Mr. Carson

Thomas singing “Jimmy’s got a crush on a girl…Jimmy an’ Ivy sittin’ in a tree… K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Until Jimmy hits him.

Thomas and Jimmy battling with pillows in the corridor until one bursts just as Mr. Carson opens the door to find out what the devil is going on and both of them immediately blame the other.

Thomas chasing Jimmy at a full sprint, serving tray held above his head, as Jimmy screams “Oh shite oh shite oh shite Thomas stop I was only kiddin’ Thomas PLEASE!”

Jimmy bothering Thomas until Thomas get’s serious and glares, “Jimmy, stop it.” Jimmy doesn’t and winds up with a smack in the face.

Jimmy being melo-dramatic and throwing himself to the floor with a “Well, I may as well be dead now, then.” And Thomas calmly sitting on him, as Jimmy struggles to breathe, and asks him what’s wrong.

Jimmy and Thomas teaming up on Alfred, throwing flour at him every time he isn’t looking and then pointing to indicate it’s the other one.

Thomas and Jimmy sniggering to each other until Mr. Carson barks at them to be quiet, which only makes it worse as they try to hold in their giggles, winding up hunched over, shoulders shaking, whispering one word of whatever they’d found funny and they’re both in hysterics again. 

“Arsehole.”/ “Prick.”/ “piss-master.”/ “snob.”/ “Degenerate.”/ etc

Jimmy ambushing Thomas in the bath with a bucket of cold water to the cry of “you little bastard!” And Thomas gasping, then having to apologize to Mr. Carson for swearing so loudly without getting Jimmy in trouble

The entire men’s corridor being kept up by sounds of bickering, a struggle, then a lamp breaking and suspicious silence.

“I’m telling.”

“Don’t you dare.”



More of our mischievous boys behaving like naughty brothers.

“Mike Brown could have been my brother or cousin. That could be my child laying in the middle of the street in the next 18 years. Me, my mom, or my aunt could be Lesley. I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to stand by and do nothing and watch police violence happen again and again. I will not rest until justice is served. I will fight to protect our future by any means necessary.”-Shermale aka @IttyBitty1992

One day, I will tell my children about Mike Brown.

“When he was shot,” I will tell them, “I was sixteen years old.”

“He was eighteen years old. That’s only two years older than I was.”

“My brother was nineteen. That would make Mike Brown only one year younger.”

“That could have been my brother.”

And then, on that one day in the future, I will pause, and I will tell my children, “But it wasn’t my brother, and it couldn’t have been, not really, because my family is white.”

And I hope—god, I hope—that they will look at me with surprise, and they will ask, “What do you mean?”

I’ll tell them about how in the world I grew up in, it was twenty-one times more likely for a black person to be shot by police than it was for a white person. I’ll tell them that Mike Brown was innocent, that he did nothing wrong, that he was going to college in two days, that he loved music and dogs and his mother. That he was a kid, just like they are, and that he was murdered solely because he was different color from that of the man who shot him.

I’ll tell them about Darren Wilson. I’ll tell them that he was never charged.

I’ll tell them that I was a white, sixteen-year-old girl living in a small town in Georgia, and that I was so, so angry, and that I was afraid for others but not for myself, and that I signed every petition online I could find because it was the only way I knew how to help, and that within a day after the verdict was announced I knew every right I had and every right the police had, that I knew how to make a mask to protect someone from tear gas.

“That was a dark day for humanity,” I’ll tell them.

I hope that they’re outraged. I hope that they’re angry.

I hope it will have gotten better.

But right now, it’s not better. Right now, I will continue to sit here. I will continue to be angry. I will continue to be afraid.

Not, however, for myself. I’m white.

What do I have to be afraid of?