ranty writes

Don’t do that. Don’t stop appreciating her. You thought that it was the thought that counted? You thought that it was enough that deep down you know you love her? Well, it’s not. Words are meaningless without execution. She is not some prize you fight hard to win then leave on the top shelf, always expecting her to be there. Her love is not conditional, her love is not your right, it is not yours to keep with greedy hands and selfish eyes. Wake up and start fighting for her, or she’ll find someone who ultimately will.
—  To The Men Who Take Their Girlfriends For Granted // Excerpt #62

Um, hello…don’t reblog things and remove the text on the post. It still baffles me why people don’t get that this is rude. I don’t care how much you like the pictures. If I wanted to post pictures without a description just for the sake of being artsy and vague then I would have. I didn’t. And I’m gonna continue ranting under read more…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I haven't seen pap pics of Ryan gosling and either of his babies in months. I haven't seen Justin Timberlake with his son since the last time he posted a pic of him on instagram, which was a longer ago than the last time Louis posted a pic of Freddie. I haven't seen Adele with her kid in years??? Does Julia Roberts even have kids?? Bet she made them up like all the others.

Either these people admit they’re just incredibly brainwashed into believing that Louis not being photographed with his baby proves he isn’t a dad because the Big Larries told them it’s proof he isn’t a dad, or they follow through with this logic and apply it to every other celebrity and person on the planet.

These people pretend they’re so enlightened and are being so logical and rational when someone has had to manipulate them into believing something so utterly ridiculous. And we know part of their brain clearly does know it’s a ridiculous theory because they don’t apply it to anyone else. Timberlake’s child still exists when he doesn’t share about him publicly. Beyonce’s daughter existed when she kept her private. So do Adele’s kids.

It would never have occurred to them to think otherwise. 

But because lots of Big Larries write big ranty posts about it and they wanna believe in fake babies for whatever selfish reason they have it’s lead them to saying ridiculous things they don’t truly even believe in.

Thrill

Artemis couldn’t move. Her breath had caught in her throat several minutes ago and she was sure she hadn’t exhaled since. Her limbs felt heavy, her boots glued to the asphalt as if the pavement had grown so hot in the fading summer heat that they had fused with it.

Her fingers curled in something like a death grip on her sword.

Time had stopped.

She could see his eyes, as clear as a spring day, radiant and green and alive against the backdrop of ominous slate clouds that no longer rumbled, that no longer shot lightning from the heavens. The strange storm had stopped as abruptly as Wally West had appeared before her gaze.

Artemis felt her lips move, only to part slightly, as no words would work themselves from her dry throat.

Wally’s wide chest rose and fell as if he had just skidded to a halt at the end of a marathon, the kind of rapid breathing she had seen on him all too often when he’d pushed himself to the limit, when he’d forgone food for too long and his gauge was running on empty. His muscles quivered, from his biceps down to his toned calves, and his vibrant ginger hair stood on end, a few pieces notably singed. If Artemis hadn’t lost her ability to think she might have likened his appearance to the aftermath of jamming his finger into an electrical socket.

He was bare to the world, exposed and yet uncaring; he was just as rooted as she was, had not moved an inch since righting himself and locking astonished and confused emerald eyes on her face. She was sure he had mouthed “Artemis…” then on the barest of breaths, but she couldn’t be sure.

This was all too surreal.

There was a veritable chasm between the two of them, a distance they seemed unable to cross, a stretch of pavement that went on forever. The air was still charged, dancing with electricity, making the fine blonde hairs on Artemis’s forearms stand straight up. She swallowed, blinked.

A few people had gathered on the sidewalks, drawn in by the bizarre stand-off taking place in the middle of the empty street. It was the kind of crazy thing they were all so used to, that though normally the sight of a nude man might have caused laughter, indignation, a ruckus… it caused only silence now, as if even they could feel the thick tension that surrounded the two heroes.

They could never know.

