and then he says it's an honor

FUCK have i told you all about this au I have where Cosette can see ghosts?

OK so the premise is basically Cosette has been able to see ghosts all her life.This is based on the lines “There is a lady all in white/holds me and sings a lullaby” because as this is sung Fantine is already dead if you’re following book canon (or even musical canon JVJ doesnt leave until Fantines dead and he’s squared off with Javert and then it takes a while to ride to Montfermeil) 


After the barricade, Les Amis stick around as ghosts. I dont know why, maybe they’re in purgatory, maybe thats just what happens when you die, I dont know I’m not a theologian. 

Marius is unaware of the ghosts. But Cosette, who’s been seeing ghosts her whole life, can, and she doesnt think too much of it. Yes, they’re dressed pretty modern, but plenty of revolutions happen, and she assumes they’re from 1830 or 1828.  She and Marius have moved into a nice enough house after their wedding but Paris is full of ghosts as its an ancient city, and shes used to it. 

Until, one day, she notices that the ghosts, especially a dandy with dark curly hair, seem to stick close to Marius. She has an inkling, and she decides to listen closer when Marius tells stories of his friends. She starts to recognize them, from Marius’s tales, and with a sinking heart she realizes, these arent just recent ghosts, these are the ghosts of the June Revolt, and are the closest thing Marius ever had to a family. 

She’s tried to communicate with ghosts throughout the years, with varying levels of success, the most being with her mother. (I will fight to the death over this ok Fantine gets to help raise her daughter beyond the grave) 

Cosette knows that Marius would never believe her, but whenever he goes out for his strolls by the ruins of the Musain or when he’s working at his firm, she endeavors to learn about these people that made her Marius so happy. She learns about their stories, who they left behind. Some, like Courfeyrac, warm up to her immediately, teasing her about Marius, and telling her how they pined. Some, take longer, and she has more trouble understanding. She learns about the peculiar relationship between many of them, which she doesnt quite understand at first, but she supports and endeavors to do better. She learns why they fought, and why they were willing to die for their cause, and finds herself agreeing, although she wishes they might have lived, and that her Marius might have left unscathed. 

She goes out and tries to make right by them, volunteering at the orphanage where Feuilly spent his childhood, paying off Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire’s tabs at various cafes. She finds the Enjolras family burial plot, and pays for a new headstone, one that says son instead of daughter, and that has the right name. She seeks out Musichetta, Floreal, and Bahorel’s mistress, and befriends them, offering them comfort and support. 

Marius thinks shes a bit odd, going off at all hours, but he assumes shes just giving alms like shes always done.

And finally, once she’s done her best to honor the dead and to befriend those that her husband considered family, she starts to notice a girl ghost, a girl who’s face she hadn’t seen since she was a child, timidly watching.


i love alexander the great’s relationship with his boyfriend Hephasetion who was a general in his army and his personal bodyguard. they told each other their secrets and were present at each others most significant life events…Their mutual teacher, Aristotle, described them as being one soul in two bodies. when the Persian queen mother apologized for mistaking Hephaestion for Alexander because of his taller height, Alexander dismissed her embarrassment by stating “he too is Alexander.” they were childhood friends, remaining close to one another their whole lives until Haphaestion’s sudden death of what is thought to be either typhoid fever or even poisoning in 324 BC. if hephaestion was poisoned for political reasons, perhaps to emotionally disturb Alexander and sully his judgement in government and military affairs, it worked lol….he went nuts. when hephaestion died, Alexander was ravaged with grief… there are multiple accounts of Alexander laying on top of Hephaestion’s corpse for a full day and night in tears, refusing to leave until his companions dragged him away. he didn’t eat for days. he cut his hair short and later laid the shorn locks on Hephaestion’s funeral pyre…romantic rite..he called for the manes and tails of horses to be shorn, banned the playing of music, executed Hephaestion’s doctor for not saving him, and led a campaign against a nearby tribe in order to perform executions as offerings to Hephaestion’s spirit.. he sought out to have Hephaestion be worshipped as a god and was told by an oracle he would be permitted to be revered as a divine hero. he then erected shrines in his honor. 

still don’t think alexander was head over heels for hephaestion? alexander paid a tiny humble sum for Hephaestin’s funeral, around what would be todays equivalent of 1,632,825,000 DOLLARS !!!! i could buy like 19 venti starbucks mocha choca loca ice sugar frappachinos with that god damn .. the funeral had thousands of performers and attendees present, with contests of the arts and athletics held in Hephaestions honor. Alexander even ordered that the sacred fame to be extinguished, an act reserved for the death of the king (so for him to give an honor meant for his own death to someone else is saying something bc he was so full of himself lol)

Alexander died eight months later. at the time of his death, he was still planning monuments for Hephaestion. some believe that hephaestion’s passing led to his disregard of his health, thus causing his mental and physical state to decline and leading to his own death.

whether U consider their relationship to be platonic or otherwise (its otherwise baby), its clear that they had a deep intimate bond that may have verged on codependency and obsession on alexander’s part, who seemed to see Hephaestion as both a precious and vital companion and an extension of himself, an alter ego or something, one person split in two… the idea that Alexander died bc Hephaestion’s death was beyond losing a dear freind and more akin to being without a vital organ is darkly romantic to me

Art:Catalyst” by @murrchow/ @minmeiz
Fic: “Fireflight” by @the-flame-and-hawks-eye

I’m so hONORED TO BE WORKING ALONGSIDE MIN THIS YEAR GUYS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. We wanted to spin in a little angst and young!Royai for this collaboration after we thought, ‘Why can’t fire be a catalyst?’ And thus this magnificent piece of art (and this fic) was born!!!

Every love story needs a catalyst of some sort - Ian Somerhalder

Riza wasn’t sure what to make of her father’s newest apprentice. Since his arrival he had kept to himself, for the most part, working diligently on whatever tasks her father gave him. She had thought it a good thing – it kept him out of her hair.

