a brief infatuation

I’ve been falling in love with girls since before I even knew falling in love with girls was something I was allowed to do. Sometimes, these girls’ lives would intertwine with mine for just a fractional part of our lives - the girl I met in the park once when I was eight, with her long blonde hair, for example, or the girl with the stunning blue eyes at the week long gymnastics camp I’d gone to that summer. Other times, they’d be in my life for the long haul, like the girl who was in my class the whole way through primary school who made my heart beat faster every time I asked for one of her felt pens. Or the girl in Mrs C’s class with the smile I couldn’t help but stare at every time I looked at yearbook photos. Now and again, they’d be sort of inbetween - my violin teacher, who I saw once a week who sort of smelled like jasmine, or the girl in the year above me who always wore Converse to school even though we weren’t allowed. When she graduated a year before me, I missed seeing her brown curls bounce as she walked into assembly every Wednesday morning.

But yet, this love never seemed like love. “What was love?” I asked myself when I was ten or eleven. Love was what I felt for the boy in the pantomime I’d gone to see who was decently attractive and around my age. Love was what I felt for the boy in my form class in first year. “I could love him,” I told myself as the sunlight hit his face one Tuesday morning in Home Ec. Love was what I felt for boys, what I’d have felt for my boyfriend had I been pretty enough to get one, what I’d feel for my husband when I got older. But I never really did feel it.

What if love to me was what I felt for the girl who sat across from me in Biology who was so beautiful I became “jealous” of her? What if love was why I couldn’t help staring at that third year girl every Thursday afternoon as we passed in the corridor before Maths? What if love to me meant girls?

I mean, I had pondered why girls had to love smelly old boys in the canteen line aged six. Eventually, I acknowledged that my brief infatuation with other girls was, in fact, infatuation.

From my violin teacher, the girl in the park, the girl in my class when I was seven, eight, nine, to the waitress at that restaurant in town who said my shirt was cute last week. To the girl who’d said my eyes were pretty on Instagram on Wednesday. To the girl in the changing rooms before netball practice yesterday who said my long hair was beautiful.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving girls. And yeah, sometimes it shocks me how the strength of my love didn’t break through the secrets and the lies and gravitate me towards that realisation sooner, but I guess the only thing that can bury love that strong is hate even stronger.

—  random thoughts I had at 3am some night last week
taehyung scenario | c is for crush

crush /krʌʃ/ noun. a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable

genre: angst, fluff
word count: 1.2k
a stand-alone in the ‘synonymous with love’ series // c is for…


It started out like all good love stories should: with a crash, and a crackle of fireworks set off in your chest. That was how Taehyung careened into your life at the crisp age of seven and three quarters, complete with a gap in his teeth, and a collage of plasters stuck to his knees.

You’d been sitting on the step outside your house, reading in the last rays of sun that were cracking through the clouds, when he had cycled past on his bike, and… crash! You jumped up, and ran to where he lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of your lawn.

Choking on a spout of concerned questions, you bent over him, trying to check for damage. Despite the small trickle of blood escaping from a scrape on his leg, he burst out laughing. Which threw you completely. How could he take a tumble, then sit up and shake it off, hold out his hand for you to shake, and just like that, shake awake something new inside you?

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five more hours | nygmobblepot 3x19

The blade and the crowbar clatter to the ground in rapid succession, one after the other, striking the unsavory damp pavement of the alley.

Edward makes a motion as if to turn and walk away but hesitates. Across from him, just a short distance away, Oswald sways a little, the bent frame of his body suddenly unsteady. It’s instinct, something primitive buried in the taller man’s core that has him reaching out, limbs reacting faster than his clever mind can, swifter even than the fire of neurons.

Shadowed eyes flare, long lashes sweeping upward in alarm. He thinks I’m attacking, Ed realizes. Taking advantage of a moment of weakness, breaking our agreement. A flush of anger creeps up the willowy sweep of his throat. “I’m trying to help you,” he growls, bloodstained hands freezing just short of the rough charcoal fabric of the prison suit that’s identical to his own garb.

“I’m supposed to believe that? I’m supposed to trust you?” Penguin scoffs, but there’s something unsteady in his disdain, mirroring the stumble he’s just executed.

“I helped get you out of there, didn’t I? You trusted me enough to do that.”

“I had no other choice.”

“There are always other choices,” the self titled Riddler murmurs, a note of regret lacing his words. “Always.”

“So, if you had to choose whether or not to shoot me again, would you make a different decision?”

“I don’t know,” he replies softly, arms dropping uselessly to his sides, uncomfortably empty.

“Well, thats encouraging.” There is a brief attempt at a laugh, but the short bark of humor is mirthless. “I think I’ve wasted enough time here this evening. I have plans to make.”

A moment passes. Another. How many heartbeats does each collect? How many breaths?

“I thought you were leaving.”

Penguin’s chin lifts defiantly, a spark of his former confident self edging forward. “I am. I will. As soon as you do.”

Edward shakes his head. “Well, at least there’s one positive thing that’s come of this. You’re cured of your feelings for me.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s petty, childish, a cheap shot far beneath him.

Oswald sucks in a deep breath. The flame leaping from the barrel nearby glows in the center of his eyes. “Love isn’t a disease. It’s not something to be cured.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No,” the former mayor replies. “Even now, in spite of everything that’s happened…no.”

Ed blinks. He prods the bridge of his glasses, readjusting them. The blood flecked across the lenses is obscuring his vision, he decides rationally, ignoring the sting that pricks his eyes that might instead be a herald of tears. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

“So you keep insisting. I don’t believe it. I don’t believe a word you say.”

There’s a note of venom in that declaration, as ill concealed as the sorrowful dip of the corners of the mouth that haunts Edward more than he’d ever admit, even in the mausoleum of his most secret thoughts. "But you just trusted me with your life. You let me hold a knife to your throat,” he protests.

“That was different.”

“How? How was it different?”

