she is done with these strange people

mysimsspace  asked:

14 :D Second Gen main people (sorry I pressed ask before I was done)

It’s fine I laughed a bit!

14. Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

Maverick: He’s just kinda weird in general. He tugs at his hair when he’s nervous, chews his lip, and he used to scratch at his arms. He’s also got the Giles heir tooth gap.

Mickey: He cracks his left index finger exclusively and he’ll just crack it all the time, especially when he’s trying to focus. 

Nadia: She twirls and braids her hair a lot even when she’s not aware of it. She also bites her nails to the nub.

Carl: yikes. He’s just incredibly anxious and he’s the ass who bounces his leg so hard you can hear it from the other side of the room. 

Thanks for asking!!

that feeling when you’ve been reading all those gentle soft happy fanfics where everyone is gay and in love and it’s not a big deal and their friends all support them.

and your favourite superhero couples and detectives and kings and warlocks are just domestic and happy.

and then you emerge into the real world and it’s just not like that.

you walk into your job in the morning and know that if anyone knew, you’d be out the door. kids use the word ‘gay’ as a slur and it might be silly but it makes something hurt inside your chest. you look at your mother and think of the words she’d use to cut you with if you told her. the disgust on her face. you have your family around you and you know it could all be shattered in a minute and it would be you who’d done it.

everyone assumes your straightness. people look at you strangely when you use ‘they/them’ pronouns when asking what their fiancé’s name is, bcs you don’t want to make the same mistake that others make with you. you file forms with spaces for the mother’s name and father’s name and wonder how you’d fill them out if you had a partner and a child. you work with children and wonder what they have to hide about themselves.

and then, sometimes, you go home and read some more fanfic. maybe you write some, or draw fanart if that’s your thing. that’s the best thing, that we’re dreaming about a better world. maybe we’re not famous or published or earning money for what we do. but writing and reading fanworks like this helps a heck of a lot of people, including me, feel happy and comforted and like it’s possible that they might belong one day. that it gets better.

thank you, everyone who creates fanworks where being gay is simply treated as normal. your work is healing and wholesome and full of heart and goodness. and much as i may love the canon, it’s not the canon - it’s the fanworks that are a safe haven to retreat to and recover and heal.

I’m seeing all this “Andy is a Trump supporter so gross” stuff after Gem Harvest, but let’s look at what happened in the episode.

His entire family left home, one by one, until he was by himself. In that respect, it makes sense he hates change since to him change means WATCHING EVERYONE HE LOVES LEAVE

He comes back to his barn to be almost attacked by strange people who he doesn’t know

What’s with all this stuff that was done to my barn? This is literally my barn?!?!?

He ultimately decides to give this strange new family a chance, cause his cousin and nephew cares about them

And when he finds out their partner/mom died, he’s immediately sorry for them because he may not be crazy about this alien rock stuff but she was THEIR alien rock and loss is sad

He’s furious someone took apart his first airplane, and people think he overreacted because screw happy memories from his youth

He eventually comes around and says at least it’s getting some use and maybe there’s something to this recycling thing

At least they bought a turkey that was nice of them

And he eventually decides to give into the craziness. Dessert before dinner? Why not?!?

And when he sees all the bonds and in jokes and stories about stuff he’ll probably never understand, he realizes this family will never be his. He’ll always be alone. His mood takes a turn, and he leaves them to continue as normal. In words we can all understand, he was triggered.

And when Steven followed him, his first and only concern is “OH MY GOD STEVEN NO HUMANS SHOULDN’T BE THIS HIGH WITHOUT AN AIRPLANE OR SOME QUALITY WEED!!!”

