1) Sara Lance, Legends of Tomorrow – the kickass, bisexual formerly-dead former assassin who is now a Legend and timeship captain. I LOVE HER.
2) Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, DC Comics – the black-sheep formerly-dead former Robin. He has anger management issues and a complicated relationship with the rest of the Batfamily. I can’t really put into words why I love him, but I doooo.
3) Elizabeth Weir, Stargate Atlantis – the strong leader of the expedition who has to put up with way too much, especially from one John Sheppard. Kind, lovely, and totally lives happily ever after.
4) Vax’ildan, Critical Role – I’m only 17 episodes in, but he quickly became my favorite. He’s charming and dangerous, and he hits my competency kink so hard. (I cannot find a decent pic or gif, because like I said, I’m only 17 episodes into a show that currently has 95, and I don’t want to completely spoil myself.)
5) Artemis Crock, Young Justice – the archer who is trying to do good despite her villainous family and abusive childhood. Prickly at first, snarky forever.
6) Asami Sato, Legend of Korra – the gorgeous, bisexual badass normal who fights alongside benders, kicking ass and taking names while looking flawless. She’s also sweet and kind. Who can blame Korra for falling in love with her?
7) Helena Wells, Warehouse 13 – the badass, bisexual genius who, okay, wanted to destroy the world a bit. She regrets that, though! And she remains forever awesome and way more noble than she gives herself credit for.
8) Severn Handred, The Chronicles of Elantra – the quiet, extremely dangerous former assassin (basically). Fiercely loyal to Kaylin and willing to do basically anything to protect her. I’m basically in love with him, not going to lie.
9) Sameen Shaw, Person of Interest – the badass bisexual sociopath who figures out that being a good guy is kind of rewarding. She’s hot and snarky and dangerous and I have a type, okay.
10) Rey, Star Wars – the scavenger who somehow stays optimistic and hopeful despite a hard life in the desert. She finds a stillness and strength in the Force that she never expected. Honestly my favorite Star Wars character.
I just had the thought cos I'm rewatching Supergirl and faintly swooning over Kara's biceps and I was wondering do you think Kara has a hard time finding sleeves that hide her guns because I'm having a vision of her trying on a cardigan, admiring herself in the mirror, and then she accidentally flexes and the sleeves explode and she's like o o p s
Favorite actress series | Glenn Close: [On being a actor] “I think it is a great privilege, to be an actor. I think our job is to make people believe. Everyone wants to believe something. And besides helping people believe, I think we can remind people what it means to be a human being; how connected we are, how we need love, how hate is destructive. That to me is a privilege.” - Glenn Close
lots of homophobia is violent, but there’s a quieter type that’s just as damaging, just as dangerous. the kind that comes from the mouths of loved ones when they say “god, not every movie needs to have gays in it” and when they say they are fine with gay ppl “despite their sin” and when they act uncomfortable when they see gay ppl. it gets inside ur head, tells u ur wrong, tells u to hate urself. it sneaks up behind you and makes you put on a mask
I got a few requests for this fanfic! I’ll give it a go!
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Maybe Southside High was where he was meant to be. These people, they were like him, damaged, dangerous , the very definition of wrong side of the tracks. They liked him, they thought he was funny and when they laughed they were laughing with him not at him. So what was the problem?
Thoughts of shiny green eyes and long honey blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail ran through his mind. The image of his beautiful girlfriend made his palms sweat and his heart ache. Betty had cried for him, fought for him, she never gave up, not even when he gave up on himself. And then there was Archie, no matter what happened he would always be his best friend. Pulling his attention back to the conversation in front of him, Jughead couldn’t help but laugh at the groups crude humor.
The beanie wearing boy whipped around,
Archie, Veronica, Kevin and Cheryl were all standing behind him, sticking out against the beat down high school and grungy students.
“What are you doing here?” Jughead asked, standing from his seat as the people at his table watched cautiously, silently.
Archie stuttered, speechless. Cheryl shoved past him and stood before Jughead.
“Maybe you haven’t noticed Jones, but your girlfriend hasn’t answered her phone in two days and she didn’t show up for school today. I had one of my vixens stop by her house this morning and ask that lunatic mother of hers to speak to her and the blonde stepford wife claimed Betty was at school. Newsflash? She’s not.” Cheryl angrily stabbed Jugheads chest as fear flashed in his eyes.
“What do you mean she’s not in school? And she’s not at home?! I don’t have my phone. It’s at home. I thought she was just busy, I was going to go over tonight.” His eyes were frantic as Veronica pulled out her phone.
“Oh my god.” She whispered.
Kevin ran over to the raven haired cheerleaders side, reading the message on her phone.
“Oh god” he gasped.
“What?!” Archie asked.