“I don’t know,” Oswald sputters, flustered. “It just was. Why are you still standing here wasting my time debating what might have–”

Before he can complete the sentence Ed drops down to his knees in a bone bruising crush, sweeping blindly for whichever weapon lies closest. It’s the knife that his fingers touch, a sharp bit of metal honed for death now clasped in his hand as he surges upright, shoving his opponent against the brick wall beside them.

“Tell me why it was different,” he pants, though the exertions he’s just performed are mild at best. His breath is coming in short gasps, his chest tight. He has to know why. He has to understand, make sense of the madness. Because without logic and reason, what else is there? If Penguin isn’t a true villain, if he really does feel…

Oswald’s hands grasp the attacking man’s clothing but there’s no menace in the gesture; it’s as if he’s actually clinging to him for support. His eyes have no light in them now; they’re midnight dark pools to drown in.

“I don’t…” Edward begins, but the protest dies somewhere at the back of his throat. “I…don’t…love…you,” he manages, exerting the slightest bit of pressure on the blade at his former employer’s throat, further blanching already pale flesh. Each word costs him more breath than he can afford to lose. The white knuckled grip on his weapon trembles, the tendons standing out from his wrist and forearm so taut they’re ready to snap. “I don’t–” The words will not leave his mouth again. He cannot force them out, any more than he can threaten the other man any longer. The knife slides free and his quaking fingers search for respite, collapsing against Oswald’s throat in a loose fence of pale digits. His head dips forward, angled beside his captive’s. “Why can I never be free of you?” he murmurs, the shiver in his words answered with a tremor in the body crushed against his. “Damn you, Oswald.”

“Ed.”

That single utterance undoes him completely. He’s told the man repeatedly not to call him that any longer. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s the Riddler now: an individual who can outsmart anyone. A creature that has no emotional weaknessness, immune to such petty concepts as desire and love.

So why does he respond so strongly? Why does the nickname resonate within him, the perfect melody struck that sings along the very fibers of his being, the nebulous aura of his actual soul?

A soft moan escapes his lips, a sigh of defeat before his mouth finds the border of cartilage, the soft lobe of ear. A sandpaper scrape of unshaven jaw follows and then he’s there, at his mouth, still sticky sweet from the jam that had been spread nearby earlier to mimic blood and sour from the copper tang of the real lifeforce spattered there during their flight from the Court of Owls. His teeth and tongue join the fray, exuberant in a messy collision of biting and tasting.

And this is how it’s different, he realizes, answering the question he’d posed moments earlier. This animalistic need, this base desire that’s such a sharp contrast from the brief heady infatuation he’d had for Isabella. It’s such a raw hunger, and it hurts, but it’s a good kind of ache. Mere anger at his girlfriend’s death hadn’t driven his elaborate scheme for revenge against Oswald; it was the feeling of betrayal. The realization that his friend had done that to him. The knowledge that a person he loved and trusted beyond all others had destroyed him.

And yet, there is still something of Edward inside Riddler. More than a nagging sensation that could be labeled as a conscience. A part he’d thought dead and buried, until now.

“Oswald,” he gasps between kisses, and there’s so much in that name, so much and yet so much still left unsaid, too. He draws back slightly, glasses askew, fingers slipping regretfully from the raven hair he’s been siphoning through.

“There’s still time. At least five hours left. A little more.”

“Yes,” Edward agrees. His thumb smudges a drop of crimson across one blade of cheekbone. He can no longer tell the difference between the genuine blood and the artifice they’d created together. It no longer matters. “We still have time.”

Part 1: Animation Beyond Pixar

Part 2: 10 More Animated Movies Beyond Pixar
Part 3: Another 10 Animated Movies Beyond Pixar
Part 4: Some More Animated Movies Beyond Pixar

A few of my friends have recently gotten into animation! But there’s so much dreck in the animated world that it’s difficult to know what to watch. With that in mind I put together a quick guide of some of my favorite non-Pixar animated movies. Maybe you’ll like it too?

Princess Mononoke (Mononoke Hime, 1997)

Let’s start with the obvious: Studio Ghibli. Since the late 70s director Hayao Miyazaki has created gorgeous animated movies with an incredible eye for action and detail. Miyazaki’s movies often depict the struggle to remain pacifist in war-torn worlds. Such is the case in Princess Mononoke, where a young prince of a dying people is caught up in a war between the engines of progress and the forces of nature.

While Ghibli is considered an arthouse studio in the USA in Japan it’s known as a broad-appeal blockbuster maker. Princess Mononoke (Mononoke means “monster” btw) was Ghibli’s first mainstream overseas hit, and actually sparked a very brief infatuation with anime cinema in the US (which was destroyed within months by X: The Movie).

Ernest & Celestine (Ernest et Celestine, 2012)

France has an amazing animation industry that, unfortunately, is largely ignored in the US. A handful of French animated films, primarily the films of Sylvain Chomet, have a small following stateside, but far more go ignored. It’s really to our detriment, as France makes some gorgeous movies.

Ernest & Celestine is the story of an unlikely friendship blossoming between two very different people. The animation style is especially striking, every frame of Ernest & Celestine looks like a beautiful watercolor out of a children’s book.

The Adventures of Prince Achmed (Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed, 1926)

Aww yiss, let’s get cultured all up in this bitch! The Adventures of Prince Achmed is the oldest surviving (possibly first!) feature-length animated movie, and it’s good! A retelling of several of the stories in 1001 Arabian Nights, the most striking thing about APA is its distinctive silhouette style, done entirely by hand.

The movie was written, directed, and painstakingly animated over 3 years by Lotte Reineger (a straight-up pioneer-innovator in animation), and features a gorgeous accompanying score by Wolfgang Zeller (remember, this was the silent movie era). You will be stunned when you see the level of expression and communication Reineger gets out of paper cut-outs.

