a woman's work is never done

anonymous asked:

But what woman am I becoming? I'll be done come September with a degree that never really interested me. Which I did because I'd crossed all the other options off my list. All I see when I look ahead is a thick cloud which scares me a little more each time someone asks what I'll do next.

A degree is a piece of paper, not a pair of handcuffs. You don’t have to work in your degree field. Lots of people (most?) don’t. So what does interest you? Get an entry position in that. Or learn a skill for it. Or volunteer while you’re working somewhere else to pay the bills.

Figure out what makes you happy and peaceful and satisfied, and then work towards that. What you’ve done in your past does not control your future.

2

this week was so nice!!! lectures will end in two weeks and I’m a little sad and also a little glad :DDD I’m gonna miss some of my teachers :’) I’m so tired of studying but I need to keep going :)) I’m really looking forward to the holidays because my dog is going to live in my apartment for a week while my family is on vacation and it’s gonna be so nice

There has been a Decepticon emblem somewhere on my person every day since the election.

Today I saw a post that upset me. It was basically stating that half the fandom is incorrect to see the Decepticons as the ‘real’ good guys, and reiterated all the reasons that they’re terrible and the Autobots are, were, and always will be the only good guys. 

I may have growled ‘fuck you’ at the computer, almost reblogged with an angry comment…and then looked at myself with horror, because I make it my policy not to be negative at someone I’ve never met, or their thoughts, on such slim basis. Compassion is more important than anything else; we are all hurting, and it is so easy to do further damage that, especially on a platform such as tumblr, it does well to watch one’s words very, very carefully. Fictional characters are not worth doing real, tangible harm over. 

So why the hell was I so upset that I almost broke my own rules?

The election.

I have worn a Decepticon emblem somewhere on my person every day since the election. Earrings. My windbreaker. A t-shirt. But mostly the earrings, since they’re subtle and pass mostly unremarked. I’m even contemplating a tattoo, more seriously than ever before. 

I’m in agony. I’m a policy student; I specialize in public health policy. A few weeks ago, my mentor quite literally told me to hold off on entering the workforce for the next four years; he feels that me starting a career under the Trump Administration would be a very bad idea. At the same time, I’m significantly changing the course of my immediate future in light of the election; I’m applying to Teach For America, which has an LGBT initiative to recruit LGBT teachers. It’s intended to make up grade and graduation (and survival) differences between LGBT and straight students. I’m going to actively pursue being placed in a red state, where I can do the most good. 

It’s not like I don’t understand this is dangerous. There is a large part of me that wants to flee the country (New Zealand being the favorite refuge, right now). But my family didn’t leave China during the Cultural Revolution, though it killed my great-grandparents and led to the torture and humiliation of many of my other family members. My grandmother had to be almost forcefully sent to the US because the rest of the family knew damn well her opinionated nature and total disregard for her own safety would get her dead. But it wasn’t the first time the family had weathered horrors. I know too well that it won’t be the last. And if my great-grandparents could stay in China then, then no incompetent orange baboon’s arse will chase me from the United States. 

I’m bi. I’m multiracial. I’m a woman. I’m an intellectual. This is not a good combination in Trump’s America. But I’m not afraid. 

Because I think about Megatron every time I start browsing the New Zealand visa site. Megatron, and my family. 

We’ve been weaponizing words for generations. Two thousand years, in fact. Megatron, the young miner working in the dark for a better world, shaping words to change sparks, speaks to me on a deep level. This is what we have done for those two thousand years. And like Megatron, we have paid a price. Very often in blood. We’ve never been good at shutting up. 

Megatron is both a power fantasy and a cautionary tale for me right now, and right now, what I really need is the power fantasy. I feel incredibly helpless; I am not the only one. Megatron, someone who starts out so utterly helpless, gives me hope that I, too, may yet be powerful one day. That I may be capable of righting the injustices that cause me such pain now. 

I do not mean to excuse his atrocities. I am repulsed by them perhaps more than many others, because I understand how easy it might be to slip over the edge to committing them. (Anyone who tells you it is easy not to slip over that edge is a person to be very frightened of; they obviously do not see themselves as capable of horror, and those people are the ones most likely to commit horrors–they do not examine themselves or their motivations, they believe they are utterly in the right, and that is the most dangerous of persons). 

In the wake of this election, we all feel helpless. We are suddenly enemies in our own countries. Our neighbors turn on us for our compassion, for our liberal sentiments and our belief that all people are created equal. Does We the People still cover us? We’re not sure. There are so many who would say no. There are so many who believe we’re seeing the rise of another Hitler. 

Megatron rebelled against an authoritarian government. The lowest of the low, he shattered the monstrous system that treated him and his fellows as disposable objects. We are facing a future in which we are disposable objects. Is it any wonder we find hope in him? Is it any wonder that, seeing Trump get another pass for a lie, or use a tweet to cover up his nefarious dealings, you are being deceived gains new, immediate meaning? How about rise up? 

It’s not Optimus who gives us hope, Optimus who was a cop in IDW, Optimus, the well-meaning supporter of the status quo (that very same status quo that has so failed us!).

It’s Megatron, who may have fallen from grace, but who understands. Who was the miner who toppled an empire.

You may interpret canon as you wish. I would never want to step on someone’s toes for that. But for all you folks wondering why the hell fandom has suddenly decided the Decepticons are more appealing…

…it’s very simple. We’ve just realized we’re in their position. 