His other protégés had focused less on the work her father had given them and instead tried to build relationships with them. While she understood to some degree where they were coming from, they failed to realize that they were essentially there to learn alchemy. He, on the other hand, did try to make small talk to lessen the awkward silences that would sometimes stretch between the three of them when they were together, though it was not to the embarrassing degree that the others did.

So she found it unusual when he sat down next to her while she was sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. She stopped herself from looking utterly surprised, waiting a few moments before she looked up from her book to shoot him a questioning look.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can i have a s/o begin silly with Zenyatta, reaper, mcree using their catchphrase something like: zenyatta is kinda sad and s/o say "come here and Experience Tranquility" with open arms, the reaper s/o trying to sneak up on reaper(failing miserably) and saying "death comes" in most sweet tone, and mcree... i have no idea :D maybe the s/o answering the time saying "its high noon"?


It’s not often that Zenyatta admits to being sad. Every negative emotion is carefully weighed and judged by its usefulness. Grieving for Mondatta is deemed worthy of being expressed, both to validate others’ feelings and to show respect to his old friend.

But there is no sense in being a burden to his loved ones for something as inconsequential as a moodswing, and so he pretends that nothing is amiss when he greets you and your current hosts, an omnic couple who are honored by having Zenyatta stay with them, that morning over breakfast only you are actually eating.

“These are the best pancakes I ever had.” you claim. They’re really not but your hosts have been so self conscious over their cooking you have to reassure them somehow. And really, considering they don’t need nutrients themselves they’ve not being doing that bad a job.

“We can bring the leftovers for you to ‘snack on’ later.” Zenyatta says and it’s as endearing as ever to hear him use terminology that is exclusively human. Omnics don’t snack, but he adores the concept of humans eating just for pleasure as much as you adore him sometimes losing control of his limbs when he devotes too much of his mind to his philosophising and forgets he has a physical body to maintain.

Shortly after breakfast you set out towards the local community center, to help out with whatever needs doing and forming new connections while you’re at it. Working with people is such an integral part of Zenyatta’s life you couldn’t get around it if you wanted. He talks to humans and omnics and makes no differences between the two and knows their needs like he knows his own. Better than his own even.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” you say over mid-morning pancakes, between helping a young single mother with her newborn and school children with their homework, something they’ll often not have at home.

“All is well.” he says and that’s when you know he’s upset. Usually he wouldn’t have missed the chance to make a quip about the world in general having something wrong with it.

“Spit it out.”

His shoulders sag and he gives up the pretense of happiness.

“I suffered a bad dream last night, nothing more. I do not wish to wallow in it. Or talk about it.” he adds when you open your mouth to ask about the contents of his dream.

“Fair enough.” you say, pulling out a pen from your bag and writing on the back of your hand, without letting him see.

“I guess sometimes you really just have to move on and … “ you pause for effect long enough until he knows you’re going to make a bad joke of the kind he’ll never get enough of. “… embrace tranquility.”

You show your hand, tranquility written on it, and Zenyatta laughs so hard his voicebox glitches. He hugs you, hiccuping through his giggles, bad mood all but forgotten.

Keep reading

If You Love Me for Me - Bughead - Chapter 1

Dulcenia, otherwise known as the Cooper kingdom is unstable — it has been for years. Since the death of King Harold Cooper, his wife Alice and her daughter have been struggling to make ends meet for the kingdom. The royal family is left weak, and vulnerable. When a wealthy, growing family, the Blossoms, begin their fight for the throne, Princess Elizabeth is faced with a series of impossible decisions, and some newfound feelings for her tutor and best friend, Forsythe.

Warnings: warning for angst in the future, I suppose? nothing in this chapter. keep reading cut, sorry mobile users!
Pairings: Betty/Jughead (who goes by his birth name in this fic), some archieronnie in later chapters, although they aren’t the focus of the story in the slightest.

(A/N: I have big plans for this fic, so lemme know what you think? also, I suck at coming up with kingdom names. these two came out of a generator. also not historically accurate in the slightest.)

thank you @raptorlily, @animechibifangirl, @jennimisk @leaalda and @xobughead for helping me out in your own special ways when it came to writing this, and @jandjsalmon for pushing for this concept so hard. it’s a great one. and thank you, @ogcannie for giving me the idea for this particular plot in the first place ;)

The view from the castle was remarkable. Not only could Elizabeth see beyond the castle walls, but also past the village, and off into the chain of mountains, hiding a long winding trail to a fellow Kingdom. The air had begun to take on a characteristic cold, typical of their land in the later months. She sighed, cold breath swirling around her until it dissipated into nothing. She longed to journey far beyond the castle grounds, to experience the world outside of gloves and gowns, formal dinners and polite smiles. She sat on the small bench that rested on her balcony, looking aimlessly into the distance.

A boy her age emerged from behind her. He had soft black hair and beautiful blue eyes. His pale skin was clear, save for a smattering of beauty marks on his cheek, and his hair was cut sloppily, a few strands obscuring his eyes from sight. He sat next to her, resting his arm on her shoulder. She relaxed at his touch, turning to face him.

“What is it, Elizabeth?” He asked. She sighed.

“I’m not sure, Forsythe, Mother’s always worried about the Blossoms, you know? And she’s still talking about marrying me off, for money to wage war,” Elizabeth sighed, and Forsythe gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Does she seem serious this time?”

She nodded, as he held her just a little tighter.

Forsythe was Elizabeth’s tutor. At least, that was his formal title. However, half the time he was unneeded as a tutor but very much appreciated as one of her only friends. The castle staff was often twice her age, and stern with what she was permitted to eat and what she could do, hardly allowing her to step out to the castle gardens without an attendant trailing behind. Once, her lady-in-waiting, Adela had lambasted her for eating two chocolate truffles at a dinner full of delegates, and that’s when Elizabeth decided she hated her.

Forsythe’s mother had left the kingdom ages ago, leaving him and his sister under the care of his father Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second. They had a quiet life in the village, until FP, a knight, died in the line of work protecting Queen Alice herself. Indebted to his family, Forsythe had been living in of the royal palace with his younger sister Forsythia with Queen Alice’s blessing. They weren’t treated like royalty, but he was fed and permitted a place to sleep, and given access to the humongous library wasn’t bad either.

