oh and a crime or something

anonymous asked:

Drabbles for Sherlock finding out that Greg and Mycroft are dating, just by glancing at them when they're at a crime scene together, Sherlock insulting Mycroft saying like, 'why on earth would Graham want to go out with you' and stuff, Mycroft being a bit sad but trying to hide it, Greg defending him and shocking Sherlock like 'oh, you really do care about him'. Maybe John appearing from somewhere at the end to say something like 'they won't give you any cases if you piss them off' ! Thanks.

Sherlock stood making his deductions before a droning voice that he was all too familiar with made him turn around and let out a sigh.

“Why are you here?” Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft raised a brow “Well it’s nice to see you too, brother mine. If you really must know this man was a very well known politician” he told his brother.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to focusing his attention on the body before him. Greg soon turned up and he shared a shy, loving glance with Mycroft before clearing his throat to snap Sherlock out of what he was doing. “So what do you think?” Greg asked. Sherlock stood up and his eyes widened slightly as he flickered his eyes between Greg and Mycroft.

“You two?” He blurted out. Greg and Mycroft’s faces flushed a light shade of pink.

“How did you…oh don’t even answer that, you’ll just be a smart arse about it” Greg muttered “Yes Mycroft and I are dating alright?!”

Sherlock pulled a confused face “Why on earth would Lestrade like someone like you? I mean you’re not exactly the ‘Ideal man’” Sherlock rambled.

Greg could see how upset Mycroft was getting and gently took his hand “Sherlock I think you should take a look in the mirror. I think Mycroft is a wonderful guy and he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met!” Greg raised his voice slightly. “We’re off” Greg announced and pulled Mycroft along with his who was smiling at Greg for standing up for him.

John appeared behind Sherlock and shook his head at the consulting detective “If you keep that up they won’t give you any cases…they seem happy together so stop being a dick about it”

Sherlock sighed and turned to face John “You’re right, sorry”.

“I should have had my phone out to record that and play it all the time” John mused proudly.

“Don’t push it, John”.

How come Tumblr hasn't go crazy about the kidnapping?

Seriously, where are all the SJWs condemning the ableist crime….

Oh wait! This was against a white guy, so obviously, tumblr will be quiet!

Let me tell you something, if the roles were reversed, and it were 4 white guys kicking a mentally disabled black guy, all of you would be saying how it was a racist hate crime. You would be posting how much you hate white people, and how white people suck.

But what had happened was that it was 4 black people against a mentally disabled white guy and where are y'all at?!?!??!! Oh yeah, not saying anything, cause you won’t. Cause according to y'all “you can’t be racist against white people” well, news flash, you can. And this is the evidence.

Let’s take race and politics aside.

The fact remains that 4 people kidnapped a mentally disabled person and tortured him for 48 hours.

Let that sink in for a minute, and re-evaluate yourself.


We just have our first school shooting in Mexico!!!!!
Weirdly enough I think it’s was on a private American own elementary or secondary school
Everything was caught on the security cameras!!!! The video is absolutely fuck up!!!!! We are all in shock, even though there’s a ton of violence and crimes in Mexico we’ve never experienced something like this, seeing a young boy shooting at his classmates in cold blood it shocked me to the very core
Please pray for the victims who are in critical condition right now. UPDATE: the shooter was a 15 year old boy and some reports say he was suffering from depression, he was pronounced brain dead so his family decided to donate his organs. The 3 victims who got shot in the head (the teacher, a boy and a girl) are still in critical condition please keep them and their families in your prayers

things isak and even have probably “broken up” for:

