a lewis

Currently reading: Sinclair Lewis, It Can’t Happen Here

Written in 1935, but still completely relevant: ‘A vain, outlandish, anti-immigrant, fearmongering demagogue runs for President of the United States - and wins. [He] promises poor, angry voters that he will make America proud and prosperous once more, but takes the country down a far darker path. This cautionary tale of liberal complacency in the face of populist tyranny shows it really can happen here.

6

in their phone: alec lightwood

HEY GUYS! I need some more Shadowhunter Chronicles blog to follow bc I need that shit on my dash.

Like/Reblog if you’re into any (or all) of the following: 

  • WILLIAM HERONDALE 
  • Julian Blackthorn (my daddy)
  • Emma Carstairs (my heart and soul)
  • Cristina fucking Rosales my HEART AND ANGEL
  • kit and ty OBVIOUSLY
  • OK THE ENTIRE BLACKTHRON FAMILY
  • Jimon- if u dont ship them at least a lil bit ur lying srry i dnt make the rules
  • Heronstairs (IF U DONT SHIP THEM AT ALL THEN UR DEFINITELY LYING AND ALSO YOURE WRONG SO LIKE BYE)
  • Wessa
  • WILL HERONDALE
  • my sweet son alec lightwood
  • my spicy son magnus bane
  • anything with the original scooby gang AKA reckless redhead, sarcastic goldilocks, scary hot vixen, my awkward jewish vampire son, my freewheeling bisexual and my grumpy gay archer son
  • malec (is this even a question i mean)
  • also maia roberts bc she is BOMB A+++++ ON MAIA ROBERTS 
  • jem carstairs my sweet summer child
  • tessa gray 
  • WILLIAM HERONDALE
  • HERONSTAIRS
  • ok basically anything TID related
  • did i mention william herondale???????????????
  • bc william herondale
  • also anything TDA related (DUH)
  • anything related to the trash show that i love
  • anything TMI related
  • WILLIAM HERONDALE

basically anything and everything that has to do with the shadowhunter world, if you didn’t get that already. 

i may or may not have used this post as an excuse to talk more about these ridiculous angsty characters that have taken over my life

ok bye

pastelfrays  asked:

jimon + 'you found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life’ au (only if u like it if not just ignore me sorry !!)

sjdsjdjsdjs i love this prompt i’m sorry it took me so long to answer. also i think this derailed a bit but i was having too much fun constructing an entire au in my head for this world, so. 

“Hmm.” A voice echoes from above Simon. “This isn’t what I expected.” Simon freezes, his fingers tightly gripping the window ledge as a handsome and strangely familiar blonde wrapped up in a form-fitting grey sweater leans out the window. 

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Simon says quickly, and then groans because it’s probably the most suspicious thing he’s ever said. In his ear, Clary is furiously whispering through his earpiece for him to get out, drop down and extract yourself, what do you think you’re doing, Simon - 

No?” The blonde asks, a delighted smile crossing his face. “It looks like you were about to break into my apartment.” 

“Well, I wasn’t.” Simon says insistently, and he shivers. “Look, if we’re going to do this, either call the police or let me in, because it’s freezing out here and my fingers are going to fall off - “

“You’re awfully talkative for a thief.” The man mutters, before he leans down and hauls Simon in by the shoulders, surprisingly strong. They tumble to the floor, and Simon scrabbles for purchase, accidentally groping the man’s very fit torso in the process, before he pushes off and rolls away, getting up and staring warily at the man. 

“I’m Jace.” The man says, sticking a hand out to shake. Simon stares at it and shakes hesitantly, noting where the front door is and how fast he can run to it. He knows the layout of the expensive flat from the plans Clary got him, knows everything from the painting studio down the hallway to the sleek-looking espresso maker he can see sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“S - Robin.” Simon says, tripping over his own name. “Robin Hood.” 