The bridge scene on Endor is the moment Han realizes that it doesn’t matter if Leia loves him back; all that matters is that he loves Leia.

You know the scene: right after Luke confesses to Leia that they’re siblings and then immediately leaves to confront Vader.

Enter Han. He insists that Leia tell him what’s wrong even after she tells him that she just wants to be alone.

Leia says, “I can’t tell you,” to which Han responds with jealousy, saying, “Could you tell Luke? Is that who you could tell?”

At this, we see Leia cry for the first time, and Han starts to walk off. He then pauses for a moment

then turns around and walks back to Leia. In that moment, during that pause before he walks back, Han realizes that he loves Leia whether she loves him or not. He goes back and apologizes - Han Solo apologizes. And you know that’s not something he does lightly or often because that would be admitting that he did something wrong.

Leia looks at him, considers him, and responds with “Hold me” while collapsing into Han. Now this is clearly something new for Han. He looks shocked and almost a little scared by the embrace, like he’s never done this before.

He sort of awkwardly pats her, like he’s trying to figure out how this thing works. In a matter of seconds, he’s gone from a macho man who walks away from a crying woman because of his own jealous to a man who is so in love that he’ll hold her even if he doesn’t know how.

Star (Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader)

Words: 4000+

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, ?

A/N: an anon requested a poly!hamilsquad x reader soulmate au and i had no idea how to do it so it’s been in my inbox for like a month. im so sorry i took so long ;-; i never posted this late (or early before so enjoy!)


“Y/N, for crying out loud, aren’t you the tiniest bit curious as to who it might be? I mean, come on, you have an incomplete triangle on your wrist!” Angelica said, trying to pull up your sleeve. You swatted her hand away, pushing it back down. She always pestered you about the mark on your wrist. Since she does not have one of her own, she tells you that she lives vicariously through you.

There were only a handful of people in the world that had markings on their skin. It was what scientists called soulmate links, people you were meant to be with. Unfortunately for you, and this was your opinion, you hated being one of the few to have it. You didn’t believe in people “meant to be together”, and would rather just find someone that you loved for who they are, not what your skin says.

And the mark on your wrist was so small, it could just be a birthmark.

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I know people love to glance over rose’s character and especially her feelings about being gay especially since she never got the 20 page long confession about her feelings on it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Like her drinking problem started conveniently when she finally tried to get kanaya to go on a date with her and ?? this doesn’t feel like a coincidence at ALL i know there were other factors too but i cant help but think this was one of them. rose is a very repressed and internal bitch so like this makes sense at least to me.

Now the topic of rose and her sexuality i know most people are like yeah she knew all her life and I sort of agree but I feel like her strained relationship with her mother had a huge impact on her sexuality. Like sure maybe in some part of her brain she realized she likes girls but…her mother might be the reason she never wanted to face it. The only woman and person shes ever see until she’s thirteen she had a difficult relationship with and i cant not see that leading to her repressing her feelings and just kind of forcing herself to not feel anything but when all the game shit is done and she’s stuck on a meteor with a girl she’s finally realizing she likes and shutting herself down isnt working….shall i say, everything happens too much?

I Wonder (T’Challa)

word count: 7, 098 (hOLY FUCKING SHIT)

request: T'Challa x Queen!Reader one shot T'Challa defends the reader and her people after CW, even her dark/light energy manipulation and dark/light magic powers, T'Challa does this because he loves her and wishes to propose, and the reader loves T'Challa with all her heart and will stop at nothing to help him through difficult times, and she immediately says yes when T'Challa proposes to her.

requested by: anon

a/n: So, I just thought this was going to be a short fic (1k-2k) but, turns out I wrote an entire backstory to the reader and her kingdom, an AI best friend, and added her nearly into the entire movie of CACW just for T’Challa. It’s a long one but…interesting…I hope. Also, the reader hates Wanda at first but…read the until the end. Don’t sleep on this pls. Nobody died and it’s got a fluffy ending :)

Originally posted by miscellame

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The Lucky One {KJI}

Description:Because you were in love.”

Genre: Smut / Fluff (SO FLUFFY WHO EVEN AM I ANYMORE)

Word Count: 2,248

Pairing: Kim Jongin x Reader (i know his mother’s name isn’t really april okay)

Author: Admin Xiufairy ㅅㅇㅅ

Originally posted by jonginssoo

“You want to what?” Jongin asked you, tilted his head to the side. He narrowed his eyes as he processed your question. You gave him a smile before you explained yourself.

“I want to curl your hair. Like in the Lucky One teasers, it was all curled and cute and blonde, let me do it.” You pouted at him and ran your fingers through his dark hair. “It’d look so cute with dark hair.” Jongin pulled you closer to him until you sat on his lap, your hands immediately moving to his hair. You ran your fingers through the soft locks and he smiled at you.

“Will curling my hair make you happy?” He asked you. You nodded, withdrawing your fingers from his hair.

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For Lack of Prey (DVA/Mercy)


A/N: For an anonymous patron. 8,000 words, explicit, alternating POV. Enjoy!

You can also read this story on AO3.



Despite it all, she was freezing cold.

Not a single breeze blew into the tent. Somewhere above her a dozen jets screamed overhead, returning from an evening patrol. The sound brought to mind vivid images, all thinly connected by memories and sensations. Like standing on the tarmac in weather reaching 47°C. The jet engines and the hot rush of air, somehow even hotter than the sun above her. A cold aluminum can, still sweating in her hand only to blister it minutes later. Just from daring to exist in the open. Her palm had been red for days.