Mary and Max (2009)

Ernest & Celestine’s gloomier, more depressing cousin, Mary and Max also depicts the blossoming of an unlikely friendship, this time between an awkward little Australian girl and an obese autistic American man. The humor is black, the movie gets bleak, and the ending will make you smile through your tears.

It’s also entirely done with claymation, contrasting lumpy, exaggerated human figures with intricate sets. Almost like a Tim Burton movie, only much better.

Akira (1988)

Akira! Everybody knows about Akira, it was one of the three anime movies that were advertised by those sketchy mail-order businesses in the 90s. What you might not know about Akira is that it’s better known for its visual innovations than its story (which, with the exception of a few iconic scenes, is actually very slow and dull). Come for the gorgeous visuals, some of which we now take for granted, and feel free to pause when it gets boring.

Oh! The story: A delinquent biker gang becomes entangled in a dangerous military operation, and in the process brings about the end of the world. It’s the last days of a dystopian future, and it doesn’t end well for anyone.

Persepolis (2007)

Have you ever seen a photo from pre-revolution Iran? You might mistake it for America, with all the giant lapels and floppy hairstyles. While Persepolis is technically the autobiography of Iranian/French cartoonist Marjane Satrapi, it also tells the story of the Iranian cultural revolution. See it through the eyes of someone who grew up with it, and slowly saw her rights eroded as her government devolved into a theocracy.

Equal parts funny, sad, wince-inducing, and inspiring (the way every honest biopic should be).

Porco Rosso (Kurenai no buta, 1992)

You didn’t think you were getting away with just one Ghibli movie, did you? Porco Rosso is one of the lesser-known but no less stunning Studio Ghibli films, having the bad luck to premiere in the early 90s (after the big anime boom of the 80s, but before its resurgence in the late 90s).

Smaller in scope than your average Ghibli film, the world doesn’t hang in the balance in Porco Rosso. Instead you get to see an often forgotten place and time, the Adriatic Sea between WWI and WWII, a region that briefly became notorious for its abundance of aircraft and veteran pilots.

The titular Porco is one of the more notorious WWI flying aces now working on the adrianic, cursed with a pig-form as penance for his role in the war. While Porco is content to live out the rest of his life in obscurity the world around him conspires to shove him into the limelight.

A frequent joke during the film’s release was that Porco Rosso was an excuse for director Miyazaki to display a lot of his intricate aircraft designs, one of his passions. You can really tell, PR has some of the most gorgeous aircraft ever shown on screen.

Watership Down (1978)

Something was in the water in Britain in the late-70s. Something that made for incredibly dark, unsettling cartoons. The animated Lord of the Rings is just the tip of the iceberg, let’s talk about one of the scariest animated movies of all time: Watership Down.

Based on the acclaimed book of the same name, Watership Down is about bunnies… and their terrifying, brutal lives as they desperately seek refuge from human encroachment. Do not approach WD lightly, it gave an entire generation of children nightmares.

Stripped of its artifice Watership Down is a fascinating look at what happens when a primitive culture encounters an more advanced one, with equal parts heart-rending realism and fascinating mysticism.

Wallace & Gromit: The Wrong Trousers (1993)

Almost as if they were making up for the 70s, the 90s featured a lot of charming and hilarious British cartoons. At the top of the pile, the inimitable Wallace and Gromit.

This is the one with the criminal penguin. You know the one. It’s fantastic.

Claymation as a medium has always had a hard time breaking into the mainstream. It was the original bearer of the uncanny valley burden, and unfortunately the simplicity and flexibility of design required to animate a figure (at this time, at least) made for very exaggerated, often ugly character designs. What makes Wallace & Gromit so special is creator Nick Park’s ability to hurdle both of these problems and really define his creations as a cute, charming cartoon.

Treat yo’self.

The Garden of Words (Kotonoha no Niwa, 2013)

If it seems like there’s a lot of anime on this list, it’s because Japan is one of countries where animation has been a respected medium for decades. Collectively they’ve got a huge body of work to draw from.

My personal favorite movie by Makoto Shinkai, the Garden of Words is about two people finding comfort and refuge from the wider world with each other, in an ephemeral and gorgeously-rendered setting. Shinkai writes stories about people falling in love and then realizing they can never be together, so prepare your body (for tears).

There’s a healthy dose of melodrama to this movie, but it doesn’t take away from the gorgeous visuals and the tone this movie sets. You can almost smell the ozone.

One of a Kind

Originally posted by tlotrgifs

ly-canthr0pe asked: Hey, hopefully requests are open! Do you think you could please write an Aragorn x reader one shot? Where you are from Gondor and close with Faramir and he kinda gets jealous/envy of your relationship but you and faramir have been best friends since you were little and you both are great fighters. So there is a massive dinner at Gondor and you and Aragorn talk and you kinda of charm him with your intelligence and faramir tells him that “she is one of a kind”. You decide really heh. sorry

+ incorporating these imagines:from @imaginexhobbit​: imagine being present for Aragorn’s coronation + imagine Aragorn whispering in your ear  (toward the end) + from @thereandbackagainimagines: Imagine being the only one who can make Aragorn smile and imagine Aragorn laughing at your bad jokes +  || Warnings: a handsome, troubled king; a super corny joke; second hand embarrassment; a nervous best friend || Fanfiction Masterlist


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The Ladrien Phenomenon

So something that’s always fascinated me with this fandom is the way we’ve sort of informally split ourselves off into camps of preference for the four main Love Square ships. So I thought a cool place to start in figuring this out is by looking at the pairing that seems to be the least popular: Ladrien.