“Yeah.” Jace sticks his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight and raking his eyes up and down Simon’s body. Simon suppresses a shiver, strangely attracted to the man in front of him, oddly charmed by the way his blonde hair is falling softly in his face and his sleep pants are rumpled, like he forgot to fold them properly. “You steal from the rich and give to the poor, Brooklyn’s newest superhero. Or,” he adds, as Simon flushes and tugs his mask and cowl tighter across his face, “depending on what circles you move in, a supervillain.” 

Hot anger rushes through Simon, and he tamps down the instant urge to turn invisible and pummel the guy. So far, nobody’s been able to cotton on that the reason Robin Hood and his accomplice Red Riding Hood - and seriously, what newspaper was in charge of giving the him and Clary the most obnoxious names in the history of the world? - get away with all their heists is because he can turn invisible and Clary has super speed, and they have Magnus helping them from his command center with keeping surveillance of the city. He needs to keep it that way, even if Hot Blonde Mysterious Dude - Jace - is attractive and checking him out even though it looked like he was going to rob Jace just a few minutes ago. 

Though to be fair, he was going to rob Jace, who’s the adopted son of one of the more powerful families in the city. He’s here for the money, and to investigate what shady deals the three eldest Lightwood children seem to be involved in, since Magnus constantly sees them ducking in and out of buildings they definitely shouldn’t be in. 

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I suppose.” Simon says, shrugging and starting to edge towards the door. “For example, it may have looked like I was going to rob you, from your perspective - “

“I think it’s fairly explanatory what a handsome thief is doing hanging off the window of a wealthy man’s apartment.” Jace says dryly, crossing his arms and smirking as he steps closer to Simon. Simon grinds his teeth, torn between flirting back or telling the man to fuck off. “I’m not going to call the police, Simon, chill out.” 

Simon freezes, his blood turning cold as he hears his real name, and he immediately turns invisible, leaping backwards and sending a lamp flying. Jace’s mouth drops open and he looks horrified with himself as he stumbles forward, eyes fixed on a point five feet to Simon’s left. “No, shit, don’t go - I’m sorry, I’m Angel, I should have led with that - fuck.” 

Angel

Oh no. Simon’s face drains of color as he considers possibly catapulting himself off the roof of the apartment building in embarrassment. Angel is part of the other trip of superheros working in Brooklyn, fast and strong and equipped with a set of distinctive russet-colored angel wings. He, Archer, and Whiplash dole out vigilante justice, and are well-loved by the people. 

Angel is also obnoxious and attractive and started following Simon around when he started using his powers to be Robin Hood and constantly flirted with him and infuriated him, and now Simon’s been stupid enough to not connect the dots between the superhero he was crushing miserably on and his target for the night, oh God

A set of wings are unfurling from Jace’s back, even as Simon holds perfectly still, hidden by his invisibility. Jace looks around, and calls out, “Simon? Did you leave?” He waits a few seconds, and then sighs, tucking his wings tightly against his body and flopping onto the sofa to grab his phone, dialing a number and pressing it close to his ear as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Alec?” Jace asks, and Simon could kick himself because obviously the Lightwood siblings are crime-fighting superheros. That would explain the shady behavior, at least. “Yeah, Simon came by tonight as Robin Hood. He didn’t know I was Angel, and - “ There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Jace laughs bitterly. “No, I think he’s gone. He shifted to invisibility and my windows still open, so I think he climbed out - no, obviously I didn’t ask him out, are you crazy? He hates me right now.” 

Simon makes a disbelieving noise, his heart speeding up his chest, and Jace freezes, slowly turning his face to the sound.

“Call you later.” He says into the phone, and then he shuts it off. “Simon, you’re still here.” He squints suspiciously in the general area of where Simon’s standing, and mutters to himself “If he’s not here, I’m going to feel like such a fucking idiot.”

Simon exhales, focuses, and turns visible again, and Jace visibly jumps in shock. 

“I have to get used to that.” He says, and he bites his lower lip. “You heard.” 

