and they were worse than this

I have a theory about Jamilla and Sana’s mysterious other brother that we never see or hear about and we only know he exists because of one text that Sana gave Vilde.

There is no other brother.  Jamilla used to be engaged to Elias but they broke up.

And maybe Sana was partially to blame for the break up, but Elias doesn’t know that.

Darkness spreads

Ah the Purl Empire, how planets had we conquered this year alone? ten? Twenty? ah it didn’t matter our empire grows and soon enough we shall be where we rightfully belong. The lords of the galaxy. 

I toast to our most recent successes along with my fiend Fera and commander of the second order, his force was almost as big as mine and the number of planets he had conquered was fast. But  I had done more,Truly there was no race in the universe that could face us. So many races our Empire had trodden on, so many had faced us and where are they, extinct is where they are. forgotten to the pages of history. Ah my assistants finally enters my office surly to bring some more good news.

“Sir, the 8th fleet has…gone”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” i demand to know.

“We lost contact with them a few hours ago, we believed it to be a communication malfunction but they are not responding on any channel”

This is impossible, no fleet has ever simply dissipated.

“Where were they?” I ask trying to make sense of this.

“They were heading to system 1963.6″

“Well what is there?”

“A small barley inhabitable planet, other than that not much is known it has been some time since a probe was sent there”

“How long ago?”

“about a hundred years and our reports show the barley sentient race there were living in huts”

My friend suggests they are simply not responding or that their equipment has malfunctioned. But on every ship that is not likely, i order my assistant to send the 4th fleet as they should be close by, they could tell us what is happening and clear up this mystery.

10 fleets, we sent 10 fleets into that territory that should have been more than enough to destroy what was lurking in that…void. This darkness is spreading too, whatever began on that planet has spread far and worse with every victory they seem to get stronger.

 We were able to capture one of them, dead obviously they are too dangerous to be captured alive. This alien is beyond our comprehension, our scanners can’t detect it, our tools can only barley cut it, it’s like their bones are made of pure steel. As soon as one of their organs was cut open acid sprayed everywhere killing the researchers and even melting the table. Did these things evolve naturally?

The entire Empire is now mobilizing, all 182 fleets are moving to surround this darkness, we may at least be able to contain them, my fleets are but a shadow of their former glory now. Once I commanded one of the largest fleets in the Empire and now it’s been reduced to less than half strength. Worse I’m on support duty for those at the front.

The darkness has spread once more, this time in every direction, their ships we can target them, we cant even see them we fire blind in some hope we might hit them. Their ships grab ours and board our ships vomiting their soldiers inside. I am ashamed to say I fled when they broke through my section. 

The Purl Empire is gone, it fell years ago, the moment my fleet was sent to attack their home they have hunted us with a hunger that is not natural, they have devoured every planet we had, every ship we fought with. Now we hide, on this back water world with only the most basic technology to survive on. Food is scarce, the water poisonous in large quantities. I’m out one day collecting firewood, how far I have fallen I think to myself, a noise behind me makes me turn and i drop the wood at what I see.

The darkness, they were waiting for us.

Night Moves (Part 4)

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Summary: The reader hooks up with a guy she meets at a bar one night after she gets to the town where her childhood friend Jess is getting married in a few days time, leading to some unintended consequences…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: au!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This one was a fast write but tons of fun to come up with!…


Keep reading

Drunk and Disorderly - Imagine

*Y/N’s POV*

It was well after 2am by the time I gave up waiting, shuffling to the bedroom with a defeated sigh, leaving a couple of hall lights on behind me should he arrive home after I’d fallen asleep.

Harry had been out with his friends since 6.30pm, dinner and a few drinks he told me, “Nothing major sweetheart, I’ll be home by 12”.

“12 my arse” I grumbled as I crawled in to bed, shuffling under the duvet and into the cool sheets. I had waited up for him like he asked, but as 12 came and went, and my phone remained void of messages, I gave up. It was unusual of Harry to stay out later than intended and not let me know, and to say his lack of contact had me worried was an understatement.

I settled in to bed, lying flat on my back with my hands resting on my chest and my eyes gazing up at the ceiling, the exhaustion threatening to pull them closed but my concern repeatedly pulling them back open. As 3am drifted past, I finally slipped into an uneasy sleep.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before I was ripped from my dreams by a loud banging on the front door, but I was faintly aware of a thin band of pale light creeping in between the curtains. A second series of aggressive knocks rattled the front door. I quickly flung myself from the bed and pulled a jumper over my body, dashing down the stairs in my pyjama trousers and socks. As I unlatched the front door, I assumed I would pull it back to find Harry, having lost his keys or too drunk to get them in the lock I wasn’t sure, but I knew it would be him. I was prepared to be relieved to have him in front of me, I was also prepared for the anger that would inevitably follow as he slurred out an excuse for returning during the early hours of the morning. But as I opened the door, everything I expected was replaced with one thing:

Shock.