A few of you may have seen this post that I made yesterday and many of you gave some really interesting answers (which I thank you for by the way!!) There’s no way I’m going to be able to address all the nuances of everyone’s answers, BUT I decided to split this essay into three topics that seemed to be coming up the most, and may help to answer the question of why Ladrien isn’t as well liked:

  1. The Ladrien dynamic is shallow because of their mutual crushes on each other / their rose-tinted obsessions with each other.
  2. Ladrien lacks any romantic conflict due to the fact that there are no expectations that either Ladybug or Adrien have to exceed. 
  3. Ladrien subverts ideas about mainstream gender roles and romantic tropes in ways we’re not used to, while Marichat seems to satisfy most of them

The point of this isn’t to convince you that Ladrien is the best ship, but moreso to maybe help shed some light on some larger considerations that might play into why this pairing isn’t particularly compelling (a.k.a. my thoughts and ramblings if that’s at all interesting to you :P)

This is gonna be long as frick, so let’s go under the cut.

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Secret

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Request:  Pietro x reader where reader is very shy and quiet but likes pietro. But she’s like really nervous and awkward around him and pietro thinks she hates him. Confrontation too please!

A/N: ohhhhhhhhhh my god i’m literally the worst person in the world i’m so so sorry for not posting for so long. i don’t know if you guys have noticed my small posts (most of which i have deleted) but i’ve had a really busy summer with all my friends and i’ve been taking a couple online classes and i’ve just had a lot going on and i’ve wanted to post but i haven’t gotten around. i’m sorry guys, but here we go!

Originally posted by marvelmaximoff

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5

Elisabeth of Austria (5 July 1554 – 22 January 1592) born an Archduchess of Austria, was Queen of France from 1570 to 1574 as the consort of Charles IX of France. A member of the House of Habsburg, she was the daughter of Maximilian II, Holy Roman Emperor and Maria of Spain.

Elisabeth was the fifth child and second daughter of her parents’ sixteen children, of whom eight survived infancy. During her childhood, she lived with her older sister Anna and younger brother Matthias in a pavilion in the gardens of the newly built Schloss Stallburg near Vienna. They enjoyed a privileged and secluded childhood and were raised as devout Catholics. Her father Maximilian visited her often and Elisabeth seems to have been his particular favorite child. She resembled him, not only in appearance but also in character: Elisabeth was just as intelligent and charming as her father.

With her flawless white skin, long blond hair and perfect physique, she was considered one of the great beauties of the era. She was also regarded as demure, pious, and warm-hearted but naive and intensely innocent because of her sheltered upbringing. Still, she was intellectually talented. Elisabeth’s brothers were educated by the Flemish writer and diplomat Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq. The curious princess soon joined and even overshadowed them in their studies. Her mother Maria personally supervised the religious education of her daughters, and from her early childhood she was impressed by her namesake Saint Elisabeth of Hungary and reportedly took her as a model.

In 1569, after the failure of marriage plans with Kings Frederick II of Denmark and Sebastian I of Portugal, the French offer was seriously considered. Queen Catherine de’ Medici, mother of Charles IX and the power behind the throne, initially preferred Elisabeth’s elder sister Anna over her; but the oldest Archduchess was already chosen as the new wife of her uncle King Philip II of Spain. Queen Catherine finally agreed to marriage with the second daughter Elisabeth, as France absolutely needed a Catholic marriage in order to combat the Protestant parties as well as to cement an alliance between the Habsburg emperors and the French Crown.

Elisabeth was first married by proxy on 22 October 1570 in the Cathedral of Speyer (Elisabeth’s uncle, Archduke Ferdinand of Further Austria-Tyrol, served as proxy for the French King). After long celebrations, on 4 November she left Austria accompanied by high-ranking German nobles, including the Archbishop-Elector of Trier. Once in French territory, the roads were impassable thanks to the constant rain; this caused the decision that the official wedding was to be celebrated in the small border town of Mézières-en-Champagne (now Charleville-Mézières). Before reaching her destiny, Elisabeth stayed in Sedan, where her husband’s younger brother Henry, Duke of Anjou, received her. The King, curious about his future wife, dressed himself as a soldier and went to Sedan to observe her incognito while she was walking in the palace of Sedan’s garden with Henry: he was reportedly happy about what he saw.

King Charles IX of France and Archduchess Elisabeth of Austria were formally married on 26 November 1570 in Mézières; Charles, Cardinal de Bourbon, performed the ceremony. The occasion was celebrated with immense pomp and extravagance, despite the dire state of French finances. The new Queen’s wedding gown was of silver and her tiara was studded with pearls, emeralds, diamonds and rubies.

Because of the difficult journey and the cold weather, at the beginning of 1571 Elisabeth was very sick. Since the wedding took place far away from Paris, it was only in the spring that the German-French alliance was celebrated once again with magnificent feasts in the capital. On 25 March 1571 Elisabeth was consecrated as Queen of France by the Archbishop of Reims at the Basilica of St Denis. The new Queen officially entered Paris four days later, on 29 March. Then, she disappeared from public life.

Elisabeth was so delighted about her husband that she, to general amusement, did not hesitate to kiss him in front of others. However, King Charles IX already had a long-term mistress, Marie Touchet, who famously quoted: “The German girl doesn’t scare me” (L'allemande ne me fait pas peur); after a brief infatuation with his teenage bride, the King soon returned to his mistress, encouraged by his own mother, Queen Catherine, who made sure that her new daughter-in-law was kept out of any affairs of state.

Although they never fell in love, the royal couple had a warm and supportive relationship. Charles realised that the liberal ways of the French Court might shock Elisabeth and, along with his mother, he made an effort to shield her from its excesses. Queen Elisabeth spoke German, Spanish, Latin and Italian with fluency, but she learned French with difficulty; also, she felt lonely in the lively and dissolute French court; one of her few friends was, surprisingly, her controversial sister-in-law, Margaret of Valois. Busbecq, her former tutor who accompanied her in her trip to France, was made her Lord Chamberlain.

The Queen, shocked with the licentious ways of the French court, dedicated her time to embroidery work, reading and especially the practice of charitable and pious works. She continued to hear Mass twice a day, despite being horrified at how little respect was shown for religion by the supposedly Catholic courtiers. Her one controversial act was to make a point of rejecting the attentions of Protestant courtiers and politicians by refusing the Huguenot leader, Gaspard II de Coligny the permission to kiss her hand when they paid homage to the royal family.

