greensmoakqueen said:

Oliver and Felicity and tent shenanigans while camping with the gang. ;)

This is cheesy, fluffy and a little ridiculous. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve literally slept three hours in the last two days! :(

*

“This is a terrible plan.” Felicity mutters from where she’s seated on a tree stump, watching the boys set up tents.

“You thought it was brilliant a few hours ago.” Oliver counters, sticking the last peg in the ground and brushing his hands against his pants.

He has a point. She’d actually suggested the idea, believe it or not. It’s the best way to survey their latest foe, and after some research, she’d printed out maps and instructed everyone to get their camping equipment. She’s regretting the whole thing now though.

“Yes, but I didn’t think about the bugs. Or the rain or- oh my God are there bears out here?” She looks around the rocky clearing, her brow furrowing anxiously.

She really doesn’t like camping. Like really, really doesn’t like it.

“There are no bears Felicity, don’t worry.” Oliver sounds mildly amused and she glares at him, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Felicity, do you want to take a tent to yourself? The three of us can fit in the other.” Digg calls over, shielding his face from the steady rain that’s been slowly thickening since they arrived.

Roy’s sitting on a rock nearby, scowling at the whole situation and doing very little to help anybody. She can’t really blame him though, since she’s doing the exact same thing.

“Are you kidding? I’m not sleeping by myself out here. I hate the woods. I grew up in Vegas, this is not my natural habitat.” She mutters, grimacing and waving her arm in the air as a bug flits around her head. How it’s possible that there’re bugs and rain, she’s not sure. She thought the two were mutually exclusive.

Mission or not, this officially sucks.

“She’ll stay with me.” Oliver’s voice books no argument and he gives the other two a look, daring them to challenge him.

She shrugs. As awkward as sleeping in a tent with Oliver might be, he’s probably the best bet to protect her against any curious wildlife, so it works for her.

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The coyote, the trickster, the joker. The wild card.

Teen Wolf AU: The Coyote and the Fox

↳ in which Malia is the most important piece on the Nogitsune’s board aka the only logical explanation how Malia could have known about the sword and walked right out of the mental hospital like her only purpose of being in there was getting to Stiles and also the only condition I would be able to love her on

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Greer being concerned for Kenna

Drunk!Regina

drunk!belle

Part Thirty

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6 | 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1 |

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“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—”

Jean looks up to see Marco standing before him with a small cake in his hands. There’s a soft smile on that freckled face as he finishes the song and the birthday boy tries very hard not to let the grin split his face.

“Happy Birthday, Jean.”

Jean opens his mouth about to reply but Marco cuts him off.

“Stay strong.”

His eyes widen as a few tears run down Marco’s cheeks. The smile never leaves that freckled face.

“You can’t join me yet—”

The blanket is flung off and thrown to the floor as Jean jerks awake in a cold sweat. He takes deep, ragged breaths and rubs his eyes before falling back onto bed.

“Fuck.”

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what i need to share but dont really want to.

i feel like i need to share this even though i dont really want to. i dont think its going to come out eloquently, or like more normal writing. its simply a story about something i had never experienced.

over the last 2-3 weeks i have been doing intense studies on the holy spirit and spiritual gifts. it has become a huge topic for me, listening to sermons, reading online, reading my bible, attending churches, talking to people, more reading and researching. and since i have started i have been having the wackiest dreams and have had odd things happen to me.

for example, only a few people in my area know this has even been on my mind. so i went to class one day and when i came out to my car someone had left a packet on my windshield all about baptism in the holy spirit. literally no one could have left that on my car that i had talked to about it.

so last night i went to a sermon (6pm service) and the pastor was talking about baptism in the holy spirit, he has a very baptist and mainstream view on the subject, and shockingly i disagreed with a few of his points. after the service my self and two friends went out to dinner and i spent most of it thinking in the back of my head what the scriptures really meant and by the time i started my car to leave i had decided i wanted to somehow have “more” of the holy spirit in me.