“Yeah.” Simon says, eyes wide. 

“Well, now you know.” Jace spreads his arms wide, his expression defeated. “You’re shit at hiding your identity, and I like you. I’m sorry.”

“So Angel swooping in and interrupting my fights,” Simon says slowly, “that was you…flirting?” 

“I thought I was doing okay.” Jace defends himself, and Simon cuts him a look before he glances down at his watch. 

“I still have work to do tonight. There’s a flat in upper Manhattan owned by a Camille that’s just begging to be trashed and redistributed by Robin Hood.” Simon says in a rush. Jace watches him carefully, his eyes dark, and Simon half-smiles at him. “But…you know, maybe - if you want - we can go on a date tomorrow? Just Simon and Jace. No - no this.” He makes a vague motion with his hands, gesturing to his own mottled green-black uniform and Jace’s wings. 

Jace laughs, genuine and carefree, and nods, stepping closer to Simon. “For now,” he says, smirking, “how about a kiss for luck before you go off to be a criminal?” 

“You’re such an asshole.” Simon grumbles, and then he cups the back of Jace’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss, groaning softly as he realizes that Jace’s lips really are as plush as they look, and that Jace kisses like a champ - slow and wet and deep - and that Jace’s slight stubble scraping along his face is apparently the hottest thing Simon’s felt. Frankly, it’s unfair how much Simon likes this. 

“Okay,” Jace pulls away, his face flushed and his breathing ragged, “go save the world. Or just Brooklyn. Break into someone else’s house.” Simon grins and salutes him, taking a few steps back and leaping out the window to climb back down the building. “Don’t kiss anyone else, though! I better be the only person you steal a kiss from!” 

Simon grins even wider, and puts a hand to his earpiece as he uses his other hand to swing down a floor. 

“Red,” he says, “I think I’ve found my Maid Marian.” 

Jace is going to hate his new nickname.

Just because you’ve all been so great, I offer you a little bit more of that de-aging trope fic. Previous parts here and here


When he saw her try to hide a yawn for the third time, he put down his screwdriver and pushed away from his desk. “Okay. Bedtime.”

Darcy shook her head and pulled her zoo map closer to her knees, as if to make herself look too busy. “No.”

“No?” Tony snorted and stood. “How about, I’m the dad and I say yes.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Yes, you are.”

Hunching her shoulders up, she leaned over the map, staring at it even more intently. “I’m not going to bed.”

“Want to bet?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad.” He took two steps towards her and she scooted back on her butt without ever looking up. Tony drew in a long breath. He’d never had to deal with this before, this ‘how to get an obstreperous preschooler to go to bed already’ thing. There had to be a trick to it, right?

He’d tried to forget so much of his own childhood, but he could pull one card not even his dad had been able to. Suck it, dad.

“Don’t make me get Captain America. You’ll have to endure his disappointed face.”

“I don’t care about his stupid, pointed face.”

Tony closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, struggling not to laugh. He was trying to be firm, to set boundaries, and all that other parental crap. He was hoping for her to be regular-sized again soon, but for everybody’s sanity until she was, it felt important to stick with that dad authority stuff. But, damn it, she kept saying things like that and it was hard as hell not to laugh. Rebecca warned him that was one thing he couldn’t do when disciplining Darcy — children could sense weakness, it would undermine everything.

“Well, it’s the most aggravating punishment I can think of. So, you can either come here and let’s go get ready for bed, or I go get Cap to frown and lecture until you crack.”

She wrinkled her nose and stared him down for another minute, before heaving a huge sigh, her little shoulders lifting almost to her ears. “Fine.” She schooched forward on the desk, then turned and slid off, and finally stomped over to him, crossing her arms and glaring at his shoes.

“I’m not sleepy,” she said again, her tone dripping with exhausted petulance.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are, I can tell. You know how?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re yawning and turning into a brat.”