He made his money tutoring Elizabeth, although she didn’t need it. Elizabeth was a student of science and history and she often played the part of the tutor rather than the other way around. However, he so treasured their friendship, even if he was bitter at that being it.

He had been in love with Elizabeth for the longest of times, every one of her “friendly” touches setting his skin on fire with warmth and need. He wanted her, so so badly. She had even wormed her way into his dreams, conjuring up sinful images in his sleep that filled him with shame. The stationery that sat in his room was full of long writings with the princess as subject, perhaps his biggest source of guilt.

The strangest thing he noted, perhaps, was that he didn’t just want to be with her in a sexual sense. He wanted to take care of her. Wanted to see her wear a dress that didn’t have a corset laced into it, let her hair down when she so pleased, and eat as many chocolate truffles as she’d like. He didn’t want to make a beautiful poster-wife out of her as everyone around her expected. He wanted to run far far away from the kingdom, where no one knew their titles and they could be together with honesty, no pretenses.

But only a fool would fall in love with Elizabeth if they weren’t a king or, at the very least, a nobleman. Queen Alice was aggressive in her shooting down of countless potential suitors. It was an honor just to have their hearts broken by her.

And if only a fool could fall for the princess, Forsythe was the biggest fool of them all.

Her head rested on his shoulder as the sun began its descent. He noticed she began to shake gently, her breathing characteristic of a person crying.

“Hey, Elizabeth, look at me. I don’t give a damn if you get married. You’d still be my best friend in the whole world.”

“Thank you, I guess I just don’t want to get married. Mother says I should marry the king of Crealia, Archibald. Apparently, he is young and seeking a wife.”

Forsythe nodded sympathetically, trying to conceal his own bitterness. It made his blood boil just to imagine another person touching her, in any sense.

Elizabeth’s mother Alice had been viewed as an unfit queen since her husband died. The Blossoms, a wealthy family of aristocrats from a neighbouring kingdom were looking for a way to push Alice off her throne, or they’d start a war. News travelled fast, and their land simply couldn’t afford to go into a war, so Alice decided to have Elizabeth marry Archibald. He was a rich young king from a neighbouring land, who’s wealth could save their kingdom if they needed to fight.

“And besides, I already have someone I wish I could spend a happy forever with,” and that made him choke up. He knew it couldn’t be him, but he could dream, couldn’t he? Maybe, just maybe she felt the same way he did.

“I know it’s my duty to marry him, our people come first. But I really just want to make my mum happy.” She said, bottom lip wavering.
“I think you should do what makes you happy. I know it’s hard, but you deserve to life your life as you please.”

“I suppose. I’m to meet the King soon. What do you think he’ll be like?” She inquired, trying to make conversation with the one thing she’d been dreading.

“I’m sure he’ll be suitable,” Forsythe said, gritting his teeth.

Adela appeared at the door, clearing her throat rather loudly. “Forsythe? Princess Elizabeth is to rest now. You may go,” she said, her voice laced with unkindness. While Forsythe had been living in the castle for years now, he was still a poor in their eyes.

“Actually, Adela, I’d rather he stayed with me tonight.”

“Your Highness, he can not-”

“No. He’s permitted to stay. You can leave now.” Elizabeth said, turning to face the older woman in the doorway. She sputtered some nonsense about him being unfit and uncouth, then stormed out.

“She’s such a piece of work.” He said, rolling his eyes as he opened the door back to her bedroom for her. She curtsied jokingly, her pink satin dress flaring a bit.

“Isn’t she?” she laughed.

Later that night, Forsythe found himself sat upright in Elizabeth’s plush bed, stroking and petting her hair absentmindedly. She’d long been asleep, head in his lap, taking comfort in his presence at a time of loneliness. The last thing she wanted was to spend the night alone, especially with words like marriage, war, bankruptcy, and suitable whirling through her mind.

He kissed her forehead softly before slipping out of her bed, and pulling the covers over her thin form, wincing as she stirred in her sleep. She hadn’t seemed to wake, so he closed the door behind him as softly as he could.

In the hallway, he found himself in tears, not even bothering to look at the maid, (Ethel, was it?) who came around to sweep ornate fixings and paintings every night giving him a look of pity. Forsythe could barely think, with whisperings of war with the Blossoms, and the thought of Elizabeth being married off to someone else. The maid passed, did her cleaning, and disappeared around a corner.

Eventually, he returned to his own room a few hallways away, noticing his sister fast asleep in her bed, he lit a candle and sat at his desk writing furiously until he fell asleep, dreaming of a certain princess who was not only two hallways but a whole world away from him.

this is going to be a lot darker, and a lot more interesting soon. I swear. right now there’s your groundwork for this fic and the foundation for their relationship, the calm before the storm if you will.

please, please let me know your thoughts on this fic, I worked really hard on it. reblogs are always hella appreciated. thank you for reading!
I’ll have this on ao3 once I get my email invite!

belades  asked:

Could you help me out? I recall there being a Japanese myth with a woman named "Tokyo" or something similar, but for the LIFE of me I can't remember the myth or exactly what the woman's name was. I think it might have had something to do with a cliff or the sea, but I might just be getting my wires crossed.

Might you be thinking about Tokoyo?

Once a upon a time, a samurai, name of Oribe Shime, crossed the Emperor. Ill of health and mood, the Emperor exiled the samurai, sending separating him from his daughter, Tokoyo. Tokoyo and her father loved each other very much, and were extremely sad to be separated, so the girl, determined to find her banished father, sold all of her properties and set off on her journey to the Oki Islands, where her father had to live on from now on. Arriving at the old town named Akasaki, Tokoyo asked the local fishermen to give her a hand to the islands, but they all refused to lend her a hand, for it was forbidden to visit those who had been banished, as was assisting those who sought to visit them. 