  • isak never doing his goddamn laundry and running out of sweatshirts. even is now unable to wear his sweatshirts and stay warm and cozy like he deserves. “oh well gotta break up with you now i guess, find a new boyfriend who actually has clothes for me to steal.”
  • even has this unfortunate tendency to wake up way earlier than isak. he’s a teenager and waking up before noon on the weekends is a verifiable crime against humanity. one time when even really needs isak to wake up because they have plans, he starts playing the kidz bop version of what does the fox say? because this boy can’t let old memes go. isak shoots awake because i don’t think anyone can listen to that and be fine. 
  • let’s face it the Boys are definitely the kind of people who meme each other. if they take a selfie where mahdi isn’t smiling properly? it automatically gets captioned with “when they aren’t serving waffles in the cafeteria :(“ sometimes they just reuse this picture of magnus looking at a cat with the caption “vilde?” every angry-looking picture of jonas gets captioned with “capitalism” or marx quotes. but it gets so much worse for isak when even joins the group because he has access to isak almost 24/7? pictures of isak slowly waking up captioned with existentialist memes like “drowning in the void” or shit about transcending the material world. even seriously debates getting a facebook so he can follow one of those edgy memes for edgy teens pages, because they’re all so…isak? and the boys understand that even usually has horrible taste in memes, but when it comes to his boyfriend, he’s actually so good at memeing? isak is constantly exasperated about seeing his face in their group chat, but he’s actually pretty amused by it all (and if even catches him laughing, that’s a lie). he breaks up with even for like an hour anyway.
  • vilde actually makes them bake for kosegruppa because “as much as i appreciate you letting us use your apartment for pregames you can’t be useless forever isak.” isak wants them to just use a mix, but even is extra and wants to make fudge brownies from scratch. anyway isak leaves for five minutes to answer a call from his dad, and when he comes back there’s fudge and flour everywhere. he’s only mad for a minute before even’s like “why don’t you lick the fudge out of my mouth haha maybe that’ll make clean-up go by faster.” needless to say the kitchen doesn’t get cleaned up for a while.
Hozier sentence meme
  • ❛ Honey, please, try to love me. ❜
  • ❛ I called your name ‘til the fever broke. 
  • ❛ Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. ❜ 
  • ❛ It looks ugly, but it’s clean. ❜
  • ❛ Babe, there’s something tragic about you. ❜
  • ❛ Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know. ❜
  • ❛ But I want it, it’s a crime that she’s not around most of the time. ❜
  • ❛ Her fight and fury is fiery, oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing. ❜
  • ❛ I prayed my mind be good to me. ❜
  • ❛ With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean, she’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene. ❜
  • ❛ It’s bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet. ❜
  • ❛ So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes, no better version of me I could pretend to be tonight. ❜
  • ❛ Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way. ❜
  • ❛ I fall in love just a little, oh a little bit every day with someone new. ❜
  • ❛ My lover’s got humor, she’s the giggle at a funeral. ❜
  • ❛ There’s an art to life’s distractions. ❜
  • ❛ I raised a stone to end his pain. ❜
  • ❛ When I was a child, I heard voices… Some would sing and some would scream. ❜
  • ❛ Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done, I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young. ❜
  • ❛ We tried the world, good God, it wasn’t for us.  ❜
  • ❛ I turned and ran to save a life I didn’t have. ❜
  • ❛ But my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake. ❜
  • ❛ I wake at the first cringe of morning, and my heart’s already sinned. ❜
  • ❛ Always a well dressed fraud, who wouldn’t spare the rod. Never for me. ❜
  • ❛ I was born sick, but I love it. Command me to be well. ❜
  • ❛ Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, no more alone or myself could I be. ❜
  • ❛ I clutched my life, and wished it kept. My dearest love, I’m not done yet. ❜
  • ❛ No shortage of sordid, no protest from me. ❜
  • ❛ I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me. ❜
  • ❛ Two corpses we were, two corpses I saw. ❜
  • ❛ All that I’ve been taught, and every word I’ve got, is foreign to me. ❜
  • ❛ I have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me. ❜
  • ❛ You’ve done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you’ve done I never changed my mind. ❜
  • ❛ Honey, you know that’s my love bursting loud from inside. ❜
  • ❛ I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. ❜
  • ❛ The purest expression of grief. ❜
  • ❛ Lord, it’d be great to find a place we could escape sometime. ❜
  • ❛ Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword. ❜
  • ❛ I found something in the woods somewhere. ❜
  • ❛ Babe, there’s something broken about this, but I might be hoping about this. ❜
Avenging Angel: Part 1

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1548

Warnings: None

“Oh, god, please don’t kill me!” you begged, tears freezing almost as soon as they fell from your lashes. “I’ll do anything. Just let me live.”

