mmm I normally don’t put up opinions on this blog because I want to keep this nice and happy here but I have to say this: I’m so tired of everyone coddling Keith. The narrative coddles him. The fandom coddles him. Everything he does is good and okay while Lance and Hunk are constantly shoved under the bus to make him look better, and the fandom keeps demonizing other characters for shit he also does. He shouts at Pidge for prioritizing her family first but also rushes in and fucks up the mission for his own personal purposes? And this is seen as right and okay? This isn’t okay. Keith is a flawed character, a wonderful character, but also just any other person and I’d prefer if the narrative and fandom actually treated him as such rather than Mr. Perfect, while demonizing characters like Lance, Hunk, and Allura for the exact same shit he does. I’d also like to point out that I like Keith but the over glorification? I’m done with. Setting him up as the black paladin when he has mostly caused trouble during missions with his recklessness isn’t something I appreciate either, unless we actually see him learning from these mistakes, but we don’t, because neither the narrative or the characters call him out on his bullshit. The writers need to stop putting down other characters to make Keith seem better, because this is happening so much in this season, and I am so fucking sick of it.
OMG I LOVE THE VIETNAM AU. Finally, the reunion! So wonderfully written. But hold the phone WHAT happened to Jamie and why does he look like that and how is Claire gonna heal him? *sigh*
“Stuffed cabbage, Claire?”
Claire turned to her left, meeting the kind brown eyes of
Ian Murray – Jamie’s best friend and brother-in-law.
“Sure – is it grown here on the farm as well?”
Ian served her a good-sized helping. Jenny – at her right
– poured a bit more wine into the tall glass by her plate.
“Most of the simple vegetables come straight from the
kailyard – always have, as long as we can remember. Nothing is as fresh to us. Or
Claire took a tentative bite, keeping her eyes firmly on
the gorgeous old dinner plate – clearly used only for special occasions – as Jamie’s
foot silently nudged hers beneath the table.
Somewhere around three that afternoon, Ian had hobbled
down to the barn – he had lost his leg in a childhood car accident, Jamie later
explained – finding a doubly rare sight. Jamie Fraser was idle – and Jamie
Fraser was in the company of a woman.
That he had somehow, sometime told Jenny and Ian who she
was had been clear – but just exactly what they knew about her was not. She had
helped Jenny and the kind housekeeper Mrs. Crook prepare dinner – over Jenny’s protests
that a guest should rest – seeking the opportunity to quietly introduce herself
to Jamie’s sister, and needing the time away from him to just reflect on her
whirlwind day. She had had months – years – to prepare. He had had no notice,
and yet had taken it all in so gracefully.
Had pledged himself to her, fully. Unequivocally.
Would she do the same for him?
She’d immediately accepted his offer of a place to stay
for the night. Jamie had proudly shown her to one of the beautifully
apportioned rooms on the second floor of the Big House – Lallybroch – sharing incredible
stories of the many Frasers whose blood and sweat had been poured into the very
stones and floorboards of the house since before the Revolution.
Light streamed through the windows of the room that was
to be Claire’s – the hand-carved bed covered in a worn but exquisite blue
bedspread that had been quilted by Jamie’s grandmother MacKenzie; two plush
armchairs of a 1940s vintage cozily angled before a small fireplace; on the wall
above the bed, a vibrant watercolor of the Big House amid the glowing orange
leaves of autumn.
“There should be some spare clothes in the bureau,” Jamie
remarked softly, remaining just inside the doorway as Claire quietly acquainted
herself with the room. “And my Mam painted that when I was small. We have her
drawings and paintings up all over the house.”
From her position at the window, admiring the kitchen
garden and small orchard of fruit trees clustered near the old outhouse, Claire
turned to smile at him. “Do you paint?”