But Tokoyo is, unlike most female figures in Japanese mythology, not known for being kind or flattering to women, a bona fide killdozer genetically built to get what she desires, so she said “I AM JUST GOING TO LUG MYSELF THERE THEN” and then considered the idea of going Beowulf on the sea’s ass and just swimming across, but settled for just getting a boat (she sold her lands, after all). She went to the Oki Islands, but alas, she couldn’t find her father. She asked the fishermen if they knew where he was, but no one would assist her and they told her to cease her snoopin’ if she didn’t want a whoopin’, so Tokoyo activated Presence Concealment EX and eavesdropped on the conversations of the entire town, but alas, she learned nothing of value.

Defeated, Tokoyo wandered and wandered around the local area, and she eventually came across a shrine. After some vigorous praying to the Buddha, she fell asleep right then and there like a good fatherless hobo. It would’ve been a great nap, EXCEPT a crying girl woke her up. “STOP CRYING OR I WILL GIVE YOU REASONS TO C– Oh yo that ain’t cool” exploded Tokoyo as she got up and noticed that the girl had pretty damn good reasons to be crying loudly, considering a Buddhist monk was about to chokeslam her right off a cliff. “DESIST, RELIGION MAN” she bellowed, preparing her powerful spin kick, one of the top ten moves in the Japanese Myth Fighting World, but she stopped as soon as the monk explained himself. “I’d love to not ragdoll little girls off cliffs, I really would, but see, there’s this rather pissed god, Okuninushi, who is going to get Royally Fucking McPissed if we don’t sacrifice this girl to him after he demanded a sacrifice”

Tokoyo was like “eh, let her go, man, I’ll do it, I got nothing to lose”, since she was pretty down about the whole missing father thing and decided, hey, might as well go out with a bang. So she jumped off the cliff while clenching a dagger between her teeth. Oh yeah, by the way, she had no intention of becoming a sacrifice. Psyche, the plan was “just fucking kick Okuninushi’s ass, because what kind of fucking jerk demands little girls as sacrifices?”, because Tokoyo can do more one-armed push ups than you and I combined, and one has to wonder how the hell her loincloth housed her massive balls.

So Tokoyo straight up swims to the bottom of the ocean because her skin is tougher than submarine pressurized plating and oxygen is for pussies, and upon arriving, she found a really nifty cave so she decided to check it out for sweet loot. And sweet loot she did find! Except it was traumatic sweet loot because she found a statue of the Emperor, which she immediately proceeded to demolish with the nitroglicerin-coated jackhammers she calls her bare hands, because she is still pissed about the whole “he exiled my dad” thing, BUT she stops midway and says “mmm actually I could just carry it to the surface”, and so she just tied the things to her back and effortlessly hoisted the big stone statue and started swimming back to the surface, apparently forgetting her initial god-punching schedule. As soon as she made it out of the cave and started swimming back from the bottom of the ocean with a stone statue strapped to her back, however, a gigantic sea snake creature named Yofune-nushi (which was not Okuninushi and was more or less mythology Godzilla) burst out of the cave and began pursuing Tokoyo. Tokoyo tried her best and swam at full force, fearing for her life, to escape from thPSYCHE, SHE TURNED ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY DEGREES AND WENT DIRECTLY AT THE MONSTER, stabbing its bitch-ass eye with her dagger and then proceeding to pummel the monster with his dagger and her enormous statue-killing fists until she murdered it. If one were to call this a boss fight, the boss was absolutely Tokoyo, certified boss ass bitch and all around killdozer.

Once she finally arrived at the shore, she was well out of stamina (I MEAN, UNDERSTANDABLY SO), but the monk and the little girl from before were there, and they carried her to the town, where her heroic killing of a deep sea abomination with just a dagger and her Bruce Lee Hands earned her acclaim. Moreover, the act of bringing the statue back from the bottom of the ocean apparently lifted a curse on the Emperor, whose illness instantly disappeared. He learned of the event and somehow knew that what Tokoyo had done was what made him healthy again, so in a fit of joy, the Emperor gave Oribe Shime a full pardon, and thus Tokoyo and her father reunited, living happily ever after and returning to their home town, where Tokoyo presumably continued to bully Godzilla and train Sakata Kintoki in the arts of vaporizing oni ass with one hand tied behind the back on her days off when she wasn’t having a simple and clean domestic life with her pops.

Some say that the city of Tokyo has its name in honor of Tokoyo, an homage to her everything, jesus christ, look at the kind of shit she pulled.

  • what she says: im fine
  • what she means: Most people think I was named for the state, but it's not true. I was named for a battle ship. The U.S.S. Arizona. My grandfather was serving on the Arizona when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He saved 19 men before he drowned. Pretty much everything my father did his whole life was about honoring that sacrifice. I was raised to be a good man in a storm. Raised to love my country. To love my family. To protect the things I love. When my father, Colonel Daniel Robbins of the United States Marine Corps, found out I was a lesbian, he said he only had one question. I was expecting, "how fast can you get the hell out of my house?" But instead it was, "are you still the person I raised you to be?" My father believed in country the way you believe in God and my father is not a man who bends but he bent for me because I'm his daughter. I'm a good man in a storm. I love your daughter. And I protect the things I love. Not that I need to. She doesn't need it. She's strong, and caring, and honorable. She's who you raised her to be.
First Meeting

Originally posted by acebarduil

Originally posted by leepace71


Bold and Italicized= Khuzdul

Italicized= Elvish

Also this could be a very, in the future, spin off of this but like it could also be read as a oneshot. Whatever floats your boat.


You shrug out the elf’s grip. You could walk on your own. You watch the elves in the front and all of them have fiery hair or brown hair and it’s obvious that the one leading the group is of a different race of elves. You’ve heard that the Prince and King were of the Sindarin race but you did not think it to be true.

Keep reading

Let’s just remember for a second that in the beginning of The Song of Achilles, Patroclus is described as being too slow, too small—basically not a warrior, never going to be a warrior. Throughout the book, he’s shown as not really having a love of fighting and chooses to learn medicine from Chiron on Mount Pelion. And then, at the very end, in the most 180 character development I’ve ever seen in my entire life, Patroclus dons the armor of his most beloved, the demigod known as the warrior to end all warriors, the best of the Greeks, and goes into battle. Into fucking battle.