“You think you have something that I want?” Braxton asked haughtily, holding his gun steady. “You can’t even tell me where your father used to work. I know more about him than you ever have, and you think you have any bargaining chips left?”

“Please. Let me live. Help me get him out and then he can help you again! It’s what we both want!”

The wind picked up and snowflakes danced with the ends of your hair, but you couldn’t feel a damn thing. Not with the barrel of your boyfriend’s gun pointed at your face.

Keep reading



Y/N: Hey, Peter.

Peter: Hey, (y/n)- wait, did you just call me Peter?! I’m wearing a disguise! 

Y/N: Well it is you, isn’t it? *laughing* I’ve known for a while now, Peter. You don’t even bother trying to disguise your voice, you know. Why are you just laying here, shouldn’t you be fighting crime or something?

Peter: Okay, I’m done. My secret identity has been revealed. This is the end.

Y/N: Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Your secret is safe with me.


The first time it happens, Sherlock is stunned. No, shocked. And that’s quite something.

He has left the wedding early. Everybody was dancing, having a good time; even Janine had hooked up with that geek. Mrs Hudson was getting tipsy from the champagne, Greg and Molly had started flirting, despite… what’s his name clinging to her like a limpet.

Sherlock had made his speech, solved a crime, played his waltz and now wasn’t needed anymore. Especially not by… oh, for god’s sake, don’t get melodramatic!

He had organised this whole event! He knew how it was supposed to end. He’d prepared himself.

But still… can you really prepare to get your heart broken? No, not broken, ripped out, tossed around a bit, then thrown onto the dance floor, trampled on, to be finally discarded with the rest of the waste at 3 o'clock in the morning into a big black waste bag – not unlike a body bag.

No, you can’t prepare for that. Not even by claiming to be a high functioning sociopath (had John ever believed this rubbish?)

Sherlock knew what would dull the pain. John wouldn’t like it, though. But fuck John, wasn’t it his fault that Sherlock was in this sorry state after all?

Oh, for god’s sake – stop whining! Who are you kidding, Sherlock? It’s your fault, yours alone. It’s always your fault. You played the game, you knew the stakes – and now you lost. Because some fucking psychopath was more important – but was that Mary or Moriarty?

Sherlock got his coat and made for the venue door. He even left his violin behind - at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to play it again.

He didn’t wait to put the Belstaff properly on, he just had to leave all this noise, these people – who were most of them anyway? - behind. Only when he walked through the park, the cool air bringing him back to his senses, the music just a faint buzz in the distance, did he finally shrug the coat on. He felt save wrapped in the heavy wool – it was like an armour, like a cocoon, protecting him like the pillow fort he’d built when people still called him Billy – or Master William – a lifetime ago back at Sherrinford Hall.


No! He would seriously relapse if he allowed this train of thought to continue.

Sherlock stopped, standing under a weeping willow, and got his phone out to check where the hell he might be able to get a cab that brought him to the station; and if there would be a train back to London. He had a room reserved at the hotel connected to the venue – but he just couldn’t face the prospect to lie in bed under the same roof as John and Mary during their… nuptials. Which was, of course, totally irrational. Sherlock was well aware that John and Mary had consummated their relationship moths ago. Mary was pregnant, after all, and despite Mycroft suspecting otherwise, Sherlock was perfectly aware how children were received.

He just wasn’t very keen on imagining it.

So, back to Baker Street it was. Mrs Hudson could bring his luggage back with her tomorrow. He would have the quiet house all to himself…

What once would have been bliss now seemed only shallow, lonely and sad.