He shrugged. “I’ve tried. But Jenny has the real talent
for it – some of her pieces are downstairs.” He paused, licking his lips. “Well
then. I’ll be down in the study with Ian. Have some orders to straighten out
for tomorrow. Will – ”
“I’ll be all right,” she reassured him. “Thank you,
His smile – small, glowing – was absolutely beautiful. “Thank
*you*, Claire.” Then he turned and disappeared down the hall.
“The apples in that pie you helped me with come right
from the orchard – great-grandmother Fraser planted them, right after the War
Between The States,” Jenny continued. Claire snapped back to the present as the
toe of Jamie’s boot curled around the back of her shin.
“I’m normally not much help in the kitchen, but you’ve all
been so incredibly warm and generous – ”
“Nonsense,” Ian insisted, tearing up a piece of Mrs.
Crook’s thick homemade oat bread – a bannock, Jamie had called it – for his
three-year-old son – Jamie’s namesake holding court at the worn but homely
kitchen table between his father and uncle. “You’ve made Jamie smile again.
Lord knows that’s been a rare sight since he returned from ‘Nam.”
Jamie withdrew his foot – and Claire looked across the
half-empty portions of roasted pork and Brussel sprouts and corn bread. Meeting
his intense blue gaze. Hoping her eyes could convey everything her voice could
Apple pie and whisky before the fire in the sitting room –
lined floor to ceiling with books dating from the 18th century all
the way up to shiny new editions of Slaughterhouse-Five and In Cold Blood. Comfortable
silence between them when Jenny and Ian departed to tuck the children into bed.
And then when Claire had yawned for the fifth time, Jamie rose, banked the
fire, and helped her rise from the couch. Then gently led her upstairs to the
room that would be hers for as long as she wished. Holding her hand the entire
They paused in the doorway.
“Will you be warm enough? There are extra blankets in the
hallway closet – ”
Claire rested her hands on his solid shoulders. “I’ll be
just fine. I’m not fragile, you know.”
He settled his hands on her hips, eyes creasing with happiness
in the dim light of the hallway. The silence of the house buzzed in their ears.
“I know you aren’t,” he breathed.
Then drew her close – holding her. Enveloping her. Feeling
her melt against him – her heart thrum in time with his.
After a long while she pushed back, kissed the corner of
his mouth, and quietly slid out of his arms.
“I’ll be right here, down the hall,” he whispered. Eyes
She blew him a teasing kiss, then quietly swung the heavy
oak door shut.
On both sides of the door, Jamie and Claire rested their
foreheads against the wood. And sighed.
Despite her exhaustion, Claire slept fitfully. Tossing and
turning on the heavenly soft mattress and under the almost sinfully warm quilt.
So many images flashing through her mind – the bullet-scarred palm tree on the helicopter
pad at Chu Lai; the faded anchor tattooed on the forearm of her anatomy
instructor; the checked shirt Uncle Lamb loved to wear when presenting his
latest findings to a group of his peers. The graceful, invisible shapes Jamie
had traced with his hands as he shared stories about himself and his Fraser
forebears – helping her learn about all the gifts he would give her.
Did she belong here? Could she belong here – the lady of
this great house? Sharing such a well-respected name? Enjoying dinner every
night in the rustic kitchen built two centuries ago, surrounded by so many
Frasers, alive and dead? Quietly at peace here on the ridge which Frasers had
called home for longer than Beauchamps had been in America?
The house groaned and settled around her – easing into
Except the shuffle of steps in the hallway. Pausing
outside her room, then continuing down the stairs.
At least she wasn’t the only restless person tonight. Jenny,
perhaps? Maggie was still nursing – perhaps just another late-night feed?
Claire wrapped the tartan blanket – Fraser colors, Jamie
had told her – from the foot of the bed around her shoulders, draped over the App
State t-shirt and flannel pants that had been neatly folded in the bottom
drawer of the bureau, gently pushed open the door, and stepped downstairs.
Only one room to visit at this time of night – the parlor,
where books and the warmth of the fire could lull even the most restless to sleep.
But it wasn’t Jenny who sought solace, deep in the night.