She glanced down at her hand. It was still red. When she wiped it off on her lap it smeared. Again a flood of loosely-connected sensations, her brain splitting and existing in the past and the present at the same time.

She had lost a lot of blood, she knew, and she was dehydrated. The picc in her arm and the fact that she was being fussed over by one of her favorite people hardly registered, though.

“You shouldn’t be up already.” Dr. Ziegler tried to angle her back down so she could rest, but Hana shook her head.

“If I lie down any more I think I might get sick.”

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“A Woman’s work is never done!! 6 kids and many jobs =ratchet hair 😳😂🤡🎥🎬🎭Prepping my film not just whistling dixie! 😝” -Madonna

A note to younger fans of Supergirl

I’ve seen a lot of the criticism of the karamel ship online has been that she is supergirl and she should be “independent” and she “doesn’t need anybody”. Like it somehow demeaning that she chose to date someone and it makes her less serious about her responsibilities as Supergirl?

This just hits close to home and reminds me so much of the current working world (corporate primarily) and the pressure that women are under recently. They essentially expect every woman be supergirl if they want to progress upwards. To work twice as hard as the men and to sacrifice personal lives, work around the clock, always be acessible, not have children, etc just to be taken seriously and be considered for promotion over a man etc… It’s family or career. You choose.

I just need to say this though, especially to the younger fans… I want you to know you can have it all! Or can at least go for it. Never let the years pass to where you look back and think of all the things you could have done but didn’t, all the friends and experiences you missed out on because you felt like Kara did last season… that you have to sacrifice your happiness and/or personal life to be successful and serious about your work life.

Be like Kara. You can have it all.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any fics dealing with feeling worthless as a bottom? I'm very femme-y and I love being taken care of in bed. Being aggressive and dominant don't come naturally to me. I've accepted that I'm a giant softie who likes a more dominant partner. The problem is THEY do the work. I can initiate a kiss and fondle and go down on a girl and all that stuff, but I'm truly in my element under a nice pair of breasts, feeling safe and taken care of. It feels selfish/greedy, though. :/

Maggie absolutely loves topping her.

She loves how pliant her body is underneath hers, loves the sounds she makes, loves the way her eyes flutter closed, the way she scratches at her back, the way her own back arches helplessly. The way she screams her throat raw on Maggie’s name.

She loves the way that badass, take-no-prisoners, ruthless, perfectionist, take-care-of-everybody-and-what-do-you-mean-I-have-needs-too DEO agent Alex Danvers surrenders to being worshiped by her. Submits to her love. Writhes and begs and whines and lets everything go for the prayers she plays out on Alex’s body.

The way Alex trusts her.

Fully, completely.

The way Alex gives her everything by taking everything: the way Alex gives her everything by letting her love her, by letting her adore her, by letting her be trusted.

But the first time Alex’s eyes flash and she asks with her eyes, with her gentle touch, with her body, if she can put Maggie’s wrists above her head and return every bit of worshiping she’s gotten in their first times, Maggie doesn’t hesitate.

Because Alex’s desire to please her, to touch her, to do everything with her, to her, is palpable. Is radiating.

And god, does Maggie want her.

Want to be taken by her.

And god, does Alex take her.

She makes sure Maggie’s head is resting perfectly on her favorite pillow and she kisses every centimeter of her face and she takes her time stripping her naked, and every time Maggie tells her that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to, that they can stop whenever Alex wants, that she doesn’t owe Maggie anything, Alex pffts and Alex rasps, “do you want me to stop?”, and Maggie splutters – no woman has ever made her splutter before, and she wonders if she picked it up from Alex or if Alex was just always fated to have that effect on her – and she shakes her head and Alex grins and Alex continues.

Alex is a quick study – of course Alex is a quick study – and she takes her time bringing Maggie to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, her mouth exploring her breasts, figuring out exactly what rhythm of her tongue over her hardened nipples makes her whine loudest, pant hardest.

Takes her time figuring out which spots on her stomach make Maggie giggle and which spots – when Alex’s teeth gently, and then at Maggie’s desperate urging, not so gently, graze her skin – make Maggie unravel.

Takes her time figuring out that Maggie has no problem keeping one leg up on Alex’s shoulder so Alex can fuck her deeper, can fuck her harder, can reach deeper inside her, touch places in her body, her soul, that no one has ever bothered to explore.

Takes her time figuring out that if she puts her thigh between Maggie’s legs and arches to take one of Maggie’s nipples into her mouth at the same time, it won’t take her long to cum. Hard. Again.

And because Alex is a quick study, Alex imitates Maggie’s constant checking in, her constant questioning – “are you sure, babe?” “do you want this, Maggie?” “all good?” “like that?” “do you need a break?” “do you like when I lick your clit like that, or like that? Both? Mmm, excellent” – and Maggie is so swept away, so caught up, in being the center of this gorgeous woman’s attention, the sole focus of this brilliant soldier-scientist’s incredible brain and body power, that her answer, truly, madly, deeply, is always yes Alex, please, god, don’t stop, Alex, Alex, Alex.

But when Alex wipes her mouth on her bare shoulder and kisses the insides of Maggie’s thighs, a satisfied, deeply affectionate but also deeply smug grin on her face after making Maggie cum for the upteenth time, Maggie panics.

