this man knows the truth


Originally posted by a-thousand-shining-stars

Request; May I request a part 2 of ‘Lost and Found’ please?
Pairings; Avengers x Child!Reader
Warnings; Swear words. Just therapy, and general family time.
Notes; The reason why I chose ‘Inception’ for this is because it means: “begin, take in hand.” I figured it would be a good title because you begin again; and this time, on the side where you always belonged. Also, how was it?? Sorry it took so long, and thank you for being so patient!

“You may not remember us, but that’s okay.” The blonde man said, tears slowly slipping from his eyes. “But we remember you.”

You stared at him, your gaze still hard. You didn’t know what to think - you don’t remember them. “Hvernig veit ég að þú ert að segja sannleikann?”

“What she is saying is: How do I know you are telling truth?” A man stepped up, helping translate. 

The man fished something out of his pocket - a picture? A picture. On it, was a little girl, who, frighteningly enough, looked very similar to you. 

Er að ætlast til að vera satt?” You ask coldly. 

“She says: Is that suppose to be truth?” 

“Of course it is!” The brunette grunted, obviously offended. “Listen, we wouldn’t lie to you. We would never. Didn’t we promise that?”

You blinked as a memory broke through the cloudy haze of your convoluted mind. 

Keep reading

Before tonights debate.

I want to officially endorse Ted Cruz. I believe he is the man for the Job. No matter who our nominee is, I will vote for the Republican nominee. For now. I will put all my spare time spreading the message of Liberty, and Ted Cruz. I worked closely with him when he ran for U.S Senate here in Texas, and I know Ted Personally. He’s a great man, and tells the truth. 

Cruz Crew 2016

{{ @ijustwantedtogetmarried || continued from here }}

Canton considered this for a moment, then nodded. “All right.” He agreed. “Within reason of course. You’re the one who crash-landed only a few miles outside of the nation’s capitol, after all. I’m not giving you any sensitive information.”

“Let’s start simple. What’s your name?” He asked. “And are you human?” They had taken a blood sample while they took care of his wounds, so they could find out for themselves, but whether or not this man told the truth would let Canton know how much he could trust him.

“John Crichton,” John answered, fairly readily. He couldn’t expect to get answers if he didn’t supply any, after all.

He hesitated at the second question, though. Rarely did he meet people in the Uncharted Territories who knew what a human was, let alone someone who could tell him apart from a Sebacean. “…yes,” he finally answered. “I’m human. Now who the frell are you?”


She’s a man?

Dear future husband,

Make me laugh, make me smile, tell me you want to stay around for a while.
Take me on romantic and thoughtful dates, don’t be mad if I’m ever late.
Hold my hand in public, show me off.
Be my lazy Sunday cuddle buddy with a movie marathon and take out.
Let’s make a habit of walking our dog.
Travel whenever we can, to wherever we want.
Love my flaws, support my dreams, be the man I know you can be.
Tell the truth and show me you care.
Wipe away all of my tears.
Pick me up when I fall and acknowledge my achievements, no matter how small.
Forehead kisses, back rubs, and learn what I love.
I’ll give you my heart, if you give me yours.
Let’s have a family, children and all.
Let’s be spontaneous, let’s create a life to forever share.
Dear future husband, I promise I will always be there.

Cuddling and clarity.

The snowmageddon in NYC had me home all day and feeling anxious about The Gentleman. I am falling back in with a pattern that started, frankly, with my dad: I feel like I have to clutch at straws just to get his affection, and that clutch is my constant pursuit of communication with the man. I know the truth is that, if he is for me, it’s not something I have to clutch for. Putting yourself out there as an interested party is just that, and not the same thing as desperately clinging for threads of a man’s affection. I know the difference but old habits die hard.

I texted the Gentleman a bit today and let the convo go. It was decent text convo. I was not satisfied with it because he could never satisfy my need for reaching out to him. It’s a losing battle if I’m going to look anywhere else but within to meet my need for affirmation.

