¡Today is the second Anniversary of Avengers Memes!
Thank you so much to everyone for being here all this time and share a lot of funny moments together.
You make this the most funny and cool blog ever !
Love you guys 💖
God I keep thinking about what it felt like watching this scene for the first time with my little brother.
I remember how he kept looking at me so hopefully, because at that time I had only recently just
as a lesbian. He knew how much this meant to me, and how much this meant for other people like me, he didn’t even tease me that I kept tearing up for the rest of the episode.
On this day in 1941, during the Second World War, the Battle of Hong Kong began. The attack on the then British colony of Hong Kong began just hours after the Japanese attacked the American base of Pearl Harbor, marking the beginning of Japan’s quest for domination in Asia. The British government was sceptical of their chances of defending the outpost, but in September 1941 drafted Canadian troops to Hong Kong. The Battle of Hong Kong lasted 17 days, seeing heavy bombardment and fierce fighting, including a massacre at an Allied hostpital. The 12,000 Allied troops - comprising Canadians, Britons, Indians, and locals - were vastly outnumbered by the 50,000 Japanese. Ultimately, over 2,000 Allied troops died trying to defend Hong Kong, and the British governor surrendered on December 25th. The Japanese occupied Hong Kong until August 1945; after the war, the Japanese governor was executed for war crimes. The battle of Hong Kong remains an important moment in Canadian and Commonwealth history, for, despite overwhelming odds and little military training, the Allied forces refused to surrender, and many subsequently endured brutal conditions as prisoners of war.
Kenji Goto, a well-known freelance Japanese journalist and filmmaker, was beheaded on January 30th, 2015 by ISIS militants in a highly publicized series of executions.
Goto was known for his coverage of conflict zones in Africa and the Middle East. His last known work includes remarkable coverage of ISIS, while the majority of his well known work has revolved around poverty, and the plight of child soldiers. Goto entered Syria in what many say was an attempt to locate and rescue his colleague and friend, Haruna Yukawa, who had been abducted in the region the year before.
Today, on the second anniversary of his death, Kenji Goto’s fearless and selfless efforts to rescue Yukawa, his commitment to journalism, and dedication to delivering truth in his reporting of war zones, refugees and victims, will not be forgotten.
5 Years of 5sos!! I can’t believe how far this band has come. Four small boys from Australia took on the world and found their way into our hearts. They’ve transformed music and helped bring the sound of guitar back to the radio. So much has happened over these 5 years from winning awards, multiple tours, and even having the chance to play at MSG. You’ve saved so many lives and gave us all a voice. You brought us all together to be a part of a beautiful dysfunctional family. You gave us a space to be ourselves. I’m eternally grateful for everything you’ve done and had to sacrifice. I can’t wait to hear the new music you’ll make and see how you’ll continue to grow as a band. But for now enjoy your time off because you guys deserve it. Thank you for everything. I love you guys💕 @5sos
This was the story I tried to write on the two year anniversary of my blog but it got eaten in a c&p disaster. Anyway, after a suitable mourning period, I decided to give it another go. Please enjoy…
He passed it over the table after dinner. The ornately wrapped rectangle immediately took precedent over her pudding, which was carelessly pushed aside as Molly greedily reached for the proffered gift.
Solid. Heavy. She didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to say that this was a book. Still, she took her time unwrapping it, ignoring the man’s impatient bobbing in her periphery. Carefully, she peeled back each corner, finding the center-line and breaking the seal to carefully.
Sherlock huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttered something about giving wrapped gifts to people who do postmortems.
She gasped, lifting the tome from the paper. Her hand caressed the ornately bound book, “Die Hochzeit des Figaro” illustrated by famed German paper-cut artist Lotte Reiniger.
How did he know?
As a child, Molly had been fascinated with her work. Morbid though it may be, it was Lotte Reiniger’s keen ability to tell a story through fine cuts and clean lines that had been inspirational in Molly’s own work.
“Happy Paper.” He announced.
She looked up with a watery smile to find him standing upright, his strad propped under his chin. He gestured for her to open the book, and as she skimmed each page, he played. He played allegros in sweeping legato and arpeggios in pizzicato precision through each scene of the opera, so masterfully illustrated within the book.
She applauded when he finished, took hold of his face when he bent at the waist to bow, and properly snogged the life out of him.
“Happy Paper.” She murmured, echoing his earlier felicitation.
It was her turn to present Sherlock with his anniversary gift but she felt… anxious. There was no possible way what she held in this envelope could even come close to the gift Sherlock had just given her. It was embarrassing.
Gulping down nerves, and the very last of her pride, she reached beneath the seat to pull a manila envelope from her bag. Offering it to him with nary a glance in his direction, eyes lowered, cheeks burning.
She heard him open it, the slide of the papers leaving the envelope. She knew it would take him less than a second to see it was her most recently published paper, and the notes wherein she cited and credited his work in her findings.
He was silent another moment before Molly thought to redirect the potentially uncomfortable turn this could take by self-deprecating. “You win!” She huffed out with a nervous laugh, braving to look up at him.
He smiled, setting the paper aside, looking directly at her with an unreadable expression. “Yes. I do.”
Molly often replayed that moment in her head, the moment she’d gotten her arse completely beaten by Sherlock Holmes in the gift-giving department. It should not have come as such a surprise that a man capable of so much thought, was also capable of so much thoughtfulness.
Credit where credit was due, he was quite gracious in victory, that was a bit unexpected. He’d never been so withholding with his self-congratulating. He didn’t mention it beyond the initial ‘Yes. I do.’ acknowledging his win.
Molly was not so gracious in the face of her own defeat. No.
