please like this post if you are interested in developing / establishing a dynamic / relationship ( of any kind ) between lorna and your muse, and i’ll slide into your ims to plot and discuss things ( or we can chat on dis.cord i’m @ mads #9384 ).
Tony and Peter sharing the same sentiment on why they do what they do, they both blame themselves for not doing enough, and feel the responsibility to do more and better, to protect the people and the world they love and care about (inspired by @knightinironarmor [x])
At 11 o’clock at night, you moved across the train car to sit far too close to two girls about half your age so you could interrupt our conversation to tell us how pretty we are. We said thank you, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.
You interrupted us a second time to say that you didn’t want to bother us, but we needed to hear it, how pretty we are. We said cool, thanks, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.
You interrupted us a third time to say you wouldn’t say anything else, you didn’t want to bother us, you just had to let us know. We said have a good night, and went back to our conversation.
This seemed to perplex you. You came all that way across a train car to bestow upon us this life altering knowledge - the fact we were pretty - and all you got was a polite thank you? You grumbled about gratitude, about how you better not end up on facebook, were we putting you on facebook? Why was my friend looking at her phone? Was she putting you on facebook? All you’d done was tell us we were pretty.
At this point, my friend says, “Sir, we’re trying to have a conversation. Please don’t be disrespectful.”
This was when you got angry. Disrespectful? YOU? For taking the time out of your day to tell us we were pretty? Did we know we were pretty?
“Yes, we knew,” says my friend.
Well, that was the last straw. How dare we know we were pretty! Sure, you were allowed to tell us we were pretty, but we weren’t allowed to think it independently, without your permission! And if we had somehow already known - perhaps some other strange man had informed us earlier in the day - we certainly weren’t allowed to SAY it! Where did we get off, having confidence in ourselves? You wanted us to know we were pretty, sure, but only as a reward for good behavior. We were pretty when you gifted it upon us with your words, and not a moment before! You raged for a minute about how horrible we were for saying we thought we were pretty, how awful we turned out to be.
I took a page out of your book and interrupted you. “Sir, you said you wouldn’t say anything else, and then you kept talking,” I said. “You complimented us, we said thank you, and we don’t owe you anything else. It’s late, you’re a stranger, and I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve tried to disengage multiple times but you keep bothering us.”
At this point, our train pulled into the next stop. My friend suggested we leave, so we got up and went to the door.
Seeing your last chance, you lashed out with the killing blow. “I was wrong!” you shouted at us as we left, “You’re ugly! You’re both REALLY UGLY!”
Fortunately, since our worth as human beings is in no way dependent upon how physically attractive you find us, my friend and I were unharmed and continued on with our night. She walked home; I switched to the next train car and sat down.
So, strange man, I know you’re confused. I don’t know if you’ll think about anything I said to you, but I hope you do learn this: when you give someone something - a gift, a compliment, whatever - with stringent stipulations about how they respond to it, you are not giving anything. You are setting a trap. It is not as nice as you think it is.
But you’ll be happy to know that when I sat down in the next car, a strange man several seats over called, “Hey, pretty girl. Nice guitar. How was your concert?”
“Thanks. Good,” I said, then looked away and put on my headphones, the universal sign for ‘I’d like to be left alone.’
Hux looked out through the main transparisteel viewport at the stars ahead of them. “All of this will be ours,” he said, quietly, so that only Ren could hear him, “when the Resistance falls. A new empire under the Order.”
“It could be yours,” Ren said, his voice distorted by the vocoder.
I’m in love with this fanfic, I’m in awe. I’ve came to the fandom very late I think, but it’s never too late to draw a couple of illustrations x) Always will be in love with space and stars and gays in space
The question is not ‘if we argue’ but ‘how do we argue?’ In relationships, romantic and otherwise, we must not see the person as the opponent, but, rather, the problem as the opponent. We must fight together to resolve it - from the same side. We must not hold grudges. And we must stop seeing each other as easily expendable. For life is full of compatible people, but there will be disagreements with all of them. It is in forging the bonds stronger than these disagreements that we find a deeper connection.
You have no idea how much my family fucking suffered, how much we fucking lost to Stalin. You're a genuinely horrible fucking person and I wholeheartedly sincerely hope you get cancer and die.
I’m just legitimately never going to have sympathy for people who “suffered” under Stalin. I know this is like not relatable for new communists but decades of studying Soviet history and hearing case after case and it always ends up being a “we threw the jade in the river” situation or “my poor grandpa was just trying to get by that’s why he hoarded goods to sell at outrageous prices I can’t believe we had to flee :’(”. Sometimes its “my dad was a contra” like ana Navarro lol
We’re actually suffering under capitalism and the capitalists keep telling everyone how evil Stalin was so that we won’t get any ideas. Sorry I’m not here for it. Whatever antisocial shit your family did to be punished, they deserved it, and random exiles can’t ever stand up to our heroes
(Besides if you really did want to stand up to the “red menace” you’d come off anon and tell us what your grandpa did)
I love how all of my ships are connected.
Like Natasha Negovanlis and Elise Bauman in that Slasher cameo with Katie McGrath
Which then leads me to supercorp 🌈💙❤️
Katie McGrath being best friends with Natalie Dormer who is Margaery Tyrell and one half of my Sansaery obsession.
to Sophie Turner paling around with Haliee Steinfeld after shooting Barely Lethal
giving me all of the Bechloe feels because Emily is their child..
Truly, the gay agenda is alive and well my friends..
I (much like jesse) tend to take jokes to the extreme, so hey! heres my silly tattoo headcanon for him, which i spent way more effort on than i intended. Id like to think he got it when rly young, reckless and not expecting to live past 25 :’) now that hes like 37, the regret and embarrasment caught up. its still a pretty tatto though (i explained the joke in the captions but if ur on mobile just google the label for hazmat class 4.3) anyway,