dawn trials

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where else you can see the cast of band of brothers ⤔ kirk acevedo

band of brothers - joe toye
12 monkeys (tv) - jose ramse
dawn of the planet of the apes - carver
oz - miguel alvarez
fringe - charlie francis
law and order: trial by jury - hector salazar

so uh

my dashboards kinda dead right now so I’m up to following any blogs that post about:

- Miraculous Ladybug

-Kingdom Hearts

-Steven Universe

-Gravity Falls

-Over the Garden Wall

-Noragami

-Maze Runner

-Until Dawn

-Life is Strange

-The Walking Dead

-Carmilla

-Disney


Just leave a like and I’ll follow ya :) Thanks! ( ^ u ^)/

ultimateotp  asked:

honest question for honest answer? (you may be/been asked this) Why do you love Bo and Tamsin together so much? I see why people ship them, but I just don't get it. And, I think for me it's because of how Kenzi "raised her" in the last season. Bo and Tamsin feel more like sister's to me because of Kenzi.

Sure, I can answer this. This is an extremely long reply, though, (more like an essay really), so I will put it under a cut. :)

Keep reading

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My mother was whore. This isn’t cruelty on my part; she slept with men and women for money. I’d call it a job or a profession but there were no jobs, there’s no pay system to sustain a certain lifestyle, it was more a matter of survival. She’d get a bed to sleep in, roof over her head and a meal. There was no need for writers or book keepers; no one needed their car cleaned or their pants suit taken up. But people needed to fuck and get fucked, it’s primal and basic, everyone had regressed to their lesser being.

I’m sure my birth wasn’t planned, I asked her once and she replied she wouldn’t change me for the world. I can’t help but wonder why anyone would want to bring a child into this world. She loved me, and I remember loving her.

The building was constantly abuzz with the gang that lived there. Other customers visited other whores, people drunk through the day and into the night, there where gun shots and the sound of slamming door echoed throughout the night. The children, like me had learnt to stay hidden and block the doors.

Death is either viewed as something longed for, a finality ending something painful or soul crashing, a sudden loss. It seemed so odd that it could bring about such different reactions. Hours passed as I found myself with tear stained cheeks slumped on the tarred floor, my mother’s body still lying above me. At first, the natural assumption would be sadness at the loss of my mother but it was relief. Relief watching the pain drain from her, the last image of her is something angelic. I know now that can’t be true.

The warning she’d given me crept back into my head. Straightening myself up some kinda of misplaced determination settled in me. I would stay here; I’d find some way to make myself useful. Some of the old children cleaned up after the adult and sometimes cooked. I was sure I could cook, I cleaned our room before.

I set of to find the man Roman, who I’d been told was my farther. Then again in the last few months she’d told me so many different names of potential father, half of them clients who I’m sure she never got the name of.

I was ten when she died. Illness had consumed her for over a year, no one knew what was wrong with her, let alone what to give her. I doubt anyone cared enough to try. Her skills brought in valuable trade and equipment, but she was replaceable. Women in the group avoided my gaze, their hands barley brushing my shoulder in with a hint of condolence. I’d tried raiding the stashes of pills and medicines, only to be found and dragged kicking and screaming by my hair back into the filthy room that my mother had now been displaced to. It may have been a blessing the words and symbols on the bottles meant nothing to me, I could have put anything into her system.

The night before she died she pleaded with me to leave her. Run now while I had the chance. She said they’d keep me for the pervert that visited, someone my age could make them a lot of money. At the time I didn’t understand what they meant, and why she was so intent on my leaving. I had nowhere to go, no one to go with. How could I survive on my own with nothing? Surly someone here would look after me?

Coughs racked her body relentlessly for days on end, pain coursed through her. In one last fit of agony a small groan escaped her chapped lips and she slipped back into the mattress. Her hand still gripped mine with intent strength. Ignorance kept me in the room ignoring her wishes, misplaced hope in a hopeless place.