Upon recognizing that bad habit, I was feeling like I should also let go of actively engaging on the online dating apps: Tinder, Hinge, OkCupid, Coffee Meets Bagel and so forth. But then Tinder drew me in by telling me that with the snowstorm, matches were up today by like 30-something percent. So I decided to give it 15 minutes to see how long it’d take for me to match. And about minute 15, Tinderdude matched me. He hit me up immediately.

I should have known this wouldn’t work out when he told me I looked comfy. Because I’m not furniture, or a pillow, or a throw you put on your couch, I have a problem with being described this way. He was alluding to the fact that I am thick in the body (49/40/51)…but he described me as an object he’d sit on.

So Tinderdude started by saying he is looking for a “cuddle” (read: fuck) buddy. I felt like that I was open to this; I certainly went into my interactions with The Gentleman with this objective and felt fine about initiating a conversation with another man about this kind of arrangement. I get that, when looking for a cuddle buddy, you are likely going to focus on the physical aspects of the person. With The Gentleman and Tinderdude, I thought their faces looked like great places to sit. But did I tell either one that their faces looked comfy? SMH.

Anyway, Tinderdude’s ridiculousness continued on, eventually, to what he was looking for. He wants a woman to be a “consistent friend” i.e., someone who he can cum in whenever he wants, who will give him head while watching football - actually deep throat him - and let him explode in the back of her throat - all while he watches football.

To backtrack: he started telling me all this from a conversation about condoms, which he referred to as “boring.“ When I indicated that condoms were mandatory (duh!!) he then went into what he was looking for.

So this is a no, of course. But at the top and bottom of this conversation he asked me what I was looking for. At the top I said I was “minimally” looking for a cuddle buddy but at bottom of it, when asked, I told him that I was ultimately looking for a relationship.

I think his extreme version of cuddle-buddy-hood pushed me towards my truth.

So although I am open to a cuddle buddy, I am looking for a relationship. An emotional, spiritual and physical exchange. Consistent, committed and clear. Bomb sex. A ring. Marriage. Babies. Forever.

Being very clear about this makes my potential cuddle-buddy-ship with The Gentleman complicated. Do cuddle buddies become committed? Can I make a husband out of my “ho”? Does The Gentleman want a relationship (in general, or from me)? Could I fuck him a few times and move on cleanly? Do I want commitment from The Gentleman at all? More on this to come.

In the meantime, I need to meditate and do some yoga. Clear my chakras and shit, because I obviously have a few more things to get clear.

100-Prompt Challenge - 040 Fake

His smile charms.
Those around him flock and fawn to make his every request a reality, swayed by the adoring glint of pearl-white.
His eyes alight and full of life.
The amiability in his gaze, calming blues lifted from the abyss. Hypnotic and enchanting, drawing in those who would want to offer themselves for his cause.
His laugh, engaging.
Musical voice lilts to soothe the masses upset and wronged by actions wrought by the sire before, promises of change to come for the good wafting to the hurt ears.

The man is a saint.

Those not blinded in cordiality know the truth.
The facade, the lie

The fangs in his mouth, waiting to strike open and yielding throats.
The venom in the eyes, striking down all who would stand up and oppose. Those who would refuse to go to the slaughter.
The dirge in the voice, already humming out eulogies to bury the unwitting and unwilling.

A wolf leading sheep to the plummet over an unforgiving surf. The words of the saviour are built on mountains of bodies and over rivers of blood. He embodies them, in deceptive sainthood. The wolf knits blankets now to throw over the gaze of those easily lead astray, to hide his atrocity from those so gullible to follow after. 

The wolf leads another flock to the edge. They’ll sing his praises and speeches of thanks as they fall to join their brethren, still clutching at his coat-tails. 

He is not his sire, but he is worse still.

The man is a Blakk.

Have some Xerxes the Manipulator for the next milestone. Something tide me over while I get my life back in working order.



The Wandering Bard

Oft the lone one yearns for grace. He recalls treasures bestowed, the Mother’s hall and how at banquet, his bountiful Father honoured him in days of yore – though he, sorry-hearted, long must stir the frost-cold sea, with anxious heart, o'er the water ways, to tread the paths of his own exile. So spoke a wanderer, mindful of woe. 