Stood before me, silhouetted by the crisp light of the early morning, were two police officers. The two men took no notice of my appearance as one offered me a soft smile.

“Miss Y/L/N?” he asked. By this point, I was too stunned to answer. Every possible reason as to why I was being faced with two police officers at 5 o’clock in the morning flashed through my brain in what must have been no longer than a second, and all of them ended with Harry, arrested, injured or worse. I’ve seen the programmes, the cop dramas and movies, and no good ever comes from having a policeman stood on your doorstep without good reason.

My inner turmoil must have been present on my face as the taller officer, a slender man with a thin beard and moustache, spoke again without waiting for my reply to his earlier question.

“No need to panic love, I can tell what you’re thinking and it’s not that” he said, his words lifting a weight off my heart. But still my brows furrowed in confusion.

“Is everything ok?” I asked.

“Well we are here on behalf of your boyfriend, Mr Styles, yes?” he asked and I nodded.

“Got ‘imself into a bit of trouble last night” the other officer said. He was shorter than his colleague and rounder, his hand stuffed into the front of his vest to brace him against the chill of the morning air.

“What happened? Is he ok?” I rushed.

“He’s fine. He was arrested last night for being drunk and disorderly. Kept him in the cells over night to sober him up. We’ve been sent to request that you come and collect him, there are a few forms that need to be filled out on his behalf” he explained. I was stunned silent. Harry, drunk and disorderly? It didn’t make sense, and it didn’t sit well in my stomach. I was well aware of the fact that Harry, like perhaps anyone else, was more than susceptible to the effects of alcohol, and on more than one occasion I had to pull him away from a fight on a night out, but for Harry to follow through on what I had always assumed were idle threats surprised me.

“Oh, oh right. Um, ok, just let me get dressed and I’ll follow you there in my car?” I suggested.

“Sounds good. We’ll just wait for you in our car, head out when you’re ready” the shorter officer spoke once again before they both turned away and returned to their car which was parked on the road just outside. I shut the door quickly and rushed upstairs, not bothering to change the jumper I had thrown on, but instead opting to switch my flannel pyjama bottoms for a pair of jeans. I stuffed my feet in to a pair of trainers as I grabbed my phone and keys before dashing out the front door again, locking it firmly behind me.

The officers drove slower than was probably necessary as I followed them across town to the local station, making a point to hold back after each junction to make sure that I was behind them. I pulled my car up beside them as we reached the station car park and followed them inside like they said.

“We’ve got Miss Y/L/N ‘ere Sir” the tall officer said, who I learned was called Tom as we hurried across the frozen ground of the car park and in to the welcome head of the station reception.

“Ah yes, thank you Sargent, I’ll deal with it from here”. Both officers gave me a small tip of the hat as they disappeared down one of the many corridors that branched off from the desk I was stood before.

“Not what you were expecting this morning ay Miss?” the man behind the desk said as he collected some papers from beside him and placing them in front of me along with a pen.

“Em no, not exactly” I said with by best attempt at a chuckle.

“No need to worry, just need you to fill out a couple of things and then your boyfriend will be released without charge, no harm done. Well maybe not for him, I imagine he’ll be getting a bit of an ear bashing from you on the way home, am I right?” he said with a smile.

“You got that right” I snorted as I began filling in the required details on the papers in front of me.

“I’d say he’s got the worst yet to come” he continued and once again I nodded, he had no idea. The paperwork was long and extensive, giving me more than enough time to decide whether I was angry, or relieved that nothing serious had happened to him. It didn’t take me long to decide that I was angry, furious in fact. For Harry, things like these become global news ‘Harry Styles arrested for being drunk and disorderly’, ‘Harry Styles spends night in a cell following arrest’, ‘Harry Styles: global superstar or drunken thug?’. His worldwide influence was growing day by day, his album was number 1 across the world, he himself is number 1 on 2 Billboard charts, and he was marking that achievement, by getting himself arrested. Way to go Harry.

“Done” the man behind the desk said as I signed the last page. “I’ll just head along and get ‘im” he said, before removing himself from his chair and disappearing, the large bunch of keys strapped to his waist jingling as he went. It was only moments before he returned, a tired and rather apprehensive Harry in his wake.

“Good luck Son” the man called as I turned to leave the building, Harry shuffling along behind me. It was silent, neither of us spoke as we hurried across the car park to escape the chill of the morning air. The smell of stale alcohol drifted from him as he slipped into the passenger seat beside me, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap as I pulled out of the station and began the journey home.

“Sorry” Harry mumbled after several more minutes of thick, tense silence. I snapped.

