anchor end

6

“And who, I wonder, is Quill when she’s free?” - “I am war itself.”

They say they hate it, but I think they love it.
—  Robert Singer on fans not liking bad character decisions but watching still after the fact (via SDCC 2016: https://youtu.be/P4RV-CeBdUs)

Friendship is a difficult thing to put into words, no less so than love is (and, really, sometimes the two flow into one another, with the boundaries growing smudged and hazy). But many of those that, in a multitude of different timelines and alternative realities, have been Marked by the Anchor, and ended up leading the Inquisition, still do try. And sometimes, they even succeed - for they have a treasure trove of memories at their disposal; a whole wondrous archive to choose from, leafing through the cherished entries and juxtaposing them against this curious word. Friendship.


Friendship is when the Iron Bull looks away from the smoking wreckage of the dreadnought, before the frothing grey jaws of the sea are quite finished munching it up, and his boss, Issala Adaar, rests her hand over his thick, pale-scarred arm, and does not let go throughout his conversation with Gatt; this one last talk with one who was once his brother, which dooms him to a life of an outcast, unwanted and despised, a Tal-Vashoth like her. She does not let go - and he knows why. He has looked into her background (because of course he has, being a Ben-Ha… being who he once was). She used to be a junior Tamassran, this big, soft woman with a huge burn mark on her cheek and Antivan-made adornments on her horns. She defied the Qun when the Arvaraad came to chain one of her favourite students, a little girl who turned out to be a Saar… a mage. The girl died, in an explosion of magic that warped Issala’s skin - but she still defended her to the last, choosing her over the Qun. Because that girl was family - just like the Chargers are family. Just like the Inquisition is family. This is what Bull thinks of, when Issala holds on to him - and glancing up at her, he reads an affirmation of this in her eyes, bright-yellow and speckled with Fade green, and brimming over with silent tears. Breathing in the powdery drizzle, he grunts a brisk ‘Thanks, boss’ - which would seem weird to an outsider, for sure (thanking her for touching him? for getting weepy?), but is not weird to them. Because this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Varric settles more comfortably on the makeshift bench by the side of a roaring fire and flaps his hand against the splintering wood, as a welcoming gesture to the Herald, Nakamoa Lavellan, nicknamed Nana by the children she would often baby-sit back in her clan, before a herb-gathering mission gone wrong resulted in her stumbling on the Conclave and being appointed by a bunch of shemlen as their goddess… or something. She accepts the invitation eagerly, crackling her joins and stretching her throbbing weary limbs, as she fire’s warmth swaddles her in a fuzzy, protective blanket. And suddenly, it strikes her that this is what a hahren would do - an older elf, weary and perhaps a little downcast after seeing too many years rustle by, like dry leaves carried by the sad, grey autumn wind. After that thought, comes a second one: she not only acts like a hahren, she feels like one. Mournful over something she has lost but can never regain. Which… Which is not like her at all. She used to be so cheerful, so full of jokes and songs to amuse and delight and soothe her precious little da'len flock; and now, she is oddly empty on the inside, with a drab veil cast over her eyes and draining the world around her of half its colour; even the supposedly dazzling golden fire somehow looks faded, muted to her, more like a picture of a fire in an old book than an actual cheerfully crackling blaze. Startled by this change within herself, she cannot help frowning - and when Varric asks her what’s wrong, she explains it to him as best she can, though not as much for the sake of informing the dwarf of her troubles (she does not expect him to care, to be honest) as for helping herself figure out her feelings by putting them into words. But, to her astonishment, the dwarf does care; he gives her an earnest, sincere nod, and lifts his short arm to pat her on the back. 'Yeah,’ he says gravely. 'It’s hard to be all sunshine and sparkles when the world is drowning in demon shit and your old friends are scattered all over the place, putting themselves in Maker alone knows what kind of crazy danger… But you know what - sometimes you gotta pretend that you are still the same, still with a roguish twinkle in your eye and a smug smirk on your lips… Because if you don’t… You might just fall apart’. And after she is finished talking, Nana edges closer to him and silently squeezes his hand, a tiny voice in her mind murmuring that she just might find all this Fade-induced insanity a little bit more bearable with this dwarf around. And that this - this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Saarath Adaar, a blue-eyed, unsettlingly rake-thin Qunari with sawn-off horns and stitching scars around her mouth, glides like a wraith among the creaking cots where the wounded soldiers toss and turn, their breaths like gusts of scorching summer wind. She kneels next to each of them, whipping back the long silvery braid that keeps dangling down and getting in the way, and gloves her hands in gently chiming healing magic - a refreshing autumn rain that brings an end to the sweltering heat. Very often, far more often than she could possibly have hoped, her spellcraft does take effect, and the soldier opens their heavy, swollen eyelids, the dim feverish glaze lifted off their eyes, and, fingering weakly at the gnarled stretch of healed-up skin that once used to burn like a splash of lava, mumbles a husky thank-you. This always makes Saarath tear up with joy, while a disembodied voice chants rhythmically somewhere from behind her back, 'Whole, healthy, happy, all by my hand. The hand that used to be stiff and cold and wilted, drowning in icy chains like a nest of snakes. They bound my hands because they thought I was going to do harm, to hiss curses and hurtle magic and hurt, hurt, hurt people unless I was stopped. But I have learned that, apart from hurting, I can undo the hurt caused by others. I am not a dangerous thing any more’. And every time it speaks to her - of her, but also of itself - Saarath looks up and opens her palm, beckoning the voice’s owner to hold her hand. And he always comes to her, stepping out of nothingness, the rim of his oversized hat flapping in the breeze like the sail of a ship, and slips her fingers into his. He is not quite sure what it means, but it helps her do her helping, so he is only too glad to oblige. And they complete the rest of their round side by side, a former Saarebas and an odd spirit boy, seldom speaking but feeling wonderfully soothed by each other’s presence. Because this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Vivienne strides through the merchant galleries of Val Royeaux, arm in arm with a lanky, blonde, tattooed elf, and shoots a petrifying icy glare at any masked gossiper who, not having recognized her companion as Arryn Lavellan, the chosen of Andraste, starts whispering that the high-class clothing stores are not the proper place to bring a knife-ear to. With an impeccably refined smile and a carefully balanced dose of honey and venom poured into her words, the Imperial Enchantress navigates the world of Orlesian fashion, having the traders roll out their finest fabrics, puff small roseate clouds of their sweetest perfumes, and even fish out a coveted little box of dazzling glitter (with actual gold dust mixed in), because 'darling, surely you have not forgotten the favour you owe me’. And when she is done, when the series of dives into dressing rooms is complete, Arryn emerges transformed, with his wiry frame swathed in glimmering silks, a fluffy weather from his dashingly cocked hat curling round his shoulders, and just a few dashes of make-up highlighting his pale eyes… But not hiding his ritual markings, oh no - he is going to flaunt them proudly in the face of every Orlesian he comes across! His poor old Keeper and mentor would probably have a heart attack if she saw him like this, dressed up more lavishly than all shems she has seen in her lifetime combined; but her reaction would be nothing compared to the outraged hisses of the same faceless dolls they passed on their way in. A rabbit - and a godless mage, no less! - walking among humans as an equal! Spending his gold on the things he likes, like a normal person! How dare he! How dare he! Yes, he dares - he dares to enjoy himself, to treat himself to the little pleasures of luxury, without cowering fearfully away from human clothing, as though he had touched that does not belong to him. He dares to mingle with the 'proper society’, and to challenge the shemlen, one and all, to a match of their own Game, which he will win with flying colours. Because he has been taught by the best, by the master of rising above the people who despise you for what you are, and making them bow in respect instead. By Vivienne. Who is now watching him saunter triumphantly through Val Royeaux with a little smirk of pride. Because this is what friendship is, is it not?