And he eventually goes back, because he realizes that just because people change and move on in life doesn’t mean he can’t follow them

And even if he has some problematic traits he’s willing to try to change and he’s family


Did anyone else find it strange how Regina didn’t even put up a fight when Henry was about to kill her? We all know she loves him and would never cause him harm, but we also know that she has magic. She could have done exactly what we saw Emma do in this scene and froze his sword or poofed it out of his hand… so why didn’t she? Is her self-destructive streak really that problematic? We all know how many times she has put herself in harm’s way or has challenged people to kill her. Did she decide in that moment to just give up? Did she think that she had failed Emma and was therefore worthy of death? In this case, I really don’t think so. So this is my reading…

We all saw how far Regina was willing to go to wake Emma up. She challenged her. Really challenged her- to the point of even threatening and then killing her parents. At this point, it seems she has done everything in her power to encourage Emma to find her strength and fight her- to be the saviour. And it doesn’t work. But this- this is her last-ditch effort. She takes it one step further and puts her own life on the line. “Why,” you ask? Good question! I have two possible theories:

1) Because deep down, Regina knows. She knows her feelings toward Emma and the strength it carries. And she believes in its power- that maybe Emma’s love for her, in whatever form it possesses, is just as strong. Strong enough to wake Emma up. Strong enough to save her life. So when Henry walks into the room and threatens to kill her, she doesn’t put up a fight, nor does she suddenly forget her magical abilities and cower, or even give up. No. Without a hint of hesitancy, she closes her eyes and extends her hands. She is ready. 

But does she know for sure that it will work? Probably not. Who could? But she believes in Emma- so much that she’s willing to risk everything to bring her back. I guess you could call it an act of true love. So despite the writers’ efforts to throw us off the track and make us think this was entirely about Henry… well, they failed!

2) If you take a look at this meta, Emma starts to ‘wake up’ the very moment Regina tells Henry she won’t hurt him. You can see an instant switch in Emma’s expression as she starts to contemplate (she barely even notices when Henry tells Regina that he will hurt her). It’s because of Regina’s words that Emma begins to wake up. It’s because of Regina’s love for Henry. That is the strongest emotional tie between these women- the love they both share for their son. And it is clear that Emma doesn’t have a single doubt in her mind that Regina’s love for Henry is just as strong as her own. So I guess you could say that the same applies for Regina. She believes that, by completely lowering her defenses and telling Henry that she won’t harm him, Emma will recognize this act as genuine- that she’d recognize that Regina does indeed love Henry as much as she claimed she did. That she is his mother, too. And Emma does notice. If you look back at the actual scene, Emma is not looking at Henry before he tries to execute Regina- she is looking at Regina. A clear confirmation. And when Regina asks how Emma remembered, this is what she tells her:

          When you couldn’t hurt Henry… he was about to actually kill and become everything I never wanted him to be. That’s when I knew.

When you couldn’t hurt Henry. Emma changes the focus after this line to the thought of Henry darkening his heart- she basically elaborates by expressing her fears as a mother. That is what throws most people off. But in Emma’s immediate response to Regina’s words and threat of danger, it is clear that it is Emma’s recognition of Regina’s love for their son that brings her back to her own.

          When you couldn’t hurt Henry.

So taking both theories into perspective… which is the truth? Was it Emma’s love for Regina that brought her back? Was it the recognition of the love that they both share for their son? Or… was it a combination of both? We all know that True Love is the one thing that can break any curse. We’ve seen both Emma and Regina break curses though sharing True Love’s Kiss with their son. But what else have we seen? Emma and Regina’s combined magic doing the impossible and destroying an indestructible trigger, breaking open doors sealed by a literal God (True Love… the most powerful magic of all). Emma and Regina time and time again sacrificing themselves for one another (True sacrifice is about saving the ones that you love). Endless parallels between Swan Queen and canon True Love couples (Snowing, Jaladdin, Rumbelle etc). 

So what caused Emma to wake up? I’ll leave it up to you to decide. But this I will confirm- Emma’s curse was broken without a True Love’s Kiss. In fact, it was broken without even a single touch or magical intervention. And it was through BOTH Regina and Henry. Is that confirmation that Swan-Mills family is a three-way True Love? I guess we’ll have to wait and see. But I’m quite certain that we can all agree on one thing- that the unique bond these three individuals share is, without a doubt… tight as fuck! 