“What the hell were you thinking?! Drunk and disorderly Harry are you kidding me?! What happened?!” I shouted, the anger in my voice resonating throughout the small confines of my car. Part of me wanted to calm down, to let him explain and to listen to what reasonable excuse he had for behaving in such an uncharacteristic way. But the anger at his carelessness was consuming me, so I pushed the reasonable thoughts aside and continued speaking before he had the chance to reply.

“Do you have any idea what the media are going to make of this?! How could you be so stupid Harry?!”

“Y/N please, let me explain” he signed gently, looking at me with wide, bloodshot eyes. I waved my hand in the air to encourage him to continue.

“I don’t even know what happened, I wasn’t that drunk,” I snorted but he pushed on, “I wasn’t I promise! We were having a couple of drinks after dinner, just like I said and then this guy recognised me, said I was ‘That guy who was in that band’. He knew you though, kept going on about how I had such a ‘pretty girl’ and all this shit. He was off his face Y/N, literally blind drunk, I was surprised he was still on his feet. But he kept going on and on about you, said he’d seen you picture in the papers or something, and he was saying some disgusting things. Kept saying I should share you out, give him and turn for the night, said I could watch if it made me feel better” Harry cringed and I supressed a shudder, the anger dissolving from my body with each word he spoke.

“I lost it after that, I don’t even remember what happened. I must have followed him in to the street or something and attacked him cause the next thing I knew I was pinned to the ground by two police officers and the guy was being lifted into an ambulance. Someone said that they’d seen me follow the guy out of the bar so they arrested me for being drunk and disorderly and took me to the station. I’m sure you know the rest” Harry said with another gentle sigh. I pulled the car up outside the house and killed the engine.

“But they released you without charge, no assault conviction, nothing” I frowned.

“Yeah, a couple of people in the bar heard what was being said, told the police everything and they let me go”.

“I was so worried Harry” I whispered, turning in my seat to face him as he did the same. He sighed and reached over to brush his hand against my cheek, running his thumb along the puffy skin beneath my eyes which had developed from lack of sleep.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I asked if I could call you but they wouldn’t let me until everything had got sorted out” he said gently, his fingertips brushing down my neck and pushing my hair back behind my shoulder.

“You don’t ever have to do that because some creep is saying something about me you know?” I said and he nods his head gently.

“You didn’t hear what he was saying Y/N, it was so,” I hushed him.

“Harry what people say doesn’t matter, what he was saying would never have happened, you and I both know that. Don’t get yourself into trouble just to protect me” I said gently.

“I’d do anything to protect you, sweetheart” he said, his voice holding the most conviction it had since I picked him up.

“I know” I said, leaning across the centre console to press my lips lightly against his. Neither of us tried to deepen the kiss, simply let the comforting warmth of his lips against mine sooth the stress of the night.

“Come on curly,” I said, pulling away just far enough to speak, my lips brushing gently against his, “let’s get you inside and in the shower, you stink of alcohol” I said with a giggle, pulling away completely and reaching for the door handle.

“Fine,” he sighed as I opened the door and stepped out, “but you’re getting in with me” he added as I shut the car door, a small smile spreading across my lips as his words ignited a warmth in my stomach.  

I’ve been putting it off speaking about this but after my last reblog, I just feel like I need to say something.

Doesn’t matter where you are in the world, doesn’t matter if you have no ties to Manchester or Ariana Grande and her fan base, doesn’t matter if this seems like it happened in a completely different world … we should all feel for those people.

Having experienced losing someone I cared deeply about, there’s nothing in the world that hurts me more than to see people losing their lives and worse is, losing their lives for nothing.

I’ve had a heavy heart ever since the news broke last night and every time I think about those parents, who were anxiously waiting for their kids to get back home so they could tell them how their experience was, my heart cries.

How many times have I done this? How many times have I gone to a concert and got back home and had my mother breathe a sigh of relief because she knew I was safe and sound?

Not all of those parents who dropped their kids off for a night of fun can say the same and I keep putting myself in their shoes. They lost children, a friend, a cousin. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have any ties to those people, I still feel for them, because it could’ve been me. It could’ve been my mother that lost her child. It could’ve been a cousin or my best friend.

It’s not fair to judge those who feel for them and who cry for them because they’re only doing what we all should do - put ourselves in their shoes. Sympathize. Understand. Love and support them, because that’s what they need.