God, you are pathetic, Sherlock. Pull yourself together. Marriage, a family, children – that’s what people do!

Stupid, he was always so stupid. How could he even think for one minute that John…

“Sherlock, that you? Where do you think you are going?”

Sherlock spun around as if caught red-handed (well, in a way, he was, wasn’t he?).

John was jogging towards him over the lawn – probably ruining his court shoes. He had removed his tailcoat and was just in his waistcoat, shirtsleeves rolled up. His cheeks were flushed from dancing, drinking and the cool night air.

Sherlock froze and blinked, his phone in his hand, unable to move or answer as if spellbound by what could only be his imagination playing tricks on him. This happened sometime – increasingly often, if he was honest with himself – but this vision seemed incredible cruel even for his hyperbolic brain.

“Hey, Sherlock, you alright? Did you have too much to drink?” John smirked. “I do remember the stag night, you know. Despite what you might think, you really can’t hold your drink as fabulous as you might believe.” John swallowed as he beamed up at Sherlock, who still stood rooted to the spot and stayed utterly, frighteningly silent. “Sherlock…?”

John carefully thumped his shoulder – as mates would do, Sherlock thought, and the word sloshed around like vitriolic acid in his head until he actually felt it might ooze out of his eye-sockets, ears, nostrils, mouth… a sharp, burning, gooey substance damaging his skin. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath as not to vomit all over John in his ridiculously wedding attire.

John shouldn’t wear those garments anyway. John was soft jumpers and baggy cardigans, chequered shirts and jeans; the Haversack jacket, smelling of antiseptic, coffee and gun oil. Not this perfumed, groomed cock in a dress shirt and woollen trousers, his left hand sporting this hateful golden band that tied him to one Mary Morstan, a woman who seemed sassy and fun, who could recognise a skip coat and bear children…

“My cardigans are not baggy.” John stated very calmly. “Sherlock, are you aware that you are saying all this out loud?” Now John’s hand was around his upper arm, the other grabbing the sleeve of the Belstaff.

“What?” Sherlock snapped, but it came out confused and subdued instead of fierce.

“Sherlock, calm down. Nothing will have to change. We will still…”

“No!” Sherlock shoved John violently away, as if suddenly waking up form hibernation. “No, John! You chose her. Everything changed a long time ago.”

“You died!” John shouted, suddenly exploding with pent-up rage.

“I didn’t!” Sherlock retorted, equally angry. Suddenly, they stood at loggerheads, panting. A vein throbbed at John’s temple; yet he still held onto Sherlock’s lapels.

Until he suddenly pulled Sherlock close; their mouths locked. It was more biting than kissing, a messy tangle of wet lips and sloppy tongues. Noses bumped and teeth crushed; Sherlock tasted blood but he didn’t care, it didn’t matter because John was kissing him, licking into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, biting down, and it felt… GOD, IT FELT GLORIOUS. Sherlock thought he was about to combust any second now and eventually got his hands on John as well, grabbing his shoulders, his back, his waist, holding on for dear life.

They only parted to gulp in some air, foreheads still pressed together, unwilling to let the other go. Sherlock panted and John’s eyes were nearly black, his pupils dilated. He licked his lips and Sherlock’s tongue followed until they were kissing again, a bit more coordinated this time. Their movements became more languid, lascivious, even lewd. Sherlock flicked his tongue inside John’s mouth and John moaned and pressed his crotch against Sherlock’s thigh. Suddenly, they were rubbing against each other but Sherlock withdrew when John grabbed his arse and started to knead his buttocks.

“What?” John huffed against Sherlock’s mouth, his voice raw and needy. “Don’t leave… stay.”

“John, this is actually a terrible idea.” Sherlock couldn’t help himself but giggled frantically. “Of all the chances you had with me, do you have to choose your wedding day?”

