and then their lives are never the same

honestly dudes, i never fully understood why jason wanted revenge on bruce until i really analyzed the situation. So here are my thoughts (which nobody asked for):

Jason grew up in the bad part of town- the part where you don’t call the police for your problems, you solve them yourself. Bruce’s vigilante justice is the same thing, so jason grows up believing justice and revenge are one in the same.

The fact the Bruce let the Joker live means that the crime (jason’s murder) is still unpaid for. So Jason will serve justice himself- he’ll kill the Joker- and then, he can finally make his peace. But Bruce disagrees. Bruce thinks the punishment has fit the crime, and Jason interprets this as Bruce not caring enough to take an eye for an eye. 

So Jason tells himself, if i cannot make Bruce sorry I died, I’ll make him sorry I came back.

You don’t understand.

Princess Bride is THE Dad™ movie.

Or at least it’s a My Dad movie.

And I have memories of watching this movie with my dad sitting just like Jensen and JJ.

And we’ll still watch the movie, twenty years later, quoting all the lines, making sure everyone shuts up for the sword fighting scene, and clapping when the movie’s over.

And now I have to live with the knowledge that Jensen Ackles is doing the exact same fucking thing. 

anonymous asked:

Cishet aces aren't 'straight passing' they're 100% entirely cis and straight.

Say it with me slowly anon, till your brain finally maybe begins to understand the difference: Heteromantic is not the same thing as Heterosexual.
Never has been, never will be. Ever.
But yeah, sure, ok, keep living in your La La Land where cishet aces don’t experience anything bad just Bc they’re cishet. Man, sure would be fun to live in a world like that.

I mean, seriously, why do so many exclusionists assume cishet aspects WANT to be treated badly? Who WANTS to be a minority that experiences awful stuff just because they’re not what the majority of society says they ‘should’ be? That’s not a FUN thing that makes you Cool or anything. So why are so many/all of you assuming they WANT that??? 🙄 Please inform me, I am genuinely confused.

the funniest part of todays episode was rebecca saying how robert isn’t fit to raise a kid

the same robert she always runs to
the same robert who took care of two kids whilst ones brother was in prison and ones mother was in another country
the same robert who can earn money through working
the same robert who doesn’t rely on someone’s help
the same robert who made your families business a success when he was with your sister
the same robert who takes on everyone’s problems but doesn’t complain about it

I mean you let’s have a look

-have never worked a day in your life
- almost ran your families business into the ground
-still lives at home with daddy at 31 years old
- can’t tell when a business is fake
- rely on daddy’s money
- you live with a sexual offender
- your dad throws money and pays thugs to fix problems
- your sister killed three people
- your dad framed a man who then committed suicide
- you happily screwed your family over to get into someone’s pants
- you manipulated your nephew
- you destroyed a relationship and family and haven’t even apologised

I think if anyone isn’t fit to be a parent it’s you. I mean all roberts done but what’ve you done? Took it out on your son. You’ve banned him from seeing his “dad” but what’s that going to achieve? Will it make robert love you? No. Will it change what he’s done? No. You’re hurting your child because you don’t like the fact you’ve had no self respect and let yourself get played yet again. Ban him from the house. Ban him from the business. Call the police. But banning him for seeing the kid? Nah that’s not right. He hasn’t physically done anything wrong the child. He’s done right by the child since he seen him. He’s never put him in harms way. Co-parent, let him be a weekend dad (mainly because emmerdale isn’t on at weekends so we don’t see that doting dad shit) but don’t punish your child.

Only On Thursdays: Chapter 4

Originally posted by blood-and-passion

Story Summary: I’m dead.


Okay, well technically I’m cursed. But still dead. Zombie. Living corpse. Whatever name modern society wants to give me. In a world rife with supernatural creatures and blatant unbelievers, I live and hunt alone. Only my giant wolf hound gives you company. It’s not much of an afterlife, but it’s mine.

But one atypical Thursday, my dinner was stolen by the most annoying, elitist, insufferable asshole vampire. His name is Ivar.

And my quiet, lonely afterlife will never be the same again.

