anonymous asked:

Thoughts on the most recent elections debate?

I really just can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t. I can’t even handle the way the nightly news is delivered, I knew better than to watch the debate.

But they are a weird pointless routine at this point anyway, in a sense. Not because I’m against debates or because I dislike the candidates, I quite like Clinton actually, but because if you’re voting for a racist, morally void rapist pandering to the most evil and fearful part of the human psyche, then what anyone says at a podium for a couple of minutes on a Monday night isn’t going to change your mind at this point. You’ve already been suckered. 

Like, I admire that Clinton’s campaign released a 19 page document listing off Trump’s lies, but nobody cares. And I don’t mean that in the “this isn’t relevant” sense, I mean it in the literal sense of nobody voting for Trump is voting for him because he’s telling the truth. They’re voting for him because they’re fearful, bigoted narcissists themselves. Only someone with an incredible level of self-absorption would consider fucking over huge segments of our population because their fear is more important than someone else’s life. 

Debating a man like that is like trying to win a schoolyard fight with the local bully by correcting his grammar. He doesn’t care and neither do his buddies. And it’s really sad watching someone I respect forced to deal with a bully, especially when my countrymen are rallied around him screaming him on. 

So I can’t watch. But it’s an empty ritual this time around, so it hardly matters.

anonymous asked:

Imagine if Claire didn't speak after going through the stones so no one knew she was English. What would Jamie's reaction be when she finally did speak and he realized that she was English?

They’d ridden hard from the port, eager to move away any marauding redcoats. Murtagh had been on fine form, directing them this way and that, keeping them out of harm’s way. 

The path around the fairy hills had begun to narrow, the rugged terrain creeping in, causing them all to spread out a little.

It was mostly luck that had Jamie glanced to his left, a quick swish of white crossing his peripheral vision as he did so. As quietly as he was able, he dismounted and snuck into the tree line, leaving Murtagh to hold onto his horse. And the others to silly guess at his sudden disappearance.

The white blob moved, shuffling deeper into the dense undergrowth as he shifted closer.

How strange.

Crouching, Jamie shimmied forward, moving the branches of a fallen tree out of his path. There, curled into an absurdly tiny ball, was a slip of a lass. Her head buried between her legs as she panted, her torn shift only just covering her modesty.

“Ey, mistress?” He spoke lowly, not wishing to spook her.


“Mistress?” He tried again, speaking a little bit louder now.

Still nothing.

Reaching out, he tapped her shoulder and she jumped to her feet, twisted around and slammed her back, hard, against a nearby tree trunk.

Her arms and neck were covered in nail marks, small scratches that stood red and sore, contrasting against of her pale cream of the rest of her unblemished skin. She held her hands in front of her as if in surrender, and Jamie’s heart clenched. She’d been hurt, her clothing ripped, and wee bruises were just starting the bloom across her collarbone.

“I willna hurt ye, I’m Jamie, who are ye?” Giving even his first name was risky, if she kent him, she could certainly hand him over to the British for the reward money levied against him. But something told him she wasn’t the sort. He hoped his instincts were correct.

Standing straight, he waited for her gather herself, hoping she’d answer his questions in time.

He could see the gooseflesh rise on her arms as she began wafting her hands around in front of her face, the gestures measured and quite mesmerising.

He tilted his head to the side, unable to understand. What was she doing?

“I’m sorry, I dinna quite…” he began, watching as her eyes flitted to his lips and back up to his eyes once more.

She shook her head from side to side, in a negative motion, pointing to her lips and ears as she did so.

His brows shot up as he started to comprehend her actions.

“Ye canna,” pointing to her mouth he blinked rapidly, “talk?”

She nodded.


“But ye can understand me?”

Another nod.

Well, that was something, at least.

“And someone…hurt ye?”

More nodding. He swallowed back the anger. A lassie travelling alone, one who couldn’t even call out none the less, was certainly at risk from passing ragamuffins.

“Did they touch ye?” His tone was dark, his eyes narrowing to slits as he posed the question.

She scrunched her brows, unsure, no doubt, of his query. And finally shook her head, with renewed vigour, as she grasped his meaning.

He released the breath he’d been holding. ‘Thank God’, he muttered.