She looked shocked, like he’d just smacked her or said something unforgivable. And then the trembling lip started, followed by the quivering chin, and then waterworks and the heaving sobs. “I’m not a brat, daddy. I’m not a brat.”

“Wow.” He ran a hand down his face and glanced up at the sky, as if asking for patience or guidance or just, you know, a little help here? “Okay, over-tired, probably over-stimulated, plus sugar crash. Things to avoid. Friday, make a note.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want Jarvis back,” Darcy howled, turning her tantrum on the disembodied voice. “I hate Friday.”

“Not nice, kiddo. See? That was kind of bratty. Come on.” He picked up her squirming body and held her tightly while she tried to wriggle away from him, still sobbing and denying her status as a brat.

“I’m going to remember this, and I’m going to tell you all about it,” he promised. Right now it wasn’t funny, it was tiring and annoying, but when she was twenty-five again, it would be hilarious. Hilarious for him, probably mortifying for her, which was where the hilarity came from, of course.

She threw her head back, clipping his shoulder painfully, and then went limp, hoping, no doubt, that she could slip past his grasp.

“Nice try, twerp.”

Twerp was apparently just as bad as brat because she started wailing again.

“Tony, what—” Pepper stopped in the hallway and took in the sight. “Need a hand?”

“Like, I don’t know, five or six, probably. Also, Barton is never allowed to babysit again. Ever.”

“I like Clint!” Darcy shrieked, but, thankfully, her wild sobs were wearing down to hiccuping, choking whimpers.

“Yeah, I know. You gave up your dream of a owning a peacock for him.”

“A peacock?” Pepper asked with a laugh as she turned on the light in the guest room they’d done up for Darcy, and went to the dresser for pajamas.

“They’re so preh-eh-eh-ty,” Darcy sobbed.

“And loud and obnoxious.”

“No! Daddy, you’re stupid!”

“Not something anybody has ever told me.” He carried her over to the ensuite bathroom. “Let’s brush your teeth.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes. Because I know for a fact that Barton fed you your body weight in sugar today. And I don’t know how this age thing is going to work on your teeth, but you won’t appreciate it if I let them rot. Baby teeth or not.”

By the time he got her teeth brushed she was, mercifully, cried out. She let him wash the tears and snot off her face without complaint and her eyes were only half open as he carried her back out into the room. Pepper held up a set of Iron Man summer pajamas, a wry smirk on her face and a slightly exasperated yet affectionate look in her eyes. But, seriously, what? Like he wasn’t going to take the opportunity to get his own kid every Iron Man-related item in existence?

Between the two of them, they got her undressed and then redressed and she was asleep before they could even lay her down. Tony kissed her forehead, tucked her in, and placed her stuffed Hulk next to her. She was very attached to the toy. It was a shame Bruce wasn’t around to be awkward and embarrassed about that.

Turning out the lights, he made sure the nightlight — designed to look like Iron Man’s arc-reactor, of course, available at fine toy stores everywhere — was on before he gave her one last look and shut the door.

Pepper gave him a sympathetic smile and kiss on the cheek. “Good job, dad.”

“Holy shit. I have a new appreciation. I think I need to buy Rebecca a vacation home in the Bahamas or something.”

“That seems a little much.”

“Did you see that temper tantrum?” he demanded, still feeling a little dazed. “Wow. From zero to meltdown in no time flat.”

“She had a busy, long day at the zoo. And, honestly, she has always gotten very cranky when she’s tired. Always.”

“Barton also fed her too much sugar, got her keyed-up, and then brought her home.”

“She’s five-ish, I don’t think it’s too hard to get kids that age wound up.”

“Do you know what they had? I got the menu from Darcy because she was so wired she took me through the entire day in about fifteen minutes. They had hot dogs and pop. And then at some point funnel cakes, cotton candy, and something called dippin dots. I don’t know what that is, but I assume it’s pure sugar.”

“I think it’s ice cream.”

He shook his head. He might not be father of the year, but he knew that was too much. “I’m surprised she didn’t projectile vomit all the way home.”