Wally moved first, as he was apt to; he plucked one bare foot from the heavy asphalt, his eyes still locked on Artemis, his mouth parted just as hers was. Her heart thudded into her throat, her grip reflexively tightening on her weapon as he approached, slow and deliberate, as if in a dream. She was sure that’s what this must be: a dream. Wally West had never walked with such careful steps in all his life, not that she had seen.

He seemed afraid that one misstep might shatter the illusion, and the archer stiffened, suddenly scared that if she dared to try and unstick her own boots that this…whatever it was, could all go up in a puff of smoke.

Like so many times before.

It was agonizing, and her chest hurt from the anticipation of disappointment, for that moment when he’d reach out and touch her and she’d wake up alone and gasping in her bed.

Except Wally was there now, just in front of her, his form towering over her a few inches higher than she remembered, but he’d been gone less than a year, that wasn’t possible.

His eyes were wide, and she could see hundreds of freckles smeared across his flushed cheeks.

“…Artemis.

His voice was hoarse from disuse, barely legible, but somehow she caught her name anyway, and something inside of her broke, like a damn giving way after far too many months trying to hold back the swell of water building wildly behind it.

Wally?” she croaked out, a ragged breath, and her vision clouded with unshed tears, turning Wally’s form into a shapeless blob that she could no longer focus on. She gasped in the charged air, feeling it crackle in her lungs, burning, and Wally reached out for her, grabbed her by the arms to steady her.

The shock of his touch thrilled through her limbs like a bolt of lightning, and she collapsed into his arms.

It was no dream.

every time a r*ylo post somehow ends up on my dash, forcing me to look at it, i just think of all the photos i’ve seen of little girls dressed like rey or playing with their rey toys. i think about all the little girls who left my theater bouncing up and down all excited and talking a mile a minute about how awesome rey is. or the girls on school playgrounds that can no longer be told “girls can’t be jedi” like i always was. i think about all the little kids, girls and boys, for whom rey is their first real hero. and then i get even more angry and disgusted and sad.

why do these people who try so hard to convince everyone that r*ylo is canon not care what that would do to these kids?? r*ylo being canon would do nothing but tell yet another generation of girls that not only are they required to forgive the people who have abused them, even when they do horrible unforgivable things (like, y’know, killing unarmed old men, ordering the execution of an entire village full of people, hurting your friends, killing their dad), but they must stay by their side and fulfill their destiny of bringing them back to the light. that is their purpose - not saving the galaxy, not being their own hero. that’s his job once you save him. 

it would also tell yet another generation of boys that they can get away with doing horrible, unforgivable things and still be the hero and get the girl in the end. it’s their story, after all. not some girl’s.

and that’s only one set of problems with this ship becoming canon.

of course i don’t believe for a hot second that kathleen “rey is so important you guys!!!” kennedy would ever allow that to happen so it’s a moot point anyway.

“This way you won’t miss your wings anymore.”

“I don’t need wings when I already have you, Dean.”

A happy belated birthday to whelvenwings! Here’s a fluffy doodle for the fluffiest person to have ever fluffed!

365 days

otpprompts:

Imagine Person A dying and coming back to life after a year, and Person B freaking out seeing A being alive again.


Fandom: [K]

Characters: Reishi Munakata, Mikoto Suoh
Relationship: Shipping!MikoRei, Friendship!Mikorei (depends on your view really)
Additional info: Plot? What Plot? (In which Ranty attempts to write without a plot.)
Tagging: tasyatazzu​ (because she needs a dose of fluffy!mikorei afer horrendous doses of angsty!mikorei.)


It was on the 366th day after the Ashinaka High School incident that Reishi decided to visit the school personally.

Keep reading

About the Ban of Quenya, a.k.a Why Language Banning Sucks and You Should Think About It More

Warning: for me, this is a very delicate and personal topic. I’ve tried to be as politically correct as possible as I wrote this, but I can’t assure you my opinions will always be 100% calm and balanced. So, um, expect ranty stuff ahead.