Pairing: Vampire Ivar x Zombie OC Verity

Chapter Four TW: mentions of blood and blood drinking

Read below the cut or on A03 here

Taglist:   @tiyetiye @unicorn-glitter-princess@readsalot73 @cutiepiepotatoes @captainpoopweinersoldier@rrwilson66@teapartydreams @pagan-raider @alexa040004

A/N: As you may have noticed, this has changed from a reader insert to and Ivar X OC, as it was reading like that anyways! So I have created an OC named Verity, physical traits will be kept to a minimum so you can imagine her as you please. And as always, @pokeasleepingsmaug is the best beta :).

Keep reading

3

Aria Bloom: So,how come you’re an only child?

Kivan: Uh…pretty sure my parents wouldn’t be able to afford another kid,to be honest.

Aria Bloom: What do your parents do for a living?

Kivan didn’t say anything for a few moments. Aria bit her lip again…she usually didn’t ask him personal questions like this.

Kivan: My mom works at a diner a few miles from our house. She picks up as many double shifts as she can so I don’t see her much. And…my dad is a writer.

Aria Bloom: A writer? Does he write books?

Kivan: *scoffs* More like book. He’s been “working” on the same book since before I was born. He’s never had a real job…

When caring nearly hung us,

We taught ourselves how not to feel.

We watched the demons Rise

From among us,

We buried ourselves in the fields.

We worshiped the same hand

That pushed us in line.

We bowed to the men

That broke us,

into saying we’re fine .

None of us were fine.

We walked lines drawn

With the enemies sword.

Watched our lives fall,

As our emotions hit the floor.

We lived yes,

But what did we live for?

We use to care,

We were blessed,

We care for nothing here anymore.

Nobodies careful anymore.

Who will we care for here anymore?

9

[ R o d o l p h u s  L e s t r a n g e  x  L u c i u s  M a l f o y ]

moodboard  [2/??] @rody-lestrange

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, 

    mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, 

  the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but 

     burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding 

  like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue 

                centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!

Background radiation

I’m checking in on my friends.

Are they all still okay? Are they all still there?

Are they still fighting?

The same ammunition that’s been recycled since I discovered the battle. Spent fuel that’s never not been dangerous, taking lives by proxy. Keeping people in exile.

They’re fighting for their homeland. Where we grew up. They say we can’t live here. But we can’t leave. We live here now, just like we always have.

I check on my friends, and see how much I can stand. It’s painful being out here. Some days are worse than others.

I know the fight is senseless. Sometimes I end up fighting anyway for awhile before I realize it’s more damaging to me than anyone else, and most of the people here aren’t fighting.

They don’t need to. Neither do I.

I check in while I can tolerate the background radiation.

How damaging is it today?

Instincts

Streams of light let you know the difference between night and day. Food is placed outside the door, mainly bread and water with tiny hints of other food once being placed on the bread before its arrival. As you look around at your surroundings they are not as a dungeon would normally look, but it is a dungeon never the less. Two beds with pure white sheets at least they once were. Windows with thick curtains that allow in the streams of light that allow one the knowledge of the time of day and that’s about it. You wear cloth’s that are placed outside the door in the same fashion as the food, but you must figure out how things are put on and in what order.

In time you come to the realization that you are not in your cell alone. There is another with you living in the same conditions. This other is not like you; this other is smaller and looks much different mainly in anatomy. In time the two of you share a bond due to the fact you are all the other has and knows. You never leave, you never know anything more than your current surroundings, and you live a life that you can’t imagine will change or rather that you may not want the change; due to this form of living being all that you know. Then one day the life you know as yours is changed drastically and can never be unaltered.

The light that once only streamed through the curtains that lets one know the difference between night and day now comes from another source, a much greater source. The door that once only provided you with food and cloths before now has something never before seen. Beings that approach you with mouths that move, and sounds comes out in soft tones; that get no other response than fear and aggression from whom they are coming towards. The two that live this life huddle together in a corner and don’t let go of each other, praying that the intruders into their lives will leave or disappear; if no acknowledgment is made on their parts. But this unfortunately for the pair doesn’t work.