He goes against everything that anyone ever thought of him; what he thought of himself. This man—against the words of his father who never showed him the love he deserved, who was cast out into exile by that same father, this man who would rise to be the pin in the grenade—does what no one expected him to: He leads a charge against the Trojans that spins the war on its head in such a way that gods have to get involved.

Achilles, aristos achaion, refuses to fight because of an argument with Agamemnon over honor, and sweet, gentle, kind Patroclus with his heart full of only love for his people, for his friends, for the man he holds most dear—this man, without grace (I mean he’s dropping spears and accidentally almost knocking his helmet off for hell’s sake) makes what’s described as a ‘fateful decision’ and says, “You know what? Send me. I’ll do it.” 

Even if you read the Iliad, it goes the same way. We remember Achilles, this strong, bronze, divine being as the one who kills Hector. Ask anyone about the Trojan War and I’ll bet you 100:1 that people will always mention Achilles before Patroclus, but you know what? It should be the other way around. The amount of courage it takes to know that you have no special skill, you’re mortal, and there’s an extremely high chance that you’re going to die, and yet you still go to the largest battle before the demigod does—the fact that that exact moment is when the entire war turns and what was once a losing battle is refueled… That to me is more heroic than anything.


So the New York Times has fallen to prey to one of its “look at the honorable John McCain being all non-partisan and honorable” spasms.

The story is always the same: it’s some version of “war hero John McCain said something that Republicans don’t usually say! What heroism and roguosity!”

Except … 

Does McCain ever actually, you know, DO ANYTHING? Does he vote against any Trump nominees? Filibuster Bush’s torture orders? (As man who was tortured himself, McCain’s inaction in this area was literally despicable.) 

So far McCain has threatened to vote against ONE Trump nominee: the budget director. Why? The nominee supported cuts to the defense budget.

The only time John McCain acts like the hero he is claimed to be is when someone threatens to make the US spend less money on killing people. Otherwise, he’s a straight party hack, and it’s long past time we make it clear that SAYING you oppose something is not enough, particularly when you are one of 100 people IN THE WORLD who can DO something about it. 

Moral courage lies in action that entails risk. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen anything like that from John McCain.

anonymous asked:

I've already sent idea about Saeyoung organizing BD for Saeran. There is other idea: while everybody planing birthday for Seven (before RFA party) Saeran kidnaps MC as a birthday gift for himself and takes her to very innocent date (he threatening her, but is very cute while the date). I hope my English wasn't very bad and this idea had sense.

Countdown to the Cake: 5

The Match


“Don’t you dare take the blindfold before I allow you to, you heard me?”

Yeah, you did. You heard all his continuous threats from the moment he showed up in Rika’s apartment and made you get inside this car right now , telling you to follow him or he would blow up the restaurant where RFA was meeting to throw Seven a little birthday party. Deep inside, you knew he was bluffing, but would you really risk it?

“You’re quiet. Talk about yourself.”

“I have the feeling you already know a lot about me… Unknown.” He laughs.

“What a smart girl! Yes, you’re right. I already know everything about you.”

“And I don’t know anything about you. Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

“Oh my… so feisty! Maybe you’re not that smart if you think you can talk back to me like that when you’re clearly in disadvantage here.”

“I’m just assuming you’re not stupid enough to do anything to me before the RFA party, you need me more than I need you.” Oh my God! What are you doing? Shut up!

“So fucking smart… how did a clever girl like you end up tricked by me to go into that apartment, after all?” Ugh… he has a point. “Why so quiet?”

“I’m sorry if I don’t see the point in talking to my kidnapper.”

“Kidnapper? Try rescuer or, better yet, savior.”

“Hmm… last time I checked, taking someone against their will is kidnapping.”

“It’s just against your will because you don’t know how much of a favor I’m doing for you, but you’ll thank me later, I’m pretty sure of that.”

“So maybe you are that stupid.” You mutter, already regretting what you said. You can almost foresee a hand hitting your face or a fist against your stomach or… is he laughing?

“You’re so mean! How cruel of you being so harsh on a guy’s birthday!” what the fuck is he talking about now? “Yes, MC. Now you know something about me, today it’s my birthday!” is he serious? Probably, why would he say this so out of the blue?

“Good for you, I guess?”

“No Happy Birthday wishes? You really are mean, ain’t you? Be careful, MC, mean girls don’t make it to heaven… or paradise.” You wish you had the blindfold out just so he can see your eyes rolling.

The rest of your… ride is silent. You don’t know if this is better or worse than when he was threatening you. You should not have called him stupid, what’s gotten into you? You don’t know if the guy has a gun, your cellphone stayed in the apartment, you don’t even know what he wants from you. And neither of the possibilities you’re thinking can be good for you, so pissing the guy it’s a very dumb move.

“We’re here.” Here where? Is it a dark alley? You’re so sure it’s a dark alley. “Don’t make a move yet or I’ll shoot your brains out!” Oh, so he has a gun, there’s your answer.

You hear the passenger’s car door being open and the cool air from outside meeting your skin.

“Out.” He commands, and you obviously obey because you don’t want your brains being shot out. “I still don’t like you’re so quiet, it feels like you’re up to something.”

“I… don’t really have anything to say to you.” Actually, you do, but none of it it’s polite.

“Ahh, not so feisty anymore? Too bad, I was having fun when you were teasing me.” Teasing? Oh my God… what is he thinking? “Walk.”

“I’m not seeing anything, how am I supposed to walk?”

“Fine, then I’ll escort you.” He takes your hand forcibly and makes you grab his forearm. “Now who needs who more, huh?” Shit…

Judging from what you can sense, you’re on a street, now you passing through a door and it’s quite chilly inside, okay, it’s more like freezing, actually. Like you’re inside a… fridge. A fridge where your corpse will lay beside many others this fucking weirdo probably killed.

“Take the blindfold off.” And meet your corpse friends, you’ll be joining them pretty soon.