Finals Gothic
  • You are almost finished with the paper you’ve been working on for hours. Almost done, you tell people. You’re not sure how long the paper should be, but you’re almost done. You’ve been almost done for so long.
  • Your friend went to the library to study, you tell people. She should be home soon. You can’t remember what she went to study for. You can’t remember the last time you saw her. Her phone goes straight to voicemail.
  • The professor isn’t responding to your emails. The professor isn’t responding to anyone’s emails. As you walk towards her office, you hear a scream. Perhaps you don’t have any questions after all.
  • The study guide has strange markings on it, strange stains that you swear weren’t there when the teacher gave it to you. Coffee stains, you tell yourself. But coffee stains aren’t normally red, are they? You can’t remember.
  • There’s a final project, your professor tells you. You can’t find anything about it in the syllabus, but there’s a final project. “How is the project going?” your classmates ask with shadowed eyes and shaking hands. When you ask them what the project is about, they turn away. You never see any of them on campus again.
  • A student kills the curve for your final, but you don’t who the student is. He wasn’t in class, you’re sure. He’s not on the class roll. When you ask the other students about him, they back away. “Don’t ask,” they say. “Don’t ask about him.”
  • You can’t find the book you need in the library. “It’s there,” the librarian insights, but she wrings her hands and won’t look you in the eyes. As you wander down the stacks, you grow tired and sleepy, eyes drifting shut. Perhaps you’ll take a nap, you think. The last thing you see before your eyes close is a pair of red eyes.

I so appreciate that Cait and Sam are bringing attention to what is happening at Standing Rock.  Many people may only know about what is going on there because of the two of them posting about it on twitter.  A friend whom I went to graduate school with is Navajo.  She is working there providing medical care and posted this on Facebook today:

Sharing with you all because the work being done in Standing Rock is so important. Midwives don’t just catch babies. Honored to be part of this collective of women warriors…
Left camp for the first time since the intensity of this night. It is so strange to read some of the news reports and people’s comments. No- rubber bullets are not harmless. They shatter bones, wound genitals, and traumatize the spirit. No- water cannons are not “smart” in subzero temperatures. We spent the whole night breathing in the smell of tear gas as we were busily decontaminating & removing clothes in the freezing cold. Then we went to work rewarming, triaging injuries, treating what we could and sending others to the hospital- always doing our best to support people through the trauma and fear and worry that was ALIVE in their bodies and their souls. And no, that work doesn’t end after bandages are placed and tear gas has been washed away. The next day was just the next chapter. The lovely midwifery yurt was a place of calm and nurturing for many- doing what midwives love to do- holding space, listening, offering tea and food and herbs and kindness.
They say that every day feels like four here, and yes, it is so very true. Thank you to all who are offering support, supplies, and caring- it is so needed for everyone here at Standing Rock and for everyone (including us) long after each of us make our way home…..

All These Things That I’ve Done (2/2)

Fandom: Supergirl
Pairing: SuperCat
Rating: G I guess?  K+?
Summary: Kara had always taken a strange sort of comfort in the knowledge that her soulmate must have been destroyed along with her home planet. She might be nearly invincible, but she didn’t relish the thought of accidentally killing anyone else.   [Soulmate AU: the one where only your soulmate can kill you]

Happy birthday, @kuromikoneko !!!!!!!!!!  I’m actually very happy with this so I hope you will like it toooooo!

People were positively stupid when they thought they couldn’t die.

Cat Grant had never put very much faith in divine forces of the universe–indeed, she had never put very much faith into anyone or anything aside from herself.  Her mother had taught her that lesson well without even trying.

And that healthy skepticism, that utter devotion to cold, calculated effort over luck or serendipity, had served Cat very well over the years.  She had built her own empire from nothing.  Had raised her son into a fine young man, albeit a little lonely, a little faithless himself.

In fact, the only reason Cat wished there were anything she could put her faith in was for her son’s sake.  It was all fine and well for her to be cynical, but she’d have liked it if her child were able to believe in something, just for a little while, before the world steadfastly crushed his dreams under its proverbial boot.

Then Supergirl had come.

Read More:   AO3

Strange Magic: A Disney AU

AKA: Who Will Endorse This New AU With Me

AKA: Sometimes I love Disney Princesses. And Sometimes I Really Fucking Don’t.

AKA Songbird requested by Anon who claimed I was the AU Queen? Oh god I don’t think I’m that. But goddammit if I’m not flattered. So here you go! Take it from me! I got the Little Mermaid and somehow this is what came out of it.

A giant AU where all the DIsney characters meet up including the new couple.

Bog is really nervous, but Marianne has assured him that everything will be fine. She’s already met with the Princesses. And, from what she says, they’re all super nice. A little dumb. And sometimes a little too submissive when it comes to how they use their power (or, rather, how they don’t), but harmless.