“Seems like I have to.” John grinned against Sherlock’s mouth. He brushed his thumb over Sherlock’s cheekbone before giving him a chaste kiss. “Stay, please.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve got a room at the hotel. I could pop over, later…”

“No, John, you can’t. And I won’t sit there, waiting up for you, until you can sneak off for two minutes for some stolen kisses and some guilty groping.”

“Sherlock, no, it’s not like that…”

“John, if you want to see me again, you know where you can find me.” With that, Sherlock retreated into the shadows, leaving the park and the venue behind. Eventually, he caught a cab on the main road. He didn’t look back.

John will either come to him or he won’t. Nothing to be done about this now.

At least, the need to buy supplies has waned. Sherlock’s skin is on fire; yet his mind is quite at ease. Whatever happens next, he had this. They had this. Stolen kisses beneath a weeping willow.

Well, better than nothing, Sherlock muses.

He’s somehow quite sure that this isn’t over yet. In fact, it might have just begun.

Happy New Year to @missmuffin221 @waitingforgarridebs @green-violin-bow @the-seventh-stranger @monikakrasnorada @gosherlocked @yan-yae @tendergingergirl @mint-doesnt-have-an-account @loveismyrevolution @a-different-equation @ebaeschnbliah @lockedinjohnlock-podfics @darlingtonsubstitution @impatient14 @justanotherone16 @mylastvow @multifandom-madnesss @tjlcisthenewsexy @sandaja @longsnowsmoon5 @mylastvow @willowgrovecreates @ceruleandarkangelis @victorianlovers @mollydobby

anonymous asked:

Hi do you reply each asks or do you sometimes skip? idk if i asked this before but can you do a fic rec of sterek as fbi agents or partners in crime if theres any new fics of it? ☺️😇

Oh hun,

I am sooo sorry!!! I did get your ask and I did draft a reply. I really thought I posted it. I’m so glad you asked me again! I added a few more to the fics I had already saved. I hope some of them are new to you :)

lay your armour down by  stilinski | 37.6K

Hale, on two legs and wearing a shirt, finds him thirty minutes later still sitting in the same position, staring at the ceiling.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” Stiles says. Hale snorts.

“I could have told you that,” he says. “Tea?”

This Ain’t Jump Street by  thecheekydragon | 18K

Detective Stilinski goes undercover at a local high school to catch a killer and meets hot gym teacher Derek Hale. Stiles just hopes Hale is not the killer. But then again, he always did fall for the wrong sort of guy.

Glazed and Confused by  wishingonalightningbolt | 13.7K

Stiles is a forensic tech with the San Diego FBI. He thinks he’s been fairly lucky, since he’s never had his life threatened, sustained few injuries, and only has to work with his least favorite agent every once in a while.

And then all of that changes.

Fine Whiskey by  Bellakitse | 1.4K

“Very Special Agent Hale,” Stiles responds and the mocking is clear in his voice as he reaches for Derek’s drink and then has the audacity to take a sip, smirking when Derek glares at him. “How was Istanbul?”

“Hot,” Derek murmurs annoyed at Stiles and at himself, because he finds it attractive, Stiles’ smartass, fearless, somewhat superior attitude is a turn on, it makes Derek wonder if he would be like that in bed or if Derek could make him bend, make him beg.

Hacked by  ShadowofaGod | 13.6K

FBI Special Agents Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey have been sent to Beacon Hills University to find a student who tried to hack into the Pentagon. One snarky, student IT department employee catches Derek’s eye.

A Little Agony by  KuriKuri | 40.7K

“There is one way we could do it,” Derek finally says, making both Stiles and Lydia perk up, looking at him expectantly.

(Or: The mandatory fandom “undercover as a couple at a BDSM club” AU.)


Sharon Beck: You think you know me? Is that it? And you think you know my son? And you think you can just have me boxed up and out of the way? Lady, let me tell you something. You just made a really big mistake.

Sharon Raydor: I made a mistake?

Sharon Beck: Yes, you did.