Oft does he lament misery alone, before dawn’s light. None now exist to whom he would dare openly express his inner most thoughts. In truth he knows it well befits a man of royal blood, to guard close his heart’s key. Yet a desperate mind cannot withstand destiny, nor tempestuous soul oppose fate.

Long years ago, the wanderer hid his nobility in the darkness of the earth, and traveled most sorrowfully over the frozen waves. He sought givers of good treasure, where far or near he might find one in the mead hall who knew his people, or wished to console the friendless one with delights. Yet he learns he must live without the valued love of his Emperor…

Oft does the memory return. He imagines he is blessed once more by his Lord’s embrace. He dreams he lays his head and hands upon the Father’s knee, and, as of old, he is favoured by the throne. 

But at last he awakens, this lordless Prince, and finds before him a darkened path. Sea birds spread their wings to bathe as snow falls, and frost mingles with the sky. Now all the heavier, his wounded heart longs for loved ones.

Yet on he must go, for his is the path of the world, not patterned gold, not earthly splendor.

Yet Another Woman Has Been Killed For Turning Down A Man Who Asked Her Out

Many women feel uncomfortable when men tell them to smile or make comments about how great they look while they walk down the street, a point that’s been underscored over and over again by the anti-street harassment movement. But even though some feel that catcalling is fairly harmless, many women know the truth: that rejecting a man in public could end up getting you bullied, beaten or even killed.

At about 2 a.m. on Jan. 22, that’s what happened to 29-year-old Pittsburgh woman Janese Talton-Jackson. Earlier in the evening, Talton-Jackson had been at a bar called Cliff’s, where a man named Charles McKinney, 41, reportedly approached her to ask her for a date. Police say the woman rejected McKinney’s advances shortly before closing time, then left the bar. When she did, McKinney followed her outside, shot her in the chest and fled. Talton-Jackson was found laying in the city street, and was pronounced dead at the scene.

According to CBS Pittsburgh, McKinney was apprehended after being shot by Pittsburgh police officers in the course of a shootout. (The officers involved in the chase have been placed on administrative leave for opening fire on the suspect.) He is in stable condition and has been charged with homicide. 

Janese Talton-JacksonSource: Facebook

Were Talton-Jackson the only woman to be killed for daring to rebuff a stranger’s advances, her death might be considered a one-off act of violence committed by a lone maniac with a gun. But she’s far from the only woman who has lost her life for turning down a man who asked her out. In the past two years, at least four other women have been brutally murdered for turning men away, while many more have survived other violent attacks. 

In Oct. 2014, two women were attacked within two weeks of each other for rejecting strangers’ advances. One, an unidentified Queens, New York woman, survived having her neck slashed in the lobby of her apartment building after turning a guy down. The other, Detroit native Mary “Unique” Spears, was shot three times after she refused to give a man her phone number, eventually dying from her injuries. 

The following month, 30-year-old Dana Kimbro, who was eight months pregnant at the time, turned down Jesse Cervantes, a stranger she met on a San Antonio, Texas street. Cervantes then followed her, slammed her against the sidewalk and stabbed her in the abdomen. About six weeks later, in December, a Spokane, Washington woman survived an attempted murder by Avery Quin Zion Latham, an acquaintance who strangled her and slit her throat with a pocket knife. 

Again, that was just in 2014. 

Mary “Unique” SpearsSource: Fox Detroit

The blog When Women Refuse is full of more stories of women facing violence for rejecting men’s advances, submitted by readers or taken from headlines. As Deanna Zandt, the activist who created the Tumblr, told Think Progress shortly after it launched, the goal was to highlight the fact that “we still don’t view gender based violence as a large cultural issue — we tend to think of these as isolated incidences.“ 

But as Talton-Jackson’s murder and each of the attacks that came before it show, that’s absolutely not the case. 

h/t Jezebel

anonymous asked:

oh man, i didn't know guybrush was THAT sad. :(

The truth is, I haven’t seen him this sad since our endeavors with the Pox. But… that’s Guybrush for you. Always leaving his heart exposed.

He just needs some time and he’ll be back on his feet again soon.