You take it off and… no corpses. Good, so you’ll be the first victim, what an honor! Then you see these giant white tubes, it looks like…

“Ice cream?” you ask, he doesn’t answer and just throws a jacket in your face.

“Put this on or you’ll freeze.” He says already dragging this tube out of its place. “Hurry! Help me with that!” you put it on. And since it looks so baggy, you can only assume it belongs to him.  “I’m not asking you twice! Help me!”

You pull the tube while he pushes it, it’s so heavy! How many kilos of ice cream are in there? And why does he want this? You make one stronger effort to bring it towards you and he stops pushing it, making you fall in your ass. Another laugh from him, and now you can finally glare at him since you don’t have the blindfold anymore. You get up rubbing your hands against your butt.

“Ahh, poor thing, do you want me to kiss it to make you feel better?” he chuckles, looking straight at you. Are his eyes really minty? It’s so unusual…

You help him carry the tube out of the fridge and put it on this dumpster in the alley. You knew there was going to have a dark alley, didn’t you?

“Now what?” you ask.

“Now we eat, obviously.” He says, offering you a spoon. Did he steal these too? “You don’t want it? Good. More for me, then.” He lifts himself up to sit in the dumpster and takes the lid out of the tube. You observe everything as an outsider, what the fuck is happening here? “What are you staring at?”

“I… have no idea what is going on here.”

“It’s my birthday, I like ice cream. I want ice cream for my birthday. Simple.” He takes this full spoon of ice cream, looking at you again. Is it that cold here? Why are you shivering?

“And where do I fit in all of this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I needed someone to help me get this tube, I’ve been studying how to take it for a few days now.  You’re helping me because you belong to me. Again… simple.”

“Belong to you? I… what are you talking about?”

“You do. You have belonged to me from the moment you entered that apartment.  And yes, you’re right, I still need you planning the party for a few more days, but today I made an exception, since it’s my birthday. So… feel honored and consider yourself as this tube of ice cream: a birthday gift.”

“I’m feeling a lot of things, honor is not one of them.” It’s fast, you just feel your body slammed against the wall, his body boxes yours while he holds your wrists next to your shoulders.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, then. Anger? Fear? Excitement?” he whispers the last word against your ear.”I like when you talk. Mean girls always have something salty to say, until they end up against a wall and are reminded of how weak they are. You’re so mean, MC. Why is everybody so mean to me?”

He presses his body against yours, one of his hands lets you go so he can grab your chin and force you to look at him. You can smell the sweet scent of the ice cream, you can even feel the coolness coming out from his mouth, he’s close, too close. Well,it’s not like you didn’t know this was coming, you only regret you didn’t even try to take any information from him to share with Seven if you could have escaped. But now… you won’t escape, will you?

“All I wanted for today was a little fun, MC. I never had fun on my birthday, everybody was mean to me, my mother, my brother… and now my gift.” He lets go of you, turning his back and going back to the dumpster. “You can go if you want.”


“Go. I already have what I wanted. You’re free to go.”

That’s it? Easy like that? No, there must be a catch, he’ll definitely shoot you in the leg if you run out of there. No… but he already confirmed he needs you to proceed with whatever he’s planning. Okay , there’s this part of you who yells at you to run and never look back, but… there’s that other part who can’t forget the hurting in his voice and the sadness in his beautiful mysterious eyes… You groan and sit next to him in the dumpster, he looks at you, surprised.

“What? You can’t really eat all of this by yourself!” he tilts his head as you’re doing something suspicious, but when you take the spoon and bring it to your mouth, he looks down and smiles. No, not a mischievous grin, just a sweet, soft smile.


“Out.” He says bluntly, stopping the car in front of Rika’s building.

“I know that there were no candles, or cake, for that matter. But did you make a birthday wish?”

“Birthday wish?”

“Yeah, it’s tradition. You blow out the candles and make a wish.”

“I…” he looks for something in his pockets. “I have matches.”

“Okay, light one up and blow it out.” He obeys, obviously he doesn’t understand shit about birthdays and is trusting your knowledge on it.

“I wish…”

“You… can’t really say it out loud or it won’t come true.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I don’t make the rules, dude. It’s just how it is. Do your wish inside your head.”

“Fine.” He groans and looks at the match, blowing it out. “Done. Now get out and go back to plan the party. Go back and act like nothing has happened, you heard me?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m not dumb, you know?”

“I still have a few things to go over before moving on with my plans to destroy RFA, so be a patient girl for me, ok?”

“Does that have to do with your wish? Destroy RFA?”

He chuckles, “So mean and so disobeying, you don’t follow the rules not even yourself invented, huh? I can’t tell you my wish, or it won’t come true, right? So get out of here if you know what’s good for you!” he starts calm and finishes the sentence reaching for his pockets, yelling. You don’t know if he’s looking for the gun, you’re not even sure if he has a gun, but , again, will you risk it? Well, maybe a little…



“Happy Birthday.” And you get out of the car, running inside the building.

He rolls his eyes, what an annoying pert little bitch you are! He’ll make sure to tame you when he brings you to Mint Eye. Yes, he was planning on just locking you in one of the dungeons, but maybe you’ll be useful if you stay beside him. Well… it is something to consider, he still has time before reaching you out again… he can’t wait for it!

What? He has to meet you again, you stayed with his jacket and he needs it back, after all.

You can see the other days here!

anonymous asked:

I work at a pet store. I was short staffed, and I had both phone lines ringing, so I needed to put a regular who had called specifically to talk with me on hold and focus on the transaction in front of me. I told the gal on the phone, "I'm sorry, can I put you on hold? I have to ring," while smiling politely at the guy and his 3 cans of dog food. He corrected me, saying, "You GET to ring me up. Not "have to"." I was floored. WTF?! It's not my fucking HONOR to ring up your damn $5 sale. Bastard

One of the biggest reasons I trust Reyes is because of the way he killed Sloane. There was no illusion of honor. He needed her out of the way so he could do what he thought was best for Kadara. Right in front of Ryder, if romanced, someone who he’s expressed an immense amount of care toward what he thinks, he tricks her into thinking they’re going to have a 1 on 1 dual, and then signals a sniper to shoot and kill her.

