oh the things i do for children

Some thoughts on the Maheswaran mother-daughter relationship

Connie looked so much like Dr. Maheswaran in this episode.

It’s adorable because in the canon time of the show, she’s picked up on her mother’s mannerisms in the way that a decade of living with her did not. It’s shows how much they’ve grown together as a family, and how their relationship has changed.

Considering this was how she looked in her first appearance:

There’s a marked change not only in design but also in her expressions.

And it’s been hinted at before, but in this scene, she so explicitly worries about her mother the way her mother worries about her. It’s very touching, especially because we know they started out caring about each other but not understanding one another. Because you  can love someone and never try to understand them. It leads to a lot of conflict but both parties can still come out of it feeling like they did what was “best” for the other.

Connie used to think it was better that her mother knew nothing so the latter wouldn’t worry about her. And Dr. Maheswaran wanted to be on top of everything so that Connie would have an easier life. 

What we learn from them is that to be able to love someone better, we open up to them and let them open up to us. Connie used to act as though her parents were infallible, or at the least, able to manage themselves. Over time, and in this episode, she’s shown to be worried about them because she knows they’re human beings too. They can get hurt, make mistakes, and put themselves in danger.

Knowing these things puts the other person in perspective. It makes their place in our lives mean more. And it makes it harder to take the people we love for granted.

So I would say Connie and her mother interact a lot more now. They probably talk about each other’s days. Notice how even Dr. Maheswaran talked about everything that happened to her prior to picking Connie up. She believed her daughter deserved an explanation. And that’s a far cry from the mother who would proudly bring out the “Because I said so,” and “We’re doing this because we love you,” cards in Fusion Cuisine.

Not everyone has this experience with their parents. Sometimes things just happen to drive parents and children apart. But in their case it worked out, and now they each have one more person who will always be there for them.

When Connie told her mother that Steven just came from outer space, there was no incredulous reaction. Only an, “Oh?” in an interested and calm tone. 

They’re both trying. And I’m certain they still have their share of disagreement, but it’s dealt with in a much healthier way now.

les amis as things my writing teacher has said
  • Enjolras: For this prompt, don't write about cis men. Don't do it.
  • Courfeyac: We should have a walk like a t-rex day where everyone in the school walks like a t-rex.
  • Combeferre: The computer science class is exploiting me.
  • Jehan: Adverbs are very pretty much not your friends. See what I did there?
  • Grantaire: Does anyone else think life is just one sick joke? I feel like God is punishing me.
  • Joly: I went to Stanford for psychology and was an overachiever. Now look at me.
  • Bahorel: D-A-D-D-Y is here. See? I didn't say it that time because you guys yell at me.
  • Feuilly: If I won a million dollars I would reform the school so they could pay teachers more.
  • Bossuet: Hey guys? You need to stop talking.
  • bonus:
  • Eponine: I thought you were my bae but you're just a weirdo.
  • Marius: Our printer can't do anything right. I feel like it's a metaphor for me and ultimately this class.
  • Cosette: Who was writing about the angels? This is good. Oh it's a ten grader.
  • Muischetta: Guys are weak and easily manipulated. Take care of them. They're children. Poor things.
  • Montparnasse: *shouts loudly as he exits the school building in front of a group of children* MOTHERFUCKER!
Me: *cries like a beached whale in the stands during the Super Bowl.

Person beside me: wow, you’re really emotional over this game.

Me: *hiccuping through sobs* YES, MY CHILDREN ARE UP TONIGHT AND THE WHOLE WORLD WILL SEE HOW TALENTED AND AMAZING THEY ARE.

Person beside me: Oh my! Your boys are in the NFL?

Me:

Originally posted by icicesttouslesjoursmercredi

  • as much as i love shiro, matt teasing him is one of my favourite things because it results in something like this….

shiro: hey matt, we’re together for this assignm-

matt: *frantically shushes him* takashi!! keep your voice down, there are children here oh my god

shiro: *whispering* “what?? but i was just saying-

matt: *at full volume* TAKASHI. CHILL. CALM DOWN. THERE’S NO NEED TO BE SO LOUD.

everyone else in their class: “shiro what the hell this is a learning establishment, we cannot have you making noise and distracting us from our work!!?!”

shiro: i hate you all

everyone: “SHHHHH”

  • or something like THIS….

shiro: matt, when do you wanna work on the-

matt: what?

shiro: i said, when do you want to-

matt: *cups hand over ear* what??

shiro: WHEN DO YOU WANT TO-

matt: WHAT?!? i can’t understand what you’re saying, speak up

shiro: *frustrated* WHEN DO YOU WANT TO WORK ON THE BROKEN WING?

matt: …..

everyone: …..

matt: geez, i heard you, there’s no need to shout

shiro: LOOK HERE you piece of shit-

I’m a feminist because...