Panics because it’s almost sunrise, and she’s done nothing for Alex all night.

She can’t count the number of times she’s cum, and the only thing she’s done has been begging Alex for more.

The only thing she’s done has been selfish preening and worthless whining and god, how can she be this self-involved, this lazy, this unwilling to work for such a gorgeous, perfect, dedicated woman?

How can she have let Alex dedicate herself solely to her pleasure and offer her absolutely nothing in return?

So she panics.

She panics, and shame sweeps through her stomach because maybe this, this, this is why she’s never truly bottomed for anyone before, because she isn’t lazy, she isn’t selfish, she isn’t worthless, she isn’t greedy, she isn’t… except she is. Because the last few hours – god, the last few incredible hours – prove that she is exactly those things.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Did I hurt you, are you okay?”

And suddenly Alex is out from between her legs and crawling up to where she could cradle her body, hovering because she’s unsure of whether to touch her, but concern is radiating from her eyes – genuine, full-throated concern – and that concern just makes the shame sweep harder through Maggie’s stomach.

“You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine. It’s nothing, it’s whatever, it – “

“No, Maggie. It’s not whatever. Your whole body tensed up, you… it matters, Maggie. You matter.”

Alex’s face is a map of confusion, a map of worry, a map of god please tell me I didn’t hurt you.

Maggie makes a futile grab for the covers – being naked right now is just a reminder of how selfish she is  – and Alex immediately lunges down the bed to get them and tuck Maggie in.

“No, no, you don’t have to… see, that’s just it, Danvers, I…”

“I’m sorry – “ Alex drops the sheets and holds up her hands immediately in soft surrender.

Surrender. Surrender.

“No, Alex, I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just…”

She looks away and she clenches her jaw and she can feel Alex staring down at her, can feel Alex thinking, can feel Alex calculating.

“We’ve never had sex quite like that before,” Alex observes softly, so softly, after a few long, silent moments.

Maggie still won’t look at her, and she desperately tries to control the burning in her eyes, the churning in her stomach, but she tries to remember the trust that led her to let Alex top her to begin with, so she nods.

“I’ve never really… taken the lead.”

Maggie nods again.

“Was it bad? Was I bad? Because I can get better, I – “

“No! No, Alex, you were… you were amazing, it…”

“You can tell me if I – “

“No. You were perfect, Alex, I promise, it’s not that – “

“Then what is it, Maggie? You can tell me.”

A long silence. Alex rests her body down on one elbow and holds out a hovering hand, a question in her eyes. Maggie nods again and Alex strokes her hair softly.

And that’s exactly what Maggie needs, which is exactly why Maggie breaks.

“Why would you… what did you get out of all that, Alex? I just… I just laid there, I didn’t do anything for you, I… how selfish could I be, it… I didn’t do anything for you, Alex, all night, I just – “

“Maggie, wait. That’s not… are you kidding? Do you seriously want to feel how wet I am right now?”

Maggie pffts at Alex’s earnesty with wet eyes. “Nerd.”

Alex smiles with relief and kisses her forehead.

“Maggie, I… I’m so glad you let me… top you? Is that the way to say it? I…” Alex pauses and searches Maggie’s face for the right words. “Maggie, you’re always in control of everything. You’re always responsible, you’re always making decisions. Life and death decisions! And you… you always take care of me, you always just… you make me so happy, Maggie, and I… you deserve it. You deserve to be taken care of. You deserve to lay back and let me worship you, because you… you’re amazing, Maggie, and you deserve to let go, you deserve to be cared for. And – and… it’s giving me a gift, Maggie. You trusting me like that. You letting me lo… letting me care for you like that, that’s a gift, Maggie. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, and you deserve to be shown that. And, if you’re worried that you weren’t doing anything for me… you’ve gotta be kidding. That was the… sexiest, hottest… thing I’ve ever done… the… you… I came, you know. A bunch of times, not that that was the point, but I’m just saying, feeling you like that, touching you like that? Listening to you like that? I came. Because it was so incredible, I just… I didn’t make a big deal out of it, because I wanted to focus on you. You deserve to be focused on, Maggie. I promise I love…d it. I promise.”

Another long pause, another thick silence.

“So you’re saying you liked it. Cause that’s… that’s what I’m getting.”

“Oh my god, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance, Danvers. Not a chance.”

mysilenceisamask  asked:

Supercat #18

Kara threw open the door to her apartment, barely remembering to slam it shut, stomping all the way to the dining room table. She sat down furiously, opening her laptop, hitting the call button, waiting impatiently as she chewed her lip until the video box popped up on screen.

“I’m coming,” she quickly spat before she could lose her nerve.

“You’re…what?” Cat looked at her like she had six heads.

“Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’m coming,” she nodded, rocking a little as she crossed her arms. “To join you…in your new endeavor. Whatever that might be.”

“I see,” Cat exhaled, rubbing her temples. “And why, exactly…”

“I just can’t do it anymore,” the younger woman began to crack, eyelids filling, threatening to spill. “Alright?”

“Meaning?”

“Work for CatCo,” Kara admitted, looking anywhere but at the screen. “Be a reporter. Slave away for a person who will never give me the satisfaction of letting me know when I’ve done something right. Any of it.”

She failed to mention all of the non-work related reasons why she felt like her life was spiraling out of control.

Cat watched her closely, trying to gauge just how serious this quarter-life crisis was going to be.

“Okay,” she finally shrugged.