i ended up following my friend home since im directionally challenged, i randomly turned on a podcast and it was about spiritual warfare (key foreshadowing here). i figured out where i was and saw gas at the arco was 3.07 (its almost 3.40 here) so i swerved into the station and they only take cash. i put 40 bucks in the machine and pumped 33 dollars or so worth of gas and i had to go inside to get my change. i grabbed my keys, locked my car and started to walk to the station.

i was about 7 feet from the door and saw a large gray/black cloud in front of the door. washington is known for funky weather and i thought it could be dust or something. nothing about it seemed divine or weird at the time so i just walked through it. i automatically felt chilled and my joints ached but i opened the door and walked inside. the cash registers were towards the back so i walked back and was like hi i need change for pump 19.

and the guy who looked to be 16 or 17 stared at me, and his eyes literally looked piercing. and he said something about giving me powers and started to chant something i have never heard or understood.

my body literally froze solid, i couldnt move or turn. my mind started to race to my past and i had no control. im not sure how much time passed but i remember thinking about how jesus was tempted by satan and he started saying bible verses. so i mustered up everything to continually think Isaiah 41:10 (fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.)

all of a sudden i could move and i turned and walked out. im not sure why i didnt run but i calmly walked out and kept saying the verse and stumbled into my car shaking uncontrollably. i texted the friend i had been following and move my car to another parking lot and broke down. i honestly dont even remember driving home but i must have.

later talking to both girls the one had said they swung around to follow me because they must not have known where they were. but then one figured it out and they passed the station when i was inside and after they passed the girl said she saw a huge streak of light, light up the sky infront of them. it was cloudless and not raining out with no thunder.

and that concludes this story of well spiritual warfare does exist even if you dont think it does like i didnt until 24 hours ago.

Listen.

I’ll disclaim this as such: I never had feelings about Robb, or Jeyne, or Robb/Jeyne—meaning, no antipathy, and came into the show with nothing but endless curiosity as to how it’d be treated, because the show shedding light on underdeveloped characters can lead to some pretty interesting business.

Interesting business: not yet to be found. I’m unstintingly annoyed with what the show chose to make Jeyne, now moonlighting as Talisa. The only way I’ll be appeased is that if she is a Jeyne who’s never had a brother, by the way, because this is begging deconstruction, and fast. Because at the moment it’s the only thing on the show that simply is a trope, rather than working (with whatever success) to take a trope apart, and it’s ridiculously conspicuous.

Here’s the thing. ASOIAF/GoT as Feminist Text™ is, uh, debatable—it’s a mixed bag of just about everything, quality-wise—but it’s definitely, deliberately a deconstructive one. Tropes are set up to be taken apart: honor, chivalry, and all kinds of rebellion. Essentially, the things that are so often easy in fantasy stories are shown to be difficult to the point of untenability here: the more palatable the morality to the readers, the bigger gap between the ideals and the reality. Nobility in heroes, Feminist Fire in heroines—it all comes at a significant cost. (Ned Stark dies for his nobility. Arya Stark learns how very difficult it is to buck the rules and throw off the constraints of nobility and become a saucy lady knight!! And if you didn’t get that from her showing, Cersei Lannister will happily catch you all the way up on the pervasive fuckery of the patriarchy.)

So to have a character—any character—swan in and seduce the noble young king (played straightforwardly so) with the purity of her ideals, and to have that played fully straight, rings false and leaves a sour taste in my mouth.  It feels like a model or an appeasement and it’s badly written. Like, we can’t watch the mistreatment of the underclasses (e.g. Ros), we have to have Talisa in Robb’s (thus our) ear reminding us how bad the class dichotomy is? We can’t watch Sansa choke on the costs of courtly femininity, we need Talisa telling us that she ran away to do something better than that, telling us how easy it was to give everything up and indicting the world she left behind as unstintingly shallow?

Mm. Nope. Everything here is too pat: the plucky lady nurse, the noble lady who Threw Off The Constraints Of Class-Based Femininity To Go Do Good!, the clumsy functionality of her as his conscience, the way their sex played out like a reward, not just for him for being an A-OK model young king (this plot is doing neither of them any favours) but for her superior brand of femininity as opposed to the nameless Frey girl’s lackluster model of faceless female obeisance to society. It’s an easy rebellion in a series that’s about making those rebellions hard; it’s not borne of cost, and it’s spoon-fed to the audience in a way that nothing else there is.