Her hands moved again, making shapes and tapping her fingers against her palms as she attempted to communicate with him, the only way she knew how.

(*They robbed me, stole my jewellery, but they didn’t –do that–, no.*)

“Weel, ye canna stay here alone, tis’ne right. Will ye come wi’ me?” He held out his hand, an olive branch offering that he hoped she’d take.

Crossing her arms, she stood at full height now, looking him up and down. He chuckled as she made her assessment of him, amused at her show of independence.

(*What makes you think I need any help? I’m alright by myself! You didn’t see what I did to the last ‘gentleman’ that offered me aid, he won’t be dancing anytime soon!*)

She, fluidly, moved her hands around, as Jamie watched on, her jaw stubbornly set.

“I’m sorry, mistress. But I dinna ken yer meaning.” He felt a wee bit daft, standing in the forest watching a lassie waving her arms around, but he had a feeling she wasn’t simply doing it for the pleasure.

Nevertheless, something about her called to him, and he felt it necessary to reiterate his offer, “I dinna ken whether yer no’ happy at the prospect of me helping ye, or just the idea in general, but please, I can get ye somewhere safe. I promise.” Hoping to ease her caution, he held his hands up in surrender and moved back a little, to allow her space to think.

She was sure of herself, and obviously competent. She could understand him, and yet, he had no clue what she was thinking. He wasn’t sure what the others would make of her, but he’d made his move now, and he wasn’t about to just —-leave her here.

As he was indisposed, taking stock of her, she’d come to her decision and shuffled closer. Picking up a very dirty blanket from the floor, she met him eye to eye and nodded, 

(*Yes, alright. But don’t get any ideas Mister!*)

Jamie smiled once more and took hold of her hands as they gestured in front of his face. She shook her head, good naturedly, and allowed him to guide her away. 

Quite in need of a bath, she hoped he’d take her somewhere decent so that she might finally wash.

When Jamie finally found himself back with his ragged band of Highlanders, Dougal, obviously frustrated by his nephew’s random disappearance, tisked and whirled on him, his eyes alight with impatience. “Dear lord, Jamie! We have t’ be at Leoch in two days. What’s the meaning of running off for nearly an hoor,” in his rage, his Scots accent became incredibly thick and menacing, colour rising in his cheeks as he spoke, “and now, returning! Wi’ a random –woman!”

“Ach, uncle, calm yerself. Would ye ha’ left her?” He scoffed, trying to calm Dougal’s distemper.

“Aye, I would. We dinna need another mouth to feed, do we? Yer enough bother as it is!” He reined in his eager horse, the beast stomping at the earth, unimpressed with staying stationary for so long. Jamie tried not to smile, funny how the steed matched his rider in temperament. “At least yer back,” he acquiesced, still pulling an ‘unhappy’ face, “and if we’re t’ bring along waifs and strays, so be it. What’s her name?”

This pulled Jamie up short, upon learning of her unfortunate position he hadn’t even broached that question. His cheeks heated, embarrassed that he hadn’t even thought to try and find out. “Och, weel, the lassie canna talk. So I dinna ken.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the heat warming his palm.

“Canna *talk*? Are ye sure?!” Dougal barked, half way between suspended disbelief and humour (and NOT the ha-ha kind).

“Aye, perfectly sure. She’s adept at swingin’ her hands about though!” He joked, trying to make light of it.

Dougal wasn’t amused, “ye’d better find out, hadn’t ye. Get the lass parchment tonight, and find out, ye wee fool!”. Turning his horse on its heel, he clicked and trotted on. Conversation over, it seemed.

“Have ye gone mad, lad!” Murtagh whispered, dismounting to help the young lass astride Jamie’s mount, “Dougal –and Colum– will have yer head! Did ye no’ think ye should be keeping yerself out of their way since the last bashing ye had!”

Jamie rubbed the back of his head, surreptitiously, the old wound throbbing in memory. “Aye, o’ course I did! But I couldna just leave her, could I?”