 

Keep reading

Title: Shifting Feelings

Characters/pairings: Artemis Crock, Wally West, Spitfire

Genre: Romance/Supernatural

Rating: T

Chapter Length: 6,066

Summary: Wally West was just a scientist trying to get by in the crime ridden Gotham City, and it was all working out until the night he met the mysterious Artemis Crock. Romance blooms as the violence in Gotham rises beyond imaginable possibilities. And the dangers that lie hidden in the slums are nothing Wally’s science can explain. Spitfire AU.

Link to Chapter 1:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10687662/1/Shifting-Feelings

(behold the start of the monstrosity! Please don’t read this with high expectations it’s not really that exciting)

I really love Tangled. Not because of the great romance (even though it’s faboo) or the abusive relationship that I can relate to, but because of the ‘lesson’ of the movie. 

Because no one ever tells us what to do after we achieve our dreams because they think that we will never achieve them therefore we shouldn’t make a post-dreams plan. Because that would be pretentious right? 

But I love how Tangled is just like “Whelp I’m finished with my dream, I saw those lanterns it was fantastic. What do I do now?" 

You find a new dream.

send me one dollar on paypal and i'll send you a character trait that you can keep forever and use however you want

example: can’t stop thinking about the potato harvest; has literally never touched a fork in their entire lives; wants their first born child to look and behave exactly like dwight schrute

i will even give you a small blurb explaining why they have that trait

each one will be hand crafted by a local artisan (me) all proceeds go to a very prestigious art institution (me)

my paypal is enelson554@gmail.com and u gotta tell me where to send it (blog url, etc)

(Merry Christmas, Veggy!)

(VEGGY THOUGHT UP THESE EVIL VERSIONS (minus Tigress of course, although her AU evil backstory was done by Veg) SO I’M JUST BORROWING THEM)

The halls of the facility were dark and abandoned. He had taken care of the guards with quick efficiency, leaving them quite alive but very much incapacitated for a few hours. There was something about passing his hand right through their skulls that tended to have that effect, and usually left them with bloody noses. It had sort of become his mark, and he was pretty proud of it.

It was like his signature: Velocity was here.

Navigating dark hallways was no problem for the speedster. A few quick turns of the lenses of his goggles, followed by a soft click, and he was thrown into night vision mode. Easy peezy.

One, two, three, four more unsuspecting security guards were unconscious within a blink of the eye, and then he was in front of an imposing door made of thick steel.

He just grinned at the gesture of top security, then vibrated right through to his destination. 

The hot smell of something metallic filled his nostrils, and with a pang of mild anger he swiped his gloved hand under his nose to draw away the blood that trickled out in a steady rivulet. It continued to overwhelm his olfactories while he walked into the room, the harsh odor a constant irritation every time he tried full body molecular excitement. 

The room was spacious, with scattered lab equipment and clean tables that had been wiped down for the night. As always he felt comfortable in a lab setting, but he wasn’t there to stop and smell the beakers.

As if he could anyway, he thought angrily as he wiped his nose again, the crimson stark on his ebony uniform.

Velocity was more interested in the safe resting inside the wall at the back of the room. Well, it was more like a cold storage container, but it was set up in much the same way as a safe.

Luckily, Raptor had supplied him with the code he would need to get into it; it was always nice to have a best pal that excelled at gathering sensitive information. Even if he was a little on the insane side.

Velocity punched the code in, laughing in satisfaction at the agreeable beep that meant the digits had been accepted. There was something infinitely more gratifying about getting in fair and square instead of having exert energy vibrating into the containment unit.

Cool vapor rushed out and swirled around him as he pulled the door open, but the nearly arctic temperatures that wafted against his uniform in an icy blast did little to penetrate his naturally warm body.

Inside, there were several shelves full of tubes marked with chicken scratch. Some of the solutions were easily recognizable by Velocity, and if he weren’t so set on the science he had come for in the first place, he would have been gathering up as many as he could in his arms.