Jamie stood after adding a fresh log to the fire, rubbing
his face with his hands, clad in an olive-green Army-issued t-shirt and worn
white long johns.
Claire must have made a sound – for his head snapped up,
His wide, sweet mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You could
say that. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in three years.”
Claire blinked harshly in shock. “You mean – ”
“Yes – since Chu Lai. I – well.” He swallowed, grasping
for words. “I re-live all of it every night.”
She crossed the room to stand in front of him. Rested a
tentative hand on his elbow. “Tell me?”
He did. Terrible storied of men blown to pieces. Villages
burned. Dead livestock floating face-down in rice paddies. The faces of men he couldn’t
save. Memories of pain, and anguish, and isolation.
“And the worst one –” his voice broke.
At this point they had curled up together at the corner
of the couch, her legs tucked against his, sharing the warmth of the plaid. She
squeezed his clammy hand. Encouraging.
“The worst one is when the VC attack Chu Lai – and I can’t
find you, Claire. I can’t protect you. And then I’m scrambling down the hallway
and they’re firing at me and I trip over your body.”
He wouldn’t look at her – preferring to stare into the
She wiped the tears from his eyes. Stunned.
“Have you ever told this to anyone?” Her fingers twined
in his hair, damp with sweat. Bringing his face to rest in the curve of her
All he could do was shake his head. Breathing hard.
Burrowing closer to her.
“Nobody here understands. I’m a war hero. The owner of
this estate. I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m not supposed to have a back
twisted with scars. I’m not supposed to be terrified of going to sleep every
Claire eased onto his lap. “Shh,” she soothed. “I’m here.
Just let go, Jamie.”
He inhaled deeply. Shakily.
“Let go,” she repeated. “I understand. I’m here. You don’t
have to pretend.”
“I love you.”
His awed, red-rimmed eyes lifted to meet hers. Smiling through
Then her lips found his – and they clung to each other in
desperation and joy.
Prompt: @ruth-hamilton-delrio requested “You can’t be jealous if we aren’t even dating! man up and ask me out if you’re going to act like that.” I wanna see your take on that, for Lin x reader” and I happily turned it into a slow burn, multiple part series fic.
Author’s Note: I have not yet written an angst or slow burn fic, so this is quite different from my usual fluffy fics. It’s been fun to write so far and I’m looking forward to writing the rest of it. I know I said yesterday that I wouldn’t be posting for a bit, but this prompt was too good to ignore so… here we are.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of surgery/hospital
Also, for this, it’s modern and Lin has Hamilton and Moana done, but he’s obviously not married and doesn’t have his son for sakes of the fic.
Enjoy!! (don’t hesitate to tell me how you like it through asks, messages, comments, or reblogs!)
“I’m just saying… why would Rassilon say that Time Lords
would stand as monuments such as the
Weeping Angels if it wasn’t true? And it’s the perfect bit for the immortality
thing – they’re immortal as statues.”
You continued your ages old debate with your best friend as you pushed open the
door to your favorite spot – the hole-in-the-wall tea shop you had frequented
since your freshman year of college. Greeted with the sugar and spice notes of
the over one-hundred different kinds of tea brewed here and a “hello” from your
favorite worker, you nodded before Lin countered your opinion.
Okay I honestly did too many of these but I was tagged to do the bias selfie tag thingy. I hope these are good lol.. He’s so good looking I look like a potato next to him lol.. but I tried. I think that last one is my favourite!
Thank you @chlexcer for tagging me. My capstone is literally kicking my ass right now..
This also kinda.. gave me a reason to be back on tumblr for a bit, which made me happy ^^ so anyway..
hungry~ hungry~ i want to eat the tuna kimchi fried rice that gunhee made me! is it because i’ve been stressed these days…why do i want to eat something so spicy
#tokyo #shinjuku #japan #tokyo #migrantworker #midnightsnack #hungry #kimchifriedrice #japan
How awful must Lori have really been to not appreciate and recognize all this goodness that is Rick Grimes? Like bish he’s saving lives out here, falling in love, giving his boo gifts, eye fuc$king, flirting, being hella brolic, raising kids (one of which isn’t even his), forgiving BS (looking at you Shane, Lori, Eugene, Tara, Carol, Morgan, Father G…you got my point), and fighting facism and dictators……..