Sharon Raydor: Oh, dear. Allow me to point out you’re the one wearing the blue jumpsuit surrounded by guards and I’m getting up to go home.

- Major Crimes - 3.10 “Zoo Story”

13 days, y’all! T H I R T E E N  D A Y S !!!!!!


How I feel on the Internet lately.

“[Verse 1]
I’m sorry
For something that I didn’t do
Lynched somebody
But I don’t know who
You blame me for slavery
A hundred years before I was born

Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white

[Verse 1]
Oh, I’m sorry
For something that I didn’t do
Lynched somebody
But I don’t know who
You blame me for slavery
A hundred years before I was born

Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white

[Verse 2]
I’m a convict (Guilty!)
Of a racist crime (Guilty!)
I’ve only served (Guilty!)
Nineteen years of my time

[Verse 1]
I’m sorry
For something that I didn’t do
Lynched somebody
But I don’t know who
You blame me for slavery
A hundred years before I was born

Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white

oh. my god. i just noticed something

in the ‘gang goes to hell’ mac’s wearing his beast coast shirt when he “comes out” as gay

mac’s wearing the shirt same in ‘hero or hate crime,’ and presumably throws it out  because it’s got a dog shit footprint on it (he was disgusted to see that charlie still had it it)

pretty sure this might’ve been intentional on rcg’s part ??? maybe admitting to how shitty the queer bait last season was (pun intended) ???

in conclusion: coincidence ?? i think not

Personal Protective Equipment: aka PPEs, an Investigator’s best friend

Wow, okay, masterpost number 2 lovelies. We suck, sorry. But here we are, the long promised PPE post.

Why are PPEs necessary? Well, first of all, you don’t want your investigators to shed their own DNA all over the place and contaminate the crime scene. Even something as simple as coughing or sneezing can deposit trace DNA (which is why face mask is so important). Crime scene contamination means your evidence is no longer viable in court, and all the work done to process the scene was for naught. 

Another big reason why PPEs are necessary is because it protect investigators from biological hazards. Crime is a cesspool of diseases. Any blood or tissue sample found at the scene is treated as though it is a carrier of infectious diseases (oh boy there are many, think: Hep B, Hep C, HIV, just to name a few common scary ones).

There are a couple of ways an investigator can be exposed to hazards at a crime scene: absorption (through skin or mucus membranes, or eyes), ingestion (in your tummy it goes! There is a reason why labs highly discourage food and water), inhalation (breathing can be dangerous on the job apparently), and injection (beware of needles or sharp objects like glass while handling evidence).

Below are a few types of protection:

Respiratory protection, usually masks or self contained breathing apparatus.

Eye protection, goggles, protect eyes from contaminants or chemicals. Face shields too when necessary, especially when playing around with blood spatter.

Chemical protective clothing, inexpensive, disposable, difficult to tear but easy to get. The material traps heat so the wearer must take breaks to prevent heat stroke.

Hand protection, gloves, needed to be changed regularly, especially after handing individual evidence. Different gloves dependent on situation. Polyvinyl gloves are bad as they don’t provide protection against chemical or acids but are fine for powder and biological fluids. Latex gloves are good for powder and biological fluids, but are thin and must be discarded after single use. Double gloving is probably a good idea, although beware of latex allergies. Nitrile gloves are better than latex, provide more protection and are resistant to some chemicals. Neoprene gloves are chemical resistant and must be worn around chemicals (ie acids, alcohol).

Shoes covers, or booties, prevent investigators from tracking traces of the scene back home with them. This prevent investigators from potentially contaminating their home environment with biological hazards from the scene.

Lastly Sherls’ favourite - the bunny suit (tyvek coveralls). They are made of tyvek, which keeps all of the you in and all of the scene out. These come with and without hoods, and are the the WORST if it is even remotely warm wherever you have to wear them. You will sweat the MOST. But they protect from biologics of all kinds and some chemicals. 