Friendship is when Solas catches himself smiling when he watches a swarm of curious spirits flutter round Kulak Cadash, the Dwarven Herald who, after accidentally tapping into the power of the Fade, has gained an ability to experience dreams, utterly unexpected, and thoroughly baffling, if you were to judge by the blank, loose-jawed, bulgy-eyed face he made when he first saw 'sodding pictures in his head’. But that was long ago; now, with Solas’ help, the child of the Stone has begun to adjust to the journeys along the winding path of visions. And sometimes, he actually enjoys dreaming, especially when, after pestering Solas with demands to 'introduce him to this joint’s good crowd’, he gets to meet friendly spirits, which, in turn, are irresistibly drawn to someone so alien to their native realm (even the most passive ones cannot but stir at the approach of someone so bafflingly solid). Given Kulak’s gruff, pointedly rude demeanour, and his tendency to flaunt his physical strength and past feats of violence, Solas has to admit to being briefly concerned that interacting with him would twist the spirits’ nature, and turn them into malevolent, demonic entities that would reflect the dwarf’s key negative traits (which have so very often infuriated his elven companion). Like the flaring, lava-like Rage, and its many-faced varieties: Cruelty, Aggression, Bloodlust… But, as it turns out, he needn’t have worried: no matter how much time this brutish Carta thug spends around spirits, they remain unchanged. They are still the same Kindness and Faith and Hope; their aura is still pure and untainted, and they allow the dwarf to bask in its tingling radiance, raining white and green sparks over his outstretched arms, while he grins happily and listens with reverent attention to the stories they choose go tell him, sometimes using his imagination to crown the spirits’ heads with flower chains, because this delights him so. He is less loud in the Fade, less brash and short-tempered - less like the roughly chiselled image of his kind that Solas has had in his mind. And frankly, he is uncertain how to feel about this; he is uncertain that it is a good thing, this smile that touches his lips when he hears Kulak chuckle and call the spirits 'you cute little green ghost children’. Things will be more difficult now, once he regains his stolen Focus and prepares to use it for its true purpose; this discomforts him greatly - but as this hour has not yet come, for now at least he can allow himself a brief moment of idyll, teaching the Marked dwarf the ways of the Fade and looking on fondly at his games with spirits. After all, this is what friendship is - or so he heard.


Friendship is when Maaras Adaar, a hornless Vashothari mercenary who has spent most of his life with a full-faced helmet concealing his features, so as to fit in better among humans, tosses that protective metal mask aside, earning himself an approving hoot from Sera. Inhaling deeply, he tilts his head back, and lets the fresh evening breeze caress his skin, while his eyes travel with a content idleness over the rooftops of Skyhold, which are bathed in the the liquid gold river streaming from the setting sun. His mouth is still full of lumpy, half-raw, half-charred cookie dough, which he just holds over his tongue, not quite ready to bring himself to swallow. But even though this lump in his mouth is far from savoury, it does not ruin the moment for him. Because the cookies’ taste does not really matter - what matters is the little figure of the one who tried to bake there ridiculous things for him, cross-legged and rocking back and forth precariously on the roof’s very edge. Maaras knows about Sera’s history with the baker and the woman who raised her; he knows that, like him, she has been taught to hate herself for what she is, to squeeze out every last bit of 'elfiness’ out of herself, just like he has been trying to squeeze out all of his… 'Qunariness’, to pass himself as an exceptionally tall human, to keep a distance from his horned, glaringly grey-skinned family members - who, even as Vashoth, still clung on to some remnants of Qunari culture and customs, and were the ones that tossed the nickname Maaras after him when he left, as an insult and a warning. A weighted word that means both 'alone’ and 'no-one’. And for the longest time, he has, indeed, felt that he is no-one, racked on the inside by guilt over being born the way he is; just the way Sera has, he suspects. She does not like to stop and think about things, this impatient little girl, never the quietest, never the gentlest - but if she did, she would have discovered that she and Maaras are very much alike. For her, baking cookies again, going from 'pride cookies’ to 'Inquisition cookies’, is the same as embracing his Qunari name (after years of going under 'Martin’) has been for him - along with taking off his helmet and showing his face. His true face. He still cannot swallow the cookies - but he nods enthusiastically when Sera remarks, 'It’s good, innit? We’re good!’ and ponders to himself if this is what friendship is.


Friendship is when Maedhros Lavellan, a stern, reticent Dalish mage with deep lines etched into his weather-worn skin and threads of silver glinting in his long ginger hair, comes down to the stables, carving tools under his arm, and spends the afternoon in the company of the man he has come to know as Blackwall. They both work their craft in silence - and for them, it is not the least bit awkward or constraining or boring. For it is not a tense silence - not the same kind of silence that they used like a heavy pall to shroud their past regrets, the shameful tales of a Keeper whose negligence resulted in the death of his whole clan, and a fugitive soldier for hire who once looked upon his men as they chopped through the doors of a carriage to reach for the children that hid quivering inside, their morbidly cheerful song about a bird that sees dead people cut to an abrupt, bloody end. No - this silence is not like a concealing pall; it is more like a pillar, for it supports them both, and bolsters their strength for the next day, which they will likely face in battle side by side. Two grizzled, world-weary men who shall be forever tainted by the unwashable splatters of blood - and yet still press on, fighting for the good of the whole world, always coming to each other’s aid should their quest turn too dangerous. And this silence of theirs is a pact that reaffirms this. Their silence is friendship.