Instead, he immediately grabbed for a small, pill-shaped tube made out of metal. It was sealed tight, but there was no doubt in his mind this was it. He snatched it up, staring in awe at the casing that contained the latest in biotechnology; oh, the things he could do with this tiny little vial…

Velocity popped open the compartment he had on his left wrist. A thick, heavy bracelet with a hollow section that would stay cold just long enough for him to get back to base with his prize. Ten minutes, tops, but he wouldn’t even need five of that time.

Taking a moment to close the security storage (he didn’t want to ruin what he was sure to come back for another time), he made his way out. 

Not even the nosebleed he suffered for vibrating back through the steel doors could bring him down, not when he was well on his way to victory; all he had to do was speed down the halls again and he’d be home free.

Except he didn’t make it that far.

Velocity had just reached the end of the hall with the steel door, and was about to put on a monstrous burst of exhilarated speed when he caught movement in his periphery. Faster than even his reflexes could react, though, there was a sharp whipping sound that followed a heavy bola entangling his feet together.

He yelped in shock, going down hard from the force of the heavy metal spheres clacking together around his ankles. In mid fall, another crack sounded out and he felt his flailing arms become constricted by a second bola. With nothing left to catch himself on, he speedster fell onto his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs in a whoosh.

His chin ached and gasped for air, blinking through the red tint of his goggles with confusion.

What the heck…

Footsteps. Something nudged his side hard enough to make him wince and shut his eyes tight. 

Then he was flipped onto his back, and something warm and solid settled just above his crotch, the pressure incredibly uncomfortable.

“I figured you’d beat me here,” a husky voice mused.

Velocity recognized that voice. His mouth formed into a huge, easy smile, and if his hands had been free he would have cushioned his head on top of them with a sense of relaxation.

He opened his eyes, seeing just the woman he had expected.

“Well hey, gorgeous,” Velocity greeted with a suggestive roll of his tongue, not at all bothered by his current situation. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Cut the chatter, moron,” Tigress said seriously. She pulled her signature orange crossbow from her thigh holster and pointed it at his chest threateningly. “I think you have something I need.”

“Tigress!” he faked astonishment. “Right here? In the middle of Star Labs? I never would have thought you were in to that kind of thing.”

“Not even in your dreams, speedy,” she snapped, pushing the crossbow into his chest. He could feel the sharp tip bite right through his spandex and nick the skin there; it’d be healed and gone within two hours, but the cut was enough to remind him of just how dangerous Tigress could be. “Hand over the capsule and this won’t have to get dirty.”

“I have no idea what capsule you are referring to,” Velocity bluffed, shaking his head back and forth. He could feel her legs tighten like a vice on either side of him, and her weight pushed down on him harshly; he knew it was meant to be a threat, to push him against the floor until it hurt. It did, especially with the thigh straps of her uniform digging into his hips. But apparently a certain part of his anatomy was getting a slightly different signal, and he really needed to get his mind elsewhere before he gave Tigress the wrong idea.

Or the right idea, depending.

“Perhaps if you tell me what capsule you’re looking for, me and my friend Raptor can help you retrieve it…” he suggested, trailing off pointedly.

Tigress snorted, shoving the crossbow back into her holster and starting to pat him down with gloved hands.

“My answer is the same as last time, Velocity; I’m not interested in forming a villains club with you and your insane boyfriend,” the blonde said, her gray eyes alighting on his bracelet. 

"Well for starters I can assure you he’s not my boyfriend, and for second, what harm could it possibly cause?” Velocity prodded, trying to draw her attention away from the compartment on his wrist. It seemed to work for a moment, her eyes flicking back down to his. 

His mouth fell open lightly when she moved her face close to his. Her hands came up to his face, pushing the goggles away from his eyes until they rested on his forehead. Her lips were full and unamused, and it occurred to him that this was the closest she’d ever gotten to him. He could feel her breath on his face as she pushed her mask up, revealing a beautiful, angular face that made his heart stutter.

She leaned closer.