She’d had a year to strategize and prepare. It had taken her months, several online purchases, and quite a bit of clandestine activity at the lab. This year she was confident she had gotten Sherlock a gift that would knock his fussily indexed cashmere socks off.
All she had to do was bide her time until the perfect moment. He would be on his second glass of red, halfway through the homemade chocolate souffle, which Molly was not too humble to describe as near-orgasmic. It was her best dish, and she liked to wheel it out whenever circumstances required he be open to persuasion.
They kissed and toasted to another year of nuptial success and another year closer to winning Mycroft’s bet that they wouldn’t last longer than 4 years and 8 months. Easy money, they both agreed.
The moment had come, Sherlock was deep in his cups while Molly prepared to pull the heavy black binder from under her chair. Before it was even fully in her grasp, he was waving a wide velvet box in her face. The size of it meant it could only be a necklace.
Sighing in slight disappointment, she rallied to return his gift with a loving smile.
“Chose to forgo wrapping. Given your frustrating penchant for opening gifts like a chest cavity.” he quipped, setting his glass down.
“Oh, Sherlock!” She breathlessly enthused, prising the box open to find a five-strand art deco pearl necklace, held together with a large glittering clamshell shaped clasp.
She lifted the necklace from the box, expecting it to be far heavier, surprise clearly showing on her face.
“Cotton?” Though they had given gifts in keeping with the traditional categories, she’d just assumed based on this year’s offering, he’d chosen to forgo it.
This is when he huffed out a breath in… was that anxiety? “Cotton pearls.” He answered as if confessing something shameful. “I know it’s reaching a bit with the theme, and it’s just costume jewelry but I saw it and it made me think of you.” He rushed to explain, shaking his head and adding, “Well you as… I don’t know some sort of flapper… mermaid?”
Molly gave him the most amusedly confused look at that pronouncement. “Flapper Mermaid?” She questioned, gesturing for him to help her put it on. In a flash, he was behind her draping the necklace over her decolletage. She helped by tilting her head to the side and pulling her long hair out of the way.
“Yes.” He murmured in her hair. “Too liberated for all that clamshell bra business.” He kissed the exposed length of her neck when he completed his task of securing the clasps that were meant to be worn to the side, rather than behind. The necklaced draped long down her chest.
“This is a strangely specific fantasy.” She cooed, letting herself be pulled under by wet, breath-stealing kisses.
“No. Nope. Bad Hooper.” He chastised. “Where is my gift? Or wait… is this one of those times where a partner’s forgetting of a gift can be leveraged for especially kinky sex? No, that can’t be it, you were reaching for something under the chair. You got me a gift but you don’t want to give it to me. Why?”
Naturally, asshole genius can’t let her get a word out on her own. Deep breaths.
“It’s just embarrassing.” She reached beneath the seat to present the thick black binder. “Yours is always better than mine. And I’ve tried. I swear I’m trying. Mine just don’t come close.”
The binder was a manuscript, accompanying several sheets containing carefully indexed slides held in plastic-coated sleeves.
“The Varying Tensile Strengths of Natural Fibers: An Annotated Guide to Fabric Identification” Written by, none-other than Sherlock Holmes.
He looked at her, speechless and baffled, near sputtering. “How? When?”
“I took everything you’d written on the subject from your website, polished it up a bit and edited out some of your more… impassioned ramblings. After that it was just a matter of acquiring the necessary samples and mounting the slides. I’ve already spoken to a publishing house, and there’s interest-”
She was cut off with a hard kiss. “You’re too good at this.” He said accusingly. “I always win.”
Molly’s brows knit together. “What? How am I too good at this if you always win?” She pushed away from him to look him in the eyes.
“Easy. That’s why I win. Because you’re so much better at this than me. I always get the better gift.” He explained slowly, surprised by Molly’s apparent slowness of uptake.
“No, Sherlock. The person who gives the best gift is the one who wins.” She explained.
He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Besides, last year you said I won. So clearly… oh… Really?”
She bit her lip. He honestly didn’t know that he’d basically swept her ass over teacups with that stupid book?
“I gave you a book and played violin at you, Molly.” He said incredulously. “There’s no way that tops being credited in your paper. You put my name beside yours on something you accomplished that’s… well… that’s…” He coughed to disguise a show of emotion. “I still can’t believe you put your name beside mine on our marriage certificate so… you know? And now this.”
He gestured toward the manuscript.
“And I gave you a necklace that goes with absolutely nothing in your wardrobe…”
“Then I already have the perfect thing.” She answered saucily, flashing her large brown eyes up at him.
So there you have it. She could have wrapped it all up with some soppy diatribe about how the true gift is love etc etc…
Instead she kissed him, kissed him and kissed him again. Then, shaking the strands of pearls at him she said “We doing this or what?” before reaching behind her to bring the zip of her dress down.
“You did say this goes with nothing in my wardrobe.”
Mate, we thought this blog was gonna last for like a week at best. It’ll be our second anniversary before too long and we’re creeping up on one hundred thousand followers. I have no clue how the heck this happened.
(I blame Buzzfeed nicking our content all the time)
Today is my blog’s 6th year anniversary. Well, in case you are wondering who I am, I was Shuujiie ⇒ Shuujaye. I’ve been on this damn website for so long my sense of humour is now a total wreck and I’m sinning with all them memes. Still, I would like to thank all the blogs that i follow for making my dashboard enjoyable and also all the followers for tolerating my shit posting. Thank you all for being here, couldn’t make it without you all. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ”
If there’s anything written wrongly, pls tell me. This is all linked and alphabetised manually, very prone to mistakes.