I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

Growing up, my parents would always tell me to be properly dressed around my brothers. Never mind that they were walking around in short boxer briefs, it was me who had to be presentable. I was the girl, after all.

In school, I was always taught that the way I dressed affected a boy’s education. I was taught that the slight peek of my shoulder was enough to get me sent to the head office. It was much too distracting, because after all, a boy’s education had to be more important than a girl’s. At least, that was what they were teaching me.

This is why I’m a feminist.

I’m a feminist because it is 2017, and when I talk about how unfair it is that a professional athlete gets to walk away from the accusation of raping a girl without a single ding to their career, I’m some sort of radical that needs to calm down. Because that poor girl’s life will never be the same, but said athlete’s career is perfectly intact.

I’m a feminist because my aunt says things like, “Oh, those feminists, they just need to shave their armpits and get over it.” Because somehow the grooming of my body hair has everything to do with the rights I’m fighting for.

I’m a feminist because people still think you must have a vagina to be considered a woman.

I’m a feminist because I am 20 years old, and when I tell people I’m not sure I want to have kids, they look at me like I just defied all womankind.

I’m a feminist because when mothers choose to work rather than stay at home with their children, they aren’t doing “enough.”

I’m a feminist because when fathers choose to stay at home with their children rather than work, they somehow aren’t as “manly.”

I’m a feminist because parents still won’t let their sons play with Barbies.

I’m a feminist because young boys are taught that crying is bad. Showing emotion is bad, better to bottle it up and never feel. If you cry, you’re a girl, and no one wants to be a girl.

I’m a feminist because when my family talks about the Women’s March that happened yesterday, they say things like, “What’s protesting going to change?” and “They’re honestly just wasting their time. Nobody’s going to listen to them.” Never mind that the country we are living in found its freedom through protesting—No Taxation Without Representation. But I suppose that’s okay. It was men protesting then.

I’m a feminist because when my aunt saw a picture of a man marching with women yesterday, she snorted and said, “What’s he doing there? Doesn’t he have something better to do?” Her seven year old son was sitting next to her.

I’m a feminist because a highly qualified politician lost the presidential election to a less than mediocre businessman who based his campaign on misogyny, racism, bigotry, and slander. Because this country would rather see an over privileged, racist, homophobic, white man, whose years of experience sums up to zero, in office rather than a woman whose qualifications are more than his will ever be. Because I somehow have to have years of experience before I can even get my first job, but Donald Trump can get sworn into office without a single day of political experience.

I’m a feminist because the President of the United States speaks vilely of women and all minorities, and I’m the terrible one for disliking him.

I’m a feminist because I get made fun of for being a feminist.

I’m a feminist because I want the next generation of girls to live in a better world than mine.

I’m a feminist for these reasons and so many others.

I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

star-wreck  asked:

tell me about unusual cats

oh GOSH this is so vague!! there are 37 species of wild cat so “unusual” can be taken so many ways omg like unusual looking/sounding/Cryptid species or like color morphs/mutations like there are So Many options here!!! but i’ll do some of each (under the cut) and lmk if theres anything else u wanna know!!

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Why do people think asexual people don’t/can’t get married or have children or be in a relationship!? That’s always the main argument I see against asexual headcanons and it pisses me off. And people are rude about too! “Oh this person can’t be ace because they have children/get married/fall in love”. HATE TO BURST YOUR BUBBLE BUT NONE OF THAT MEANS THEY AREN’T ACE!!!! Ace spec people do have relationships, get married, some even have children. You can be ace and be gay, bi, pan, etc. STOP SHITTING ON PEOPLES HEADCANONS AND LEARN SOMETHING!!!

the posh boy problem

you are at part one.

part two: the posh boy solution

also available on: AO3

***

Posh boy left his mug on the papers again. It will leave a rim on the sports section.