“I’m not interested,” Tigress reiterated with deadly calm. He heard a pop as her fingers found the switch on his bracelet. 

“Why?” he asked again, trying to memorize the face while he had the chance. As if she could sense what he was doing, she pushed her mask back over her features, and Velocity felt a tiny sound of disappointment burst past his lips unbidden; he had not been able to capture the way she looked in time.

The blonde smirked, patting his cheek. She sat up on him, holding the metal capsule between two of her fingers triumphantly. 

“It’s a lonely world, Velocity,” Tigress stated matter-of-factly, using his chest as leverage to push herself up onto her feet. She took the time to pop a cold compartment on her belt and deposit the sample safely, before her eyes were peering down at him with something like a barely concealed sadness. “Where I come from, the lonlier you are, the better.”

Velocity watched her with troubled green eyes, until she threw several smoke pellets around him. He went into a fit of coughing, and when the smoke cleared, she was long gone.

Feeling dazed, and surprisingly okay with the fact that his precious science had been stolen from him, he vibrated through the bolas with ill-of-ease. He stared down the hall she had disappeared into, rubbing some feeling back into his limbs.

Shaking his head, he zoomed away.

Raptor wasn’t too happy about the loss, but then, he was never hugely happy about anything. Whenever he was, his loud, maddening cackles were enough of a giveaway.

Still, it wasn’t a total loss. 

On his next heist, Velocity was pretty sure he felt like he was being followed, and after he had grabbed the technology from Wayne Tech. Industries and turned to leave, he found a tiny metal box resting at his feet, seemingly out of no where.

Upon popping the lid, a huge grin spread across his face, and a devious happiness filled his chest.

A cold metal capsule awaited inside of it.

Arrow 3x22 - This Is Your Sword

I’ve always been good at debates. The reason for that, I think, is that I am what you might call a “devil’s advocate”. I can see situations from every conceivable angle, and can argue either side of the equation. I can make points for and against pretty much any given situation or thing. Most of the time, I do, which can prove challenging when a decision needs to be made. This isn’t me bragging about my unbiased nature: more often than not, this “ability” to see a situation from and understand every angle causes indecisiveness. Even simple decisions, like where to go for lunch, can take twice as long while my brain weighs out the potential pros and pitfalls of both decisions, concocting elaborate scenarios that will probably never occur, and basically making a mountain out of a molehill. And this happens Every. Single. Time. Which, as you can imagine, is immensely exhausting. While the ability to put yourself in a different set of shoes, or to view things from a bird’s-eye perspective, or even to view a situation from every angle and permutation is lauded as a skill…it does mean that my head is often overfull with thoughts and headcanons and ideas and arguments that I simply don’t need, and that just end up making a situation more complicated than it needs to be. My head is an exhausting place to live in, I promise you. You wouldn’t want it. 

The point of this diatribe, and the reason for this exploration into the workings of my brain, is this. In my head right now, I have two versions of this review already written. In Version A, I am annoyed at, frustrated by, and angry with Oliver for his actions in this episode, the way that he’s treated his teammates (and it’s not the actual act of drugging them, because we know that’s a fakeout). In Version B, I am much more sympathetic to him, understanding that he was backed in a corner, that he felt he had no choice, that he acted rashly, yes, but that he didn’t know what else to do. 

I could write either of these reviews right now. Follow Version A and write a ranty review about all the things wrong with this episode. That review would be harsh - very harsh - on Oliver, most likely unfairly so. He deserves some criticism but not as much as Version A would have me write. Follow Version B, and write a hugely sympathetic review that would skew everything in Oliver’s favour and probably be biased and unfair to the other characters and their valid reactions. 

In the end, as with all things in my life, the truth lies somewhere in the middle of these two extremes, and so this review will be an amalgamation of all of those viewpoints. 

Keep reading

YJ- Doppelganger

Characters/pairings: Wally/Artemis, Dick

Genre: General/Romance 

Rating: T

Notes: Based on the Psimon level in the Young Justice: Legacy game. This is a companion piece to Veggy’s, Imposter, which can be found here. They are two different scenarios, not actually connected within the same time frame or anything. ENJOY!

