Kise: Aominecchi, it’s rare to see you around here. Aomine: Kise? Kise: Are you training for Winter Cup? Aomine: I’m just killing some time. Like I’d ever be serious about practicing. Kise: Free time, hm… Then, while you’re slacking off, I’ll become stronger to the point where you can’t even catch up to me. Aomine: Whatever. Well, I guess I’ll take a ride on this. Kise: A fitness bike? Maybe I’ll do that too. Ah, how about we have a contest to see who can stay on the longest? Aomine: No. (gets on bike) —Ah? Kise: You broke it! Aomine: Hah? Don’t mess with me, I only touched it! Kise: Ah-ah~ It’s totally broken. This might become evidence. Machines like these are worth several ten thousands, I’ve even seen some that are two million! Aomine: I can’t pay for that! Kise: I’m troubled over here too. Aomine: Now it’s come to this, I guess there’s no other way… Kise, it’s your turn to shine. Kise: I don’t have money. Aomine: Use your copying ability and call the front desk. Kise: What do you mean? Aomine: Copy Midorima’s voice and say, “I broke it.” Kise: Wow, you’re terrible! I can’t copy like that! Aomine: You won’t know if you don’t try. Try impersonating him right now. Kise: Midorimacchi? Copying isn’t this kind of mimicry… But I’ll try. “I am Midorima Shintarou.” Kinda like this? Aomine: Oh, continue. Kise: “Today’s lucky item was a fitness bike, but I broke it.” Aomine: You’re getting into it. Kise: How was it? Was my copy of Midorima good? Aomine: It’s nothing like him. Kise: Hey, that’s not flattering at all! Midorima: Did you say something about me, Kise? Aomine: Oh! Kise: Midorimacchi! Why are you here? Midorima: There’s no question about it, I’m here to do some training. You two are here to train as well, no? Kise: That’s right, we were training! Alright, starting to pedal, one-two, one-two! Midorima: Anyway, Aomine. Aomine: Nn, what? Midorima: I would suggest you not to use that bike. Use this one over here. Aomine: Huh? Why? I like this bike. Midorima: But that machine… the handle is supposed to be broken. Aomine: The handle— why do you know that? Midorima: I tried to use that bike earlier, but the handle was broken. Aomine: Hah? It was broken… Midorima: I’ve already let the people know. They should be repairing it soon. Aomine: I see… I get it. Kise: No wonder… Aomine: You should have just said you didn’t break it. Kise: As expected of Midorimacchi, you’re so smart! Midorima: Don’t mess around, why would I tell them that I broke it? It was already broken by the time I used it. Aomine: We’ll leave it at that. Midorima: I told you, I didn’t break it!
me before:oh it's just a shonen sports manga about basketball...
me now:ITS FUCKING BASKETBALL HOW DO YOU NOT FUKCING IUNDERSTAND DONT EVEN SPEAK TO ME ALL MY FEELINGS DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SKILL IT TAKES ALL OF THEM I LOVE ALL OF THEM YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ITS NOT JUST FUCKING BASKETBALL ITS LIKE MY NINETY PERCENT OF MY NONEXISTENT SOUL THEYRE NOT JUST FICTIONAL BISHOUNEN PLAYING SPORTS DONT YOU DARE TELL ME ITS "JUST BASKETBALL" NO NO NOPE NO I DONT ACCEPT THIS IM OGING TO FLING MYSELF OFF CLIFFSTHERES NO SHAME IN FALLING DOWN IM GOING TO GOUGE MY EYES OUT OH MY GOD I CANT LIVE ANYMORE ITS NOT BASKETBALL IM CRY
I was 13 years old when Marc Lépine opened fire and murdered 14 women for being at engineering school when he wasn’t. He blamed feminism for the situation he was in, and murdered these women for being in non-traditional jobs, for being there.
Every year, the memorials I go to are different. Some are quiet - I remember several winters in the snow, holding candles and reciting names like a talisman against violence.
Geneviève Bergeron, 21 years old. Hélène Colgan, 24 years old. Nathalie Croteau, 24 years old.
When I was younger, they seemed impossibly mature and sophisticated. I used to imagine them laughing and enjoying university, cut down without warning. Now that I’m 35, they seem so young, and I wonder if they were afraid.
“As women, we are taught to be tiny. To have small bodies, to never be imposing. The ideal of our gender are thin and childlike, hairless and dainty. We are defined by our bodies; defined by our control over them. We are taught to obsess over our physicality and to be repulsed by our desires and intelligences.
We are taught to walk scared late at night. We cradle our keys between our perfectly manicured fingers, walking gracefully like a baby antelope in a herd of lions. That our virginity defines our character. That I am a frigid bitch if I do not fuck him, and a dirty slut if I do.”—Michelle K. - The Truth About Growing Up A Woman. (via ambitionperfection)