Harry or me or anyone being affected by this even if they’re not there just goes to show that there’s still a way we can make love thrive, there’s still a chance for us to make bad into good. Let’s all do that, let’s put love out in the world - it’s the only way we can save it. ❤️

You know it really warms my heart that a wlw ship between a Mexican heroine and an Indian heroine is the most popular ship in the fandom. Trimberly means a lot to me not just on the surface of it being a ship between two girls who support each other, but because it’s interracial. Rarely, if ever, have I seen an interracial wlw ship (besides Korrasami) receive so much love and support from a fanbase. And it makes me so happy seeing myself, a wlw Mexican girl, represented in Trini both in terms of us being unapologetically Latina and being wlw. This is really important and it breaks my heart that a movie franchise with so much potential flopped and there’s a higher chance we will not get a sequel even though we deserve one. Please support the movie in any way you can. The cast is so wonderful and the movie was executed amazingly, I really want to see the other sequels this movie rightfully deserves. I want to see these kids grow and and discover more about themselves. I want to hear Trini say she’s bi, or pan, or lesbian. Or hell, even just saying “wlw.” I want to hear what Trini’s last name is in this incarnation of the series. I want to know more about Jason and Kim and Zack. I want more to be done with Billy. I wanted to see if they’d try their hardest to get a Native American actor to play Tommy Oliver, or even if they managed to let Tommy be a girl in this incarnation. I wanted so much with this series and I really really hope we get to see it thrive because if it flops for good and it doesn’t get those sequels and love it deserves I don’t think I could go on being the same person. This was the movie tumblr always preached about. So why is it that a highly diverse movie with 4/5 leads of color, a black autistic hero, a wlw Latina hero, a cast who act like real kids and who have consequences for their actions, whose acting was phenomenal and felt real, who were given equal treatment the entire course of the movie, who have the set up for amazing representation in the future if we do get those movies, flopped? Please support power rangers. It was so good and deserved so much more than what it’s been given.

littlewatty  asked:

Dunno if you've done it - but Garrus' reaction to Shep being missing after the destruction of Sovereign at the end of ME1, before she shows up again.

[Nothing can convince me that these two weren’t always secretly into each other. Decided to keep this short, but hopefully sweet.] 

Shepard was missing, and Garrus couldn’t articulate why this made part of chest ache, bands of worry squeezing tighter than they had any right to.

 Sovereign’s destruction had carved a wide swathe of destruction across the Citadel, leaving the Council’s chambers as a wreck, unrecognizable for the soaring, vaulted space it had once been. Lurching to his feet, Garrus dusted himself off. Everything was a mess of pain, but it wasn’t any worse than taking a rocket to the face, and a few extra scars weren’t going to change things. There were dozens of small, bleeding cuts dotting his body, even through his armor, through his carapace, but he had more important things to worry about. Where the hell was Shepard?

 She should have been just right there, right in that area where light met shadow, but instead there was just a steel beam, a pillar that looked devastatingly heavy and metallic. “Shepard!”

 Shit, where was she? This was just concern for a friend; he didn’t have time for this confusing rush of emotions. Turians weren’t good at emotions, and Garrus was much like every other member of his species in that regard. He cared because Shepard was his leader, someone he had grown to trust. It wasn’t anything more than that.

 And then movement from by the pillar, something crawling out from underneath it. Shepard, standing atop the rubble. All she needed was a fan to blow her hair and she would have looked like something straight out of an Alliance recruitment poster. Join the Alliance. See the stars. Become the hero you were always meant to be. He didn’t like that feeling still lurking in his chest, something queasy but at least relieved, something that gave a funny lurch he refused to consider more deeply.

 “Shepard.” If his voice wavered a little bit, did she notice? If, when he clapped her on the shoulder, did she pay attention to how he held his hand there for a moment longer than was necessary, squeezing it? She felt… whole, okay. Just as scratched up as he looked, but damn if he didn’t like every scar on her face.

 “Worried about me, Garrus?” Voice cocky- that was the Shepard he knew best.

 “Not even a little bit,” he shot back.

 “Liar.” She threw her arms around him, surprising them, a bear hug, and he could have sworn that she leaned into it more than she had to.

 Damn it, Vakarian. You’re a mess.

And now you’re 18,
the age which you swore you’d be okay by.
At 17 you started to doubt if you’d ever be okay,
but surprisingly, you are okay.
You never saw it coming either. You were laying in bed, twisted up in sheets, quietly realizing that it had been ages since you last cried yourself to sleep.
And you’re wondering why you let all those little things hurt you when you were 14, wondering why you let people take advantage of you at 15, wondering why on earth you never expected to survive another year at 16. 
And it’s not that you’re never sad anymore,
it’s just that you’re no longer consumed by your own sadness.
And you’re 18 now,
worse things have happened than bad breakups and frizzy hair.
So for the first time,
you’ve become a rock, making light of the worst situations.
At 18, you always expected to be okay,
running through fields of flowers,
grown up, beautiful, everything laid out for you, making all the right decisions and loving all the right people, all with a perpetual grin on your face.
And nothing’s like that,
you’re confused, lost, unsure, carrying the weight of your own potential on your aching shoulders, you still don’t have your life laid out, and you still cry about the little things.
But for the first time in your life
you’re okay.
You’re truly okay.
—  unkown user

anonymous asked:

what are your thoughts on issis?