Besides, in a private meeting with them, she already told them all about Bog.

“He’s just… he’s just the greatest,” she’d explained over the rim of her tea cup, smiling heartily behind bangs. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

“Oh, just like my Eric,” the girl who used to be a mermaid had swooned. “Without him I wouldn’t have a voice!”

“Well… I mean… I wouldn’t go that far,” Marianne snorted, raising a brow. “I mean, Bog’s always been really honest about the idea that I need to stay independent, yunno? As it stands we might just keep ruling separate Kingdoms-”

What! Away from your true love!” Cinderella nearly dropped her glass slipper she’d been so happily shining. “How ever shall you manage.”

“Uh… I guess we’ll figure it out. And we’ll talk about it-”

“You could just sing!” Jasmine sighed. “Singing helps all the time!”

“No. We’re not going to sing. We’re going to sit down and talk over plans.” Jasmine pouted, but Marianne made it a point to look away. “I mean, we’ve already had a few arguments about it but in the end-”

You’ve argued!” Poor Snow White looked about ready to have an aneurism, and Marianne jerked away from the high pitched yelp that came after. “How do you manage such woes!”

“We just… uh… I mean we’re a couple. We’re going to fight sometimes.”

“That’s not how it’s done!” 

“Well, it’s how we do it, so I guess that’s just us.” She shrugged. “But long story short, he’s great. Supportive and kind and just… he’s just great. And I think you guys will like him.” Because that was what Disney was about, wasn’t it? Love? Acceptance? Seeing others for beyond their looks (though she’d argue Bog was far more handsome then anyone here). And as the rest settled down and nodded through their excitement, she wondered if possibly things would work out. And if so this could lead to new doors opening, alliances with other Kingdoms, trade routes, and god knows what else.

And so the day arrives and he grabs his staff and Dawn makes him a brand new boutonnière and they walk in together, Bog holding Marianne’s hand doing his best to look like he isn’t terrified of what’s to come.

It turns out, sometimes he knows better about reactions. He’s had to live with them far longer than she has. 

The minute he walks in, all eyes are on him. And everyone is ready for an attack.

Everyone immediately thinks that he’s a villain. A few of the princes draw their swords and protect their loved ones. A few of the women faint. One of them hides, weeping about how terrible it is. They are all ready to tear him away from the smaller Fairy at his side But then Marianne awkwardly laughs and introduces Bog as the Goblin she’s with (yes, Cinderella, he is a Goblin. No, he’s not going to change if I kiss him, I’ve already kissed him a lot and thank god nothing’s happened so far) and everyone relaxes.

Or so Marianne thinks.

But behind her back all of them shun Bog for his choice in woman, berating him for how something like him couldn’t at least try to change how he looked to not embarrass his beautiful princess -I mean, the Beast did it, why can’t you. One or two decide to be bold enough and ask if he has a rose at home. If he’s a beautiful Fairy still trapped in the body of a monster. Another few mumble under their breath how cruel it is for him to put her through such a horror of being seen by him. And good lord have you seen those love bites down her arm? He must really be hurting her to do all that.

And poor Bog starts to get all self conscious and doubting, hiding in the corners and the shadows, hunching whenever someone passes by until Marianne finds him. 

Keep reading

When I was younger, my mother would always tell me one particular thing right before I would leave the house: she would request that I tolerate others. To hold my tongue and not speak out or fight back if anyone spoke badly about where I am from or the religion I practice. This especially became a concern after 9/11. “Always remember the colour of your skin,” she would remind me. “This country looks down on us. They always have. They always will.” And if it was my word against that of someone with lighter skin, I would easily find myself out of luck.

For that reason, I spent the majority of my youth walking around with clenched fists in my pockets. As I matured, I began to realize the cruel truths of the world, the horrible injustices done to people by other people. It was hard to accept, and sometimes, for some strange reason, it still is.

A great part of my being wants to believe that people are good. That they are still good despite everything they have done and continue to do to one another, and all the lives they have destroyed. This is perhaps extremely naive of me, and may be what eventually destroys me. Or perhaps this is the only thing that has kept me alive.