“That’s…wait, really?” she startled, not expecting that response. “You’re…really okay with…because you did say I would always have a job with you, wherever…”

“Yes, darling, I remember it well,” Cat replied familiarly. “I know exactly what I said, and I meant it.”

“Oh…okay. Good.”

“Except I don’t have a job for you just yet,” she continued. “My next endeavor currently consists of taking a road trip cross-country to visit with publishers, eating as many tacos as one human can reasonably consume, all while trying to write something that will be of interest to anyone other than myself and my teenage son.“ 

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° ✧ THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E PROMPTS.

❛ Do these belong to you or to me? ❜
❛ Napoleon Solo, the CIA’s most effective agent. ❜
❛ The youngest member to join and pass in three years. ❜
❛ Not very good at this whole subtlety thing, are you? ❜
❛ Don’t make me put you over my knee… ❜
❛ So you don’t want to dance… but you do want to wrestle. ❜
❛ Are they still following us? ❜
❛ Is there one of them? ❜
❛ When you hear something that sounds like a gunshot, drive. ❜
❛ For a special agent, you’re not having a very special day, are you? ❜
❛ I was briefed on your criminal career. ❜
❛ Your balls are on the end of a very long leash, held by a very short man. ❜
❛ I wonder if it was your father’s shame that gave you such drive…  ❜
❛ You’re trembling… ❜
❛ That’s because I’m scared! ❜
❛ It’s going to be okay. ❜
❛ Let’s just hope he doesn’t drive as quickly as he moves. ❜
❛ Take another left through the window… after you. ❜
❛ Take it like a pussy. ❜
❛ This is NOT the Russian way. ❜
❛ America teaming up with Russia. That doesn’t sound very friendly. ❜
❛ That doesn’t sound very friendly. ❜
❛ Did you disable the alarm? ❜
❛ …Loving your work, Cowboy. ❜
❛ We’re struggling here. Why don’t you take a shot at him? ❜
❛ Somehow, it just doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. ❜
❛ Looks like he fixed the short. ❜
❛ Damn. I left my jacket in the other room. ❜
❛ We may be engaged, but I’m my own woman! ❜
❛ Besides, I don’t have a ring! It was stolen, remember? ❜
❛ Thank you, gentlemen, for fouling up two years of hard work! ❜
❛ Don’t go anywhere. ❜
❛ I’ll be right here. ❜
❛ There are only two masters in this world: fear and pain. ❜
❛ I will get the pilers. ❜
❛ Have you anything to say? ❜
❛ I never thought I’d be glad to see you. ❜
❛ You need help, ________? ❜
❛ Why is there radiation suit in closet, in a satellite factor? ❜
❛ I’m not going back behind that wall. ❜
❛ And when I’m done here, that’s where they’ll put me! ❜
❛ It doesn’t get any more Russian than the Red Peril here! ❜
❛ Oh, and you have a new codename. ❜
❛ What about my daughter? ❜
❛ Would you mind terribly if I borrowed your car? ❜
❛ About last night… ❜
❛ I like my women/men strong. ❜
❛ What are you doing down there? ❜
❛ Trying not to get shot. ❜
❛ It won’t match. ❜
❛ It doesnt have to match. ❜
❛ So you’re a thief, but you don’t wear a mask. ❜
❛ Sometimes, just not when I’m stealing things. ❜
❛ You told me this was going to be a simple extraction. ❜
❛ I didn’t ask you to light up half of East _______.❜
❛ Don’t flatter yourself, they follow everybody. ❜
❛ One of them who was waiting for me was barely human. ❜
❛ I don’t think you understand. ❜

anonymous asked:

So...Can we please have a demisexual Maggie who's never been close enough to any of her girlfriends to develop sexual feelings for them but she's actually opening up with Alex and stuff and eventually realizes that she's actually reached that point for the first time in her life which leads to her and Alex sleeping together for the first time and it's all super emotional and shit. (My grandmother told me she wants me to see a therapist so I can "get over" being demi and I kinda need validation.)

She doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

Kissing is nice.

And kissing Alex Danvers is spectacular.

So she doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

She loves when it’s just kissing.

And Alex is aggressive in the way she starts things, the way she pulls Maggie into her body – at the bar, in her living room – and puts her lips on hers, but Alex always freezes, like she doesn’t quite know what to do next, like she’s on overload.

Like maybe, she’s like Maggie. Like maybe, she doesn’t know Maggie well enough yet to want to do anything more with her.

Anything more sexually, that is. Because god, does Maggie want to do everything else with Alex.

Late night pizza and Netflix, rainy morning yoga, kissing and cuddling until they fall asleep, shooting pool until Maggie finally can win, movies and books and science and the job.

Saving the world.

Together.

Maggie wants all of it, and apparently – to her perpetual disbelief, because how could someone so powerful, so gorgeous, want her? – Alex wants all that with her, too.

And it’s gradual.

It’s gradual, the way Maggie starts wanting different kinds of intimacy. With Alex.

Gradual, the way she realizes that she’s kissing her deeper, that her hands are slipping under Alex’s shirt, that Alex’s body is arching in response to her touch and her own body catches fire at the sound of Alex’s soft moans.

That she’s breathing her own moans into Alex’s parted lips.

And that’s when Maggie panics.

Because Alex is going to leave.

Maggie’s sure of it.

Because Alex has been teasing – a lot – about how inexperienced she is, about how much experience Maggie must have, how Maggie should feel free to give her kissing tips, touching tips, ladies-loving-ladies flash cards, whenever she wants.