John goes over to the living room table. Then he stops in his tracks. It’s happened again, hasn’t it? More and more often he finds himself giving Sherlock silly petnames in his head. He was never a friend of those, can hardly explain why he is doing it now – in his own thoughts – but something about it calms and provokes him at the same time. He picks up the half-emptied mug of cold tea and thinks this over on his walk to the kitchen sink.

He likes Sherlock. He knows this, has known this for literally ages. That he likes him, and that he likes him in a way that Sherlock most definitely won’t find appealing. Sexually. There, he said it. In his head, of course, never out loud. But Sherlock, with his many frustrating qualities, of which many where outrageously attractive to John, is practically forcing him to feel provoked. Those feelings then lead to … petnames, apparently. He’s had stranger coping mechanisms before.

In his head greets him with hey, handsome in the morning, those wonderful mornings where Sherlock has actually slept and still looks all soft and not quite awake. He calls him genius when he is being too clever again and doesn’t notice, calls him pretty man and silly git and sweetheart when he’s feeling like it, and, of course, posh boy. He doesn’t even know what it is about that one in particular, but he finds that to be the worst. For his sexual frustration, that is. Every time it comes up in his head, which is more and more often, it fuels his imagination vividly. So much that it has even made it to his bedroom and he has dreams, half-asleep, half-awake, about teaching posh boy a lesson, getting posh boy a little dirty, treating posh boy a little rough. These are all terrible thoughts. Because they will stay just as imaginary and sexually frustrating. Posh boy won’t love him back, after all.

One morning Sherlock sits in front of his microscope on the kitchen table. He hasn’t moved for at least two hours. Nothing unusual. In fact, it was how they spend most of their Sundays now. John doesn’t really date anymore, and even if he did, he would not trade these days for anything. They have fallen into this pattern a while ago, the pattern of staying in on lazy Sundays, waking up later and waiting for the other to have breakfast together. Now Sherlock occupies himself with some experiment on maggots and fingers (John doesn’t even ask) and John is sitting in his chair. He is reading a novel about an incredibly clever and cunning explorer who kind of reminds him of Sherlock (he can’t help it, as much as he would like to). Being absorbed in the book, he is confused at first when Sherlock calls him from the kitchen.

“John?”

“Hmh?”

With Sherlock this is either going to be of highest importance or an absurdly unnecessary request.

“Care to pass me my phone?”

John sighs loudly. The latter. Thought so.

“Where is your phone?”

“Breast pocket.”

With his eyes rolling at the ceiling John puts a bookmark in his book, places it on the table next to him and gets off his chair. Walking into the kitchen, he murmurs under his breath.

“I see posh boy’s being a lazy butthead again…”

He takes the phone out of Sherlock’s breast pocket and holds it out for him. But instead of taking it and paying no more attention to him, Sherlock is suddenly staring at him like his face was on fire. John frowns at him. Sherlock, in turn, raises one brow.

“Posh?”

John’s eyes widen in shock and his heart jumps once in his chest and then stops, he thinks, just stops, and he wants to melt and become one with the floorboards. This is bad.

“I’m not posh,” Sherlock complains.

He must notice how John is only blushing more deeply. How? How did he say that out loud without noticing? How the bloody hell could he?

John clears his throat and decides to go along with it. There is no more turning back from here on anyway.

“You… are, actually. Just look at you, you with your… cheekbones. Your… perfectly tailored suits, your annoying British accent and deep voice-”

“We all have British accents.”

“I know!” John is enormously embarrassed, and he feels that if he doesn’t take a long walk right now, he will punch something to calm his inner unsettlement. “I need air.”

But Sherlock isn’t finished. “If anything, you are the posh one, John.”

“Hah! How so, Sherlock Holmes? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Have you looked around this flat in the past years? There are piles of magazines in the corners of every room, there is a Cluedo board pinned to the wall by me, I leave my things wherever I please, the kitchen is a mess of syringes and human body parts – an organised and well structured mess if you know where to look, but not the point right now – and I am currently examining maggots. In contrast to this you, John Watson, are a doctor, you wear your chequered shirts buttoned up to your chin, you’ve lived a clean life not suffering from a drug addiction, have had girlfriends and relationships and altogether live as part of the middle-class society in Central London. You wish for a wife and children and probably a German Shepard and a house in the suburbs, or at least that’s what you think you want, so tell me, John: How am I the posh one?”