I find people to be a mix of horrible, fascinating, and brilliant. I think it is a rather dangerous combination. Lines are almost always crossed, because limits do not exist to us. We possess the ability to love and hate without any restrain, and not surprisingly, both inevitably lead to our ruin. We are idealistic, foolish, and stubborn. We pursue those things which we cannot and should not possess. We pursue ideas of permanence which themselves have changed through the course of time. We chase after ideals which are made to sound great in theory, but are often (read: always) treated as mythology and enforced as such.

One such myth is multiculturalism. If it truly exists, or if it ever has, it should be understood that multiculturalism has failed us. It has taught us nothing but to open ourselves to new culinary delights. But we are not some sort of ethnic buffet! Multiculturalism has done more for domestic economies than it has for its foreign-domestic populations, the products of immigration. It has not made us more amicable towards one another. It has not dissolved racial issues and concerns. It has not brought communities together. And it has not rid of preconceived notions of other races, religions, genders, or sexual orientations.

In fact, multiculturalism has been, at best, just a tease. A little show of skin; sultry legs, a dipping neckline, some cleavage. Something to excite the exotic in us. Something to make us feel like we are accepted, that we belong. That years of historic violence, abuse, and oppression can somehow be looked past without an apology. And no, multiculturalism is not an apology. It is not even a welcome, or a thank you. It is a bone. A pacifier. A lollipop for the crying child. A pathetic excuse.

Multiculturalism has failed us. Because it was never fully intended to work. Because tolerance is not the same thing as acceptance. Some of western society’s favourite occupations are to confuse tolerance for acceptance, acceptance for apology, common sense for liberalism, civic duty for charity – all on the pretense of some kind of profound form of enlightenment. Yet our names, languages, ethnicities, religions, and “cultures” all become subject to western fetishization. Somehow, for some reason, it is still okay to portray the non-white individual as the “other,” as something to be fascinated by. As if fundamentally altering the course of our history, and ultimately our existence, was alone not enough. But contrary to popular belief, we are not here for handouts or charity. But our struggles and sacrifices will be acknowledged. All the buzz words mean nothing to us. We are more than our food and our clothes, more than the languages we speak. We are more than our skin.

I do not want for future generations to have to worry about the colour of their skin, or to be told that they should change their names to something more “Western” and “easier to pronounce.” I do not want to see another PhD mopping floors or driving taxi cabs to ensure their children have a glimmer of hope in the West, only to be cheated into the lower rung of the ladder despite their efforts.

I do not want another immigration watch organization handing out anti-immigration literature to every door in our neighbourhoods, and then claim that they are not racist. I do not want another man to fear being called a terrorist for his beard or turban, or because he carries on his Prophet’s name, or another woman to be targeted for her hijab, her faith, and be told to go back to her country. Remember this: you cannot justify stealing bread from someone, and then becoming angry when someone else asks you for a piece.

The word diaspora translates from Greek to mean “the dispersal of seeds.” An immigrant is such a seed, planting him or herself into alien soil, dreaming to flourish as others have. But a seed cannot grow if the soil will not provide the nutrients it needs to survive. More and more of our seeds are failing, deteriorating, eventually dying. Or are just beginning to grow and then finding themselves to be cut down. Torn from their roots. Discarded.

The approach to this collection was not only to quell but also to cause qualm; to provide both a source for one to heal, as well as a brief glimpse into hell; to both remedy injury as well as rouse anger; to disturb those who have been pacified; to momentarily disrupt the course of Western thought; to trace back our own roots; to serve as reminder of our customs and traditions; and to recall all that has been lost and left behind.

The intention has been to incite discussion, to invite one another into a sense of acceptance, so that generations that follow can be inspired by us. It is not only a matter of racial differences, but also learning to put aside those differences which divide even communities of similar racial backgrounds and ethnic origins.

We must, for the sake of that which is left of our humanity, maintain the fact that we are each a body of water. We are each a fragment of ocean, a force of nature. We must learn to coexist alongside one another so that we may thrive. So that our collective force may become that of the ocean as opposed to minuscule drops of it.

—  Naveed Abdullah Khan || “After Word” from By Bodies of Water

peachesandangels  asked:

Literally the only thing that needs to be done to Sara(h??????????? can't remember if h) is for the eye textures to be better shaded. She doesn't need to be transformed into Elsa/Anna/Rapunzel/any other Pixar heroine.