Despite her strong opposition to the Protestantism in France, she was horrified when she received news of the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre on 24 August 1572, when thousands of French Protestants were slaughtered on the streets of Paris. During the massacre, the Queen was given petitions to speak for the innocent, and she managed to assure a promise to spare the lives of the foreign (especially numerous German) Protestants. Elisabeth, then heavily pregnant, never publicly rejoiced at so many deaths - like other prominent Catholics did. According to Brantôme, the next morning after the massacre, the shocked Queen asked her husband if he knew about that: when the King told her that he was the initiator, she said she would pray for him and the salvation of his soul.

 A few months later, on 27 October 1572, the Queen gave birth her first child, a daughter, in the Louvre Palace. She was named Marie Elisabeth after her grandmother, Empress Maria, and Queen Elizabeth I of England, who were her godmothers.

By the time of Marie Elisabeth’s birth the already poor health of the King deteriorated rapidly, and after long suffering, in which Elizabeth rendered him silent support and prayed for his recovery, he died on 30 May 1574; the Queen, who was at his bedside (weeping “tears so tender, and so secret,” according to one eyewitness), was at the end expelled from the King’s chamber by her mother-in-law, Queen Catherine.

After having completed the 40 days mourning period, Elisabeth, now called la reine blanche (the White Queen), was compelled by her father to return to Vienna. Shortly before, Emperor Maximilian II made the proposition of a new marriage for her, this time with her dead husband’s brother - now King Henry III of France; however, she firmly refused. By Letters Patent dated on 21 November 1575, King Henry III gave up the County of Upper and Lower March (Haute et Basse-Marche) to his sister-in-law Elisabeth as her dower; in addition, she received the title of Duchess of Berry and in 1577 she obtained the Duchies of Auvergne and Bourbon in exchange. On 28 August 1575 Elisabeth visited her almost three-year-old daughter in Amboise for the last time and on 5 December she finally left Paris after leaving little Marie Elisabeth under the care of her grandmother Queen Catherine. Elisabeth would never see her daughter again.

Elisabeth died on 22 January 1592 victim of pleurisy, and was buried in a simple marble slab in the church of her convent.

i was thinking a lot about the role that carl plays in the rick/michonne dynamic.

carl was the one who ultimately made the call that michonne was “one of them” in season 3. rick looked to carl, a 13-year-old, for guidance on this decision. if carl had told rick that he didn’t like michonne, i think that rick would seriously consider making michonne leave. not because rick was lenient on the issue, or because he didn’t care whether michonne stayed or not; these factors didn’t matter to rick. rick’s personal opinions/feelings regarding michonne were irrelevant, because carl’s happiness was (and still is) more important to rick than his own happiness.

when michonne finds rick and carl in “after”, what does rick say when michonne knocks on the door?

“it’s for you.”

not “us”. not “me”. any feelings rick might have had at that point, any happiness that he felt upon seeing michonne came second to carl’s happiness.

so rick waits for carl and judith to be safe. “the next world” is the first time in a long time where rick can say that carl and judy are safe (even in his brief obsession infatuation with jessie, he becomes distant and stops reciprocating her advances when alexandria is in danger, i.e. like when he rightfully chopped her hand off to save carl). only then can he allow himself to shift his focus to his own wants and desires.

it’s just really amazing to see a character love his son so much that carl truly comes before anything else (the same can be said about judith, of course, but carl obviously plays a larger role in the show). and it’s also really beautiful that michonne understands and respects this about rick, and waits until rick is, for the first time, ready to let himself be happy.

If I Would’ve Met You In 5 Years. - Jelena One Shot.

HERE’S THE ONE SHOT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON WITH @voidpaintings , WE HOPE YOU ENJOY ITTTTT!

WARNING: RATED R!
IF YOU DON’T ENJOY SMUT, THEN DON’T READ THIS!

____________

November 2015
I don’t think this is the time for us.”
“Wait, what?”
“We can’t work..we can’t be together right now. Not even as friends, it’s just too hard.”
“Sel, why? Why are you saying this?”
“Justin..it’s just the truth. A year off wasn’t enough for reflecting on each other, because in one way or another, we’ve been close. A relationship right now, with all that’s going on in our careers, just wouldn’t be right, it would bring so much stress in our lives, and I know that’s not what we need.”
“Did..Did I do something wrong tonight? Or did I say something rude?”
“No, no Justin, it’s not that, you’ve been a total gentleman tonight but… we need to cut the contacts for a while. ”

Justin stepped away for a second, turning around, then he came back:
“Whatever makes you happy, it’s fine.” He smiled but I saw the hurt and sorrow in his eyes, “But you have to promise me something.”
“Okay, tell me.” I was kind of afraid of what he was about to say.
“Promise me that in exactly five years, we’ll meet in the place where we first met, and we’ll start all over again if you want to, otherwise we’ll let each other go and say goodbye forever. You promise?” He put his pinky finger up.
“I promise.” I intertwine mine with his.
“Good luck with… life.” Justin still had the same happy expression as before, but I knew I broke something inside of him.
“You too, Justin.“ He quickly waved and then turned away, I felt my heart skip a beat and I held my breath, but I was going to keep my promise.. At least I was hoping so.

________________


November 2020

My alarm clock rang, it was a cloudy day and I was feeling sort of blue too.
However, when I read the today’s date everything came in mind; I had to meet Justin tonight or..well, that’s what we promised five years ago, but so many things changed.
Guys and girls came in and out of our lives, they brought chaos and break downs in our lives. Actually, in mine, I don’t even know if Justin broke up with that girl of two months ago. Internet was never fully reliable, and I knew that, starting from the fact that I’ve been pregnant at least eighty-nine times.
I’ve been torturing my head these last few weeks, I was tempted to not go because I was sure he forgot.
On other days I was convinced of the opposite, truth was that I had no clue of what could happen tonight.