That’s not playing dirty in a way that suggest he’s a nasty person. That’s understanding what war is and that the safety of the people is bigger than a sense of pride or what others think of you. If he’d actually competed in a dual and he’d lost, the only person truly challenging Sloane would be dead. He couldn’t take that chance for some petty view of honor. That’s a fool’s idea of war.

Favorite part

Originally posted by professorlupins

✖ Characters/relationships: Original!Percival Graves x Reader

✖ Genres: Power play, smut

✖ Summary: Reader is a new Auror at MACUSA but she doesn’t slip past an experienced eye of Percival Graves. @Anonymous

✖ Disclaimer: All characters are at least 21 y/o unless stated otherwise.

✖ Word count: 5940

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I’m Only Honest When It Rains (If I Time It Right the Thunder Breaks)

I found this from months ago, back in the ‘only so many lifeboats’ craze. So it won’t be canon obviously, but it’s somehow giving me 4x03 feels despite distinct differences and I worked frickin hard on it so here you go.


“He’ll make it.”

           The words sound hollow to Octavia, in the same way an I’m sorry in the wake of tragedy sounds insincere—no matter how genuine they are, they simply can’t process the situation enough to say it with authority.

           And surely Clarke can’t comprehend what’s happened, because Bellamy is not going to make it.

           Octavia enters her new room with a loud grunt, partially to keep everyone away but mostly to trick her mind into forgetting how empty the place is. It doesn’t, of course, and she finds herself thinking inexplicably of Lincoln, and how much he would’ve liked the earthy color of the tent walls, the dull saltwater smell, the soft blanket on the cot. The peace they found here. Then she pushes away the idea, because Lincoln is dead, and wishing he was here only reminds her of what she did after he died, and those memories hurt much, much worse.

           She still remembers the day she finally came back to Arkadia, empty of anything but her sword and her regrets; can feel the imprint on her skin where Bellamy clutched her to him, the divots in her cheeks where tears flowed helplessly as she whimpered, I’m so sorry, you can never forgive me, I shouldn’t have done any of it, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. He forgave her immediately, right there at the gates of Arkadia, and somehow she was almost angry about it because after she betrayed him, beat him, hated him, he shouldn’t still love her. He should’ve yelled at her, pushed her around, made her feel what he felt.

           But he didn’t, and he won’t, because of course he wouldn’t. He’s Bellamy.

           And now he’s gone.


A month previous, Clarke stands at the top of the hill outside Arkadia. She watches the sun rise slowly over the distant horizon, the yellow and pink light beautifully lighting up the forests as they burn.

           The storm has been getting closer and closer for weeks now, and finally they’re taking action. In a few days, they’ll flee to the sea, where Luna will take everyone to the safe zone in two trips—everyone, that is, except for those who will make the one last attempt to stop the storm and the reactors.

           “Hey,” says a low, gentle voice from behind her. She doesn’t turn, only waits for Bellamy to stand by her as he always does. Their hands barely touch, knuckles against knuckles, and she thinks of intertwining their fingers.

           “Hey yourself,” she says after a long drought of silence, not sure what else to say. Anything she actually wants to talk about frightens her too much to open her mouth—her feelings, her regret, the knowledge that some of their loved ones will get left behind to die.

           So she just stands still, arm against Bellamy’s, her soul tucked into his, and she prays.


Bellamy walks into the quiet meeting room with a twisting nausea eating at his gut. He knows the plan is the best one they have, but that doesn’t make this any easier.

           “Bellamy,” Kane says, looking up in surprise from some papers. He’s alone, as Bellamy intended. This was not a matter he wanted public yet. “What do you need?”

           “I wanted to talk about the lists you gave in the meeting today.”

           “For the evacuation?” Kane swallows. “If you were wondering why I put you in the second round, I merely assumed you and Clarke would want to be together, and give others a higher chance—”

           Bellamy forces his voice not to shake. “That’s not what I mean. I want to be taken off.”

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“Who is he?” Honor asked, because Quinn knew everyone, no matter who they were or what they did.

“Harry Styles,” Quinn responded. “He’s a loner. Hides in the basement. Surrounds himself with recording equipment. His friend is Liam Payne. They’re one in the same, I’d say.”

Honor rolled her eyes; she didn’t recognize him. She had probably seen him around campus before, but he looked like any regular Joe off the street. 

“I dare you to flirt with him,” Quinn whispered suddenly, her eyes wide and smile malicious. “He probably never interacts with girls. Just you talking to him will probably give him a boner.”

He’s All That - a She’s All That AU
written for the allficcedup Favorite Movie AU Challenge

read it here

But imagine if, in ACOTAR 3, Tamlin realizes all of his mistakes.

He was sitting in his study, Feyre long gone and having returned to the Night Court, a brief note left on her bed and he hadn’t suspected a thing. He had been foolish enough to truly believe that the bond between Feyre and Rhysand was broken. That there had been nothing between them.

A damned fool.

He had been blinded by love, surely. He had wanted to deny what had been so plainly before him; Rhysand and Feyre were mates. And he had not crawled into her mind and put the idea there, it was as real and true as it was hard for Tamlin to understand.

And he feels guilty for having done what he did to Feyre. For having oppressed her, denied her, refused her. She had given him everything and he had basically shoved her into Rhysand’s arms. He had given her everything Tamlin had failed to.

Though he knows full well that there is nothing that can stop a mating bond, he ponders if Feyre would still be his if he had done something differently. 

And then the battle comes. 

It is just as bloody and devastating as they had all anticipated it would be. The King of Hybern had certainly not disappointed them in that aspect.

Feyre is there, never too far away from her High Lord as they both fight and fight and fight.

But there is an unseen threat. And Tamlin knows about it. He has known for quite some time, as the King of Hybern had entrusted him with this knowledge. 

It was a weapon that was sure to bring down Feyre, and in turn, bring down Rhysand as well. 