YES!!!! and honestly every gameplay i’ve seen her eyes have looked fine so i’m sure it’s just strange looking eye wise because that image is from the character kit, where the goal is to get every angle visible for reference. People are dumb and think thin nose, sharp jaw, heavy makeup, etc = perfection. UGH.

memorieswarm  asked:

Emiiiily! I'm so highkey obsessed with Emma and I wish there were more people that loved her. She's such a great character.


She’s so fascinating! I mean I understand people having such a strong reaction to her and her various dastardly deeds but she’s such an interesting character. Like she’s a very useful villain but also genuinely has a good heart? It’s such a strange combination? But I totally buy it? Like. I buy it when she’s torching cars and pushing people off bridges but I also totally buy it when she’s being a good nurse™ or giving her sons Valentine’s Day cards. So…I’m like…pretty okay with her getting away with everything she’s done just so we can keep her in the village. 

Ginny Weasley Listens
  • Ginny Weasley listens. Not many people know this.
  • When all was said and done, and the diary was gone, she felt a strange nostalgia for the thing. Not for the patches of memory torn from her, or the trembling fear of discovery. But for the sheer joy of having someone listen to her. Listen to her words and think about them and offer advice and comfort and interest. She briefly tried writing in a new diary when she was fifteen, but gave up, feeling a slight disappointment that no one more benign than Lord Voldemort wanted to answer her.
  • Her parents have discovered that Ginny listens. Or at least, is unusually perceptive for a teenager (no one knows how consciously Ginny tries). Ginny and Molly, on a sunny Saturday morning, or a drowsy Winter evening, will dry the dishes and talk. And Ginny will ponder everything Molly says, and laugh at all her old stories.
  • Hermione Granger is not used to having people listen to her, no matter how much she talks. But she and Ginny, closeted late at night in Ginny’s bright little room, she and Ginny will gossip. Ginny takes her advice about Harry, and Hermione feels a little thrill of pride, because no one actually takes her advice about anything, least of all Relationships. 
  • Luna Lovegood knows. Ginny likes to piece apart Luna’s stories and theories and find her own truth in them. Ginny is the first one to hear the truth in her blunt comments, that, more than anything, Luna would like to be a friend. 
  • Harry, who finds it difficult to talk, who wraps up his thoughts in his head, has never met anyone like Ginny. Ginny is bright and funny and charming most of the time, but she notices when something’s wrong. And she doesn’t nag him or dismiss him, she offers innovative advice, a voice he wasn’t necessarily expecting. She listens to what he actually wants, rather than what he is supposed to do. It’s nice, sometimes, to have someone put him before his destiny. 

winterda  asked:

CC prompt (if you're still taking them): E2 Snart, who has lost his Sara, meets post-Destiny Sara.

note: oh my heart….
dis: i don’t own LOT…




“I don’t get why everyone is acting so… Leonard?”

Sara Lance had noticed something after she’d woken up that morning. People were acting strange around her. She’d asked Mick about it and he said he’d noticed, too. They’d had it in their heads that as soon as they were done beating the crap out of each other in their daily sparring match, they’d corner the team that had suddenly turned them BOTH away from the Med Bay earlier in the day. Sara had a headache and Ray had cut her off, saying that he had the “perfect remedy” for that without the use of pills. Mick had gone down there to look for some disinfectant for a cut he’d gotten on their previous mission and Rip had popped his head out for a second to toss him the bottle before sending him away. 


They both had decided to storm the Med Bay. No one had seen them coming and the doors had opened and suddenly all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. He was sitting there, on the little bed, getting scanned. When she’d said his name he’d tensed then looked up at her, his blue eyes widening behind his glasses. 

She never knew he’d worn glasses…

“Sara?” He stood, bracing himself against the bed for support, before rushing forward. He enveloped her in a large hug and she felt his body tremble so she held him just as tight. “Is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me…” He stepped back and suddenly all the joy on his face fell and he released her with the saddest look on his face. “What’s going on?”

Keep reading


Jack didn’t know what was wrong, but he knew something was, and he just hoped he could figure out where Angel went.