After that night, Justin changed number, friends, attitude..he changed for the good, that’s what the media said. That was the only thing that kept me updated on his life, after all I wanted to know how he was doing.
Nonetheless, I had found myself standing outside the gates of Knott’s Scary Farm, alone and shivering. I hugged my coat even further around me and tried not to look into the eyes of people staring at me. I mean, I kinda looked weird.

I searched up recent pictures of him, trying to narrow down the types of people I was looking for. He cut his hair since 2015, the quiff was back.
My eyes roamed all over the park, it was dark and cold so the misty fog was not cooperating with me.
Then, my eyes stopped. Focusing on one particular hairstyle.
The holy quiff.

Oh shit. He spotted me. He looked at me. And now he’s coming over to me.
Before I knew it, the guy I’d thought I didn’t have to come across was standing right in front of me. A few feet away and alone.  
“Hey.“ I say.  
He huffs a breath out, "Hi.”

It’s awkward and none of us is moving. But he cuts through the tension.
"Can we just go in? Then we’ll talk about things.“ He smiles.  
"Yeah, that sounds good.” We start walking to the entrance. There is a good bit of distance between us.
Once we get inside, I’m instantly hit with the realisation that this place scares the crap out of me.
"You okay there.“ Justin notices my fear and decides to smirk about it.  
"I’m fine, actually.” I shoot back but he starts smiling even more.  
We get through a few rounds of terrifying jumps and sounds. Justin seems normal and calm. Me on the other hand, I’m at the point of shaking. And it’s not because it’s cold.

While I was lost in my thoughts, a man suddenly jumps out in front of us, his teeth missing and face bloody.  A loud gasp leaves my mouth. I grab onto the closest thing I can reach, which happens to be Justin’s shoulders. My hands grip so hard that he has to hold my arms in order for me to loosen up a bit. The man goes back into his hole, waiting to scare the unsuspecting people.

I had just realised my hand was still on Justin’s shoulder. I quickly retrieve it when I see him looking smuggly at me. 
"I’m fine.“ I say and keep moving.  

_______________  


By now we are at the end. After a few more scares we are left breathless and grasping for each other.  Justin moves to the side of the entrance and places his hands on my shoulders. But he smiles.
"What are you smiling about?” I asked, bewildered.
“You said you were fine.” I push him off me but cant help and smile.
"Selena,“ he said my name, oh god, "can we talk serious for a second?”  
A lump forms in my throat, “Uh, okay.”  

He takes my hand and leads me to a wooden table. I swing my leg over the seat and sit down. He does the same.  
“So… that was fun.” I clasp my hands together and try not to look into his eyes. Its kinda hard when someone you love sits right in front of you.
Nonetheless, he speaks up."Yeah,“ he laughs lightly, "it was fun watching you grab onto me.” He winks.  
"Seriously, though. You actually remembered.“ He says it like it’s nothing. "Oh, yeah. Its kinda hard not to.”  
“I know, when you look at the date it all comes back to you.” His hands are clasped too, now.

I nod, “I kinda thought you weren’t coming.”  
He stares into my eyes, “Really?” He whispers.  
"I mean, come on! It’s been five freaking years, you were bound to forget and go to your girlfriend.“ It all comes out so fast that I don’t have time to comprehend what I’m saying. Then I do realise what I’m saying.

He chuckles lightly, “Correction: Ex Girlfriend. She just wasn’t.. ‘the one’, you know? It was just a brief infatuation, I couldn’t fall in love with her. And yes, five years is a long time, but I keep my promises. Once, I also made another promise which was that.. I would’ve never stopped loving you.”
The power of his words beat the weakness of his eyes, his gaze gave up and stared somewhere else in the distance.

“That’s not all. I promised that if I would’ve met you in five years, I would’ve loved you better, I would’ve been better.” His words kept sending shivers down my spine, goosebumps all over my flesh, even though I had a growing fire inside of my heart and butterflies swirling and flying in my stomach.
“Selena..”
“Y-yes Justin.” I wasn’t used to hearing my name on his lips after all these years, it twisted my insides.
“I want to keep my promises. Do you?”

“I waited five years for this night, I past so many tense moments in my life in these five years, I am not the same girl I was five years ago, I have changed so many things in these five years, except for one thing: my heart still belongs to you, no matter how hard I tried to deny it or change it or break it, with distance, time, other people and experiences, this heart is still yours.”
“I’ll love you forever.”
“And ever.”

I put my hands in his on the table and, all of a sudden, it felt like home.
We stared into each other’s eyes, smiling in such a pure, beautiful way, we didn’t even need other words, or a kiss, our eyes learned to talk to each other a long time ago, they didn’t forget how it felt like, they didn’t forget how true love looks like.

Justin stood up, our hands still touching, “Come with me.”
I didn’t need to ask where we were going, as long as I was with him, I could’ve walked on fire too. Everything fell into its place.
Without saying a word, I got into his car and he drove headed to somewhere close to the beach, that’s what it seemed in my eyes.
“This is my new home.” The grey gate opened revealing a big mansion, but it seemed smaller than the one we lived in together, eight years ago.
Since we left the car, our fingers were still laced together; Justin grabbed the door key and opened it, he was a step ahead of me, ready to show me each room,

“But, wait.. first..” He put a blindfold on my eyes, his touch was soft as a feather; I heard Justin stepping away from me, clicking something inside of the house, I couldn’t figure out what it was, though.
“Are you planning some kinky shit?” I asked.
He chuckles softly, “No.”

“Don’t worry, I’m still here.” His voice sounded more distant, he probably was upstairs now, hearing that made me smile.
“Something tells me that you have a plan.”
“I had five years to plan surprises, only for you.” I felt my cheeks blushing, I kept on falling in love with him in that cold, but quiet, November night.