Friendship is when Naali Adaar, a brawny, rough-voiced Vashoth woman who used to run a mercenary company (inherited from her mother, or so Leliana’s files say) prior to getting 'roped into’ the Inquisition, works together with Cassandra to pitch up the tents for a brief reprieve on their journey through the blighted wastelands, stripped down almost to their smalls in order not to completely melt away in the fiery maw of the desert - while the men in their adventuring party look on at them from afar, dazedly admiring their sculpted muscles and the bold dashes of scars across their sweating flesh. When their task is complete, they shake each other’s hand with a wordless nod of appreciation, and lower themselves on a not-so-scathingly-hot boulder in the shade, leaving the men to complete the rest of the work around the campsite. Slanting her eyes in distaste at the damp spot under her arm, Naali grouses, 'All these waterfall thingies are well and good, but I am so pestering Josie to arrange one of them proper baths when we get back home…’ - and then claps her mouth shut, stunned by her own choice of words. 'Home’… She has never been at home anywhere, not really; more like, floated about all sorts of weird far-off place where her work took her, shunned and pointed at with fear and disgust whenever she went. And from what she can gather, Cassandra - who is an absolute bloody delight to carve shit up with, honest! - has been feeling this way too. Like Naali, she has known little in life apart from her work, not taking root anywhere like a stern-faced tumbleweed. Which is why Naali is ready to let out the stupidest, the most shameful girlish scream when Cassandra holds her stupefied gaze and says in agreement, 'Yes, I suppose Skyhold has become rather like a home to us, hasn’t it? Books… Books always say that home is where one’s friends are, and it… it could be true’. Well, Naali is not a fan of mushy fluttering nonsense (the only difference between herself and Cassandra that she can think of) - but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t agree this once. Home is where your friends are. And this thing they have going right here - it’s friendship.


Friendship is when Dorian, on the way to the tavern, to both shock and dull his senses with the slurpy swill they call mead, stops in his tracks and comes over to offer a comforting embrace to young Cassia, a small, short-sighted, bushy-eyebrowed Laetan that apparently travelled south as an unobtrusive junior scribe in Erimond’s entourage, only to wake up - quite in a storybook fashion - after a mysterious blackout with her hand ripped up by the glowing Anchor that her boss’s master covets so much. She is very weepy, the poor child - and, while Dorian gets more than mildly annoyed by it on occasion, he can understand why her tear ducts are so easy to disturb. Sneered at for her origins and pushed out of the way by her 'betters’ all her life, Cassia is finding the weight of her lofty mission far too much for her fragile shoulders. And add to that the insults she has to endure on a daily basis, for being an 'evil Tevinter’. Dorian can shrug those off with his enviable, effortless elegance - but he cannot pretend that they do not sting. This is why, whenever he sees Cassia crying, he abandons whatever he has been doing, and offers that tactile comfort that seems to be a bit of a tradition among the lower classes. 'Hush now, puella,’ he murmurs to her, playfully ruffling her clumsily cut hair (not quite as much a disaster as Sera’s, but still pretty close). 'These hilarious bumpkins may seriously believe that you and I drink the blood of the infants for breakfast, but we both know it isn’t true. So why don’t we go on with this marvellous day, our heads held high with the thought that we are better than all those cardboard cut-out magisters they scare their children with?’. And when Cassia repeats breathlessly after him 'We are better’, he finds himself thinking how splendid it would have been if Felix had lived long enough to get to know this silly sniffling child better, and what an incredible world-saving Tevinter crew they would all have made… And there is a soft pang in his heart that knocks the wind out of him for a fleeting moment - a shot of pain that is both bitter and yet strangely sweet. Which, he supposes, is what friendship is in general. Bittersweet.

2

Nick Joaquin once said that Filipinos have this tendency to build things and group together and eventually collapse. … Here’s one guy who’s trying to bring things together but the natural tendency of the Filipino nation is to be in pieces. - Jerrold Tarog, director (Heneral Luna, 2015)

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned - A (mostly) coherent rant!

There’s a reason why that ancient adage still holds weight. Because it’s true.

There is not a creature more dangerous, more deadly or more destructive on earth than a woman who hungers for vengeance. When she thirsts for blood, she will do whatever it takes to make a river of red flow. When she wants justice, she will do whatever it takes to see it is meted out. And when she wants to protect her own, she will do whatever it takes to protect her own and god save anyone who even dares defy her.

She will make you bleed with a smile on her face and wine in her hand.

This entire episode, all of it, made me see that side of Felicity completely for the first time. Digg is her brother and friend, and someone messed with him. She ate them alive.

We’d been getting glimpses of her struggle with the darkness inside her, her moral dilemmas, her swinging decision, but for the first time, I saw her accept, embrace and glory in her darkness.

It was fucking beautiful.

Keep reading

Kiss Me Again

So, I’m not supposed to be writing fanfiction since I have three deadlines coming up for my original work. But this little drabble about Dan Egan and Amy Brookheimer from Veep just wouldn’t leave me alone today. So, since it will probably be completely joss-ed by Sunday’s episode, here is a little drabble about Dan and Amy’s upcoming meeting in the next episode. Under a cut for mild spoilers (all contained in the Veep Season 6 trailer). Hope you enjoy!



Backstage, early morning, Dan’s dressing room at CBS This Morning.

Dan sprawled in the chair, letting the makeup artist flutter around, not even making a token protest against the staggering amount of bronzer she slapped on his face. He drummed his fingers on his chair arm and his heart hammered in his chest, as he flipped through the notes on the interviews that day and the overnight news. But only one thing mattered.


Today was the day he interviewed that bolero tie wearing hayseed who Amy was going to get elected governor of Nevada.


A sharp pain shot through his jaw and he unclenched his teeth, molar by molar. If Amy was going to get anyone elected, it was supposed to be him, Dan Egan, not that desert idiot. Instead, Dan ended up anchoring a morning news show and playing second fiddle to an insane cougar while Amy rode off into the sunset with Buddy and his stupid Stetson. It wasn’t fair!


“Okay, let’s go over these questions.” Amy strode in, wearing a beige shirt dress designed to make her sexless and invisible. It failed spectacularly on both counts. She’d gained a bit of weight out in the desert, all of it in her amazing tits. Dan managed to only peek twice—okay three times. He’d never claimed to be a saint, after all. 


“Get out.” He snapped at the makeup artist who fled, closing the door behind her, before spinning in his chair to greet Amy. “Hey there, pumpkin.”


“Danny.” Amy gave him a curt little nod of her head before returning to the sheaf of papers in her hand. “Let’s go over these questions.”


“I’m the interviewer. I ask the questions.” Standing, he snatched the papers out of her hands and tossed them on the makeup table before advancing on her. “I saw your boyfriends’ little dashcam debut. How does it feel to be the girlfriend of a tawdry celebrity?”