Tamlin was many things, and he had done many regrettable things in his lifetime, but there was still love for this girl in his heart. And he could not allow her to die.

Even if it meant his death.

So he pretends to fight on the evil king’s side, seemingly killing in his name. 

But when the time comes for that heinous, despicable dark magic to sweep through and torture Feyre, to kill her…

Tamlin tears through hell to get to her, changing into his beast form one last time to shield her—

And it burns and is excruciating. Agonizing.

Feyre’s eyes turn up to him, at first filled with an astonishing amount of hate.

But he cannot shield her from all of this dark magic, some of it slips through his walls and reaches her.

He clenches her tighter.

The venom in her eyes melts to sorrow and understanding. He will die for this. 

He can already feel time slipping away from him. But it will be okay because she will live and love and her life will continue. They will defeat the King of Hybern.

It will be okay because at least the last thing he will remember before he slips into eternity will be the color of her eyes, the feel of her skin…

The pain is like a thousand knifes thrusting into him at once. Like being dumped in a pool of acid. Like all the pain and sadness of losing a loved one.

He will not cry out. He refuses to give anyone that satisfaction. He will go silently.

Her hand reaches up to touch his cheek…

The words form on his lips, but refuse to expel. 

I love you

I love y–

I lo–


A flash of light and then…



Feyre will never forget how Tamlin had given his life for her. How, until the very end, his first instinct was to protect her no matter what the cost of it was. 

Rhysand comes to respect the High Lord that had given his life for her. 

There is a garden created in Velaris, and it is named after Tamlin in his honor. There is a Celebration of Music once every year in Velaris, and all of the High Lords travel to the Night Court at its opening because if not for Tamlin’s sacrifice, they would not have defeated the King of Hybern.

And Feyre is aware of the last words he had wanted to say to her. She had slipped into his mind and felt just an inkling of the pain he had been going through, but through all of that, she felt his love for her still burning through him.

And both of them—Feyre and Rhysand—will never forget the High Lord who had realized his mistakes.

And righted them.

Warrior Culture: Samurai

“Go to the battlefield firmly confident of victory, and you will come home with no wounds whatever. Engage in combat fully determined to die and you will be alive; wish to survive in the battle and you will surely meet death.”  - Uesugi Kenshin

Warrior Poets of the far east the Samurai lived by the 7 tenants of Bushido, Integrity, respect, courage, honor, compassion, honesty, and loyalty. These tenants guided Samurai conduct in all aspects of their lives, helping these warriors to live peacefully, and helpfully within their communities. For the Samurai, there was no greater honor than to die in the service to the Emperor and the greater good. Bushido led the Samurai to view their lives as expendable, a currency to be spent against the enemies of their communities.

“If a man does not investigate into the matter of Bushido daily, it will be difficult for him to die a brave and manly death. Thus it is essential to engrave this business of the warrior into one’s mind well.”            -Asakura Yoshikage

Ideally living a selfless life of service, and dying with honor, understanding that Death comes for us all, and all that’s left is to meet it with dignity. They understood that war was brutal and uncompromising, and were taught to ignore losses and to focus only on victory and honorable death while in battle. Allowing them to make epic last stands and to defeat enemy armies several time their size. These warriors were the embodiment of duty, and discipline, often committing ritual suicide for failing in their duties, or displeasing their master. It is important to note that for this society, the ritual suicide sepiku was considered an honorable death, owning one’s mistakes and atoning for them with a life. When a warrior dishonored his family or clan he could be denied the honorable death of Sepeku as another punishment.

These pragmatic warriors recognized the need for education and art as well as physical and martial training, and during times of peace they devoted much time to these pursuits. Understanding that the mind and spirit are as much a part of improving the warrior as the body. Embodying the western saying “The pen is mightier than the sword,” agreeing that the brain and its enrichment are of paramount importance to a Warrior Culture. Paralleling the pen and the sword. Due to this focus on the arts and education during this time Japan flourished, and literacy rose to beyond the levels of Europe during the same time period.

A culture is only as strong as those who defend it, and Feudal Japan was a strong and disciplined culture.  


I wrote this for @scenarios-on-ice, for one of her head canons about training with Yuri. It was supposed to be just that but it’s out of control now so it’s basically a Reader/Yuri P fic where you’re part of YOI. 

If you liked this also check out my other blog @imaginegladions for Pokémon Imagine things and of course my blog for random other anime imagines.

You can find this fic on AO3.

And you can find the “Epic & Powerful” music here.


попутчик: (n) stranger you connect to on a trip

Unlike a travel companion you’ve known before, a ‘poputchik’ is a complete stranger who happens to travel in the same direction and share your coupe on a train. You are free to open up completely to your best friend pro tempore, because you know that the person will get off at a far away stop, never to be seen again, taking your secrets safely with them…
…unless you become lifelong friends from thereon.

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13 reasons why you should love tony
  1. gay, latina and one of the main characters of the story 
  2.  literally a dad stuck inside a teens body.
  3. “I thought you might have been in love with her”

Originally posted by hazystrangers

4. just wants clay to listen to the tapes, dammit!
5. was the only friend of hannah’s that she trusted 
6. after hannah died he spent time with her family to make sure that they were doing ok
7. tried to do right by hannah and do what she wished. aka making sure all the people involved heard the tapes 
8. out of the entire group clay is the only one he considers a friend and never gives up hope on him. 
9. when he realises clays tape is up next he stays with him 
10. crys and finely tells hes boyfriend about everything because he feels guilty about not being able to save hannah, wanting to honor her last wishes but also not wanting to hurt everyone else in the process (hes boyfriend is also a beautiful cinnamon roll bye.)
11. when clay asks him to tell the truth “believing what you believe and knowing what you know do you think i killed hannah baker?” he tries to beat around the answer because he knows clays a good dude but he just ends up saying yes because well its true….they all played a hand. 
12. is just very emotional and loves his friends a lot and feels a lot of guilt because of the rapes and not knowing what the right thing to do is but ultimately makes the right choices. 
13. takes himself, hes boyfriend, clay and skye on a road-trip because oh boy do they need it!