What are my thoughts on ISIS? Gather round, kids. 

Daesh, as we call them in Arabic, are a Salafi terrorist group - Salafi as in they believe in inciting war and murder in a bid to establish ‘true’ Sunni Islam. 

As a Shia  - they probably hate me way more than they hate white christians. They believe Shi’ite Muslims are worse than infidels, they believe we are scum, and they’re happy to commit genocide against us. They have killed, abducted or displaced thousands of Shia Muslims since their conception in 2014 - one example of this is the Camp Speicher massacre, where nearly 1,600 unarmed Shia cadets were slaughtered. When they would invade cities such as Mosul, they would separate the Sunni prisoners from the Shias, and they’d take the Shias and execute them on the spot. They’ve destroyed at least 10 of our holy shrines and hussainiyas, often killing Shia worshippers in their wake. 

As a Shia, I fucking hate the cunts. 

As a general Muslim - they’ve defamed the name of my religion. They’ve made us out to seem like a bunch of barbaric, psychotic sadists from the Dark Ages with no regard for human life and liberty, and made us strangers in the countries that we call home. Islamophobic hate crimes are going through the roof, profiling is through the roof, and of course there’s that time we were banned from entering the US. ‘Muslim’ is synonymous with ‘terrorist,’ and not that this wasn’t the case before, but now it’s a hell of a lot more prominent, and fucking hell, you can’t even begin to fathom how that makes us feel, how that impacts our daily lives. 

As a Muslim, I fucking hate the cunts. 

As an Iraqi Arab - they’ve almost done a better job fucking up my country than Bush did. Aside from the civilians they’ve killed - 27,000 at the BARE MINIMUM since 2014, and that’s just in Iraq, and not counting the people who’ve died to to secondary effects like displacement, lack of healthcare and basic resources - they have destroyed homes, hospitals, shrines, historical and cultural landmarks, artefacts like those at the Mosul museum which are over 5,000 years old, and the ancient city of Palmyra in Syria…I could go on, but for the sake of brevity I’ll stop there. 

They’ve destabilised the Middle East even more than it already was thanks to interventionist foreign policy and war. They’ve destroyed our history and cultural identity. They have murdered thousands and caused the suffering of hundreds of thousands. The future of the countries affected - especially Syria and Iraq - is even more uncertain. I mean, you can imagine how much people prioritise things like education and sustainable economic development at a time when terrorists are knocking down their backdoors. 

As an Iraqi Arab, I fucking hate the cunts. 

As a woman - the most famous example are the Yazidis, a minority ethnic group in Northern Iraq. The men were slaughtered and the women - about 7,000 by the UN’s estimate - were sold into sexual slavery. These pieces of shit would rape girls as young as nine, and pregnant women would undergo forced abortions, and many others would become forced brides. 

And in the places where ISIS has taken over, women’s rights - as you can imagine - are virtually non-existent. You can’t go out unless you’re with a man and you’re wearing a veil, otherwise you either get fined, or you’re subjected to a whipping - yes, a literal whipping. Women have been punished for having holes in their socks and for lifting up the flap of their veils to take a bite of food. 

As a woman, I fucking hate the cunts. 

As a human - they’ve claimed lives everywhere. In the Middle East, in the UK, in America, in France, in Germany, in the Philippines…they know no borders, no morals. They’ve groomed hundreds if not thousands of vulnerable young people, both outside of the Middle East and in it, to joining their bullshit fucking crusade. They’re one of the biggest reasons, IMO, why the Neo-Nazi movement is now a thing again. They’ve given ‘them’, being white Westerners, a reason to hate ‘us’, the Muslim sand-nigger rag-heads. They’re dividing our communities, infiltrating our lives, killing our innocent.

As a human, I fucking hate the cunts. 

I hate them more than the average Westerner. With people like me, ethnic minority Muslims born and raised in Western countries, their effects are personal. Every time an attack like Manchester happens, it’s like a stab to the gut to me. Every time there’s a bombing or a massacre back home, for us diasporas, it’s like an even bigger stab to the gut. I know people personally who have died because of ISIS, or who’ve been forced to flee their homes. 

Fuck ISIS, or DAESH, or whatever you want to call them. I fucking despise them, and I despise the socio-political events that led to their birth. But that’s a whole different story. 

Thanks so much guys. It’s so good to know that there’s more of us here. Seriously though, that previous anon (along with others) won’t listen to Muslims much less let them speak their side. So I’m just trying to speak up because too many times they were shut up (and worse) just for being muslim and that’s just fucked up okay. Treat them as human beings. Separate the minority terrorists from the whole population because it’s not fucking fair that everyone innocent has to deal with fuckups they didn’t do.

 Be more reasonable than that. Be better than that. Be a better person. 

