Steph: what’s one thing nobody knows about you?
Tim: I get jealous of my phone when it dies.
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honestfictionist asked:
How can you actually support Darren Wilson?
findmedownsouth-deactivated2016 answered:
Because I actually look past what the media is attempting to shove down the throats of mindless Americans. Autopsy reports do not lie, Mike Brown was charging at the officer and the officer feared for his life. If Mike Brown never touched the officers gun, why would there be gun residue on his thumb? Most of the witnesses that originally stated that Mike Brown was running away later said that this was false, or that they did not see what happened at all. Mike was not an a young innocent boy. He was a man who had a record of violence and breaking the law and he tested his luck too much on that particular day. I feel for his family and friends, bit it was his own fault.
You know what no. I could MAYBE understand your point if Mike Brown didn’t have 6 shots in him. 2 of them were in his head and 1 was close range. That’s excessive force in my opinion. 1 shot would’ve achieved Wilson’s goal of stopping Brown. 6 was too many. 6 was excessive force. Wilson deserved some type of punishment
I understand where you’re coming from, but Wilson stated in his recent interview that the first 2 or 3 shots (I can’t recall the exact number that he said) simply caused Brown to flinch, and with Brown being the size he is, I could totally see this being true. If anyone is charging at me and my bullets are only making them flinch, I do not care how many bullets it will take, I will defend myself first and foremost if I genuinely fear for my life.
Unfortunately, we never may 100% know what happened on that day. But from what evidence we do have, Wilson was simply defending himself in my eyes.
I agree that he was defending himself, I would’ve defended myself too, but one shot to the head would’ve dropped anybody no matter the size. Mike brown had 2 shots in the head. Darren Wilson didn’t even get a slap on the wrist for his actions.
Yes six shots probably is excessive to a normal peraon but take a minute and put yourself in the shoes of Wilson. If your shots to the body are not doing enough to stop Brown and you have to shoot to kill, are going to shoot once and check to see if it hit him, while him attempting to charge you? Personally, I’d aim for the head and fire off two or three shots as fast as I can. I really do hate what happened but I find it hard to say that excessive force was used when he was fearful of his life.
Modern Dregs AU #2
The Dregs driving
- of the seven, Matthias is the best driver
- owns one of those vintage cars (like a ‘69 chevy)
- his record with DMV is flawless, passed his driving test the first time he took it
- he’s always very courteous, yielding to others even when he has the right-of-way (Matty is a Good™)
- has one of those “Baby On Board” bumper stickers, actually in reference to his dogs that he takes to the park a couple days a week
- Nina always gets on his case about it
- “it’s false advertising” “they are my CHILDREN, Nina”
- Nina, on the other hand, is the source of Matt’s road anxiety
- she never checks over her shoulder when making a turn or lane change
- stops for birds in the road, and not gentle stops
- full on slam-your-face-into-the-dashboard stop
- Matthias has bloodied his nose on multiple occasions when Nina was behind the wheel
- “Nina, you don’t STOMP on the brake” “the bird could’ve died!!!” “it’s a BIRD” “what if it was your DOG”
- her dream car is a sleek Audi - maybe someday
- Inej is v careful on the road but also drives right at the limit
- she drives a tiny car (like a Volkswagen Beetle), likes the little jostle when a giant car zooms past and the resistance hits hers
- only one who can parallel park without having to go back and forth 15 times
- ends up driving Kaz everywhere, he’ll just call her out of the blue
- “pick me up” “not with that attitude” “darling inej, would you be so kind as to let me ride with you to school?” “you’re paying for gas”
- she only ever agrees to pick him up because she’s
crushing on dat boifully aware he never learned to drive - shocking - Dirtyhands can’t drive
- Inej tried to teach him the basics once and it did not end well
- “wHY AREN’T WE MOVING” “that’s the brake pedal, Kaz” “oh, so this one” “KAZ, DON’T SLAM ON IT”
- he ended up rearending Matthias’s vintage car
- “you’re paying for the damage” “do i look like i shit money?”
- and then there’s Jesper
- hoo boy
- Nina’s generous with the brake pedal, and Jesper is the same with the gas pedal
- he’s the type to zoom through yellow lights right before it goes red
- he also swerves in and out of lanes when he’s in a hurry
- no one knows how he got his license, least of all Mr. Fahey (lost his hat once, it flew out the window while Jesper was speeding on the fucking freeway)
- Kaz is the only one who maintains some sort of calm when in the car with Jesper driving
- meanwhile, Wylan has only ever let Jesper drive once of all the times they went someplace together
- “c’mon, wy, I’ll be easy this time” “never. again.”