They’d met up by the park, like they did every Wednesday, and were walking to lunch, chatting about something Pie Eater and Snoddy had done, and as far as Jack could tell, it’d been a perfectly good day.  The sun was out, most of his papes were gone, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and everything was normal, from the people bustling by to the argument that had broken out between a carriage driver and pedestrian.

The men had been yelling, so maybe Angel had said something, but all of a sudden Jack felt her hand slip out of his, and she’d stopped short with a strange look on her face.  He’d asked her what was wrong, and all she’d done was run.

The crowd swallowed her up, but Jack kept on her heels, and he knew she’d gone down this particular alley.  “Angel?” he called, finally catching sight of her in a doorway and running over.  “What’s the matter, kid?”

  • family- why are you watching a bunch of stupid people
  • friends- their just a bunch of weird people
  • school- she must have problems she is watching strange people
  • mom- you'll never meet them
  • everyone- what have they done for you!
  • me- they have saved me through pain. helped me through depression. and they have been there WHEN ALL OF YOU WERENT!!!!

In my headcanon, T7-01 can’t stand the Emperor’s Wrath. She spent years hunting and killing Jedi and Senators - good people, all. This is, naturally, the Wrath’s job, but it digs her well into “worst person ever” territory for a patriotic droid who gets attached to heroes.

For Ruth’s part, she isn’t a big droid person, and in fact never attained fluency in droid-beeping. So this barely comprehensible bundle of rage is just constantly blaming her for having done her job. But hey, the Alliance makes strange bedfellows.

Why I’m Bitter about Frozen

The reason I’m bitter about Frozen is because there were so many things Disney could have done with it, but they focused too much on breaking cliches and being unpredictable that they ruined any chance of it being good or coherent.

I’d have been just fine if the Duke was the real villain. If he’d rallied a party of people not just from his own court, but from Arendelle as well, against Elsa because of her powers, and those people were to turn against their own queen because she was different and strange, and it would take Anna’s help and Elsa herself to convince them otherwise. If the people came around to see that her powers weren’t evil, but beautiful and unique, that would’ve been enough to thaw Arendelle.

I’d have been fine if Elsa were more of an antivillain. If she were allowed to be bitter and jealous of her sister for leading a normal life, not confined and always having to be on guard because of her magic. Bitter and angry at her parents who told her to bottle up her sorrows and keep her powers under a tight seal, hiding her emotions and unable to tell anyone, even her own sister! That would’ve added so much pathos and emotion to Let It Go.

I’d have been fine if we had Anna/Hans and Elsa/Kristoff like what was very blatantly in the original plan, because they are two different kinds of men with very different backgrounds, but they can both reach out to and relate to these sisters. They could both be someone to support them and rely on them with. None of this nonsense where Elsa, shut out from everyone for most of her life, is touted as “revolutionary” for never having a prince, and Anna is shunned and scolded and talked down to for daring to want love in her life. And definitely not this bull where Hans, the nice, gentlemanly, charming guy, was secretly a conniving sociopath all for the sake of a surprise villain, while Kristoff, the grumpy, antisocial, gross, rude loner, was the “right guy” all along.

I’d have been fine if Elsa and Anna’s parents were portrayed and explicitly meant to be abusive, even despite trying to be loving and supportive. They already were, but if the narrative had recognized that fact, it would’ve been so much better. Sometimes parents are deeply flawed individuals, and their ways of trying to help a child only makes things worse. Why must here be such a dichotomy, between loving, caring parents who raise well-adjusted children, and hateful, ugly, abusive monsters who never cared for their children at all? Disney needs to recognize that you can love your children and still end up hurting them.

But they didn’t. They didn’t do any of those things, because they were far too focused on nuancing a movie while dumping on all the previous movies. And while the hype was fun while it lasted and I was caught up in that hype, it died off the more I pondered it over. And they ruined what could have been a perfectly good movie.

And I’m bitter about that.


AN: Lexa falls in love with a tortured sky girl
Characters: Lexa
Pairings Lexa x reader
Warning(s): girl x girl, mentions of self-harm
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt: Gasoline – Halsey


Are you deranged like me?
Are you strange like me?

Lexa’s eyes were glued to you as you moved through the camp, a phantom of sorts, cast out by your people, but not fully accepted by hers. A pariah.
It made no sense to Lexa. Why were your people shunning you? Why had they thrown you from their midst when all you’d done was try and protect them? In the Trikru, you would be praised as a brave and valiant leader. Songs would be written about you.