I hate to sound like an old person but if you’re still a teenager pls enjoy tf out of it. It really sucks out hear and my body is already changing and everything hurts worse (mind you ive always had arthritis and other dissabilities but antways) and bad habits that were instilled as a teenager are WAAY harder to change as an adult. Just… what I’m trying to say is LIVE and plan for the future… don’t be like me. Time passes a lot faster than it feels to you right now.

ravenclawer  asked:

Why do you think season 2 was bad? It had some really good episodes like Sworn to the sword, Reformed, Too far, The Answer and etc.. Plus, it's the season with the least filler out of all seasons and the little filler there is in it is actually pretty good (of course, excluding Rising tides, Crashing skies and Say Uncle).

Season 2 had a lot of interesting stories, but I felt like a lot of them were poorly executed. In fact, Season 2 probably has worse moments than Season 4, but Season 4 is overall worse because it was a lot less interesting. 

The finding Peridot plot was fine overall, but it was a little frustrating because the gems came off as idiots since they didn’t catch Peridot quickly. Maybe it might have worked if they established her being a threat, but they really haven’t.  

The Pearl redemption arc was frustrating as hell. Sworn to the Sword is actually an episode that I really didn’t like because of the way it ended. It’s not just that she didn’t apologize for what she did to Connie (which was fucked up by the way), it’s that this is the same ending at Rose’s Scabbard. Then came the week of Sardonyx which sucked for many reasons, but I’ll just concentrate on the ending which was another pity Pearl moment. Pearl constantly playing the pity card after she does terrible things makes her come off as very manipulative and makes it seem like she’s not learning her lesson at all. I was so frustrated with how they wrote Pearl that I created Problematic Pearl, who is blatantly unapologetic (though some might argue that makes her less problematic). After multiple episodes where Pearl did terrible things they made Back to the Barn. Back to the Barn is my worst episode of Steven Universe. There’s so many reasons for that, but I’ll just mention that it was an episode that pretty much demanded that we kiss the ground that Pearl walked on. I’m so glad Pearl’s so much better written now than she was back then. 

Finally there’s the Peridot redemption arc. It started off great, but then it went downhill as soon as Peridot started interacting with the CGs. It could’ve worked if they went with having it where the Gems just don’t trust Peridot, but no. They went with having Peridot say a belief that is common on Homeworld, and the Crystal Gems punish her for it without explaining why. Now how to react to a bigot is a very difficult question, but I feel like both time SU tried to deal with it, they got it wrong. Now I know this might make me sound like one of those A holes who is saying you shouldn’t punch Nazis, but I’m not one of those at all. Punching Richard Spencer was justified because he should by all accounts know better and he is actively encouraging violence against minorities. Punching Peridot wasn’t really because she had no way of knowing any better and her bigotry was harmless. I’m not saying they shouldn’t object to Peridot’s bigotry, but them punishing her without explaining why just made them seem like bullies. Making the racist seem like the one that’s getting bullied is really bad writing. Having the CGs surprised that Peridot had the beliefs she did was also very bad writing. 

Honestly, Season 2 is better than Season 4 because it was more interesting and had more great episodes (Joy Ride, Reformed, Keeping it Together, Chille Tid, Nightmare Hospital, Catch and Release, When it Rains, Message Received). It did also have some of the worst episodes of the show in my opinion ( Say Uncle, Rising Tides, Crashing Skies, Friend Ship, Back to the Barn, Too Far, It Could’ve Been Great). So Season 2: the parts were worse than the whole. Season 4: the whole was worse than its parts. 

anonymous asked:

Hi again! I'm the anon that got stood up a couple weeks ago. I just wanted to say thank you and that you were so right. After that incident, we kept talking a little bit and his inability to think of others became more apparent. I quit texting him. You were so right. Thank you for helping me see that I deserve a better relationship than one with some guy who doesn't care about me or my time. Thank you!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

What’s that quote? When someone shows you who they are, believe them?

I’m glad you didn’t end up with any heartbreak worse than annoyance. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

gustyprinceofthemonsters  asked:

Most of Grande's adult fans are women so it's not far-fetched to speculate that women were the primary target.

The MEN arena is simply the largest in the UK. A popular artist that can draw huge crowds is always gonna be a juicy target. If they specifcally wanted to harm a group, I assume the young age was more a point of interest than anything else.

Beyond that, my point was just that I think it’s disturbing to claim it’s worse or more sad when women die than when men die if both are just innocent, random bystanders.

So last night I had a dream I was Jeonghan stuck in a continual time loop where we (Seventeen) were at a water park and three bombs went off, and everyone only had minor injuries except for Coups who kept rushing in to help Vernon and Seungkwan get out and got thrown down two stories of a water slide and hurt his head and his spine after the last explosion. I kept trying to convince him they didn’t need help, that he should leave first, that it would be worse for him to go in than to just leave him, but he continually kept going after them and getting hurt and trapping us in the time loop. So… I guess my heart is warm that Coups wouldn’t ever desert his members, but in the dream I was really annoyed since I knew if he didn’t go, the two would be safe and no one would be hurt at all but he could never just leave them.