Coulda done anything. Did this. It’s a waste of potential and also time, it’s not well-written in big, obnoxious, dissonant ways, and I need the other shoe to drop, because the wait and the bluff is not just dull, it’s dull and lazy in narratively caustic ways. This needs to be false fast, because if it’s true, it doesn’t say anything good about what the show thinks the audience expects from its female characters—or should I say, its Strong Female Characters™.

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day and compared to other years I haven’t seen much publicity about it so I thought I’d share this image. I got it from the Facebook page of PAPYRUS, a charity dedicated to preventing suicides in young people. Although a touchy and at times difficult conversation topic, suicide is a very real and scary thing. Far too many people feel unable to cope and turn to anyone and see suicide as their only option. To a lot of you this is something you already know, but have no experience of, and that’s great because no one wants to be affected by this, but it’s still important to raise awareness and end the stigma that mental health has. As I have sadly realised, mental health problems and indeed suicide can affect anyone. If people felt more able to speak openly when they felt low we would be more able to help them to get the support that they need.
Speak about mental health and end the stigma!!! There is always someone to speak to and no problems are permanent, never give up xxxxxxx

oh

recently i’ve been wanting to add a page to my blog that people could go to if they were looking for someone to talk to because i’ve noticed that a lot of people have been sad lately and idk i wanted to do something (((sort of))) to help :) 

so if you would like to be added just send me your name ok um yeah 

also please reblog this so more people know ok um ok 

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 {OP 17th Anniversary Celebration Day 7: Dreams}

Just yesterday I was talking about how my personal experiences have brought me to the point that I feel like I probably can’t accomplish my dream. What I didn’t mention is that One Piece is slowly convincing me to at least consider that maybe, possibly, someday … I can? It’s funny, I used to be like Luffy, totally focused on my goal and certain I could do it. More often than not, Luffy says “I am the man who is going to become Pirate King!” not “I want to be Pirate King”. He says it like it’s a definite thing, because in his mind, it is. I need to be more like Luffy again.

One of the main reasons why I love One Piece is that dreams are so important. Every single Straw Hat, and plenty of others besides, is driven by some ultimate goal or dream that they’re willing to die for but which simultaneously gives them a reason to live. I’ve always thought that chasing your dreams is more important than anything, and I love watching these crazy pirates overcoming all kinds of obstacles in the name of going after their dreams. It’s beautiful.

I chose the caps above for this final day because this scene really resonated with me, I was totally pumped up while reading it and actually teared up out of … happiness and awesomeness. They said this was a celebration of their reaching the Grand Line, but I think it was also a promise - “Here’s what we’ll have accomplished the next time we come to this point.”

2

Lydia lost Jackson, maybe not forever but he was gone with real no promise of ever returning.

Boyd watched the life drain from Erica’s eyes right in front of him, listened as her heart beat thumped one last time.

They both had lost someone important to them, sure in different ways but they both felt the feeling in their chest. The tight feeling you get when someone leaves your life. The hold on your heart that never quite goes away no matter how much time has passed.

Maybe that’s why they were both drawn to each other. They each felt like they had no one. Lydia hasn’t spoken to Allison in months. Not that Allison hasn’t made attempts to try and mend their broken friendship. Lydia just isn’t ready to hear it or accept any apologies. Scott and Stiles keep their distance, occasionally though Stiles will check in but it’s kept short. 

Boyd doesn’t exactly know where he fits in anymore. Things with Derek feel hostile and Boyd never made a connection with Isaac. Erica was really his own connection to the pack and now she’s gone. He was right back at square one.

It made sense in someways why they’d gravitate to each other. It starts out simple enough, sharing a lunch table with each other. Both involved with the supernatural but find themselves alone in it. They don’t talk, simple nods of hello given but their lunches are ate in silence. When the bell rings, goodbyes are gestured. It goes on like that for a month before Lydia breaks the silence. “There’s a pop quiz in Applegates.” Boyd nods, appreciating the heads up.