But Alex has slept with men. Not that she loved it, or even liked it.

But Maggie? Maggie hasn’t slept with anyone.

She’s never… wanted to. She’s never felt close enough to anyone, never known someone enough to feel for someone else what she does to herself with her own hands, alone, when she needs to cum before falling asleep.

She’s never wanted to, not with anyone else, but with Alex?

God, with Alex, she’s starting to… to want everything.

But when Alex finds out? That Maggie’s just as inexperienced as Alex is, in some ways moreso, that she’ll probably be an emotional mess – not to mention a physical one – if they keep going in this direction, if they keep taking off each other’s shirts and touching each other over bras and panting at grinding their thighs between each other’s legs?

She’ll leave for sure.

Right? Because everyone leaves. Because Maggie drives everyone away.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, you alright? Did I hurt you?” Alex is asking, jolting her out of their kiss, her thoughts, her terrors, her fears. And, apparently, her shaking.

Alex’s eyes are wide, concerned, and Maggie knows, knows, that even though Alex is amazing, she’s going to think Maggie’s broken. Going to think Maggie needs to get over it. Going to think Maggie’s weird and unworthy and too much, and she should have her coming out affair with someone who can have sex with whomever, whenever.

“I want you,” Maggie chokes out in a whisper, and it’s the first time she’s ever said it to anyone, because getting herself off at night is one thing, but sleeping with another person is completely, completely another.

They’re the scariest three words she’s ever said, and Alex? Alex just smiles, strokes her hair, kisses her forehead.

“You have me,” she tells her, her voice at once a reassurance and a question.

Reassurance because she’s there, she’s there, she’s not going anywhere; a question because yes, yes, she wants her too, but why is that making her this scared?

“I want to have sex with you,” Maggie clarifies, tears in her eyes and her body on fire and her lungs barely working, and Alex’s breath hitches.

“Yeah? Good, because I um… I’ve been thinking about it. Wanting it. A lot. And I’ve been… researching a little, and I… I want to have sex with you, too. I… if you want. I mean, I know I’ve never done this with a woman, but – ”

“I’ve never done it at all.”

There’s silence and Maggie braces herself for goodbye, braces herself for laughter, braces herself for mockery and judgment and all the things that part of her brain, her heart – the parts that have let herself fall in love with Alex Danvers, the parts that have let herself want Alex Danvers – know Alex would never do. But she’s terrified, anyway.

Alex just cocks her head and squints and freezes slightly, but she blinks and she swallows and when she speaks, her voice is soft and her lips are twitching up into the same supportive smile Maggie wore when Alex stumbled her way out of the closet.

“God, you must think I’m such a jerk.”

Maggie blinks. If she was expecting any reaction, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I’ve been teasing you this whole time about being so experienced, and I… I’m sorry, that must have made you so uncomfortable, I didn’t… I just assumed. I shouldn’t have. Maggie, I’m so sorry. But… can I ask you something?”

Maggie nods because something in her throat might be broken.

“Do you really want me, or do you just… are you just trying to give me something you think I want? And I mean I do. Want it. Want you. But only if you do.”

“No, I… I want… I want you. Alex. I… I’ve never… I don’t get attracted to people. Sexually. If I don’t… know them, if I don’t feel a certain way for them, I…”

She stammers off, because what kind of loser tells someone they love them before sleeping with them? How pathetic can she get?

But Alex’s eyes are light, are happiness, are reciprocal, and Alex’s touch is gentle, and Alex’s lips press against her own so slightly, so carefully, it’s like they’ve never kissed before but she wants to for the rest of her life.

“So you’re saying you like me? Enough to want me.”

“Danvers – ”

“Cause that works perfectly for me. Because I like you, too, Maggie Sawyer. Enough to want you.” Her eyes drag down Maggie’s body, slow and steady and hungry, but also… reverent, somehow. Maggie’s heart contorts into fireworks. “All of you.”

Maggie forgets what breathing is, and her heart’s never raced like this before, but Alex’s hands are warm and comforting on her cheeks, and god, does she want those hands all over her body.

“So take me. All of me.”

Alex grins like it’s Christmas morning – or maybe Chanukah, Maggie’s not sure what the equivalent would be, and makes a mental note to ask her later – and then all thought exhales out of Maggie’s body because Alex is up and Alex is tugging her up, too, and Alex is carrying her to bed, all the while kissing her, kissing her, kissing her like she’s oxygen, and she is, god, she is.

“Alex,” Maggie breathes as Alex lays her down, careful to put a pillow under her head, careful to not put all her weight on top of her, and Alex stops immediately, concern back in her eyes.

“Too much? I’m sorry, we can stop, or slow down, I’m sorry, I just… I’ve been wanting to do this,” she husks, her eyes again raking down Maggie’s body, like they did after she first kissed her in the bar, and the path of her eyes ignites heat in Maggie’s core that no one’s ever made her feel before and no, no, no, it’s not too fast.

Because it’s not fast enough.

“Kiss me,” she begs, and Alex grins again, and Alex complies, and Maggie shifts so her thigh is between Alex’s legs, and Alex tosses her head back and she moans and she looks down into Maggie’s eyes like she’s the entire universe, because she is.

“You are so beautiful,” she says, and one of her hands traces up Maggie’s shirt. “I want… I want to feel your skin. On mine.”