I miss you.
Terribly.

Here I am, lying in my one-place-and-a-half bed, in the very place where you used to throw yourself to snuggle in, and I miss you.
The intensity that permeated your look when it touched me, the softness of your hair, the tenderness of your cuddles, the warmth of your skin against mine, the comfort of your presence, I miss everything.

It is so unfair. You are the person who has approached the most closely the frail little organ that is my heart, and here we are again strangers. It is even worse than being strangers, if we had simply returned back to this stage, there would remain hope, the electrifying excitement of having the opportunity to know each other, to discover each other, to marvel at each other of what we were, the visceral excitement of bonding to a new soul.
We’re not even strangers anymore. Even our eyes are fleeing each other as we both die of wanting to make them cross again.

I miss you.

You had to realize that we did not want the same thing for this utopia to end. It was too good to be true, you were too beautiful to be mine.
And here we are, both of us wishing deeply to reach the contraries of our mutual desires.
You, to love me with a flame of love that you do not have, in order to keep by your side the soul mate you found in me.
Me, to be able to forget that it is this flame of love that I have for you which gnaws me, in order to be able to meet again your almond eyes without feeling my world collapsing, in order to have the strength to keep you by my side, to have the strength to love you with that profound friendship you have for me.

I miss you.

We are but the sad spectators of a morbid scene, where we can only look helplessly at our plans to empty their blood by liters. The hope was extinguished in my hands when I tried to hold it to you and you did not know how to grasp it.
Love has given way to disarray, happiness has given way to loneliness, romance has given way to nostalgia, your kisses on my cheeks have given way to the erratic furrows of my tears, and you, you have given way to a gaping hole in the middle of my most secular hopes.

I miss you.

I wish I could hug you again, I would like to have the naivety to believe that you loved me, I would like to have the carelessness not to fear the nature of your feelings. I wish I could no longer be afraid to eternally continue to seek for you through all the people I meet. I wish I could not be terrified that I will never find someone else like you, someone who would have the same laugh, the same look, the same dimples in the corner of the mouth, the same hair, the same Way to kiss, the same way to get angry, the same tastes for music. I wish I could feel able to love something else than what you are.
I wish I could no longer feel a piece of me collapse every time I remember that you are now part of the past and that there is no possible future with you.
I wish that the thought of you leaves me a different taste than the bitter one of the salted pearls that flow on my cheeks.

I miss you.

—  are-you-ok-no-fck-off, The original text is in French and is on my tumblr here
bzfd.it
Trump Revealed Highly Classified Information To Russians During White House Visit
The president discussed classified national security information with the Russian ambassador and foreign minister last week, two US officials confirmed to BuzzFeed News.
By Jim Dalrymple II, Jason Leopold

Two US officials who were briefed about Trump’s disclosures last week confirmed to BuzzFeed News the veracity of the Post report, with one official noting that “it’s far worse than what has already been reported.”

Not All Men

“Not all men are rapists,” my Dad would grunt as he scrolled through his friends’ Facebook profiles and read the articles about sexual assault they’d posted.

“Not all men are abusive,” my Dad would mutter as he did research to disprove the domestic violence statistics that bothered him so much.

“Not all men are like him,” I’d mouth to myself, as Dad threw Mom across the room for having the temerity to contradict something he’d said.

After hurting her one night, he came to my room a few hours later. “You’re a sweet boy,” he told me. “I know you’d never harm a woman, no matter how much she deserved it. Not all men are like me. You don’t have a temper.”

I did have a temper, though. And I seethed.

Years later, I left for college an angry, confused young man.

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Shortly after the overdose, Bob decided to tell Jack the story of why he really got put in the Stanley Cup as a baby.  It was Bob’s way of thanking the cup.

“After I won my first cup,” he told Jack, “I realized I’d achieved my dream, and I had married this amazing woman, but something still felt like it was missing.  I wanted to be a father.”  He told Jack how he and Alicia had tried to have a baby, but it just wasn’t happening.  As the months dragged on with more of the same, they started to get worried.  

“And even when you were worrying you’d never truly be happy you managed to win the cup again, yeah?  That’s the moral of the story?” Jack snapped.  Bob shook his head, reached out to run a hand over Jack’s back, like he could smooth down his son’s frayed nerves.  

“Non, non, non, that would be a terrible moral.  Actually my stats were worse that year than when I was a rookie.  But my team was incredible, and we made it to the cup again.  And here’s where the story gets good, you see, because I’d heard all kinds of wild legends through the league about ‘cup magic’ and how sometimes it would grant wishes”

“Or turn you into a fucking penguin,” Jack scoffed.