For fun, heres a Sherls in a bunny suit, goggles, facemask and booties during a mock scene investigation from our first year of schooling. 

(Actually, PPEs are not just for investigators, a lot of professional fields will have some kind of PPEs or another) But yeah, thats the basics of it! Hope it helps!

Let’s talk about I’m Not Ashamed

And my favorite scene in this awful movie that thinks it’s okay to make profit off of a national tragedy

 Rachel is walking up the stairwell

Look she’s so happy :) 

But why is it so dark over there? Did the lights go out at the end of the stairs or something? Why is this hallway so terribly lit?


MY GOD. THEY REALLY ARE THE ANTI-CHRIST. I MEAN LOOK AT HOW THEY JUST SUCK THE LIGHT OUT OF EVERYTHING THEY TOUCH. AWFUL CHILDREN. I mean they couldn’t be more obvious if they tried. I actually laughed when this scene happened.

RANT TIME (aka why this movie sucks): While this is obviously poor film-making, that isn’t the main issue here. The writers try really hard to make the viewers hate Eric and Dylan by painting them as these one-dimensional Nazi-loving monsters, so damaged beyond repair and redemption. That seems hypocritical to me for a movie that’s trying to promote the spread of compassion to change society. 

Eric and Dylan weren’t born evil. They weren’t born beyond redemption. They were two misguided kids who needed serious help and were ignored, partially because they were crafty enough to get away with it, but also partially because our society treats people (especially young adults) with mental illness as dangers to society. With this kind of stigma present, it’s no wonder mental illness is always ignored, or that people are afraid to seek help. Pointing to the shooters (or anyone with dangerous thoughts) and saying, “oh they’re awful, terrible monsters don’t be like them” doesn’t solve the problem. 

I’m not condoning Eric and Dylan’s actions, nor am I trying to push the blame off of them. However, I hate how society is still so ignorant that they depict people with mental health problems as monsters, instead of what they really are- human beings who need treatment (just like with any other illness, right?). Eric and Dylan weren’t exactly great people, but that doesn’t mean that they weren’t misguided kids who needed guidance and help. I mean, they even said so themselves, if someone had noticed something was wrong, this entire tragedy could have been prevented. 

tldr; I’m Not Ashamed is a bad movie and it does a terrible job of promoting the compassion and kindness that it advertises. 


Channel-tan doodles from this past weekend~

.Boomerang and Foghorn Leghorn celebrating the new year
.Nick Jr. and Nick @ Nite just bein’ a cute mother-figure-or-something and daughter cuz it’s cute
.Fleischer being oh-so scandalous! …Well, for her time period it was scandalous. Heck there are skirts these days that show more than that.
.AMC-tan. I’m an idiot who doesn’t pay attention so I don’t know why she’s a murderous psychopath or something, but she is, so I figure someone probably owes her money. That’s something you murder for, right? I dunno, I haven’t watched a crime drama in years.

Transcript of Kip Kinkel’s Confession

Kip Kinkel: I didn’t want to. I loved my dad that’s why I had to

Detective: You love him so that’s why you had to kill him?

Kip Kinkel: Yes.

Detective:  Okay…So what’s he doing in the kitchen when you come in.

Kip Kinkel:  He was drinking something, I don’t know.

Detective:  Was his back to you?

Kip Kinkel:  Yes. Oh god…

Detective:  Okay…Earlier you told me you walked up behind him and shot him in the head. Is that right?

Kip Kinkel:  Basically, yeah. 


And the Rhodia have a particularly cruel punishment.  They release a creature into your skull called an arn.  Something about the size of two of your weirdly large human thumbs placed together.  Now imagine it with teeth and claws, digging into your brain, each claw tipped with poison.  Oh, and that’s the nice bit.  It telepathically links you to a particular Rhodia, and you become their slave.  It is slavery.  If I use a weapon other than my own hands, the arn kills me. Yet, if I fail to protect you, I am also killed.  If I try to remove the arn, dead again. Slavery.