have quotes

  • Atsushi:*Higuchi appears* Who's that?
  • Dazai:She doesn't like me.
  • Atsushi:*Akutagawa appears* Who's that?
  • Dazai:He doesn't like me either.
  • Atsushi:*Chuuya appears* Who's that?
  • Dazai:Let's just assume for the moment that everyone in here doesn't like me!

your words, your cause, your life, all of it devoted to him - and for nothing, in the end. hate is too simple a word. 

You have the spiritual power to manifest amazing outcomes for yourself. Today, set yourself the challenge of going 24 whole hours without complaining in your mind or speaking or writing. Then, notice the differences in how you feel versus when you complain, and how many blessings came your way as a result of positive energy.
—  Doreen Virtue

anonymous asked:

Yo dawg what if a makeup artist just don't have experience with darker skin tones or some such? Like does because they don't know how to do something someone else can means that they're bad at what they do? If they're a racist asshole who won't do makeup for women or men of darker complextions well then their an asshole, not necessarily untalented ya feel me? No point to be an asshole right back. If we're gonna be the better people then we have to stick with that shit homie.

Who said I wanna be a better person lmao fuck off if I’m paying some white lady to do my makeup she better bring her kit with my shade instead of asking if I brought my own foundations and she BETTER make my hooded eyes look nice and not make me feel like a pile of shit for having and I QUOTE “weird eye shape” that are “hard to work with” and “not her usual” and don’t call me dawg or homie because we’re not friends

“Not All White People”

White person here with a message to other white folks:

Saying “not all white people” is an inappropriate, ignorant response when someone is speaking out about fellow humans being oppressed and killed due to the color of their skin.

When you jump on the defensive, you derail the conversation to make it about your hurt feelings instead of about the actual crisis at hand.

A better response (if you need to respond, which I really doubt you do) is something like “I hate that there are white people causing this kind of suffering; all of us need to work harder to show them they are absolutely wrong and do not have our support." 

I see comments like “But that’s racist against whites!”  No. Trust me. It’s not. “Racist against whites” in the USA is not a real thing. Whites control most of the upper levels of government and most of the financial power. We can’t be systematically oppressed by another race.  You might feel like someone is prejudiced against you, but the chances that a policeman will single you out because of it and possibly shoot you before you’ve even given your name are slim to none. You don’t “fit the profile,” my friend.

“But it’s unfair to characterize a whole group of people like that!” ”Don’t fight hate with hate!”  

Okay, really stop and think for a minute, and ask yourself if your sense of being insulted or generalized by a stranger online is MORE important than the discussion of systems and policies that are killing people on a daily basis. 

We need to stop adding to the pain and frustration. We aren’t the ones in mortal danger, here. We aren’t the ones burying our friends and family members while their murderers walk free, assisted by the government.

We need to listen, and we need to act. That’s what’s important. Think about what you would want done if the situations were reversed.

Why not try to PROVE that not all white people are like that by standing up publicly to racists and hatemongers in real life and online? 

Callback to the Falcon

SKI LODGE PART 2 MAN EVERYTHING WAS SO TELLING. So we get a callback to the actual question #1 because of Cory when he talked about a falcon. And that a falcon is the only answer to that question. What does a falcon do that Topanga said? Oh yeah, they can soar far away but they will always come back home, to the right one. (I don’t have the exact quote but that’s the gist of it I’m sure) 

 And so, what did Maya tell Lucas again?

(the two gifs here are made by the lovely queen @kacie-ville)

Maya is literally telling him to go out and soar. She’s letting him go, to soar wherever he needs to go first. Go out and do what he’s got to do if he cares about her. Don’t worry guys, everything will be fine in the end.

Here’s a final gif that’s perfect and all cute and perhaps my fave of cory and topanga :)

Oh and bonus, who else has told the other to go out with someone else? That’s right, these two adorable peeps.

Originally posted by livehappy8927

Originally posted by the-jerks

White people be like…

There’s so much wrong here I’ve lost the will to get into it. This is not the flailing white girl support group.  

I will say I dunno why you have “feel accepted” in quotes since that’s not anything I’ve ever said. Quite the opposite. I’d never wanna be accepted by any group that would have the likes of you as a member. It’s probably you who should get like me, dontcha think? I mean, you need to do better. Once again, y’all make my point for me. Thanks.

Bitch bye.  


“Here we go again.”  A white-coated technician entered a monitoring room with a deep sigh already half gone from her lips before the door finished sliding closed behind her.  "How the Hells does 193 keep getting his card?“

Her partner only smirked at the question and adjusted the lighting in the room just beyond the one-way panel of glass. "I have no idea.”