“Fiancee.” Amy held up her left hand where a small diamond solitaire sparkled. Dan felt a rush of possessive, primal rage rock through him. He tamped it down quickly. It wouldn’t do to lose his head this early in their reunion. If she and that dimwit had progressed to diamonds already, this is more serious than he thought. Dan needed to play to win and, as Amy had always been his most worthy opponent, he needed to concentrate. 


“Mazel Tov.” Dan snapped. “But it can’t be you that corn-fed idiot is talking about in that grainy drunken rant, can it?”


Her shoulders tightened, nearly passing her earlobes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”


“He must not be satisfying you very well.” Dan crowded her against the far wall, careful not to touch her. When her back touched the wall, her chin came up, her blue eyes wary. His brave little spitfire. She was wasted on Buddy Calhoun.


“I believe he told the world I wasn’t satisfying him.”


Even as Dan recognized her deflection tactic of saying the worst thing before the other side could, he couldn’t bear the bleak hurt in her eyes. Instead of going in for the kill shot,  he cupped her face, his thumb stroking over the soft skin of her cheek. “He’s a fool in a bolero tie. He’d be nothing without you.”


“Oh, I don’t do that much. I just lie there, after all.”


“The thing is, I don’t remember it that way.” Dan stepped closer, her warmth washing over his front. The spicy scent of her perfume mixed with the sweet scent of her hair, the familiar scent making Dan’s heart twist even as desire arrowed through him. She took a deep, shuttering breath, her full, chest brushing his jacket but she didn’t move away.  “I remember plenty of passion between us.”


“Still haven’t learned to tell when a woman is faking, Danny?”


“I remember you screaming my name when you—”  


Her fingers pressed against his mouth. “Enough of your delusional fantasy, Danny.”


He stroked his thumb over her cheek again before bending close to her, his breath mingling with hers. Her hand slid around to cup the back of his head. Slowly, he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nipping gently before raising his head. It wasn’t a kiss, it was a challenge. 


He looked into her eyes, watching them darken to cobalt. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then another, before she moaned, low and deep in her throat. Her small hand clutched the back of his neck before she pulled his head down, smashing their lips together, her tongue invading his mouth. For long seconds, they devoured each other, lost in the passion between them.


Slowly, the kiss softened into them tasting and teasing each other. He groaned, low and deep, as his hands slid down to cup her bottom, showing her without words what she did to him. Her hips rocked against him once and then again, before she tore her mouth away from his. Without warning, she shoved him away, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth. 

“That never happened,” Amy said, just a slight tremor underlying her voice.


“It just did.”


“It won’t happen again.” Amy headed for the door and wrenched it open.


“I missed you too, Ames.” Dan said softly but she didn’t turn around and he was left to just watch her walk away.

Again.

Pirate!Jimin

I finally wrote pirate!Jimin !!!! I’m so excited bc I’ve had this concept in my head for so long so now I finally wrote it so without further ado, here is the first half of the Busan princes, an absolute angel with the sweetest smile, Park Jimin aka chim chim (this post is once again a bit link heavy but as always, there are all tumblr links, you don’t have to click on any of them they’re just some nice ass visuals)

  • Is this a fucking Little Mermaid AU this may be idek all I know is that it sounds cute
  • BLACK HAIR JIMIN
  • Lil Eric looking ass looks so good I mean co m e o n (this one’s a fan art but that shit fucks me up)
  • Jimin can pull off pretty much any hair color and it’s extremely confusing but I’m here for it bc get yourself a man that can pull off blonde hair as easily as he can pull off black hair
  • Dyes his hair orange once and hobi keeps making jokes about how Jimin’s here to fight off scurvy and Jimin’s never regretted a hair color so much so quickly
  • So there were s o fucking many good options for the outfits so here’s just a bunch of options bc this is just me pointing out how g o o d Jimin looks 24/7
  • Now pair that up with the black hair and a sword at his hip and any of those outfits and tell me that doesn’t sound fucking nice
  • Jimin would be in charge of a couple things, he’s mainly in charge of keeping an eye on everyone, he’s closer to the title of a second mate than a first mate bc I feel like he would handle more of the injuries and keeping everyone healthy
  • Jimin’s s o caring and so loving and sweet and he’s always there to comfort the boys when they’re hurt or upset and I just I know that he would do so well with being in charge of that shit bc he already does it naturally
  • I also feel like he’d handle a bit of the training when it comes to fighting/protecting like just plz just picture Jimin teaching everyone how to fight using a sword and like lowkey fencing bc geT READY FOR THE BACK STORY
  • The boys first meet Jimin bc they’re looking to add to their crew before they set sail together for the first time and they want someone who will be able to defend their ship so they start asking around, they do a bit of digging and they find out that Jimin is a fencing student and that he’s at the top of his class and does all of these competitions and wins a bunch of them
  • And then once they get to know him, there’s that immediate friendship and he points them in Jungkook’s direction as well bc you don’t get one without the other man Jikook isn’t about to just have one half go sailing around the world
  • Once they’re both of board, Jimin starts instructing everyone bc tbh he was already at the point of helping out the teachers with the younger students, that’s something he really loved doing so when the boys asked if he would teach them, he jumped on the opportunity
  • He’s one of the members that no one believes packs a punch until it’s too late
  • He’s got those lil cheeks or that precious smile and he definitely uses it to his advantage whenever he needs to bc he’s a lil flirt when he wants to be and he’s super charming and basically no one ever looks at him and goes “threat”
  • That is until he’s sailing away on their ship and leaving them in just a lifeboat, then their attitude changes a bit
  • Okay so here’s the Little Mermaid reference
  • You’re a mermaid
  • You’re constantly seeing Jimin’s ship floating around, you’re always hearing them talk and laugh and sing and dance and just be goofs that probably shouldn’t have been given swords
  • At first you ignore it bc plenty of ships are in the sea every single day, you see that shit all the time, it’s nothing new and it’s better for everyone if you just avoid investigating bc then you don’t have to deal with the humans freaking out over the possibility of a mermaid
  • But then Jimin falls into the water and all of your nice lil plans of ignoring them go right out the window
  • It’s around three or four in the morning all of the boys are asleep except for Jimin, who just got up to make sure the anchor was down and that they weren’t secretly floating away from their destination
  • While he’s leaning down to see if the anchor was released, he ends up slipping up on some water bc ya boy is a bit clumsy he’s graceful as shit with his clumsiness though so he saves himself (I still don’t fucking understand how he was able to manage to slip and land in the splits so effortlessly someone explain that to me plz and thnx)
  • You can’t tell if he’s able to swim or not bc all you can see are the kicking feet and him yelling for the boys but you just can’t sit back and wait for him to either get pulled up or pulled down so you have to swim up and help keep him afloat until the boys can get him back up
  • Once he’s back on the boat, he goes to thank you but you’re already gone bc humans and mermaids aren’t normally a good mix so might as well just save the dude and leave
  • But then you come back the next night to “make sure he doesn’t fall again” even though you really just wanna see if you can figure out his name and get a better look at his face when he isn’t shivering from the cold water
  • He notices you and at first he wants to say something but then he just gives you a lil smile that warms your heart and it turns into this mutual hey thanks for saving me/thanks for not commenting on my tail that you totally felt and saw
  • And the next night, you’re telling each other your names and you’re telling him more about the whole tail thing and he tells you about his legs and you’re both really giggly and you’re so confused as to how he’s a pirate it’s like how can a lil puppy be a wolf
  • You get him to swim over to a rock that he can sit on so the two of you can talk without having to crane your necks all around and it turns into a nightly routine where you just sit out on that rock together and talk for hours and hours
  • It’s hard not to love Jimin tbh he’s so cute and sweet and goofy and he’s so lovable so it doesn’t take you very long until those lil night talks turn into sweet lil kisses and I love yous
  • The two of you lowkey become a team?? The pirate and the mermaid, he works the sea from above, you work it from below and the two of you pair up to piss a whole lot of people off
  • “When we retire, you can be a fencing teacher and we can use the gold we make to buy a lil house together on the beach and maybe get a puppy, sound good??”
  • “Sounds amazing”
Masterlist