After that their conversations get a little longer. The topics are kept on safe subjects: school, homework and Lydia tries her hand at adding in reality tv but Boyd could careless about them. Lydia brings up the ice skating rink. one day

"I use to watch you skate." It sounds a lot creepier when Boyd says it outloud. "You were pretty good."

Lydia waved her hand dismissively.”I was an amateur.”

"Nah, you were good until you stopped showing up."

This rises a small smile out of Lydia. “Maybe I’ll pick it back up.” She does, Boyd remembers being surprised one Saturday afternoon to see the familiar red head whizzing around the rink. Boyd watches her for a few minutes. She really was good even after all this time.

Time passes and things start to feel better. Boyd finds himself being able to crack a smile. Lydia feels more at ease whenever around him. Her head feels more settled then in has in months. Things aren’t perfect between them. There are still some sore spots they hit on but things were nice. They were comfortable.

"You should get on the ice." Lydia brings up one day at lunch.

"I don’t skate." Which is strange considering his dad owns the place and he’s practically lived there his entire life.

How is that possible?”

"Never learned."

"After school. You’re getting your first lesson."

anonymous said:

Jealous!Daryl. cause someone is stupid enough to flirt with Rick in front of him

When they leave the campfire, Rick’s still blushing a bit from the woman’s suggestive words as they ate. Daryl’s brooding and quiet and Rick doesn’t like it, so he pulls him aside, asks him his question with just his eyes. Daryl scowls and tangles his fingers in Rick’s hair and presses in for a kiss, forcing his tongue into Rick’s mouth and tasting the other man. 

"You’re mine, y’hear?" Daryl hisses, and Rick just nods, head still spinning from the intensity of the kiss. 

Send me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a three-sentence fic. 

oh my god i am so done with the idea of “selling out”

Lets go back to Projekt Revolution, the tour that had the most Frerard stage gay and also the marriage of Gerard and Lynz. Lots of stage gay, lots of love, and then the famous, cringe inducing frerard fight. Not long after the fight took place, Gerard married Lynz. Coincidence? No. A way to get back at Frank for whatever reason. Maybe a way to cope with the fact that Frank was already married and their relationship wasn’t real - concrete. It was a coping mechanism. Not to mention Franks face during the MSG interview, where Gerard is talking about Lynz being at the show and how amazing it is, Franks face says it all. The reaction and look on Franks face screams hatred and disapproval. Rumours also of Frank saying “lie to me” instead of the usual “trust me” in I’m Not Okay after Gerard and Lynz got married. 

Decide for yourself!! 

Judging a Book by Its Cover, or Why Season 9 is Awesome (an unpopular opinion)

Oh-ho-ho. Semantics. I don’t know that I’d take on THAT name…necessarily. No. When the time comes, we’ll call me… “X.” (x)                       

                                               - Metatron in 9x09 Holy Terror

Season 9 has been called a lot of things in fandom over the past few months: badly plotted, regressively characterised, OOC acted, blahblahblah. This is the steady stream of complaints about season 9 that is being blogged and reblogged with increasing frequency. It has gotten so bad, I decided to actually add “season 9 positive blog” to my blog description. I definitely understand there are complaints, hell I even agree with some of them (I’m looking at you Dog Dean Afternoon & I’m No Angel), but the complaining has become so incessant that I am convinced people have a long post of “this week’s version of why the episode sucked” in the draft folder of their blog before THEN and NOW have rolled across the screen.

Today, I actually kinda blew a gasket after reading one too many “this season is awful/the writers suck” posts. I’m bloody sorry, but FUCKING ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. YOU MAY NOT LIKE THE STORY OF SEASON 9, BUT THAT DOESN”T MEAN IT’S BADLY WRITTEN FFS. (see what you’ve made me do, I never do shouty, sweary capitals, sigh.)

So, let me tell you exactly why I love the bejesus out of this season. Why I think it is smart, bold and deserves a hell of a lot more credit than it is getting.