Maggie nods and Alex slips off her, shucking off her own shirt and watching as Maggie does the same, watching as Maggie arches her hips off the bed and tugs down her jeans as Alex kneels and mirrors the action.

“Wait,” Maggie asks as Alex reaches for her own bra clasp, eyes still on Maggie’s. “May I?”

“Yeah.” Alex voice is ragged and wrecked and Maggie imagines hers sounds about the same.

She gasps softly when Alex’s bra slips down her shoulders, and Alex bites her lip.

“Don’t be nervous, you… you’re perfect, Alex. You are so fucking gorgeous.”

“Can I?” is all Alex says in response, nodding at Maggie’s chest, and it’s Maggie’s turn to bite her own lip, because her heart is slamming so damn hard but she nods because yes, yes, yes, please.

Alex smirks when she unhooks Maggie’s bra in one try, and Maggie scowls but gives a laugh that turns into an excited gasp when Alex leans back down on top of her, both now wearing nothing but their underwear, Maggie in boxers, Alex in boyshorts.

The difference in the heat between their legs without their jeans; the difference between being shirtless and topless; the difference between being nearly naked and mostly clothed, makes both of them freeze, makes both of them stare, makes both of them shake.

“I love you,” Maggie breathes at the same moment that Alex says the same, and Alex drops her forehead to Maggie’s as they both giggle, as they both exhale in shaky relief, as tears prick both of their eyes.

“May I… I want to make love to you, Alex.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Good then.”

They have to stop every few moments, every few touches, to catch their breath. To avoid hyperventilating with excitement, with nerves, with new sensations, with overwhelming need. And each time they do, they kiss; each time they do, they stare into each other’s eyes; each time they do, they ask if the other needs to stop;  each time they do, they giggle slightly with relief, with shared nerves, shared excitement, shared exhilaration; each time they do, they press their foreheads together and breathe. Just breathe.

When their need to have skin on skin outweighs their fears, outweighs their nerves, so that they’re completely naked, Alex freezes, and Maggie freezes, and Alex holds most of her weight up on her left arm while interlacing her right hand through Maggie’s fingers.

“All good?”

“This feels perfect. You?”

“I want you so bad.”

“So do something about it instead of talking about it, Danvers.”

They both giggle at that, but Alex swallows their soft laughter in the ferocity of her next kiss, her eagerness to live up to Maggie’s teasing challenge.

Her teeth graze Maggie’s throat, her tongue traces her collarbone, her lips claim one of her nipples. Maggie screams and Alex pauses, and a tear streams down Maggie’s cheek and Alex crawls up to kiss it, to kiss her, before Maggie shakes her head and pushes her head back down.

“Please don’t get all soft on me now, Danvers,” she teases, and Alex grins wickedly instead of pointing out that Maggie’s crying – it would be a useless argument, because she’s got tears in her own eyes, too – and she occupies herself again with Maggie’s breasts, knowing that yep, yep, yep, she’s definitely gay, and she’s definitely gone completely soft on this woman.

She slips one of her thighs between Maggie’s legs tentatively, and when Maggie lets out a gasp that’s more of a scream, she freezes again, but Maggie just raises one of her own legs so Alex has pressure between hers, too. And it’s Alex’s turn to gasp, to scream, and they keep their eyes locked as Maggie arches her hips up, as Alex arches her hips down, each riding the other’s thigh slow, soft, frictionless.

Frictionless, because, “Damn Danvers, you’re so wet,” and “Never for anyone but you, Sawyer,” and “Same, Alex. Same.”

They arch their hips harder, faster, both of Alex’s hands now holding Maggie’s down against the mattress, fingers interlaced, Maggie nodding constantly to let Alex know yes, yes, yes, and when the muscles in Alex’s back tense with her orgasm, she screams Maggie’s name and her eyes squeeze shut and that image, that sound, that feeling of how wet Alex is all over Maggie’s thigh, that feeling of Alex’s body hot and sweating and firm on top of her, of Alex’s leg between hers, giving her all the pressure in all the right places, sends Maggie over her own edge, with Alex’s name on her own lips, but softly, softly, softly, sending up a perfect harmony with Alex’s louder screams.

“Maggie,” Alex whispers as they both come back down, as she untangles their fingers and lifts her body to make sure she doesn’t collapse her entire weight onto Maggie’s, resting her forehead on Maggie’s collarbone, breathing, breathing, breathing.

“Was that okay?” she asks, and it’s tears, not just sweat, on Maggie’s face.

And, she realizes with a start, on her own, too.

“More than okay, Danvers. You?”

“Yeah. Definitely yeah. Uh… was that something you’d… wanna do again?”

“With you, Alex? Definitely yeah.”

Discourse: Why everyone should watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine

- Amy and Rosa aren’t presented as the stereotypes of what a “Latina” woman is supposed to be like and they aren’t sexualized by their male co-workers.

- All three of the women in the main cast are allowed to unapologetically be themselves:

  • Amy is presented as being a nerd because she’s very meticulous about her work and being organized. Her co-workers might sometimes give her a hard time about how nerdy she can be, but it’s never done in a malicious way and it’s always traced with affection.
  • Rosa Diaz is one of the only female characters that I can think of who is allowed to have a rough exterior without having some tragic backstory. She doesn’t like people and she doesn’t always express her feelings easily. Her co-workers never demonize her for it and they get that it takes a while to get Rosa to open up.
  • Gina. Freaking. Linetti. Never have I seen a female character that is allowed to be as cocky and self-absorbed as her. She’s confident in who she is and she knows she’s fabulous. You love her for it. You aspire to have her level of confidence.