John has a hard time finding a response to this that doesn’t only consist of loose vowels. It takes him a good minute, but Sherlock is oddly patient with him.

“First of all,” he manages then, “ I don’t think I want a wife and children, thank you very much. And maybe… maybe I’m not that serious when I call you things like that.”

“So why do you?”

“What?” John’s heart began beating faster once more. He’s so tense.

“Why do you call me a posh… boy?”

Oh fuck, hearing those two words spoken out loud and together and out of Sherlock’s mouth, for God’s sake!

“I- I don’t. Why- why should I even tell you? You read my mind all the time, can I not be allowed to keep this one thing to myself for once?!”

Sherlock narrows his eyes and observes him from head to toe. Oh please no. “No, that’s not it.”

“Alright, you know what? It’s you. Okay? It’s your fault! You just make me so angry all the time. No, don’t- don’t look at me like that.”

Sherlock’s eyes have gone wide and very blue. He looks genuinely hurt by this. Scared even. Scared at what John would say next, what this would mean for them. John feels and shares his pain, and he hates himself for every word he has ever said that would make Sherlock look like this. He is vulnerable and human, after all. Even if he tries to convince everyone around him that he isn’t, John has to stop falling for Sherlock’s own defence mechanism.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… what you said. There’s no wife and there is no house in the suburbs for me, Sherlock. I just can’t see it. But I see this.” He means Baker Street, means 221B, means … Sherlock. “This life. With you.”

Sherlock’s eyes are still so very blue. He wants to lose himself in them.

“And that makes you angry?” Sherlock asks.

“What? No. I’m just. Forget it.”

John finally has the courage to turn around and go, or maybe he lacks the courage to face him and stay, but either way he walks back into the sitting room, prepared to put on his jacket and leave the house for at least two hours. Sherlock jumps up and follows him.

“John! Wait. We never say what we want to say.”

John swirls around, his mouth a thin line of held back emotions. He stands close to the door. Ready to flee. “And what do you wanna say?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there is courage in the one and fear in the other.

“Me too.”

“Sorry?”

“Me too. I see this, too. Us. This life we share.”

John bites the insides of his mouth because his whole skin feels hot with disbelief and wonder and hope, oh god, so much hope that he doesn’t let himself own.

“What?” he asks instead, going for a weak smile, “You don’t see yourself with a wife and children?”

Sherlock huffs a laugh. “No. Weirdly I don’t.”

They smile at each other.

“So ‘posh boy’,” Sherlock says after a while, “is actually about…?”

“Me being an ungrateful moron? Me never saying what I should say before it’s too late? Me trying to get my anger at all of this under control? Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

Sherlock looks down at the spot between his feet. He’s thinking. But not as he usually is, not fast and calculating and mechanical. He’s thinking about the right thing to do. The things he has always wanted to do, but never thought it to be right or appropriate or good for them.

“I can wait for you to figure this out.”

“Wait for me?”

“As long as you need, John. We both agreed, didn’t we? Both of us don’t plan on leaving or getting married and reproduce anytime soon, so.”

“You don’t like waiting,” John points out, but he is already incredibly relieved and impressed by Sherlock’s words.

“No, I don’t. But I like you.”

John doesn’t flee to take an hour-long walk that day. He would never trade a lazy Sunday with Sherlock Holmes, after all. Sherlock continues with his experiment, and John reads. Later they watch telly together and Sherlock yells at the incompetent game show host on BBC One. He said he could wait till John figures this out, whatever this is. But maybe they both don’t have to wait that long. Maybe, just maybe, posh boy could actually love him back.

…to be continued…

@just–elope

Day6 As Things I've Overheard
  • Jae: "okay but do we all agree that if I was a dog I would be a chihuahua?"
  • Sungjin: "why is customer service being rude to me that's my children's job"
  • Young K: "if I eat this whole pickle in one bite you gotta pay me 50 bucks"
  • Wonpil: "don't touch me I'm a fucking ray of sunshine"
  • Dowoon: "the only reason I hang out with you guys is because I got waitlisted when I applied for better friends"

I’m going to make my own post here, before I end up going on a rant on someone’s post.

Not everyone can cook. But everyone should learn how. It isn’t an innate ability people have. It’s not just about opening a cookbook and reading the recipes. There is a whole language involved in cooking, which, once you learn it, is fairly straightforward. (I’m saying this because I bake french pastries and oh boy is that a fiasco).