The atmosphere reminds Wally of something he’s seen in an old movie once, or maybe a video game. Of course, he doesn’t exactly have much time to sit around and ponder the specifics of where he’s seen a landscape similar to the one he finds himself in upon shaking his excruciating headache off.

Keep reading

Today at university I heard this girl say she'd never had pizza Lunchables. And then of course I immediately thought of my otp.

(Because Wally would fucking love Lunchables and Artemis would have no clue what they were, and Wally would be so offended and make her try one even though she thought they looked digusting.

So I sort wrote a little, but I’m probs not finishing it because I’m getting really low self esteem issues about my writing. Like, way more than ever.)

When Artemis zetas in wearing a green, stomach baring tank top, and black yoga pants that hug the frames of her lean legs, with her knuckles tightly wrapped and a gym bag slung over her shoulder, Wally suddenly becomes subconscious about the pizza sauce he’s pretty sure is stuck on his teeth.

He swallows his bite of food like it’s a golf ball, wincing as the half-chewed crust scrapes his throat on it’s way down. Then he kind of prods discreetly at his pearly whites with his tongue.

Purely because he wants to, of course, and not at all because Artemis is walking toward him and she’s kind of maybe just a tiny bit on the hot side. Not that he ever denied she was hot. Just… hot in only a way Artemis could be. Yeah, that. Uh… he thinks.

She spares him a glance, raising one eyebrow briefly before brushing past him for a water bottle from the fridge.

“Hey,” she offers by way of greeting, voice muffled in the fridge.

“Hi,” Wally says, but not before remembering he doesn’t care about his appearance around Artemis and stuffs his mouth with an entire mini pizza. Some cheese sprays onto the countertop. “What’s up?” he asks thickly. “You look like you’re about to kick someone’s ass. Hopefully not mine,” he adds as an after thought, taking a step back with his hands up as she turns to face him. She rolls her eyes.

“Believe me, if I wanted to kick your ass, I would have done it already.”

“Pffft, yeah, okay. If you could catch me.” Wally leans against the counter, shoving another creation into his mouth. He expects a retort from the fiery archer, but when she offers nothing, he looks up at her, cheeks stuffed. She’s eyeballing the five bright yellow packages littering the area around him.

“What are you eating?” she asks, nose wrinkled.

“Pizza Lunchables,” Wally covets, picking up another and taking a huge bite, leaving only a crescent shaped sliver of crust and pizza sauce. “Pretty much the best thing ever to be invented on the food front!”

“Never heard of ‘em,” Artemis informs him casually. Like it’s no big deal at all. Like Wally’s not spluttering on his pizza, about to have a heart attack because how can someone not know about the majesty that is pizza Lunchables? Did this girl spend her entire childhood under a rock?

Never… never heard of pizza Lunchables!?”

Artemis crosses her arms, looking irritated.

“So what’s the big deal? They look disgusting anyway.”

He’s not sure but it looks like there’s a pinkish tint in her cheeks. Like maybe she really is bothered by the fact that she doesn’t know what they are. Wally feels a little bad, he clears his throat in the wake of the awkward silence following her words.

“Well, there’s always time to make up for lost food!” Wally grins, picking up one of the pizzas ready with sauce on it. He dumps a generous measure of cheddar and mozzarella cheese on it, before walking around the counter and presenting it to her between index finger and thumb. “Come on, make your stomach happy.”

“What are you, a slogan maker?”

“I’ve always told mom you’re an absolute lunatic to deal with before noon,” Jade informs her with a scoff, turning away from her in dismissal. She marches over to the closet, the one that’s been solely Artemis’s since the night Jade left her. “You need to learn to separate your dreams from reality, little sis. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting first shower.”

(I’m trying to write a thing, and it starts so good but then I don’t know what to do with it =-[[[[ )