the 100

John Murphy

- The Stars (Part 2)

- Murderer (Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4)

- Trust

- Rain

- Disconnected (Everything I Didn’t Say)

- A Cure (Part 2)

- Christmas Hope

- A Bad Feeling

Monty Green

- Happy

- Should’ve

- For the Many Years

- At Least 

- You’re With Me

Bellamy Blake

- Deal

Fight and Stay Alive

Dear Evan Hansen

Connor Murphy

Connor Murphy with a Writer S/O Headcanons (Part 2)

- Not a Saint of a Demon  (TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of SUICIDE & DEPRESSION)

- Selfish 

- Thank You for Her (Drabble)

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zuko

- So Can You

Teen Wolf

Stiles Stilinski

- Overboard

Rambling

- Leprechaun and Bogie

- Losing You to Him

Isaac Lahey

- Panic Attack

Scott McCall

- Your Cousin?

Peter Hale

- Trouble

Liam Dunbar

- Sickie

- Take Away My Pain

The Flash

Barry Allen

- Confessions

- Awkward

- Coffee

- Study Session

- Mates (Part 2/ Part 3 )

- Movie Tickets

- Roommates

- Attention

- The MC was RIght

- Cool

- Canine

- Cuddles and Cold

- Movie Night

- Team Flash and the Gladers (Part 2) (does not include Barry that much)

- Reason to Live (TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of SUICIDE & DEPRESSION)

- Months  (TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of SUICIDE & DEPRESSION)

- Aiden (Part 2)

- Parents (Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 4.5Part 5)

- WereJaguar (Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4) AU Ending

- Anchor

- If You See

- Mysterious Thief

- Jin (does not include Barry that much)

- Wonderful (Part 2)

- Your Son and Your Boyfriend (Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5)

- We Won

- Actress

- Wedding Dress

- Dragon (Part 2)

- The Guy You Like

- Sky High

- VidCon

- Manhattan

- In That Way

- Not Your Fault (Part 2)

- Alpha and Omega

Cisco Ramon

- Amazingly Awesome

Leonard Snart

Valuable 

Star Wars

Luke Skywalker

Random Relationship Headcanons

- Swear On My Love

- Life-Changing (Part 2)

Poe Dameron

- Cherish It

Harry Potter

Sirius Black

- Sunshine

Disney

Peter Pan

Lost Girl

Tadashi Hamada

- How to Survive College

Hamilton

Lafayette

- Freedom

Marvel

Bucky/ Winter Soldier

- An Assignment

Wanda Maximoff/ Scarlet Witch

- Training

Peter Quill/Star Lord

- One of the Ways

Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver (from the Avengers franchise)

- Suddenly

- Only Reason

Peter Parker/Spider-Man 

- I’m HQ  (inspired by Andre Garfield’s Spider-Man)

- It’s Going to be Ok (drabble)

Tom Holland

- Stunts (Part 2)

More than 1 character

- Haunted House feat Bucky and Steve

Dreamworks

Jack Frost

Snow Day

The Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

- A Promise

The Maze Runner

Minho

- The Host of the Party

Newt

- Grievers

- My Queen

- What Does Matter

Thomas

- Happy Halloween

Pacific Rim

Newt Geiszler

- My Best Friend (Part 2/ Part 3)

- List for the Future

- Kidnapped

Once Upon a Time

Captain Hook/Killian Jones

- A Drink

- I Hate You

- Christmas Eve

Henry Mills

- The Flames and the Rain

Pinocchio/August Booth

- Heroes

Peter Pan

- Not Leaving

- Jealous

- Kidnapped

- Running Away

- Leave You Behind (Part 2)

- Life and Death

- Forest Green

- Staying Strong

- Finally Together

Felix

The Scar (Part 2)

Robbie Kay

- Comic Con

- Lost

- Life Goes on with You

By the fall of 1988 Prince had used the soundstage for concerts a few times already — in the summer of 1987 he performed a private show for the crew of his concert film, Sign O’ The Times, and on New Year’s Eve, 1987, he held a ticketed benefit concert for the Minnesota Coalition for the Homeless — but the afterparty event he held on September 15, 1988, was one for the history books.

For starters, it wasn’t held in the soundstage or the smaller NPG Music Club Room, as other concerts at Paisley were through the years. This one was actually staged out in the Paisley Park parking lot, because the soundstage was being rented out for rehearsals by Muppet Babies Live! ( Muppet Babies were also the first act to perform at Paisley Park on opening night, when they appeared on stage for a black-tie gala.) “Prince yields to Miss Piggy,” Jon Bream proclaimed in a Star Tribune recap of the show, which didn’t start until 2:20 a.m. and went until nearly 4:00 in the morning.

The outdoor Paisley Park gig was an afterparty for his two-night stand at the Met Stadium (a baseball stadium in Bloomington, Minnesota, that used to sit where the Mall of America is now), where he had brought home his big-budget Lovesexy Tour. Roughly 600 friends and fans came back to Paisley Park for the party, and the crowd included members of his previous bands and Prince’s mother, Mattie Baker.

“Now we’re going to wake up the farmers across the street,” Prince told the crowd when he took the stage.

It was a much more intimate and informal gig than his big arena show. That late night on the parking lot pavement opened up a new chapter of Paisley Park’s history: this mysterious complex would be a place where fans could get closer to the star than they ever imagined, and a place where Prince could feel comfortable enough to truly let loose.