She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to miss you when you were away, or for her eyes to find you in a crowd of dozens, but she did. There was hardness about you, a deep seated pain that Lexa identified with.

“Y/N!” The commander called, “Come, sit with me for a while.”

You nodded, striding over to the Trikru’s fierce leader. Lexa had always interested you. She was as beautiful as she was terrifying, as fair as she was just and, you suspected, as kind as she was reserved.

“Are you enjoying life here?” Lexa asked you.

You shrugged, “Well enough.”

You looked mad, with your wide eyes and tangled hair and your hands twisting meaninglessly in your lap. You were unhinged. Somewhere during the weeks of torture you’d endured, you’d let part of your sanity drift away. Lexa understood. Deep inside Lexa knew she was equally unhinged; she was simply more skilled at hiding it. Lexa thought back to the nights she’d spent howling in her tent, tears of grief and pain and madness streaming down her cheeks. Costia’s death had broken her beyond repair and, although she had long since stopped howling, Lexa could still feel that awful crack deep within her soul.
You were simply as cracked as she was.

“Who did you lose?” Lexa asked.

Your head shot towards the girl, your brow creased with confusion.

“How did you-?”

“You are broken,” Lexa explained, “I have been broken as well.”

You nodded, feeling a growing sense of camaraderie between yourself and the distant commander.

“Her name was Ashleen.” You whispered.

Lexa looked at you, “I am truly sorry Y/N.”

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flames like me?

You swallowed hard, rubbing the inside of your arm, tracing the cuts that Lexa was just noticing. She grabbed your forearm, turning it to face her. You winced at the pain, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Did you do this?” Lexa demanded, her eyes boring into yours, “Y/N, did you do this to yourself?”

Your forearm was laced with horizontal cut marks. Some were old and fading, others were fresh and still leaking blood. The sight made Lexa ache for you and for the pain you must have been experiencing. How could she have let you hurt like this? How had your people let you hurt like this?

In a moment of heat and passionate caring, Lexa pulled you close, clutching your body against her chest and surprising you with her open display of affection. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to tell you. She wanted to scream that she understood, that she knew the all-consuming pain and suffering, and that she wanted you to lean on her. She wanted to say that she was there for you, but the words died upon her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Was all that she eventually managed, “please don’t do this to yourself.”

You felt your tears sliding down your cheeks in warm rivers, “I don’t want to. I just need to feel something again Lexa.”

The commander looked at you, fire dancing in her warm eyes, “Feel something with me.” She said, “I can help you if that’s what you need. I care so much about you.”

You shook your head.

Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

“You don’t want me Lexa. I’m broken and dangerous. I’ll hurt you.” You replied.

“Y/N I-“

“I’m a hurricane Lexa, I destroy everything in my path.” You continued, “I want to, trust me, I do, but I can’t destroy you. I can’t destroy you the way I destroyed Ashleen.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than you to destroy me.” Lexa reassured, “Let me help you Y/N, please.”

I think there’s a flaw in my code.
These voices won’t leave me alone

You moaned, covering your ears with your hands and rocking back and forth. It was too much, everything was just too much! You heard Ashleen’s dying pleas echoing in your mind and tears flowed down your cheeks.

“I think there’s something wrong with me Lexa.” You sobbed, “I think there’s something seriously wrong with me.”

You collapsed into Lexa’s arms, letting the warrior hold you for a moment longer.

Lexa’s heart ached for you and for the pain she knew you were going through. Deep down, she knew she loved you and that there was nothing in this world that could keep her from you. She would help put you back together and maybe, one day, you’d be able to love her back.

illusion-wolfie  asked:

"Sergeant Abberline, I presume? I've heard quite a lot about you."

looking up from his pocket watch in hand, she stuffed it away into a pocket and raised a brow at first, it was strange as to how people knew him. he was popular enough due to the frye twins now, they were a major pain in his ass, but in the end they were good people. straightening himself out he nodded his head. “ ah - yes. is that so? i can only assume you know me because of jacob and evie? “ he asked, looking at her. “ or perhaps what i have done around london, centrally whitechapel. “

x | @aiden-nicks