Veronica held up her phone and showed the group the text with shaky fingers
“Thankyou for being an amazing friend, you’ll do fine V, just stay true to who you are. I love you”
Jughead ripped the phone from her hand,
“Where is she?! Where could she be?! We have to go. NOW.” He shouted, speeding through the halls and heading for Archie’s beat up truck.
Everyone was scrambling as they got into the car, ideas bouncing off the walls of where Betty could be, suddenly Cheryl spoke evenly.
“Sweet water. She’s at sweetwater.”
They all turned to her, Archie not giving it a second thought as he sped through the streets of Riverdale, making his way to the river.
“Why would she be there?!” Kevin was texting Betty profusely to no avail.
Cheryl pulled her own phone out and began texting Betty
“It’s the easiest way to go, with the ice.”
Veronica gasped, shivers racking her body.
Jughead stared blankly out the window, his body tense. No. no, not like this. Not Betty. How could he have not seen? How could he have been so neglectful to not notice his own girlfriend was drowning. She had so much going on, it was too much on her and he did nothing to alleviate that stress. He didn’t deserve her, he never deserved her.
Archie parked haphazardly, his truck skidding to a stop as all the teens hopped out.
“Split up!” Archie called, sprinting through the snow, slipping and sliding as he searched desperately. Jughead pounded through, the cold seeping through his boots.
Veronica’s distinctly feminine voice called from his right as she pointed to a shadowed figure a few feet away. Jughead tripped up falling to his knees as he ran towards her.
“The ice!” Cheryl screeched “its cracking! Separate.”
Jughead couldn’t hear her he was running towards Betty, she was looking at him now, big, terrified eyes.
“You don’t have to do this! Bets please! Come here. I’m right here! I’m here for you! I’m so sorry.” He cried desperately, his arms extended as he reached for her.
She looked at him with such blank eyes he stopped dead in his tracks
“I’m sorry.” She mouthed.
She was gone, fallen through the ice, engulfed in the current as Jughead watched horrified.
“NO!” He screamed desperately, dropping to his knees as he dug through the snow, his fingers red and raw.
Veronica and Archie were beside him, kicking and clawing at the snow searching the ice. Kevin was holding a weeping Cheryl.
“I CANT SEE HER! I CANT FIND HER” Veronica cried as Archie pushed the heavy snow aside
“Right here! She’s right here.”
Jughead shoved Archie aside, his fists flying as he he punched at the ice, blood flying before he stood and kicked the ice sending it shattering, he reached into the water gripping an unconscious Betty by her shoulders and laying her on the snow.
“Come on, come on!” He brought his lips to hers, breathing air into her lungs as his tears dripped onto her face. “COME ON” suddenly her eyes flew open as she spit out water, gasping for air. Jughead dropped his forehead to hers and gasped.
“Oh my god” Veronica breathed and Archie wrapped Veronica in his arms.
“We have to go!“ Kevin said “she’ll freeze if we don’t get her someplace warm.”
Lifting the frozen blonde up bridal style, the group raced through the snow, depositing Betty into the truck, Jugheads denim wrapped snugly around her shoulders as she drifted off
“Stay with me Betty. Stay with me.” Jughead mumbled into her damp hair as he held her to his chest. Everything going black.
When Betty woke up she was sitting up beside a fire, her back resting against a strong familiar chest, slender hands wrapped around her, steady breathing in her ear.
Glancing up Betty looked around, Veronica and Archie were sleeping on the couch, sharing a blanket. Cheryl was on the floor beside Kevin both sleeping as well. Jughead had her wrapped up in his arms, his eyes fluttered open and got wide.
“You’re awake.” He breathed a sigh of relief, his arms squeezing her tight
“I’m so sorry.” Betty whispered tearfully. Jughead lifted the beautiful blonde up and onto his lap
“Don’t you dare apologize, this is not your fault. It’s mine. I didn’t see you crying out for Help, you saved my life and I couldn’t even be there when you needed saving.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes desperately guilty.
Betty covered his hand and leaned into his palm
“Technically you did save me.” She smiled softly.
Jughead rolled his eyes,before they softened
“Please don’t ever do that again, please just.. I’m so sorry Betty.” A single tear slipped from his eyes as he pressed his forehead against hers.
“I’m okay Juggie. We’re okay.”
She whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to his lips.
C-could you please not reblog art where the characters are white washed? You recently reblogged one where Lance is borderline but Hunk is pretty pasty. Thank you.
Sigh. This isn’t what I wanted to write about tonight. That said, maybe it’s time.
I think I’ve made it clear that this is an anti-discourse blog. That includes race discourse. I think it’s a side of fandom that has done MUCH more harm than good, and I would like it to go away entirely. I understand why it exists, and I would never tell someone else how to use their time, but I will not agree and I will not engage.