“Well, it’s still early. We probably won’t be out of those woods until morning.”

“Cool, Pep. Thanks.”

“You know, it occurs to me, five-year old Darcy is a lot like pre-Iron Man you.”

“Very funny.”

“The temper tantrums, the hyperactivity, vomiting, screaming—”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Like father, like daughter,” she continued, chortling to herself, delighted by everything. He glared sourly.

“Remember when she was like eleven, twelve? Twelve was easier. I never thought it would be, but wow.”

“Oh, sure,” Pepper said. “I remember twelve. I remember the holes in the walls all over the place, the greasy notes to us both on the windows, and the paint bomb in the living room. Easier?”

Tony paused, letting his mind drift back, and then laughed. “Oh, the paint bomb. I was snorting green out my nose for a week.”


fun-sized

Pairing:  Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
For:  @mcgregorswench
Prompt:  [this list],  “you’re super short and i’m sorry but it’s really really cute whenever you try to reach that book on the top shelf here lemme help you- oh no don’t be embarrassed, your face is all red and you’re even more adorable now i am going to die” au



“Which one do you need?” Steve asked, his hand hovering in the air around the books on the top shelf.  

“Green and black,” she answered quickly, her face reddening slightly as he handed it to her.  "Thanks.  I’m a little… fun-sized.  Not exactly the greatest for reaching, though.“  

Steve chuckled, knowing he should be alarmed at how much he was already attracted to her.  But she was adorable.  Fun-sized was absolutely the right way to describe it.  "Well, I’m super-sized, apparently, so maybe we can help each other out.”  

“How could I possibly help you out?” she asked, thumbing through the book he’d handed her.  

“You could point me in the right direction for the graphic novels… I think I got turned around…”  he glanced around the aisle he was currently standing in.  

Rolling her eyes, she took his arm and dragged him out into the main part of the bookstore.  "Yeah, you want to be over there…" She pointed towards the complete opposite end of the store.

“Thank you! You’ve helped me out tremendously,” he said with a wide smile that he hoped wasn’t too creepy.  

“Well, listen.  When you’re done looking at your comics or whatever, you should totally come join me in the coffee shop next door. We can read together. You can reach tall things for me… it’ll be fun!”

“I’ll be there.  Wouldn’t want to leave you high and dry.  Or… ” he trailed off, smirking, “LOW and dry as the case may be…”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”  

Some (like you and me) find it more natural to approach God in solitude: but we must go to church as well. For the Church is not a human society of people united by their natural affinities but the Body of Christ, in which all members, however different (and He rejoices in their differences and by no means wishes to iron them out) must share the common life, complementing and helping on another precisely by their differences.
—  C.S. Lewis / Letters of C.S. Lewis, to Mrs. Arnold 7 December 1950
youtube

New Video!!!!

best angle

Pairing:  Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
For:  @sarbear1610
Prompt:  [this list], “I was trying to take a sneeky picture of you because i told my friend about the hot guy on the train and she wanted to see but you totally noticed and yeah this is awkward” au


He heard the photo snap and turned to look at her.  Darcy froze for a moment before speaking.  “Hi.”  

“Hi… did you just…take a picture of me?”  he asked.  

“Yeahhhhh.  I was just telling my friend that there was this hot guy on the train and she wanted proof…”  

He raised his eyebrows.”I’m the hot guy?”  

She grinned.  “Yeah?”  

“Lemme see the picture.”  He held out his hand and she handed him her phone.  He looked and shook his head.  “Nah, that’s no good.  Lemme take one for you.  I know my best angle.”  He scooted down in the seat and held the phone up over his head.  He threw up a peace sign and snapped the picture, handing it back to her.  “There.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, still grinning.  “I’m Darcy, by the way.”  

“Clint.  Or you can just keep calling me ‘Hot Guy’, that works too.”  

“Hot Guy Clint?”  

“Perfect.”