“This is his best concert ever,” Prince’s mother told the Star Tribune. “That’s because it’s free — improvisational. He was always able to take an idea and use his imagination and just go with it.”

The audience that early morning was made up of music executives and VIP guests including MilesDavis, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis, Bobby Z., Brownmark, Jellybean Johnson, Jerome Benton, Taja Sevelle, Jill Jones, Alexander O'Neal, MTV reporter Kurt Loder and WCCO-TV anchor Don Shelby.

Prince ended the performance that night at 3:45 a.m. with a harbinger for the years to come: “Thanks for coming out. You’re welcome anytime.”

5

Ok I really had been stewing over @bluekitsune’s advice to make ball jointed ears out of beads. So yesterday I found some wood beads, and today I started working with them. Sawed and dremelled a stringing slot (in the first pic it is too shallow, I expanded it a lot in later pics), put used screws from my scrap bucket into one end to anchor (hopefully) sculpey ears, and drove small nails through for the bars.

I am pretty surprised that I got the nails in through approximately the correct places, so the elastic really will go right around them. 😮 If you’ve ever seen me drive a nail you would know that is a miracle.

A couple things pushed me over the edge (apart from jointed ears being generally cooler and better in most every way). I can now use sculpey witch is a million times easier for me than apoxie. And I looked up bjd rabbits and found the Cocoriang Tobi which is absolutely adorable. The Tobi has ridiculously expressive ears, and I am going to try to place these similarly toward the back of the head instead of the tippy top, to see if I can get close to that range of (e)motion.

So I removed the top screws and apoxied over the rough area. Tomorrow I can sand it and see about drilling new spots further back.

I guess I need to try sculpting the ears next. At least with sculpey I have lots of time :)

6

Fidget Pad: $10 AUD, One Stop TV Shop

Dimensions: 7.5 x 3.5 x 2.5 cm

A local dollar shop near me has a really good display of fancy metal spinners, but most of them are far too expensive for me to justify (even with the whole “but I can review it for the blog” excuse). Doesn’t stop me from looking, of course! They did, however, have the fidget pads out, including an open one for testing, and of course you all know what happened next…

It’s hard to compare them to the fidget cubes, because they have a lot of different functions and textures, but my general impression is this: I like it less than my Zuru cube, but a lot more than my knock-off cube. If you have to pay $10 AUD for a knock-off fidget cube, I’d get the fidget pad instead: you get more for your money.

I find the rounded peanut shape pleasant to hold. It doesn’t have the weight of the Zuru cube, and it’s made from the same slightly grippy plastic as the fake cube, but the curved shapes feel more comfortable to hold in my hand in the way the cube just doesn’t. I like holding the fidget pad so much that I wish there were a higher-quality brand name version available, just for the smoother plastic and weight.

(In one area, the fidget pad beats even the Antsy Labs fidget cube hollow: the USB-stick lanyard-style attachment, meaning it can be added to a keychain or a neck lanyard. I don’t understand why the cube can’t offer something similar, since it makes it so much easier to not lose - it’s a small addition, but a really important one!)

I’ll work my way through each of the eight functions:

Joystick: glides smoothly in all directions with more play than both knock-off cube and Zuru cube.

Click buttons: two loud, two quiet. Quiet ones are silent, which is better than most knock-off fidget toys offer, but the loud ones are the loudest buttons I’ve ever heard (second only to the switch). If you really like the noise, you might like this.

Textured spinner: spins easily. Silent if you roll a finger over it, loud if you flick it into a spin.

Gears: according to the back of the box info, there’s two small gears meant to simulate a combination lock. They really don’t do this at all. They rotate under force with clicking sounds, but they don’t feel like gears or a lock. This is, for me, the worst function. The gears on even the knock-off cube are much better.

Textured rub/worry stone: I like the feel of the rough, raised dots and I wish they covered more of the pad rather than just four thin lines. I think texture seekers will like this part. There’s a lot more space for more textures on the pad they should have used, though!

Paddle switch: it’s a sliding switch attached to a coil of wire that gives it resistance when you push it down the slot. The fidget cube has nothing like this function and I really like it - it reminds me of opening a ziplock bag.

Flat spinner: turns smoothly with a gentle plush of the fingertip. I love how it’s slightly curved to fit the curved base of the pad - it’s really nice to cup in my hand. Now that I have this for good spinning, I really have no use for my knock-off fidget cube.

Switch: very, very loud. (If you love loud clicking noises, get this!) Supposedly, you can pivot this gently for silent movement, but it’s too stiff for this (unlike the switches on both fidget cubes). Even used gently, it’s noisy. Because it’s curved, though, you can actually rock it from side to side without ever raising your fingertip, just by leaning your finger back and forth. You can do this a little on the Zuru cube, but with some bending at the knuckle; you can’t do it at all on the knock-off.

For lip and face stimmers, I find this harder to use than the Zuru cube: the flat and textured spinners are the only easily manipulated bits without use of fingers. It’s really better for hand and finger fidgeting.

I’m really surprised by how much I like the fidget pad. It’s the same idea with a few different functions in a rounded case that is much nicer to hold and fits more naturally in my hand. I’d actually love to get a higher-quality version of this, because in many respects I think it superior in design, for hand and finger stimming/fidgeting, to the fidget cube!

I have to observe, though: after buying the Zuru cube on Monday and the fidget pad today, my thumb pain is bad, and that’s with trying to be attentive to my pain while using. Stimmers with chronic hand, finger and thumb pain need to use these carefully, because they all require small, repetitive, constant movements to use (exception being the worry stone sides). Stimmers without still shouldn’t use these for hours at a time. I’m going to put both in a drawer and not use them for a few days while trying to rest my hands, because they’re the worst toys for my hands, no exceptions.

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anonymous asked:

I get that ymir was super selfless and all and I love her, but I still don't understand why she'd choose to give a whole titan power to marley, the people actively trying to kill historia, I know you defend her choice but I still just see it as plot convenience that she didn't go back with the SL

Not much of a plot convenience and more like a reason to atone from her sins she committed when eating Marcel.

The moment she changed her mind when was she heard Bertolt screaming, completely helpless. From then, her instinct sort of took over when she came to their help:

Ymir rushing to Reiner and Bertolt - Ch. 89

Also prior to that, as she realized Eren held the coordinate, she realized there was still a hope inside these walls, implying Historia still had a chance to be saved and live her life. 

Now keep in mind she doesn’t really trust Eren since she mostly considers as a screaming kid and a good chance for escaping till Reiner bargained with her about Historia.