Who are you and how do you define yourself? These are the two key questions that have been the driving force behind season 9. For every character, whether in A- or B-, or C-plot, the key to salvation, redemption or just plain survival this season lies in seeking the answers to these questions. The struggle to answer them is what has been driving the plot.

The struggle stems mainly from the juxtaposition of what we and the characters think we are seeing and what is actually there. Time and agian this is being explored. Sometimes it is in C-plot related, plot-twisting ways like, Gadreel going from being a saving grace to default demon. Sometimes it is entwined in the story of a single episode like the real story behind the Wizard of Oz in Slumberparty. And sometimes it was in neat little scenes like pre-credit Tracy Bell appearing to be the ultimate victim and then kicking ass as a hunter. Just three examples, but the season is rife with them.

Put in other words: books aren’t matching their covers.

Cue one of the season’s main motifs:

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Books, language and stories and how they never are what they initially were thought to be are flung at us left, right and centre. Slumberparty upended everything we knew about The Wizard of Oz. Dean does not read the label on the pie and misses how bad it really is. Sam and Dean signing the purity pledge (with their real names. still not over that) telling the councellor one story but having another. Cas’ date turns into baby-sitting, Dean not caring about the Mark of Cain’s backstory, etc. etc. The words and stories and books are not what they appear to be at first glance.

So, if the central question of season 9 is who each member of Team Free Will is at the very core of his being, and one of its main motifs is stories not matching reality, then it makes sense in a don’t-tell-but-show series like Supernatural that we would start the season with establishing the cover of each of the books we’ll be reading. For a character driven season this means establishing the cover of the books that are Sam, Dean and Cas.

But setting up the season’s narrative this way, the show runners in charge of a 9th season must have faced a problem while planning. There has been an influx of new viewers, there are a lot of casual viewers who have stuck around or are reacquainting themselves with the show, and then there is the fandom. In order for the season 9 character arcs to work for all viewers and ultimately have everyone stick around for season 10, the show had to set up the narrative of the season in a manner that impacts all viewers in such a way that everyone will tune in again October 2014.

Therefore, a balance must have been struck between securing the new and pleasing the long-time fans. So, it is not a total surprise that the season started with Sam, Dean and Cas written in such a way that a significant amount of fandom started to call them regressive at best and out of character at worst. Rather than it being bad writing, though, I see Team Free Will’s characterization in the first half of s9 as a deliberate choice on the shows part to have them appear to us as when we first met them. We got Dean the tail-chasing horndog who laughs at inappropriate moments in Dog Dean Afternoon and Rock and a Hard Place. We got Cas the befuddled-by-humanity angel struggling to survive cut off from Heaven. We got Sam the boy-possessed-by-something-without-his-knowledge, rolling his eyes at Dean, not quite understanding where his big brother is coming from. But throughout, we have have had plenty of moments to reassure those of us who overanalyse set design and debate codependency that all is well.

So, with characters going back to the start in the overall plot line, dialogue and visuals added further to the set up of earlier season characterization. “Screw it. This goes out to all angels with their ears on” narratively mirrors 2x23’s “It’s a fire sale and everything’s gotta go.” Same for Cas. All you needs to do is look at this wonderful gifset to see how they took Castiel back to the start. His struggles with understanding humanity mirrors his struggles to understand being human. As for Sam, “Dear boy, you’re all safety pins and duct tape” Something’s been forced inside him, and it scares him he doesn’t know what it is. And goal established. Team Free Will, character-wise at their origins.

So,I can kinda understand why people disliked some of the early characterization this season. Larping season 8 Dean was fantastic. Winchester interactions were fluffier. Pining was angstier. But dudes, we’re in the good part now. The covers have been shed. We’re reading the books of season 9 TFW, we’re seeing the real changes now, for better or worse characters are developing at a rapid pace now. and okay, if you don’t like the story, fair cop. But don’t confuse it with bad writing.

Okay I could go on for another 2000 words, but this is long enough as it is. Point is, call season 9 what you will: not what you expected, different than what you hoped for, not your kind of story, but don’t call it badly written.