Keep reading

haphazardlyparked  asked:

Monopoly is ace!

i am so incredibly ace that most of it carries over to my characters and like more of them are ace/ambiguous than not, but here, have a thoroughly stupid story about a character i don’t think any of y’all have ever seen


so i didn’t realize asexuality was a thing (or that i was probably ace) until like after college. in high school when i worked at dairy queen i had been roleplaying for a while and one of my characters was an old dude who hunted monsters for a living. and in high school, as you all know, sex is all pretty much anyone talks about.

lyon the monster hunter was a bachelor. i knew this in the same way i knew eli was gay and betten had one arm and that if i ever changed any of that then they wouldn’t be good characters at all. in my head, making up lyon’s back story, i was going through so many loops to figure out why lyon had never married or why he wasn’t even interested. like i even went so far as to go “he’s cursed??? he can’t love/kiss anyone with them dying??? but he doesn’t need a tragic backstory???? you can’t be a fifty year old person without having smooched people!!!”

and then a few years later i joined tumblr and they were like “hey this is asexuality” and after going “OH HEY SO THAT’S WHY I NEVER DATED ANYONE EVER” i went “oh dang like all my characters are also asexual w h a t”



[for this ask game]

I hate representative government. I hate our “corporate ethics” culture for the same reasons. Neither electoral politics or consumer activism have ever produced change. We’re all accustomed to participating in these things out of fear for what will happen if we don’t. Democracy didn’t give us a world in which millions of people’s lives couldn’t be taken away at the whim of some head of state, or a world where people’s rights to live freely and pursue happiness were safeguarded - it arguably produced a brand of kinder, gentler feudalism. We’ve been at this project for hundreds of years and I’m sick of it. Literally all but a nauseatingly tiny number of us share the same basic interests in this world - how have we never managed to organize enough to realize them?

anonymous asked:

whats weird about two friends hanging out together? yes SH had a scandal, so what? we're all over it, and he's living his life, should he stay inside, not see anyone, get depressed and never heal from it????????????

yeah same. i know what ure saying. i also know what the angry people are saying. but the thing is that if korean media wants to write articles about this it’s going to happen anyways. and i feel i’m not to b blamed for this !?

youtube

The Smashing Pumpkins: Tonight, Tonight (1995)

“Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believe that life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain
We’re not the same, we’re different tonight
Tonight, so bright, Tonight

And you know you’re never sure
But you’re sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light

And the embers never fade in your city by the lake
The place where you were born
Believe, believe in me, believe
In the resolute urgency of now

And if you believe there’s not a chance tonight
Tonight, so bright tonight
We’ll crucify the insincere tonight
We’ll make things right, we’ll feel it all tonight
We’ll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight“

Sirius and Harry were in charge of candles.

  • Snape: Mr. Potter, why don't you read first?
  • Harry: Alright, Chapter 1; Surviving your fascist Potions Professor who needs to put kids down to feel big.
  • Harry: Oh wow! This is useful guys, we should read on!

i say “straight cis men are spoiled, that’s all. spoiled brats.”

my father bristles. “oh, so i can say the reverse of that? how would you feel if i called your entire gender something like that?”

like what? like bitch? like hysterical? like keep your voice down, don’t get crazy, don’t be one of those girls, come on, just say yes to me. like what? like needy, like over-emotional, like high maintenance? 

i say, “i know what it feels like.”

he says, “men just want things and you’re pretending being denied those things doesn’t hurt.”

oh i know it hurts. but when i hurt, i hurt myself. i cut into the lip of my body and rip out all the good things. when i hurt, i blame myself. when boys around me hurt, they hurt me. come at me with fists and knives and screaming. trap me on trains while they shout names at me. lock me in the car when i try to leave. hold me down and ignore the begging.

i say, “it does. but, while women can be toxic and abusive, i find that denying a man something is like telling a spoiled child they can’t have a toy for being good.”

on my tongue are stories that don’t seem to break the pattern. stories i know other women have. men who wanted me because i was nice to them, men who wanted me because they were nice to me, men who turned equally quickly into beasts, howling about their lacking, how i owed them, how they could take advantage of me, how, like bread and water, they were starved of me. of course i should give in, how dare i let them go hungry, how selfish it was of me. 

my father says, “when. there are tons of perfectly fine men and just as many bad women. you’ve worked in retail. you’ve complained about them.”

oh, yes. i’ve had my humanity dragged through the dirt by that-kind-of-haircut, by “speak to your manager”, by still-in-the-store-an-hour-after-closing. i’ve been screamed at and serenaded by swear words. i’ve had women look like they were about to pop a blood vessel. 

none of those women ever followed me to a car. none of those women ever wrote down my name just to find me on facebook. none of those women ever followed me home, sniffed at my neck, told me how pretty i’d look naked. oh, i’m sure they wanted to kill me. but they didn’t make it about how much they’d debase me. it was a clean threat, a cold knife. 