I think I know which art piece you’re talking about. The artist was using a rather pastel color palette. It looked like the paladins were sitting in a bright patch of sunlight, relaxing and hanging out together in a lovely room. And that’s all. Yes, Hunk and Lance’s skin tones were lighter than they are in the show. But so was everything. It was clearly an artistic choice and I have no problem with it.
I’m sorry it bothered you. But I’m not going to delete the post. Neither do I intend to keep an eagle eye out in the future to avoid “white-washed” fandom art and avoid reblogging it. I’m sorry if that’s an issue for you. Feel free to unfollow me. I’m not going to train myself to look for problems.
I think the entire mentality in recent years of fandom in general and the Voltron fandom in particular to hunt down “problematic” fan creators and punish them is not only awful and damaging and unhealthy, but also dangerous in a way. Most of the things fans are complaining about their fellow fans doing wrong, or even the show itself, are very minor. By searching so hard for things to be offended about, by finding them and reinforcing them with likeminded fans and working yourself up into a frenzy over them, you are TRAINING yourself to be offended. You are teaching your brain to be pleased and satisfied when you find things that upset you, because the rush of energy and anger feels good. And that just makes you find more and more and more.
This is not a good road to go down. It leads to misery. It leads to depression. It leads to believing that the world is awful and only getting worse, and no matter how much you fight it you can never make a difference, because there’s always going to be some other “problematic” thing to get worked up over. And it’s just going to keep getting worse and worse.
It’s the same way I feel about the “microaggression” thing you hear about in the larger American culture. Racism is bad, and I hate it. But someone asking where you’re from? Not racism. Most of those things I see listed as microagressions are tactless and a little rude, but they aren’t crimes. By teaching ourselves that they are, we’re only making things worse and worse for ourselves and for each other. Morgan Freeman said it best. The best way to cure racism is not to seek it out and decry it, but to find commonalities and learn to love each other instead. You’ll never change a racist by yelling “RACIST!” at them over and over until they shut up. That just makes them hide away in likeminded communities and discuss how awful you are and how abused they are and how they’re right in every bad thing they’ve ever thought about you. You change a racist by showing them that we’re all the same, and our differences are things to be enjoyed and celebrated and shared, not sequestered and hoarded and gloated over like gems.
This is something you learn in therapy for mental illnesses like PTSD and depression, by the way. It’s similar to the counseling I got. Part of the problem with PTSD is hypervigilance, the way your brain is constantly on the look out for things that threaten you. The more you notice, the more tense and alert you become, and then you see more. It’s the same thing with the whole fandom callout culture. I worry a lot about kids who come into the internet fandom bright-eyed and happy, eager to share and discuss the things they love, only to be beaten down by these eagle-eyed folks who see problems everywhere they look that need to be attacked. And these kids are learning to fall in with the crowd, because not to do so is literally dangerous to their mental and emotional health.
We need to train ourselves in the opposite direction. We need to learn to accept each other with a few little bumps and bobbles here and there. If you have criticism to offer, do so, but in a constructive way. And if the creator doesn’t agree, accept that. Accept that their work is just not your cup of tea, and move on with your day. You will be much happier and healthier for it, I promise.
One of my fandom friends was basically hounded out of the Voltron fandom with hate messages she got for one of her fics. The reason? Lance wasn’t Latino enough. Because he was singing showtunes with Blue instead of more “Latin” songs, I think was the crux of the complaints. Mind, this was before he was even revealed to be Cuban, so it was based entirely on fanon. This friend of mine is biracial and grew up in a mixed Latino family. Her godson is a gay Latino, and she based the characterization of Lance on him, because he loves showtunes and his relationship with his partner reminds her of Lance and Keith. The persecution of this friend of mine based on her artistic choices in a cute little ficlet about Lance and Blue having fun together still upsets me and breaks my heart. I want it to end.
I’m sorry if this little essay offended anyone. As I said, feel free to unfollow me if my stance makes you uncomfortable. I hold no grudges. But this is something I feel quite strongly about, and I’m not going to change. And congrats if you read this whole thing! It was quite a piece.
Prompt: Gemma finds you on the side of the road after you have been attacked by a rival MC. Not knowing who you are or what you might have on your rap sheet she decides to bring you back to the Redwood Originals Clubhouse and let Jax and the rest of the MC figure out what to do with you.
Warnings: Swearing, mention of violence and criminal activity
A/N: Sorry that this is kinda crappily written, I had started it a few nights ago and then finished it today and I never seem to write as good when there is a long break in between starting and finishing the imagine. Hope you still like it though!!
It was the sounds of various male voices that brought you out of the state of unconsciousness you had been put into from the blow to the back of your head. The voices were unknown to you and once you let your eyes groggily open you realized the place that you were in was unknown to you as well.