I hear some shuffling and feet moving downstairs. 
All of a sudden, two arms were wrapped around my knees, lifting me off the cool ground and onto a hard shoulder. He’s been working out.  
I shriek, "Justin!” 
“It’s okay, I got you.” He reassures me.  We start to move up some stairs, probably heading up to his “surprise”.  

"You know, I have a pretty good view here.“ I hear him tap and poke my butt a few times.  
I slap his back and laugh, "shut up!”  
His movements stop now, I can tell we’re upstairs now.  He lets me down onto the soft… fluffy floor?  
“Can I-” I begin to ask, but he cuts me off  "Yeah.“ He says, but he’s the one lifting the blindfold off me.

My eyes are instantly greeted by his light brown ones. I could stare at them all day and never get tired.
We were so close that if one of us moves forward, we would be doing things we shouldn’t.  
Yet.  

He moves back. For the capacity of the time we’d been staring at each other, I hadn’t noticed the tiny flicks of light around the room.
Holy shit.
Well, for starters, the small fairy lights going around every corner of the room had captured my attention. They were white and beautiful. They looked like snowflakes.  

My eyes danced around the place until they landed on a…. fort? Sheets were wrapped around each other, forming some sort of tent. A big tent. And the tent had fluffy looking pillows inside it.  
It looked a bit like a bed to me.
However, nothing could ever beat what I saw in front of me. A humongous glass wall looking out into the sea.  

I turned back around to see Justin, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the room.  
"Justin!” I called out.  
"In here.“ I hear someone yell from inside the tent.

“This is so cool! Oh my Gosh, is this how heaven feels like?” I said laying on the fluffy bed.
Justin took me by the arm and pulled me closer to him; we were face to face now.
I knew that the kiss we’ve been waiting for six years was coming.
He leaned in, aiming at my lips, I closed my eyes, ready to feel alive again.
I was about to take my missing piece back.

Our lips were finally touching, and I felt like the very first time we kissed, my mind was inside of a tornado, but my heart was in the eye of a hurricane.
Our tongues danced swiftly, taking back everything we ever missed and lost. My hand was on his waist now, squeezing it.

I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable with my leg pressing his bones, so I took it to the next level and swung my leg over his torso, straddling him.
My hands made their way to his hair. Tugging, pulling squeezing.
Our lips were still connected but forcefully pulled away when we were out of breath.

His body was hot, my face was flushed and our lips were swollen; I wouldn’t have it any other way.
"I missed you so much.” He began leaving pepper kisses down my neck and to my throat.
“I missed y-you, too.” I couldn’t speak as he continued.

He paused, looking up at me.
“God, Selena. I would do so ma-”, he was cut off when I leaned down on him, pressing my pink lips on his hot skin.
My ass pressed against his lower region making him grunt.
“Tell me what you would do.” I whisper against his earlobe.

His hands are guided down to my ass, he rests them upon there.
He brings my face to him and turns it away, having full access to my neck now.
“I want to bend you over, Selena. Just like I did seven years ago.” He whispers, “Aren’t you curious of how big I’ve gotten?”
“I-” I’m cut off by a sharp smack on my bottom.

“Did I say you could talk?” He gently bites down on my neck.
“I’m sorry.” Earning another smack, I finally shut up.
“Then, I wanna test how tight you’ve gotten,” I shiver, “I’m sure nobody could’ve stretched you out like I have, am I right?”

I can’t do anything. All self control has been handed to him.
“Am I right?” He asks more firmly, squeezing my butt.
I nod my head.
“I wanna feel all,” he pauses to let his hands roam around my ass, “of your wetness.”
He slides his hands around my waist again and pulls me up to a sitting position.

“I didn’t build this thing for no reason, ya know.” He hands are sliding up my shirt, ready to take it off. And he does. I’m left in my red lace bra, he kisses my neck roughly, while his fingers unclasp it, I moan in pleasure; he plays with my nipples before sucking them, I open my mouth in shock as my eyes shut.

“Scream my name.” He whispered, his hands was going down into my wet panties. “Mmh, Justin..”
“Say it louder!” Justin took the panties off and started stroking my clit. “Justin! Plea- Justin!” He put his finger inside of me, moving in circle.
It’s been so long. Too long. I could tell that he was going to bring me to the edge.

“Do you like it?” He bit my earlobe, I felt his breath on my neck, he turned me on so much I had to bit my lower lip.
“Y-Yes.”
“Do you want more?” Justin kissed and sucked my neck in its weakest point, he still knew how to pleasure every inch of me.
“Mhh, yes.”
“Then beg for it.” He put another finger inside of me, and started moving his hand inside and out.

If this was way back in the old days, it would have been nothing. I considered this normal and gentle.
“P-please, Justin. I need m-more.”
He moved my legs away for a second to take his pants off. My hands softly made their way to his growing bulge. I missed that. I pulled the waistband of his boxers then snapped them back.
“Oh, Selena. You know I don’t like teasing.” He murmured.
He swiftly tugged boxers off, throwing them like the rest if the clothes. Then he kissed me as I felt the heat grow.

Laying me down, I felt nervous. I’ve never had sex in 5 years. The last time was with some random dude. It was only a one night stand and he didn’t bring much pleasure to me.
He hiked my legs up to his waist; I felt his erection slowly glazing over my wet juices. It felt like heaven but I was done with teasing.
“Please Justin.” I begged his name.
Slowly, he slid into me, a shudder trailing down his spine.
Pain never felt that good, he was the only man who could’ve made me feel that way.

My grip on the bed sheets was tighter than ever, I was ready to let myself go.
Justin was thrusting faster and faster. The sound of skin against skin slapping filled the whole tent- or room.
“Justin- fuck!” I yelled as I let go.
“Damn, I- missed t-this.” He spoke as he let go himself, our juices mixing together.
The sweaty boy laid next to me as we tried to catch our breath.

He turned to me and found me staring at him. Our gaze held a hushed sense of awe. I was star struck, and he was, too.
“Please, don’t let me go.” I mumble.
“I won’t let you go this time.” He whispered and pulled me closer to him. My head rest under his chin.