- Charles Boyle is such an innocent and kind-hearted person who is a great friend. They easily could’ve presented him as the weird guy who thinks he’s Jake’s best friend and just can’t take a hint. But, Jake embraces his quirkiness and they truly are best friends who would do anything for each other.

- Terry Jeffords and Ray Holt are two black men who run the precinct as sergeant and captain. They are respected by the detectives who work below them and they are shown to be very caring of the people they work with.

- There’s also the fact that Holt is gay and it’s never presented as a huge plot point. It’s just a normal thing that everyone at the precinct is cool with. Also, his relationship with his husband Kevin is adorable. <3

- Jake. Motherfucking. Peralta. The man who has ruined my standards that I look for in a future boyfriend/husband. He is so far from being the typical White GuyTM and he has such a big heart made of gold. He has nothing but the upmost respect for his female co-workers and he always treats them as equals, even praising them for the times when they are better than him at solving a case. At the start of the show he was a bit selfish, but his development over the seasons has been amazing.

- Female friendships between Rosa, Gina, and Amy!!!!!! Women helping and supporting each other!!!!!!

- Friendships between male and female co-workers!!!!!! That don’t turn romantic!!!!!

- The fact that the show addresses the corruption in the law enforcement system. They show cops that are bad and don’t deserve to wear the uniform or hold a badge, and show that the main characters hate them and think they’re the worst. The show also addresses serious issues such as racial profiling.

- The show relies heavily on the comedic aspect and it’s so funny, and the writers never use crude or offensive humor.

- Jake and Amy’s relationship is one of the best that I’ve seen on television. It’s slow burn, but it’s totally worth the wait. This is one of the best examples of a healthy relationship presented in fiction and they are so pure and sweet.

Just please watch this show. It’s available for streaming on Hulu, and I know of a Tumblr blog (@hd-source) that has all of the episodes available.

No fuck this. A black woman, who has built an entire career on only outdoing herself, who shut down every avenue of the music scene, was pitted against a white woman, who, while is INSANELY talented in her own right, but didn’t exactly break the musical ground, just LOST AN AWARD THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HANDED TO HER ON A SILVER PLATTER! And the fact that she won the fucking URBAN award that I have literally never heard of before is just so fucking disgusting. Beyoncé is an artist. She is a ground breaker. She is what DEFINES THE MUSIC INDUSTRY! She. Creates. How. The industry works. I’m so furious right now.

The fact that the award had to be a tribute to an alive, capable, AMAZING, INDUSTRY DEFYING, black woman, instead of genuinely won by her is disgusting.

anonymous asked:

sorta crackish prompt, one of those autofill google search interviews w supergirl

It had started innocently enough, a news reporter at the scene of an easily foiled bank heist had waved Kara over with a friendly smile, promising to ask a quick few questions. 

Then, suddenly, Kara was in a chair in front of a camera, talking live to anyone with their TV on channel 7. The friendly reporter had settled in, making Kara think that their definitions of “just a few” might be a little different. She didn’t mind though, without her job at Catco, Kara was a full time hero, so maybe Supergirl could afford to do a bit more publicity.

And then there were cards.

“Do you know what these are? Have you seen one of these types of interviews,” The news woman asked politely, holding up a poster with a handful of half covered google searches. 

Kara scanned the cardboard, all of the questions had ‘Supergirl’ in the uncovered part. “Oh! This is one of those things where we look at most popular google questions and I answer them, right?”

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Noble Reign

Ch.1 Mytic Messenger Middle Ages AU

|Ch. 2| |Ch. 3|

Author’s Note: It finally happened. I’m so sorry it took me such a long time to finish it, but I’m so proud to present you the Mystic Messenger Middle Ages AU! ^^ I have absolutely no idea if anyone will read this but I had so much fun writing it and I will definitely continue updating it. Keep in mind that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. Nevertheless, I hope y’all enjoy it. Please feel free to leave any sort of comments or message me; I would love to write some headcanons for this AU and I like to integrate your ideas as well.

I also want to give special thanks to @promiscuous-jalapeno for giving me advice and encouraging me in my writing. If you should ever read this, I hope you’ll enjoy it as well. <3

Wordcount: 3,247


“A long time ago, there existed a great kingdom that was ruled by two brothers. Their names were Jaehyun and Jaekwang.

The brothers were loved by their people and everyone lived together in harmony. But one day, Jaekwang desired the sole control over the kingdom and rebelled against his brother.

With soldiers at his command, he imprisoned his brother and spread misery across the kingdom. For a long time the kingdom was ruled by bitterness and people were living in fear.

But then, when all hope had died and the hour of doom seemed at hand, a girl appeared as if from nowhere. With fire burning in her soul and magic running through her veins, she defeated Jaekwang and freed his brother.

In anger, she divided the kingdom in half by forcing water and earth between the villages. A grand river and high mountains were now separating Jaekwang and Jaehyun.

Pleased with her work, the girl vanished and was never seen again. Over time, the two brothers created different kingdoms, one ruled by fear and one ruled by strength.

Generations passed and so did the girl’s tale. The kingdoms became enemies and the tale became legend. They say that someday, the girl will come back to reunite the kingdoms in peace and harmony again but until then the kingdoms remain in discord.”

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