“Well I was playing for the Canadiens at the time, so I suppose there wasn’t much risk involved, but there was a whole lot of desperate hope.So on my cup day, after everyone else left, I sat down and had a chat with it,” he gestures to the table they’re sitting at.  “Right at this kitchen table.”

“Please tell me that’s the only part of this story that happened at this table,” Jack groaned.  Bob laughed.

This story, yes.”

“Papaaaa,”  Jack picked up his bowl of cereal and pointedly continued eating without letting his food touch the table.

“Oh for God’s sake, Jack, this table has been cleaned many times since, put your food down for a bit, I’m trying to have a moment with you here.”

“Alright, alright, fine.”  Jack obediently set the bowl aside and faced his father.

“As I was saying…” Bob cleared his throat.  “I talked to the cup.  I told it I didn’t care if I ever won it again.  All I wanted was a son.  If it would give me that, I promised, I wouldn’t ask to win so much as a faceoff for the rest of my life.  And I promised that I would love my son - that I would love you - unconditionally, more than anything in the world.”

“And you won a fuckton more awards anyway.”

“But,” Bob countered, “I didn’t win the cup again until after you were born when I was with the Pens.  And so when your mother brought you onto the ice to see me, I wanted us to put you in the cup, but it wasn’t supposed to pass along some kind of hockey magic and ensure the Zimmermann dynasty or whatever the fuck ESPN likes to say, alright?  We did it as a thank you.  We wanted the cup to see what a beautiful baby we had, and to feel how incredibly loved you were.”  Bob ran a hand over Jack’s newly-cropped hair, feeling the strands against his palm, almost as soft as when he used to sit next to Bob in his high chair smashing banana all over the tray.  “I kept my promise too,”  Bob said.  “I love you.  Unconditionally.  More than anything in the world.  And your mother and I just want to help you be happy, whatever that looks like.”  He smiled warmly at his son, letting all the pride he usually kept a lid on to keep from embarrassing Jack bubble up to the surface.  Jack looked down at his hands.

“How can you not be disappointed?  Look at me.”  Jack’s shoulders hunched in, shrinking him down, and Bob pressed his hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, rubbing circles in the way that always used to put him right to sleep as a child.

“I will always be proud of you, hockey or no.  Because you know what?”  Jack chanced a glance up at his father’s face and was held by his earnest expression.  “Winning the Stanley Cup isn’t even in my top hundred favorite memories anymore.  All of my best memories are with you and your mother.”  Jack didn’t say anything in response, and Bob was learning when to give him space to process, so he stood up, bending back down to kiss his son’s forehead as he snagged the now-soggy bowl of raisin bran from in front of him.

It took a few days for Bob to get a real response from Jack, and in the meantime he just left everything to percolate.  And then one night, Bob just couldn’t seem to fall asleep.  His knee wasn’t quite hurting, but it was on that edge where it just didn’t feel settled, and Alicia had been snoring, and at the back of his head he could feel some kind of humming, like he could feel the tense air in Jack’s room.  He’d gotten himself all worked up mulling that last one over until he had to get out of bed.  He stood in front of Jack’s bedroom door, looking at the light peeking out from below the doorjamb for minutes, listening to the sounds of floorboards creaking occasionally, pages rustling, a keyboard clacking.  After he’d gotten enough of the sounds of Jack just existing on the other side of the door to calm his racing heart, he went to the living room.  

He settled into the couch with a box of crackers and a nature documentary when he heard footsteps creaking on the stairs.  At first, he was expecting Alicia coming to call him back to bed, but the footfalls were too loud for her.  Bob tried not to look surprised when Jack rounded the corner, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Animal Planet.  He held up the crackers in greeting.

“Joining your old man for a midnight snack, eh?”

“Oh.  Um, sure.”  Jack padded over to the couch and made himself comfortable next to Bob, pulling down the afghan from the back of the sofa.  They stare at the TV in silence for a long while before Jack speaks up again, quietly.  “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“So…what exactly was better than winning the cup?”

JINX | Taehyung (M)

Originally posted by kimthwriter

Fluff | Crack | Smut | Neighbor!Taehyung | EMT!Taehyung | Enemies → lovers

You’ve had your sights set on Kim Taehyung ever since you’ve moved into the apartment next door to him, the only problem is that your klutz gene makes it difficult to get within three feet of the boy before a freak accident of some sort occurs

word count: 29k+

A/N: first of all i blame @bxebxee for the cumplay that occured in this hot mess, second of all IM SORRY its so long and third taehyung ended up a lot more… toxic than i anticipated so i wanted to warn against that and that i dont condone a lot of his actions/reactions or the toxicity of the relationship but its how his character and OC came out.

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