“Do you think Eren’s strength is more reliable than ours?“ - Ch. 46

And that was before she was aware he held the Founding Titan. So either she turned to Reiner and Bertolt because Eren would unleash his power against Marley ensuing chaos or… since she was staring at Historia… was she actually betting the Founding Titan to be handled over to her? It’s a power only compatible with the royal family. The cult she was raised in must’ve at least told her that.

Kinda ironic in which she originally wanted to attach herself to an anchor to Historia but ended up sacrificing herself for her own good.

Reiner’s promise - Ch. 77

Reiner promised Ymir multiple times her life would be safe if she was taken in Marlean custody, since she’s a royal. Ymir also didn’t see any problems with that either. Marley didn’t expect Historia to not hold the Coordinate either. Assuming she did, would they use her for discovering secrets? I still have no idea of both Reiner and Ymir were aware Marley could force her to bear children.

“Ah… What an idiot. So Ymir… you were an idiot“ - Ch. 89

Looks like Historia doesn’t really mind either it’s one supplementary power for Marley. She’s the only one who understands Ymir after all.

Enjolras x Grantaire Fic Recs

Updated. I have read so much Les Mis fic in the last year it’s not funny. I just fell headfirst into this fandom. Oops. I decided I really need to make a list of all the fics I loved. 

After The End by tellthemstories 74,702 Grantaire’s life goes to hell at 5pm on a Saturday evening. Which is actually kind of ironic, really, seeing as how the rest of the world went to hell almost seven years earlier.

Best Kept Secrets by tellthemstories 33,338 Cosette is coming to visit. Enjolras needs a fake boyfriend he can date and then break up with, so she’ll stop trying to set him up with random guys. Somehow, he ends up pretending to date Grantaire. It goes better than expected — Until it doesn’t.

box of secrets by nightswatch 53,816 Grantaire leaves his doodles all over the place. Enjolras collects them without knowing who drew them.

But I See You by RavenXavier 38, 618 It’s not easy being a Seer in the modern times, especially when they are so many of them promising you happiness and good fortune at every corner of the street. Contrary to most though, Grantaire is the True Deal, which means that not only does she get a lot of visions (that aren’t always nice), she also needs an Anchor, otherwise she’ll end up mad.It’s not until she begins to run out of time that she actually meets hers.     Unfortunately, her Anchor is a passionate blond activist that doesn’t believe in Seers or Fate, and doesn’t have time to take care of a woman she barely knows and doesn’t like much (especially as she has some personal problems of her own to deal with).

Commonwealth Gaymes by Pepperweb 35, 118 Inspired by the 2014 Glasgow Commonwealth Games. Grantaire is a boxer and Enjolras a gymnast but Enjolras doesnt think boxing should be allowed and Grantaire thinks gymnastics is too fluffy to be real. What happens when they take up Combeferre’s challenge and see each other compete? 

Cooking Up Love by sarahyyy 14,259 

“I really hate elimination challenges,” Enjolras says with a sigh. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Grantaire says dryly, grinning at him.

(Or, the MasterChef AU.)

dance this silence down (the emergency room remix) by fahye 54,233

He’s sitting in a car with all of his belongings in the back seat and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, admitting to himself that a stupid, dizzy firework of a one-night-stand with a man he’d barely known is one of the only bright memories he has right now.

[In which Enjolras and Grantaire make some music, make some terrible decisions, and make a habit out of doing everything in the wrong order.]

Darker, Sooner by HailMary 54,571. Grantaire is offered a choice: either become the government’s mole in the Friends of the ABC or suffer the consequences. He chooses to be a mole.

Gnomon by luchia 75,387 Enjolras is the leader of the ‘militant extremist organization’ ABC, and he and his human shadow Grantaire are somewhere in Russia doing shit that Grantaire can’t even try to explain - Enjolras is acting strange and something Grantaire can’t name has gone horribly wrong and christ he should not be sober right now.

Grounds For Dismissal by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 12,312 Enjolras does not have time to deal with a new barista this morning.

How the Future’s Done by barricadeur 12,212 

“Grantaire,” he says slowly. “What do you have in that box?”

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras, his eyes very blue even with the glaze of drunkenness at the edges. “A favor,” he says.

if you remembered me by nightswatch 40,156 Enjolras suffers from temporary amnesia after a car accident, Grantaire agrees to stay with him until he gets back his memories.

If Vidocq Could See Us Now by leahxleah 33,416. Enjolras is one of the best detectives in Homicide; unfortunately, he can’t keep a partner for long. Getting assigned Grantaire–the Narcotics officer freshly released from rehab–seems like a punishment, but it may be a blessing in disguise.

Pining For You by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 28, 245. After he gets laid off, Grantaire moves back home to help out on his father’s Christmas tree farm. But when a shady businessman starts trying to move in on their property, an improbably handsome lawyer from the city might be their only hope to save the farm.

Let Me Count The Ways by zimriya 58,408. 10 Things I Hate About You AU. “So, let me get this straight,” says Combeferre after three rings. He sounds half asleep, and Enjolras winces. “Your crazy ex-convict of a father has decided that Cosette can only date people once you do?”

“Yes.”

There’s the sound of movement as Combeferre unplugs his phone and settles back against his pillows. “And you, somehow–stupidly, I might add–decided to make her happy by agreeing to date someone?”

Love in a Coffee Shop by tellthemstories 22,887 Grantaire’s a famous rock star. Enjolras owns a coffee shop slash book store that makes no money and is dangerously close to becoming hipster. One night, Grantaire stumbles in when they’re closed. Somehow, that’s the most normal part of his week.

Secret Agent Man by goshemily 30,126 Enjolras and Grantaire are spies sent to a small village in the south of France to be undercover boyfriends.

six feet under the stars by nightswatch 52, 909 Enjolras decides that he needs a break and goes on a road trip. On the way he comes across a hitchhiker, who quickly becomes a new friend for him on the road.

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 74,338 Enjolras caught the infamous art thief Grantaire in his first month as an FBI agent. Four years later, a supposedly reformed Grantaire works out a deal to help the FBI catch an organized crime boss–with Enjolras as his handler. But working together is more frustrating than Enjolras could have believed, and it doesn’t help that Grantaire has started an actual book club with Enjolras’ husband. White Collar AU.

summer’s lease by nightswatch 48,676 Grantaire’s parents send him to spend the summer with friends of the family. Their son, Enjolras, is probably the last person he’d want to spend his summer with.

Tagged by Salomonderiel 155, 786. Graffiti artist AU.

The Con That We Call Love by kjack89 Not even a month ago, FBI White Collar unit Agent Grantaire put the notorious conman Enjolras in jail. Now, the FBI needs Enjolras’s help, and Grantaire has to deal with a con who he may not trust, but may also be a little in love with.