Judging a partner as unworthy because they cannot cook for themselves is kind of a shitty thing to do. Well, if they are unwilling to learn and want someone else to cook for them out of laziness or learned helplessness. That’s a whole ‘nother ball game. That’s when you should dump em like it’s hot.

Here’s the thing: a lot of parents don’t teach their children to cook. I don’t know why. It’s either because the working class doesn’t have a lot of time on their hands, or the adults in the family didn’t know how to cook either. In any case, I’ve seen grown ass adults who don’t know how. In every gender. It’s not just a “men don’t/can’t cook” thing. 

If you don’t know how to cook, look up youtube tutorials, use wikihow, use your resources. Ask a parent (if they can cook). Find a friend who can teach you. Attend a cooking class if you are able. It is a life skill that is absolutely necessary to living as an adult human being. 

Fuck, I’ll teach you if you really can’t find any way to learn.

If your partner can’t cook, then teach them. It’s that easy. Cook together. You don’t have to be a brilliant baker, or America’s next top chef, but the ability to make a meal or two will save you money and time and help you feel accomplished at something. 

I might add onto this, but that’s the long and short of it.

Almost Human Sentence Starters

Starter sentences inspired by Voltaire’s album Almost Human. There should be plenty of themes here for you to work with, from sad starters, to happy starter, to nice one, and even some spiteful ones and ones you can send to those your character hates. Feel free to change the wording. Have fun!

  • You’re the devil’s own
  • You can try to destroy me
  • But not tonight
  • You can fight if you like
  • Your words can’t hurt me
  • Yes, surrender would be nice
  • You can scream if you want
  • Yell your stubborn head off
  • All hail the king of fools
  • Devil knows what possessed me
  • I put no blame on you
  • I brought this all upon myself
  • It’s just this thing I do
  • I wish I was someone else
  • I was only trying to make you smile
  • I never meant to make you cry
  • I can barely take it
  • I don’t think I can make it
  • Oh, please don’t cry, now, smile
  • Oh, if only I could have been there
  • Don’t leave from here
  • Don’t leave me here 
  • I hate it here
  • I need you here
  • I wish I could protect you here
  • I need to see you smile
  • What did I ever do to you that you should treat me this way?
  • What did I ever do so wrong
  • These tears are real
  • I’m spite and hate
  • To the core I’m mean
  • Don’t touch me
  • I couldn’t bear the thought of it, now
  • There’s a field of flowers and they smell like you
  • I kept your room just how you left it
  • Just in case the fates are kind and you come back someday
  • I have seen things with these eyes
  • Made in your image we are at least as twisted and mean as thee
  • Your children have turned on you 
  • You say, you don’t sleep well at night
  • Never did as you should and you claim it was all for our very own good
  • ‘Twas a lie, a magnificent lie
  • Now, your subjects have turned on you
  • Wipe that damn smile off your face
  • All my troubles, all my pain stems from this thing that you call a “brain”
  • What do they call it when another forces your hand
  • I will stay to watch you wither away
  • And with any luck you may be hit by a truck
  • Oh, look, can’t you see how much your death means to me
  • Far be it for I to leave all this beauty behind
Ash vs Evil Dead [sentence starters]

[feel free to change pronouns as necessary!]