- so Wylan drives them everywhere in his mom’s minivan
- surprisingly enough, he has the worst road rage of them all
- not like he’ll jump out of the car and go, “FIGHT ME”
though he could if he wanted - just gives you the finger as he drives by, acting all tough in the minivan
- Kaz applauds him from the back and Inej disapproves
- “you shouldn’t encourage him” “why not, he’s learning something useful”
- Kuwei can’t really drive yet but Nina likes to take him to the park to practice around the block
- she’s like the nonchalant parent
- and Matthias is the one who freaks out every time Kuwei increases the speed just 5 mph
- “YOU’RE GOING TOO FAST” “i’m only going 25, settle down, you old coot”
- you cannot even believe what the roadtrips are like
- ;)
im sick of literally every trend teenage girls partake in being mocked like first its girls who take pics of their starbucks and wear ugg boots then its girls who like indie music and wear vintage clothing then girls who like pop punk and wear vans and a flannel around their waist and now people are mocking girls who wear mom jeans and mustard kanken backpacks and have moleskin journals like can we just let teenage girls LIVE and let them do shit they want to do like seriously
Dean collapses on top of Castiel’s chest, sated and warm with afterglow. He presses soft, wet kisses to the angel’s chest with a hum. Cas smiles, and of his part, runs his fingers through Dean’s light brown hair. He doesn’t speak until sometime later: “Have you ever read the Song of Solomon? Sometimes referred to as the Song of Songs?”
Dean shakes his head minutely, loathe to dislodge Cas’s hand. “Maybe Sam has,” he sighs, eyes slipping shut. “Who wrote it?”
“It’s in the Bible,” Castiel says softly, blunt nails scratching gloriously at his hunter’s scalp. “The story of two lovers, written by a man named Absalom. Not King Solomon’s son, this Absalom was a shepherd. Kind. Generous. Devout. He wrote, arguably, the most beautiful book in the Hebrew Bible.”
Dean hums sleepily.
“He wrote it for the King,” Castiel continues. “Which is where the name comes from. Of course, Absalom was not truly important, and so he has been forgotten… but his poem was remembered.” Cas pauses, other fingers tracing patterns on Dean’s bare shoulder. “It’s my favourite part of the books of Wisdom.”
“Mmm.”
Castiel smiles at his sleepy human, shifting to press their mouths together softly. “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine.”
In slow, lovely blinks, the green of Dean’s eyes become visible.
my kink: azriel dipping his head in silent thanks or letting a ghost of a smile appear on his lips or when slight color blooms on the cheeks of his golden brown skin anytime someone compliments my fav overgrown bat bc he is too cold and hard on himself and deserves to feel loved and cherished despite what his evil step mother and half brothers told him !!!
If I show up at your house ten years from now and find nothing in your living room but The Readers Digest, nothing on your bedroom night table but the newest Dan Brown novel, and nothing in your bathroom but Jokes for the John, I’ll chase you down to the end of your driveway and back, screaming ‘Where are your books? You graduated college ten years ago, so how come there are no damn books in your house? Why are you living on the intellectual equivalent of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?
Stephen King, commencement speech at the University of Maine, 2005
(via wordpainting)
(via wordpainting)
Getting Cas vibes from Dean here. Color coded to Cas with the brown, tan, and blue plus hands in pockets.
It’s like he wrapped himself in the couch Cas almost died on in 12.12…
I couldn’t pass this opportunity, sorry not sorry…
Its the same plaid Cas had on his bed while he was pining away for Dean, half naked, i think?
Wait, what was that? I got distracted by Misha’s nipple.
Its not really visible from the gif, the plaid is on the right side. But the nipple is kinda distracting, i get it.
Oh, you mean the “I Miss Dean” Plaid of Sadness?
Yeah, this is definitely better with Dean hiding under the blanket and clinging like a koala…
It’s the long brown hairs left in my bathroom shower. And the five bobby pins left on the living room floor. It’s the floral scent of her body on my bed sheets. The cup of tea she always forgets to drink. It’s my socks and hoodies she steals from my closet and my unfolded blankets always left on the sofa. It’s these little things that make my home, a home. I’m surrounded by these four walls but they are not what I call home. Home is when she sleeps on the left side of the bed. And home is when she cooks in the kitchen and makes the apartment smell of herbs and spices. Home is baking cookies at midnight because we’re high and hungry. Home is her falling asleep in my arms while watching a movie. Home is not these four walls; home is having her put her makeup on in front of the mirror and her running into my arms as soon as we get home. Home is shared blankets and falling off the bed because somehow her little body claims 75% of the bed. Home is dinners at the kitchen table and kisses in steamy showers. Home is the love that she burns through my veins. It’s the little things like the shirts and sweaters she leaves behind. Home is moving in with no furniture and eating Chinese food on the living room floor, the very first night. It’s wrestling matches followed by “I love you.” My home is not built by these four walls; my home has beautiful brown eyes, a voice of an angel, kisses made from heaven, two hands perfect for me, and a heartbeat that dances with mine.
If I show up at your house ten years from now and find nothing in your living room but The Readers Digest, nothing on your bedroom night table but the newest Dan Brown novel, and nothing in your bathroom but Jokes for the John, I’ll chase you down to the end of your driveway and back, screaming ‘Where are your books? You graduated college ten years ago, so how come there are no damn books in your house? Why are you living on the intellectual equivalent of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?
Stephen King
(via wordpainting)
(via wordpainting)
inacatastrophicmind