This has been a rant.

A long road || Closed (omega-enjolras)

Grantaire had vowed not to return to Café Musain and he was determined to keep his word until one evening Jehan appeared in front of his door.  “I was worried about you,” he said, sitting on the only available chair and looking into Grantaire’s eyes like he was going to cry. “We haven’t seen you for a week and I had a bad feeling, like that you would never return. Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

Grantaire swallowed loudly, and Jehan’s eyed widened. “So I was right? Oh, R, why would you do that? Won’t you miss us? Don’t you love us anymore?”

“Of course I love you!” He said – almost shouted – without thinking, and Jeahn sighed with relief.

“Then will you return?”

“I’m sorry Little Poet, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Jehan blinked. “You just told me that you’re not going to return to your beloved friends, how could you expect me to go away like this? I am sorry, but I won’t accept anything but a proper answer.”

Grantaire sighed and shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t, but what other choice did Grantaire had? He couldn’t tell Jehan the truth because he promised Enjolras so, and even if he hadn’t ho would never spoil his secret, not even with a common friend. He knew Jehan would have understood that, even accepted it – in the end he was not even sure what Jeahn was, for his smell was so faint – but that was Enjolras’ choice, not his own, and the only thing he could do was keeping his mouth shout and his brain full of wine and opium.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want,” he said, but Jehan didn’t move.

“Then I will not leave you. You keep talking about can and can’t, and you are worrying me: is someone forcing things on you? Are you in danger? Oh, Grantaire, you know you can talk to me and if you need stronger arms I will fetch you stronger friends who will be so happy to help you. Just say the word, or I will never be able to sleep again!”

“That would be dreadful,” Grantaire said, unable to ignore how tears were slowly filling his friend’s eyes. “But don’t cry and don’t worry about my safety for no one is intimidating me. I’m afraid I am my only enemy in this matter: I can’t guarantee my behavior around you all, so it is better for everyone if I stay far from you, and that’s the only answer you will get from me.”

Jehan appeared confuse. “Did you have a quarrel with Enjolras again?”

Grantaire almost choked himself with his own saliva. How could he read him so easily? Was he that obvious? “Something like that,” he said. That wasn’t the truth, at all, but maybe it would have been enough.

“Then why didn’t you tell me? It’s not unusual that the two of you would fight – honestly I would probably scared of the opposite – but you talked like you made a promise and that confuses me: did he banned you? Were you ashamed to tell me that?”

“I’m only ashamed of myself,” Grantaire answered. “And no, Enjolras didn’t ban me, in truth he said I could return, but I don’t— no, I can’t do that. Please ask me no more.” He lowered his eyes and covered his face with his hands. The other made no sound and after few seconds Grantaire felt Jehan’s arms around his shoulder and his soft voice in his ear. “I’m sorry I imposed myself on you, trying to find out the truth” he said. “But please, try to understand me and forgive me. I love you and care about you, and so do the others, so, please, come tomorrow. Don’t attend the meeting, if you don’t want to, but let us see your face and let us share a drink with you. Enjolras isn’t your only friend, after all.”

Grantaire almost laughed. That was the problem: Enjolras wasn’t his friend. It didn’t matter what he said, what everybody said, he never thought of him as a friend: he was an obsession, an icon, a god. He didn’t loved him like he loved Jehan, or Bahorel, or Courfeyrac, he— he didn’t know how he loved him, he just knew it was something different, maybe even deeper, like a feeling digging in his brain, and heart, and soul – if he had one. It was painful and confusing and now that he knew Enjolras was an Omega it became even worse. He hadn’t dare to desire him like a mate, but that idea had been floating in his brain since he smelled his true scent for the first time, and how could he look at him now and not wonder how his lips tasted? Or how his skin felt? Damn, he was doing that again!

“I’m sorry you were worried about me,” he said, lifting his head and trying to smile. “And I will come tomorrow, just promise you won’t cry.”

Jehan hugged him and laughed, and with that promise he left.

Grantaire sighed and if he had believed in a god he would have preyed.

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