“So, does this mean I don’t have to pay back the 20 bucks I owe you?”
“It was 200 bucks.”
“Brand spanking new hand, or brand new ‘spanking’ hand!”
“I’m not dead, you dumb bastard.”
“Oh wow, that was weird. You were really still for a minute.”
“You mind telling me what the Flying Dutchman is going on?”
“We’re course correcting. Rebuilding the family you tore apart.”
“Oh here’s a question, if we had sex right now would it still be a threesome, cause technically you’re both the same person?”
“No one escapes their destiny, ____.”
“Don’t you worry my little burrito, you’re safe in this trunk.”
“Nothing helps, does it?”
“Of course you don’t answer. Because you’re DEAD.”
“You’re both dirty birds, and I’m gonna hurt you, real, real bad.”
“Yes, I’m upset. Yes, I’m behind the wheel. Yes I’m drunk, and maybe my license isn’t the fancy kind from the DMV, but at least I’m drunk!”
“Okay, I’ve seen some seriously disturbing stuff recently, but you are adorable.”
“Sorry ____, you played right into my hand.”
“Sorry ____. Sorry you got caught up in this bullshit.”
“Keeping my end of the deal is boring. It’s more fun to change things up at the last minute. Keeps Everyone on their toes!”
“What the Fraggle Rock is THAT thing?!”
“My children stole my immortality.”
“I’m gonna find him, take my chain saw, shove it right up his ass.”
“Yeah, that’s like a felony.”
“That is horrible, and also awesome.”
“Holy pickle dicks!”
“You’ve got some huge balls showing yourself in this town.”
“You! You ruined my life!”
“I’ve ruined a lot of peoples’ lives.”
“Oh, _____. Do you really think I want you and your little friends to die?”
“Man, making decisions is hard.”
“You say one more dumb thing… “
“I’m gonna say a lot of dumb things!”
“Everybody dies here, it’s just the rules.”
“What’s out there knows you’re alive, and it wants you to be un-alive.”
“You think THIS is the right time to be hitting on me?!”
“Shoot first, think later. Or don’t think at all. Yeah! Shoot first think never!’
“Oh, I’ll be polite. Right up until I’m rude.”

yall kno i be playing but i seriously love mork tuan so much :(((( like this man….he is like…so Real and loyal and DOWN af and notices everything there is to notice mnbfhdgf like if a member is uncomfortable in any way or feeling bad he’ll sense it first and act accordingly and hes so beautiful like that :(((( like he’s always ready to Protect…and another thing i love about him is how he’s so secure in himself and his aura is so calming. Like that hassss to be my favorite thing, he’s so confident but he’ll never boast or gloat and will happily give attention to other members first over himself..and with his confidence comes that independence?? like he’s so comfortable with himself and u can feel that & thats the sexiest thing about him hgjvhffgc and then HOW HES SO EMOTIONAL and soft and never afraid to cry &…like he loves children (and children love him, its that Aura he never has 2 do much) & puppies & being with his loved ones, making them happy…being SO FUCKING THOUGHTFUL oh my lordT….he gives the best gifts ok like in that ‘he remembered u lookin at that watch every day 4 two years u could never afford now he went and bought it’ ass way jbhfhfgdgdfd he’s a class A human bean…i love mark :(

Manspreading (Part 3)


Word Count: 9k

Summary:
  “Don’t bring the dog into this. He’s young and he doesn’t need this kind of stuff pushed on him. He’ll grow up to have issues.” 

“Very funny, Tae. You’re a real funny guy. You know what else is funny? Your chances of sleeping in the same bed as me this month.”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Epilogue

It wasn’t at all unusual for you to wake up smothered by the sixty-two kilograms of pure heat and clinginess that was Kim Taehyung. What was unusual however was how inappropriately naked the both of you were at the moment, and the suspiciously hard thing pressing against your side.

You’ve been awake for a good while now having an internal breakdown and devising increasingly elaborate plans to get yourself out of Taehyung’s loving death-grip. You wonder if you could slip out of his arms for a quick reprieve in the shower before you have to really face him, because right now you couldn’t think very clearly when he was so close to you and his addicting scent was bombarding your brain. He was always a heavy sleeper, and you figured you had a fairly good chance of slipping away without waking him up. When your eyes opened up and met his entirely too awake ones, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

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tfc characters as Bob's the burger quotes
  • Neil: Oh it’s okay, I guess I wasn’t meant to have a good life.
  • Andrew: Oh, I swear to god, if you keep talking to me I'm gonna gut punch you.
  • Kevin: You guys are a burden, a dead weight!
  • Nicky: I've eaten nine birthday cakes, and I still feel empty.
  • Aaron: If you need me I’ll be down here on the floor dying.
  • Allison: I don't appreciate your lack of sarcasm.
  • Dan: I’m a smart strong sensual woman.
  • Matt: Do you think horses get songs stuck in their head?
  • Renee: What is this feeling I'm feeling right now? It's like I'm sad for another person? Is that a thing?
  • Wymack: Listen, you’re my children and I love you but you’re all terrible at what you do here.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any info on the goddess Hel?

Oh baby, do I. 
All personal opinions about Hel will be in italics.