That other room looked like most personal quarters in the Castrum, if not on the more lavish side.  One might have even called it cozy for the addition of softer bedding and warmer colors in contrast to the typical cold metals.  Others might have found it tacky, but clearly it was a place crafted with the intention of setting, or at the very least suggesting, a mood which was foreign everywhere else in the facility. This was all a part of the Breeding Wing the Colossus Project subjects could avail themselves of, the intention for which was to determine, first, if their offspring were viable and, second, if any of them would inherit any of the aetheric or other capabilities instilled within the subjects, themselves.  Some loathed it, some shrugged and made the most of it and found ways to enjoy it against everything their overseers meant for it to be, and some pairings were more successful than others.

This one was anything but.

193 was fortunate enough among their lot to have lost little of her external self to augmentations.  Most of what she had been given were internalized for the sake of amplifying aether use and boosting her own capacity to heal others from even the most critical states.  For all her appearance of physical strength and health, she was no combat unit, not even close, and her skills were not so remarkable that they set her vastly apart from other units of her type.  She remained one of the Unlettered, no matter how valuable.  

When there were no wounds to mend, serving the Breeding Wing became a hobby she favored. While most Medic Units maintained a dormant state while inactive, she found release and comfort here, for herself as much as for those who were paired with her.  Better this than boredom, or this stiffness of muscle one experiences after sleeping overlong.  She had her favorites, too, but one she sought with more fervor than any other constantly vexed her, no matter how often she ended up with his card on her board, and she made damn sure she had it before any other breeder could bid for it.  

She already sat in the middle of the bed with her long black hair bound back loosely behind her neck and sheer layers of gossamer fabric hanging around her ample curves, low cut just above the swell of her breasts.  If this rendevous turned out like every other one with her potential mate, there would be no loss but the time spent in preparing, and other opportunities would present themselves later.  Yet she remained ever hopeful that this time would be different.  He didn’t seem to like the shiny black leather she wrapped herself in last time.

Frost’s arrival was announced by the whisper of the door sliding open, all but unheard by his own ears.  He plodded heavily across the room without a word to the Highlander and sagged bonelessly into a chair, which he promptly tipped back to prop in the corner with arms folded.  The first volley fired in their ongoing battle was silence.

“Hello to you too.”  193’s voice was a melodious sing-song which carried through the open space and off the walls without much effort.  Her greeting went unanswered. Not even the deliberate sway she added upon closing the space between them drew his eyes upward.  He looked for all the world to be freshly, but barely, woken, and no resistance was given to having his lap wholly occupied, a placement which left her chest right where his downturned eyes were already aiming.

“You know, Frost,” she purred, “You have such an outstanding reputation for brutality on the battlefield.  You are feared by our foes, and by a few of us.  As one of the more renowned Combat Units here, I’d have expected more out of you, but get you alone in a room and you turn into the most boring wet rag this side of Gyr Abania.  You’re different since the Calamity… since Althea.  When are you going to stop chasing ghosts?”

The Duskwight barely lifted his chin, but not before her hands found themselves at the sides of his face and cupping lightly over half-lidded eyes.

“I can heal physical wounds, there’s only so much I can do for everything else,” she added. 

Soundlessness continued his end of the conversation until fingertips found his eyelids and lifted them to fully display hazed, distant blue eyes with shrunken pupils.  193 felt her odds of defeating him this time around slipping even further from her grasp.  "Well, you’re no good to me like this.  What a godsdamned shame, such a pedigree as your offspring would have, and you keep blowing it on this little problem of yours.  How much did you take this time?“

A lopsided smirk flickered for an instant across the Duskwight’s lips, the answer was given in a whispered drawl.  "The entire phial.”  His head turned sharply with the sudden impact of his subject sister’s open hand.

“You know I’ve got no choice but to report this to Mother!  An entire phial!  Frost!  Half a phial is all you’re supposed to take at most, and you’re not even supposed to have any in your possession! How did you even get here under your own power?”

Awkwardly, he started trying to push 193 off of him the more she ranted.  He maintained enough awareness that the contact was unwelcome, and less so the lecture he was getting.  When force alone saw her unmoved, he began dropping the temperature immediately around himself.  Dressed as she was she would surely find it too cold to stay where she was, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to budge.  A glancing swipe of sharp, ice-tipped fingers across her left cheek changed her mind.

“Heal yourself,” he spat, then pushed himself up and left the room.  Whether he meant to or not, he had injured one of his sisters.  Though little more than a nick she could heal in a matter of seconds it would be remembered, but it still would not deter her from trying to bring him close again.  She would first have to find some way to break his addiction.