And all Lori could do was complain that he didn’t talk enough….and so you slept with his best friend a few maybe months/weeks after he was presumed dead?
Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)
Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*
My dudes. I’m hella infatuated with Bellamy Blake. But I’m terrible at second parts, I apologize If this Is trash.
You laid on your bed, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, checking out the social media when there was a knock on your bedroom door.
“Hey. I let myself in…”
You looked up at the tall blonde who stood in your doorframe and exchanged smiles as a greeting.
“You know you’re allowed to do that, dummy, you practically live here,” you giggled.
He came and sat on the end of your bed as you hoisted yourself up to sit cross legged, which he soon mirrored.
“So, how was your weekend at Jason’s?” he asked as you as he flicked through his phone, ready to get the takeout menu on his app for you to order your usual feast.
“Good! Yeah good.”
“Did he take you out like he promised?”
You looked down in your lap and played with the strings of your sweats.
Michael rolled his eyes before tapping in his order.
“Y/N, he promised to treat you after his shitty excuses for standing you up last week.”
You sighed as Michael began to scold you for letting your boyfriend get away with shit again.
“I know, but he was tired. He was at a work’s do the night before and he was still hungover…”
The blonde rolled his eyes again at your pathetic attempts to defend Jason.
“Yeah, but I bet he wasn’t too tired for you to help him get off…”
You focused your gaze anywhere else but at Michael, a total dead giveaway as to what you had done that weekend.
“Seriously? You let him take advantage of you again?”
Michael passed his phone to you for you to add your order to the list as he gazed over at the beauty of your natural features, your brow furrowing as you studied the menu.
“It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it,” was what you mumbled.
Michael scoffed as he leaned his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on the palm of his hand.
“So you’re telling me you’re fine with being his little sex toy? Because from what I’m getting here is that he just fucks you and drops you, does what he wants and doesn’t take what you want into consideration. Look how excited you got to be able to go on your date, you dragged me to three - count ‘em- three shops to pick out an outfit, so don’t bullshit me with the fact that you weren’t that bothered.”
He was right. Jason did take advantage of you and it did seem pretty one sided on the relationship. But this was your first real relationship, not some high school lust.
“They have 15% off the extra large pizza, are you getting one?” You tried your best to shift the topic from your tragic love life to something else; like Michael’s true love.
“It’s like you don’t even know me, Y/N” was what he teased.
After devouring your takeout and downing a few beers, you and Michael cuddled up on the sofa to watch Love Rosie. It was your favourite film and he was probably sick of watching it, but he did nevertheless because he knew how much you loved it.
“See? Rosie ended up finding someone who can treat her good,” Michael pointed out while taking another sip on his bud.
“What’s your point, Clifford?”
“Well, you deserve someone who can treat you better.”
He looked towards you, as you looked down, thinking about the reality of your relationship with Jason. Maybe it was the alcohol making you realise, but the guy was a fuckboy but with you on a lead and collar.
You turned to face Michael, but refused to look him in the eye.
“He’s the one that I want…”
“Bullshit,” Michael scoffed. “You’re with him because you’re scared of being alone at our age, Y/N. I know you, I can read you like a book.”
He stared into your eyes, no falter. Dammit, you hated how he knew you so well.
“Why settle for some shit bag when what you’re truly looking for is still out there…” he began to inch closer to you. “Maybe…. even right under your nose…”
You eyes trailed down to Michael’s mouth which was inching closer and closer to your own. As he captured your lips in his, you began to automatically kiss back, feeling the electricity rush through you, something you hadn’t truly felt in such a long time. It took a few moments for you to sober up a little and realise what the fuck was going on, so you pulled away.