To Dust or To Gold by captainskellington 25,556 A Hunger Games AU based entirely in the week leading up to the games themselves. (As such, no actual death occurs.) Grantaire is a stylist, Enjolras is his tribute.

The Five Year Plan by Neery 16,069 Enjolras loses his memory. Thankfully, nothing unexpected seems to have happened to him in the five years he can’t remember. Well, except for the boyfriend. The boyfriend’s kind of a surprise.

The Ghost of You by luchia 25,127 Grantaire moves into an apartment inhabited by a poltergeist. Enjolras haunts him, and Grantaire should really win an award for most complicated relationship status ever.

The Golden Mean by KateAtTheClose 9,429 When Grantaire’s health makes it necessary to cease drinking, Les Amis are there to help him through it. None more so than Enjolras, who starts to realize just how wrong he has been in his judgements of the other man.

The People Sing by littledust 59, 604 Cosette, an aspiring musician, is certain she’s locked into her terrible recording contract forever and the public will never get to hear her music. Then a mysterious DJ named Enjolras remixes one of her original demos. She follows his digital trail to a club called the ABC, where she’s offered the chance to join the music revolution. What ensues includes romance, past lives revealed, the making of an album, and a protest concert. 

the things we whisper in the dark by nightswatch 30,286. Grantaire is a journalist living and working in New York. When he meets his new neighbor, Enjolras, he has no idea what kind of trouble he’s getting into.

They Write Books About This Sort of Thing by samyazaz 50, 670. Grantaire is an author. His editor, Enjolras comes on his book tour with him.

Transitory Withdrawal by zimriya 21,988 The thing is, Grantaire knows exactly where he went wrong. It wasn’t wandering into one of Enjolras’ lectures on a rainy afternoon, or even texting him increasingly cryptic messages from his brand new phone. No, Grantaire’s mistake was deciding to let his guard down long enough around Eponine to let her take him drinking, and crying about how no one would ever date him.

We Are Who We Are by sigh_no_more 29,691 Enjolras develops a crush on a new friend. The only problem is they’ve never met face to face, and only correspond via the Internet. As he falls more and more for this mysterious pen pal, he starts a job at The Musain Books and Café, where he finds himself instantly at odds with Grantaire, the barista. Or, a Shop Around the Corner/You’ve Got Mail adaptation.

World Ain’t Ready by idiopathicsmile 185,796 (UPDATE 2/6/15, Complete and it is wonderful). High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.

Years Since It’s Been Clear by lady_ragnell 10, 726. Grantaire really doesn’t expect Enjolras to force him to move in with him when he hears how shitty Grantaire’s apartment is. And he definitely doesn’t expect Enjolras to want him to stay, or how easy it turns out to be, or the way Enjolras has a habit of doing his studying in the sunshine on the living room floor…Yeah, he may be in some trouble.

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell 61, 252. For most of college, Grantaire was hopeless over Enjolras, and everyone but Enjolras knew it. Now he’s worked to get over his crush, and for the most part, he’s fine. When Combeferre asks him to choreograph and dance in the Midsummer Night’s Dream-inspired opera he composed as his senior thesis, Grantaire says yes, even though he’s cast opposite Enjolras, as Puck to his Oberon. The chance to dance is worth the potential problems, and he’ll have his friends as a buffer.

You Are the Moon by samyazaz 62,129 It’s been six months since Grantaire left the Musain and her crew – and her captain – behind him, but the quieter life he’d hoped to make for himself is thrown into turmoil when a convict and his daughter crash down into the middle his little outer-system settlement.

You Say You Want a Revolution by kjack89 and satb31 Les Amis de l'ABC is an anti-Vietnam War student protest group in the late 1960s, when the draft and turmoil on college campuses force more radical - and violent - actions, including actions that cannot be undone and will forever change the lives of those involved.

This is one of my favorite pics of me climbing. I was leading and scared as hell cause I was so much higher than my anchor. I ended that climb with a gnarly bruise on my leg from slamming it into a hold when I wasn’t looking.-j&m

im sorry…what were we talking about…bc i have been rendered absolutely incoherent what the heck ur calf muscles tho…..and ur shoulder muscles….im weak and gay i have 2 go

1.4 A Short Cut to Mushrooms

Our friend JRR is not hiding the fact that he idealises the English countryside and her agriculturalist inhabitants, but beyond this rather banal explanation for the focus on a fairly minor character who is mentioned only one or two more times in the whole trilogy and whose big re-appearance (spoilers!) comes when we are wondering whether the Shire can be saved, I think there’s a narrative-logic reason to focus on Farmer Maggot.

We’re still tarrying in the Shire because Frodo-the-narrator is, of course, still unsure he wants to follow Frodo-the-character onto the dark roads that he knows are coming, and Maggot certainly serves that purpose admirably. Until Maggot, though, we have yet to meet a hobbit for more than a few passing moments; even our Sam and Pippin are mere caricatures of themselves at this point. We have been told and shown that Frodo loves the Shire, but we ourselves have not been made to love it - certainly, by now, we think it quaint and perhaps amusing, we are lured by the promise of A Simpler Life and the echoes of A Simpler Time, but as we leave the Shire behind Frodo knows that we need an anchor. 

In many ways, Frodo himself needed an anchor, when he set out, and perhaps we focus on Maggot in this chapter because he was the anchor Frodo chose. Bag End is gone to the Sackville-Bagginses, and Hobbiton is tainted by the spectre of fear. Buckland was home too long ago, and besides is coloured with the painful memories of being orphaned as a child, and so Frodo, heading out into the Wild with a Ring in his pocket and dread lodged already in his heart (so different than Bilbo’s setting out!), has no touchstone. The purpose of Farmer Maggot’s inclusion in this chapter is, in part, I want to argue, because Frodo is trying to tell us a story with more knowledge than he had while he was living it, and Maggot is the closest he got to having a touchstone, a piece of the Shire to tie him to it.

And I think Maggot gets to be the touchstone not because of his history with Frodo, although that certainly doesn’t hurt, but because he represents everything that Frodo has come to love and appreciate about the inhabitants of the Shire by the time he is writing. Maggot is clever but humble, loyal and practical, takes no nonsense and gives no ground, but is still able to be generous and tender and even have a sense of humour. He is the embodiment of not simply Tolkien’s idealised countryside, but also Frodo’s idealised Hobbit-hood. Maggot stands in for everything about the Shire that Frodo believes needs saving no matter the cost, and so when Sam, quite a ways from now in time and page-space, thinks of a little bit of garden to call his own and the flush on Rosie Cotton’s cheeks, I’m willing to bet that the image Frodo calls to mind is that mushroom-filled covered basket swinging out of Maggot’s wagon.