He could make me breathless and I would love it. He could take al the oxygen in my lungs and I wouldn’t mind. He could lock us in a room full of wolves but I wouldn’t think much, as long as he’s with me.



_________________

tadaaaaaa! i hope you like this, WE HOPE, actually! thanks to @voidpaintings again because she’s the one who made this one shot awesome, tbfh, THANK YOU FOR READING! LEAVE US COMMENTS, WE CERTAINLY WOULD LOVE THAT, LOVE YOUUUU!

anonymous asked:

Viria what's your opinion about Nico? I think he isn't bi. I believe he's straight. Because he had a crush on Percy Jackson. Had past tense. He was young he didn't know. Crush define is having a brief infatuation for someone. That concludes that Nico isn't bi, he just had a innocent crush. Everyone had one once in their life.

I literally have no words.

i really just do not understand the logic wherein

the culmination of a three season slow burn between best friends with an impenetrable bond who have been co-parenting for like a year

is somehow “cheapened”

because of its perceived proximity to the ignominious end of rick’s non-relationship with a woman he knew for two weeks

how does the abortive rick/jessie relationship being unconsummated, unimportant, and unmourned before the show moved along to the main event, aka richonne which it’d been carefully building towards for seasons, cheapen anything but rick/jessie?

i mean, as much as you even CAN cheapen something that literally exists for no other reason than as a narrative primer for the actual storyline.

like that shit doesn’t even sound right

ah yes well rick began and ended a brief infatuation w/ a rando that was 95% him projecting about his inability to protect his dead wife right before rick/michonne happened

so clearly him realizing that he was and has been deeply in love with michonne, the person closest to him in the world who he trusts the most in the world, and them being together is the only thing that makes sense and the only thing they want is IRREPARABLY CHEAPENED and their de facto marriage of respected partners and equals ETERNALLY BESMIRCHED

somehow…?

but i guess if you want to just ignore the reality of the relationships in question and create your own narrative??? …okay?

A Call to Summons

Okay, I’ve been avoiding the baby storyline on TO like crazy, but I saw this prompt on klarolinefanficdirectory:

Total crack: Hope knows that Klaus is missing something, or someone in his life and keeps teleporting Caroline to New Orleans (hey she stopped a car with her mind, so who needs logic)

And decided that it was one case where I could be okay with Hope being around.  She’s gotta be useful for something, right?

The first time it happens, she’s in the library working on a paper.  Her degree has an English requirement, and Caroline probably put off writing the essay about The Scarlet Letter far longer than she should have.  So she’s hunkered at a table in the back, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a pencil poked through it, and absolutely no makeup.  

               Which wouldn’t have mattered, because hello!, studying, except that she was typing one second, then the next she was sitting on a settee that looked like it was straight out of Pride & Prejudice staring at another blonde who is bouncing a baby on her knee.

               “Uh… hello?” she says, not sure what else to say. She can tell by the steady thump of the other woman’s heart – much stronger and faster than that of a vampire – that she’s human.

               “… Hi?” the strange woman replies weakly, and the baby on her lap giggles and claps her hands together, drawing her eyes down to her. “Hope, did you do this?”

               She speaks as if she expects the baby to understand her or reply or something, and Caroline raises a brow, because she doesn’t pretend to be a baby expert, but she’s pretty sure that’s now how it works.

               “I’m so sorry,” the woman says, looking back at Caroline.  “Hope is… Hope is special.  I’m Camille.”

               “Caroline” – she holds out her hand and Camille shakes it, and then looks around awkwardly – “so… special might be an understatement. How the hell did she bring me here? And where is here exactly?”

               Camille begins to reply, when the front door opens and voices stream in.  Caroline freezes, because no matter how much she tries to forget it, to forget him, one of those voices is far too familiar, and when she looks at Hope – a quick panicked look – the baby giggles again, but she knows those eyes.

               “Caroline.”

               Camille looks confused as she glances between Caroline and the man that has frozen in the doorway, staring at her with clear surprise.

               Klaus Mikaelson.

               “Your kid is a regular Wyatt Halliwell, Klaus,” Caroline says briskly getting to her feet, because she might feel awkward, and the sight of him might send her back to the forest and the time – hours of amazing time- that they had spent there together.  But she’ll be damned if she lets him know that.  “I’ll need a ticket back to Mystic Falls.  I left a laptop and an essay behind.”

               Klaus continues to stare at her, and that’s when Elijah carefully pushes past him.

               “Miss Forbes, of course we’ll provide your airfare. I… apologize, for the inconvenience.  Hope is young however.  Though I’m not quite sure how she knew of you, to summon you here like this.”

               Klaus fidgets uncomfortably, making Caroline raise a brow.  What on Earth could he possibly be uncomfortable about?  It’s not like he has a notebook of pictures or something that he shows his daughter as bedtime stories.

               (He does – but she’ll never need to know that)

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Fic: Shine With All The Untold (4/?)

Title: Shine With All The Untold (4/?)
Rating: (T for now, NC-17 later)
Summary: Belle’s father invites Sir Rumpelstiltskin, the ogreslayer, to lodge in their manor during his journey home. Belle expects yet another dull, self-impressed brute with a sword: the man she discovers is something else entirely. Set in the Author’s AU at the end of season 4.

A/N: As previously stated, fuck any and all Sir Rumple characterisation from the finale episodes :) this is my attempt to write Rumpelstiltskin as a knight, not whatever OOC nightmare they created

Previous instalments

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin spent much of the afternoon in blissful seclusion.

They shared bits of their bread and salad, and kissed at every opportunity, conversation forsaken for other forms of communication. . The day was warm, sunny and sweet smelling, and Rumpelstiltskin kissed her sweetly, reverently, with delicious passion but without any apparent demand or expectation for anything more than her kisses in return. Belle could imagine no better way to spend an afternoon, or a lifetime for that matter.

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