“Why? Was that really so bad?”
“Yes, you know it was. You’re drunk.”
He let out a low chuckle before catching your eyes with a soft gaze.
“Maybe the alcohol tonight is my wingman to get me to say what’s been on my mind for so long.” His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper.
You searched his face for any falters, but there were none.
“Y/N. Who knows you better than I do? I know you like the back of my hand. Better than I know my way around every decent bar in Amsterdam. Jason is a fool. A fucking idiot. A right gobshite. Because he’s just using you like a human fleshlight, too blind and obnoxious to really see the girl that’s putty in his hands. Because he only cares about himself. Any guy to use you is a right bellend because they’re tricking themselves out of the full potential of a relationship. You’re smart, funny, beautiful beyond belief…”
Intoxicated or not, you couldn’t help but feel the burning fire of intimacy that was building up with Michael. His pointer finger began to lightly draw patterns on your thigh, causing the heat between your legs to burn up.
“I’d never treat you the way he does, Y/N. Say the word… and I’m yours, baby girl.”
Your eyes trailed up and down the Aussie’s body; from his luscious locks and gorgeous green eyes, down his handsome build and back up to his smile that had the ability to make you melt.
You launched yourself forward and began to kiss Michael dry of the utter passion he put into the words that had your head spinning. He placed one hand on your soft cheek, another on the back of your head to deepen the lustful kiss. He traced your bottom lip for you to grant him entrance. You smiled into the kiss to deny him entrance. He mocked your action before pulling you flush closer to him, causing you to gasp in which that moment his tongue slid into your mouth, covering every single square inch. Your hands tangled in the nest of his silky blonde hair, feeling the sparks of exhilaration cascading within your body.
As you finally pulled away for air, Michael leaned his forehead against yours, looking down at you with a Cheshire grin.
“I promise I won’t let you down,” he breathed out. “I’ll never let you down.”
hi !! i’m dee!! i made sure to set up a plots page before posting this intro so ! if you see anything you like, please don’t be afraid to hmu! it’s in no way complete and i’m planning to add more but its ass o’clock in the morning so : ^ ) (also . . . if it makes things easier, you can like so i’d send u a message!!)
anywho– !! this is jihoon, hes twenty-one and he absolutely loves being an intern!
“The con was in Birmingham and we were going to leave early, but Philip somehow mistook my wig for a tea towel so I had to beg James to come over, but he can’t drive so Edward was going to drive him. And when they got here Bill and Ben were with them! They heard we were going to Birmingham and since they grew up there they wanted to go, too. Edward said it would be a good idea because we’d be under ‘adult supervision,’ as if Bill and Ben should supervise anything.
We were going to take a train in but since they had just decided to come with us, Edward said he’d take us in his car. I’m the thinnest so I ended up in the backseat stuck between Bill and Ben for five hours. Did you hear me? Five hours sitting between those two.
When we finally got there, Bill and Ben said something about getting back their ‘childhood nemeses’ with eggs and set off. So much for adult supervision. Edward came with us instead. In the end it was all worth it, though. We got a lot of compliments and pictures taken of us. It was really fun, I just don’t know if I’d do it again.”
U R SO GOOD AT WRITING THREESOME SMUTS. Can you write a threesome between bam x mark x reader ? You're BAMBAMS girlfriend but mark keeps looking at you and stuff and says he like u all have a threesome but bam gets scared about you not loving him afterwards? thank u so much xx
Thank you so much for requesting this ^^
I changed the storyline a little bit because I’ve done a similar storyline before, but I hope you still enjoy it :) You can read it here.
Here’s the little clip from 1994’s Icelandic comedy television show (Áramótaskaup) featuring the one and only Stefán Karl back when he was 19. I will post the full YouTube link below if you’d like to appreciate Icelandic comedy I personally think it’s brilliant ♥