it’s a hard thing to explain. that i knew if these women went for me, it wasn’t because of my gender, and that made those threats differ. the same way that if they had been threatening me for being gay, it would have been scary. i was just in the wrong place when they hated me. they didn’t hate me because of my identity.

i clear my throat. “a spoiled woman wants what i’m not giving her, sure. but i can usually calm her down by helping and understanding. and we’re talking about the difference between being denied an object and being denied access to my body.”

my father snorts. “i think you’re blowing this out of proportion.” 

there’s an entire group of men on reddit that we’ve just come to accept as thinking of women as objects. it’s not a small group, either, but what are you going to do. they write each other novels about how women are all animals who need to be controlled, how they’re “involuntarily celibate”, that we’ve denied them all. and how somehow, that denial is our fault. there’s been murders because men were mad they couldn’t have women. mass murders. serial murders. and so many of them were straight violence: not for the intention of killing, but of dragging out the sorrow of it. did you know rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power.

my mouth hurts. i tell him, “you should see how they act when you’re in a position of power above them.” 

how they are when they find out a hispanic female got the job. how they are when it’s me, and i’m not even five foot three, and they know they can intimidate me. how it is when they raise voices over me, and sit on my desk, and come into my room without asking, and ask who i blew in order to get here, and ask to see my resume because obviously i was given the job for diversity and not my three years experience, and ask if i’d be their office affair, and stretch themselves to expand, like a balloon, filling, filling. how their voices pop, “stole my job,” “affirmative action is reverse racism,” “i’m going to bend her over one of these days and show her who’s boss.”

my father shrugs. “if it bothers you so much, stop listening to them.”

in three days from this conversation, one of my friends will text me that a guy pulled a knife on her in a bar because she said no. in two days from this conversation, i will have someone pull up my skirt. on the day of this conversation, three of my friends and i will get wine drunk and cackle over white boys texting and their dick pics and demands for love. when they say things like “you’re a slut and i fucking hate you and i hope you die” when she says no, we laugh. when my skirt comes up, i laugh. when my friend is at knifepoint, she laughs.

did you know laughter is a fear response. 

to my father i say, “just watch. watch what happens when a woman says no.”

he shakes his head. “god, where do you even get this stuff?”

i want to live in a world where i got this from nowhere. where it’s just a figment. where i’ve never met men in the wild, only read about them, and their hands, and their ability to take things from me without feeling sorry. i want to live in a world where other women are confused about the accusations, haven’t experienced the same thing, or haven’t heard the same thing from the women close to them. i want to live in a world where it’s fake, because they treat us like it’s fake; instead of living where it’s this giant open secret like a blood boil, pulsing, a shush of things we’ve learned to answer with laughing, a big burn mark we’ve all been through but is somehow not counted as scarring. i want to live in a world where i’m making up my experiences for want of them; where i’ve never been kissed or touched or groped without my permission, where i don’t fear trains and enclosed spaces. the world i see so many men live in; where it might be a concern on their periphery, but not enough to warrant attention.

“you’d see it too,” i say through his words, “if you just stopped and listened.”

the more videos and gifsets from the red carpet and interviews i see the more i notice how namjoon has always silently been there for yoongi. we all know this kind of events is the opposite of yoongi’s cup of tea and there were too many screaming nosy strangers everywhere and it definitely overwhelmed him and made him close up and hide behind the other members. but then i started noticing supporting half-hugs, and silent looks to check whether he’s doing okay and little grabs at the elbow to encourage him to speak or at the very least to ground him. anything to make him less afraid and tired and anxious. these gestures are so small and lowkey and unnoticeable but at the same time they mean so much??? years of living together and surviving countless hardships together made them closer that words aren’t needed anymore, silent looks and concerned eyes speak volumes for themselves and thinking about this kind of friendship makes me emotional each time because it doesn’t exist on cameras, it’s never a glittery thing to show off and scream about; it’s always something real and genuine and it feels like home and softness and quiet unconditional love

i just appreciate yoongi and namjoon’s friendship so much guys 😭😭😭

10

Sorry Adrien. Congrats Marinette! #AdrienDidntAskForThis #DontGiveInToPeerPressureKids #TheSavageDuo

Thanks for another great drawing idea, @silverbellsapphire​! She also suggested the idea for this comic :D