  • Hel is one of Loki’s many children, her brothers being Fenrir The Wolf, and Jörmungand, the serpent encircling Midgard.
  • Hel and her siblings were taken from their father and mother (Loki and Angrboða), separated, and exiled 
  •  Her rune is Hagalaz.
  • Some things you can do to start honoring her are; set up an altar with pictures of deceased loved ones, dried flowers, mementos of death, like skulls or black candles. 
    • Leave fruit offerings until they totally rot and you can also bury the offerings.
    • She also likes baked goods involving, chocolate, hazelnut/walnut, and dried berries or apples. Ale is always a wonderful offering, she resonates with Moonflowers, red roses, lillies, and birch wood.
    • Dogs, she has a dog, her brother is a dog.Or a snake for her brother.
  • Some writings state that she is not interested in food but would prefer you take action in her honor by feeding the hungry, whether in a soup kitchen or volunteering at a food bank.  Hel feeds her dead. With her apple orchards and feasts, she brings her charges comfort and keeps their bellies full.
  • Hel is also a wonderful deity for ancestor worship, spirit communication, astral traveling, seeking answers, divination, protection, judgement and guidance.
  • Moonstone, Obsidian, Onyx, Clear Quartz, Smoky Quartz, Petrified Wood, or Hematite are stones to represent her. 
  • Owls have been mentioned in worshipping her because they are both birds associated with crossing the veil, moving between the realms of the living and the dead.
  • She’s a kind soul, if you’re concerned or curious about something go talk to her!

I hope this helps!!

So I think this is my first time writing real fanfic? I don’t know but it’s a post-Rogue One everyone lives AU where Bodhi settles into base life on Yavin and ends up adopting one of the Jedhan refugee children–because happy single dad Bodhi– also the rest of the crew shows up to help too–

2262 words ll Rated G ll fluff it’s just fluff ll AO3 Link

Keep reading

The difference between Kaneki and Amon tho’

Touka to Kaneki in ch104: Look, can we please talk when you get back????

Kaneki: Err, don’t wanna because the prospect scares me but sure?

Also Kaneki in ch118: man, I’m so dead inside and to the rest of the world that I’ll keep on pretending not to remember I have to have a talk with Touka-chan.

Touka:…………

*meanwhile*

Amon to Touka in ch117: I’m so scared when I think about talking to Akira. It’s been 4 years, so much has changed, I’m a one eyed ghoul now and she used to hate ghouls. Also, I’m unstable and I was raised by a crazy russian priest who forced me to kill other human children for him to eat because he was a ghoul. I even almost hurt Seidou and Yasuhisa because the CCG experimented on me recently. What should I do? I’m such a sinner, I can’t go see her, she’ll never forgive me, oh dear God please help me…

Touka: I definitely think you should go tho’. And don’t forget to bring a gift, it’ll make things easier.

Amon: ….ok.

TG :Re ch118:

The Thing, a study of Bruce's children

Bruce “I am the head of this household, and while that status is rather antiquated, I really must insist as your father/mentor that you do not do the thing”

Dick “UGH shut up go away let me live my liiiiiife I’ll do the thing if I want to!”

“Barbara, do not do the thing”

“This is interesting, I do not recall you ever being in charge of my life or decisions. Now, ONE of us has photographic memory, so…oh! That person is me! BYE BRUCE”

“Jason, do not–”

“FLING YOURSELF INTO A THOUSAND BURNING SUNS, PISSWAD”

“Ah. Well then. Tim, you know that I care for you. So do not do the thing.”

Tim “I’m not going to do the thing” *looks at the audience* “technically because I already did it”

“Damian, you are ten years old and I am your father, now understand this: you are not allowed to do the thing.”

“IS THAT A DARE”

“No, it’s not. Do not. Damian, I mean it. DAMIAN–”

Bruce approaches Cassandra “Cassandra…my sweet obedient child…my only daughter…the shining hope of my heart…please…do not do the thing”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…I am going to do the thing”

Bruce is distraught “All these children, and not ONE who listens!”

Stephanie pipes up “Hey, I actually didn’t do the thing. Do I get a prize? A card or a ribbon or something?”

Bruce is dead inside. “Fine. Sure. Go ahead. Make yourself a prize. I don’t care anymore”

“Awesome! I’m going to make one in your craft room”

“It’s not a craft room, it’s a cave”

“Craft room, cave, brooding place of solitude, whatever. Hey, do you have any glitter?”