“Hey, she’s comin’ to.” one man’s voice spoke. His observation made all the other voices around him stop. You could tell all eyes had fallen on you, the only question was whose eyes were they.
You pushed your body up weakly onto your elbows before looking around at the mysterious location and mysterious faces that surrounded you. It had been too dark when you were attacked to remember the faces of the men whose guts you now hated, however you could tell that the large figures that surrounded you weren’t them. Your attackers, whoever they were, had wanted you dead. There was no way in hell that the same people that had left you to die on the sidewalk would’ve brought you back to their place, patched you up, and given you a comfortable sofa to rest on.
You glanced down at your blood stained clothing, the dried blood causing the fabric to lay stiff on your now bruised skin. Your head was pounding, your body was aching, your cuts were stinging, and all you wanted was a cigarette and to figure out where the hell you were.
“Someone get Jax.” you heard a different man’s voice speak. This time your eyes followed the voice to observe who was talking. It was larger man with a long frizzy mess of hair. He was wearing a mysteriously stained shirt and a black cut.
“What’s your name sweetheart?” another voice asked, causing your eyes to travel to a man with a leathery face and black curly hair.
“How about you tell me where I am first.” you spoke back, an eyebrow raised. You were trying to hide the fact that you felt threatened by the situation at hand. You hated feeling over powered and considering that you were smack dab in the center of a circle of testosterone you figured establishing yourself as a dominant force would be a good call. However the man just chuckled at you as if you were a little kid.
“You’re in Charming.” he responded, folding his arms over one another before leaning back against the pool table that sat in the room. “More specifically Teller Morrow Mechanics also known as the SAMCRO MC Clubhouse.” he added proudly. “Now what’s your name?”
“(Y/N).” you responded flatly after a few silent seconds of just looking at the man. Before the man could open his mouth to ask another question however, a new figure appeared in the circle.
“Guys, give the girl and me some time alone please.” the tall blonde spoke in a raspy voice, his eyes glued to you the moment he stepped into the group. The men all nodded their heads before lingering off in different directions, the one you had been talking to being the last one to leave.
You swallowed hard as the man sat down in the chair across from the sofa you were laying on, his blue eyes still not separating from your bruised face. Once he was situated comfortably in front of you he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“You smoke?” he asked, finally breaking eye contact with you to look down at the pack and open it.
“Yeah.” you responded more timidly than you meant to.
You watched as his nimble fingers pulled two cigarettes from the pack. He placed them both in his mouth before reaching into his pocket and grabbing a lighter. He brought the small flame up to the ends of both the cigarettes. Once they both had burning embers on the end he took one of them out of his mouth and handed it to you, a puff of smoke escaping his lips as you took it.
“I’ll tell ya, you’re quite the fighter.” the man chuckled slightly, watching as you brought the butt of the cigarette to your lips and inhaled. “We thought you were dead when Gemma brought you in.” his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. The two of you looked at each other in silence for a brief moment, smoke filling the air before he spoke again. “You’re names (Y/N) right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” you nodded. “What’s yours?”
“Jax Teller.” he responded before the two of you were plunged back into silence for a few moments. “What’s a group of thugs want with a girl like you?” his voice spoke, breaking the quiet.
“Let’s just say I’ve made some mistakes and gotten into trouble in the past.” you responded, a small chuckle lacing your voice as you remembered all the shoot outs and heists you had found yourself in. You had never felt more alive than in those memories. “Whatever ‘group of thugs’ attacked me last night want me dead, they think I’m dangerous.” your voice trailed off as you took another puff of smoke into your throat.
“Why do they think you’re dangerous?” Jax asked.
Most people would tense at the words you had just spoken, however he remained relaxed. Not because he knew he could overpower you, which he could, and not because he out numbered you, which he did if you counted all his friends scattered around the room whispering to one another. He was relaxed because of your eyes. The way they looked at him, the way your pupils dilated, the feeling he got when yours met his. Something in his mind told him that you were not a hazard. At least not to him.
“Because I’m damaged I guess.” you chuckled lightly, letting your eyes fall to the ground. “And damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive anything that gets thrown their way.”
The two of you sat in silence for several more minutes before Jax opened his mouth to speak.
“You aren’t like most girls are you?” he asked, leaning in and lowering his voice as if he only wanted his words to be shared between the two of you. You glanced up at him, your eyes locking.
“Depends what most girls you’ve met are like.” you responded. You couldn’t help your eyes flickering down to look at his lips briefly. Something about his entire face was satisfying to look at.
You could tell in that moment that even after the MC dropped you back off at your apartment, this sure as hell would not be the last time you would see them. And this certainly wouldn’t be the last time you would see Jax Teller.