“Suppose no’” He relented, side-eyeing the poor skinny thing, as she righted herself and held on for dear life, the pommel just about keeping her steady. “Wafting her hands, did ye say?” Murtagh stroked his beard thoughtfully, before lightly punching his godson on the arm, “did ye ever consider that, although ye canna *hear her*, she might be talking to you…” He allowed his words to trail off, leaving Jamie to contemplate them.

He mounted behind his new riding companion, wrapped his arms around her and gripped the reins before kicking Donas onwards, Murtagh closely on his heel.

She was *talking to him*, he mused, with her *hands*? He smirked at his foolishness, of course! Too enamoured by her, he’d managed to completely misread the situation. He’d have to pay more attention from now on, lest she think him daft. 

Onwards, they rode, further away from danger and deeper into the Scottish countryside. As the day passed, Jamie found himself keen for their evening stop.

Now it had been suggested to him, he desperately wanted to know her name. Hopefully, he thought, she has the ability to write.

anonymous asked:

Okay but when Zayn said that he is aware of how people have an opinion of him on social media when they don't even know him. And spread rumours and believe the lies and misquotations. That's him being sad about shit that never happened. Because. There's things he hasn't done. Things that have never happened yet he gets accused for it. I'm just honestly floored with the courage on this man. Like genuinely where is his Nobel peace prize ? His ass has been keeping me sane for years

“That’s him being sad about shit that never happened.”

DUDE YES!!!!!!! You fucking nailed it my friend. It breaks my heart. Everyone judges him on false accusations, and nobody bothers to give him the benefit of the doubt, always being automatically portrayed as the “bad guy”, whatever the situation is. The cheater, the drug addict, the violent asshole, lazy and incompetent and so on, all based on tabloid rumours and all taken as facts. And he is still brave enough to not just say fuck you to everyone, but to shove it in their faces in the best form - the form of success and accomplishments. God I love him.

anonymous asked:

Every time I hear Cody speak in your LP I'm reminded of those two random college dudes from a Teen Girl Squad video that are just sitting on the beach, and one says "I miss videogames" and the other replies "I miss my mom". Also I love it when you guys use Homestar Runner voices, esp. Coach Z voices.

The Cody Hackins voice is essentially Tompkins from Teen Girl Squad mixed with the two random college dudes.  At one point, we even directly quote the “I miss video games” scene.  

I love doing the Homestar Runner voices, but I also know that people who are unfamiliar with it must have absolutely no idea WHY we use those voices all the time.

Episode 28: FIRED UP of our Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney playthrough is up NOW

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you could post a pic I think I've seen on your blog.It's of S standing next to C who is sitting down and talking to her friends sitting next to her at the NY S2 Premiere.It's not the pic when S is touching C' knee.S is standing up.

He is all up in her business and she is NOT shying away from it.  And it was a prolonged interaction.

anonymous asked:

So after Marco says all the stuff about how he likes Jackie the box says "it wasn't u who lied" and at the end when star yells "Marco Diaz!" The box said truth so does that mean star knows she likes Marco or doesn't? So confused


Serious talk, this wasn’t even supposed to be an ambguous scene. The Cube was still set on the “Who do you have a crush on?” question, Star yelled Marco’s name AND surname, since as we’ve see the surname is needed for the answer, and the cube went

Yeah yeah, rainbow of feelings and all that, but in that moment Star was clearly thinking about how she feels about Marco. It wasn’t even subtle, she looks sad and dejected when Marco refuses her offer to have breakfast together to go to sleep/daydream about what just happened between Jackie and him.

anonymous asked:

@ 9 years old: I'm going to give my bestest friend a necklace! We're really good friends and I love her a lot! When I grow up we'll be BEST FRIENDS FOREVER AND LIVE TOGETHER AND HAVE PUPPIES and Mommy, what's "lesbian"?

anonymous asked:

does louis need to fucking follow another man for people to realize he's supportive? we aren't promoting some toxic environment when we say louis is supportive of harry. does anyone remember when harry got confirmed for dunkirk and we had this exact same freak out and then louis tweeted about the show cillian murphy and tom hardy were in (you know, harry's new co-stars)?? yeah. we aren't making it up. he's actually this supportive.

This happened the night before Harry started shooting for Dunkirk

Peaky Blinders, which is a show Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy are in (Harry’s new co-stars)