easy to match


philip shea + textpost meme (a pair piece for my lukas one) 


Clexa AU - Clarke and Lexa are paired together after Kane’s orders and they have to share the same room/bed.

A request from @celebritiesandmovies

I’ve always tried to see the bad inside myself and the good inside others. I’ve remained silent until I’ve been asked to speak, because it’s better than being asked to become silent. I used to ruin the present by worrying about the future and then weeped by recalling the past. I believe that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. Life’s saddest lesson is that the closest people in our life aren’t always the ones who love us the most. I’ve never looked at money as a companion, because it only benefits me when it leaves me. I believe that a liars biggest punishment in this world is that even his truth is rejected. There’s two faces I won’t forget in this life, the one who helped me in time of need and the one who left me in difficult times. I’ve always tried to do what is right instead of what is easy. Always tried to match my words with my actions, because I want to be defined by my actions, not my words. I didn’t know how strong I was, until being strong was my only choice. One thing I’ve learned about people is that if they do it once, they’ll do it again. I`ve always been thankful for the bad things in life, because they’ve opened my eyes to see the good things. As long as I’m standing, I’ll try to give a hand to those who have fallen. I never have and I never will trade respect for attention. The best lessons I’ve learned in life came from the worst feelings I felt in life. I want the rainbow, so I`m dealing with the rain. When I’ve got all that I need, I’ve planned to build a longer table, not a higher fence. I used to be afraid of feeling happy, because it never lasted. I’ve learned that if I fight for my dreams, my dreams will fight for me. My highest ambition is to get to the top and laugh at the things that thought they could bury me. I’ve started to choose my companions wisely, because I’m choosing the front row of my funeral. As I was born crying with people around me laughing, I want to die happy with people crying around me.
—  Lifehitsharder.tumblr.com
BTS as things my friends have said in Maths...
  • Seokjin: It's a good job I'm pretty because I'm gonna need something to fall back on when I fail these exams
  • Yoongi: Easy. Everything is easy. Textbook - you've met your match
  • Hoseok: Maths can be fun sometimes! Come on, guys
  • Namjoon: My calculator works for everyone else but me - what is this? You're supposed to be mine.
  • Taehyung: *turns calculator upside down* It says 'hello', see?!
  • Jimin: Does anyone else need to borrow a pen? I have about fifty and only one good writing hand, so go ahead
  • Jungkook: *puts hand up and guesses the wrong answer* I demand a recount
CP bachelor AU: part 10

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9


They’re filming the penultimate episode when Erasmus throws a huge, shining spanner into the neat mechanism of Laurent’s show.

This close to the end, the on-camera small talk is finally giving way to more serious discussions about compatibility. Damen is meant to spend this afternoon asking each suitor in turn where they see themselves in five years, and what they really want out of life. 

Erasmus is first; he sits on the edge of the couch, set at an angle to the leather armchair where Damen is enthroned, and twists his hands together. He hasn’t looked this visibly nervous in a while. Damen has obviously noticed it too, because he bats a few sillier questions at Erasmus instead of plunging straight into the heavy topics. He has an instinct for people that makes Laurent wonder what kind of easily-swayed idiot Theomedes must be, not to see how wired Damen is for leadership.

When Damen poses the in-five-years question, Erasmus runs a tongue over his lips and colour fills his cheeks. He’s the only suitor who hasn’t yet kissed Damen at least once on camera, and Laurent approved of that on the basis that it maintained tension, but now would be a good time for a kiss if one is going to happen.

Laurent moves his eyes away from Damen’s mouth.

Erasmus says, still blushing, “This is hard to say. I think you’re incredible, Damen. Really. But–”

But?? rings in Laurent’s head like a struck bell.

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concept: chirrut and baze first meet as teenagers when baze first comes to the temple at jedha after being orphaned or something similarly tragic.  he’s angry and irrational and hurting and very hotheaded, and when chirrut bumps into him in the hall, he challenges him to a fight.  chirrut turns around and baze realizes he’s blind and thinks oh shit, i can’t just fight a blind guy.  but chirrut is actually very much down to fight, and baze is just like okay, it’d be rude to retract the offer now, i’ll just go easy on him.

chirrut kicks his ass in like, ten seconds.  and he won’t stop laughing about it either, because that’s what you get for thinking i’ll be an easy match!  baze’s bruises last for over two weeks, and that’s how he finds his new best friend/kind of falls in love.

Blame @reblogginhood because her stuff on Vesta on Meta Station’s latest podcast inspired me to write a little bit of a Roman Empire AU.

There were perks to being the emperor’s son.  Pike was a bit ruthless for Bellamy’s tastes, but he had been a good commander out in the forests of Gaul.  The old emperor had been a weak, corrupt man, and Bellamy had made sure his legion supported Pike when he returned to take the throne from Jaha.  

Being named his son and heir in return had been a welcome surprise, as it took a boy who had been born in the back gutters of Rome to Palatine Hill.  It also meant sitting with the emperor at the Coliseum, surrounded by slaves with fans while the gladiators battled below in the midday heat. Pike’s relentless war with Queen Nia had been a thorn in Bellamy’s side, and he had agreed to attend the games to smooth things over.  Several hours had passed and Pike seemed to have relaxed, soothed by the festivities below.

Festivities that turned Bellamy’s stomach, but he watched them with a mask of excitement nonetheless.

Pike plucked a fig from a tray and offered it to Bellamy who waved him away.  “This one is new,” Pike said, motioning to the blonde woman walking boldly out onto the sands.  “They’re calling her the Commander of Death.”

She saluted the emperor and Bellamy sat up, intrigued.  “Where is she from?” he asked.

Pike busied himself with choosing another fig.  “Just a slave,” he said, and Bellamy turned his attention back to the arena.  The gladiator’s hair was woven back into intricate braids and she drew a short, broad sword.  Her legs were all smooth muscle, and when the panther was released she danced away with an easy grace.

The match was finished quicker than Bellamy thought possible.  The gladiator circled the panther and then seemed to stumble back just as it pounced.  He thought she was gone— a disappointment— but then the panther went limp and she heaved it aside.  She’d used the beast’s weight against it, driving her sword into his belly when it tried to tear her throat out.

That was a daring play; one false move and she would have died, but she didn’t even seem to relish her victory.  Most gladiators would feed on the crowd, but the Commander of Death simply bowed and strode off her field of victory without a second glance.

“I’d like to meet her,” Bellamy said suddenly.

Pike looked up, surprised.  Bellamy didn’t usually take advantage of the perks of his station, and Pike furrowed his brow.  “I can arrange that,” he said, but his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

The gladiator arrived at the palace later that day, still dressed for battle but with an empty scabbard.  He was reasonably sure he could have disarmed her if she meant him harm, but his guards were probably wise not to send an armed slave into the chambers of the emperor’s son.  She stood with her shoulders straight and her chin tipped up in defiance, her blue eyes cold and hard.

Bellamy poured himself a goblet of wine and dismissed the rest of the servants.  She hadn’t spoken yet, just watched him warily as he paced around her.  “You must be wondering why I’ve summoned you,” he said, stopping just behind her left shoulder.

She didn’t look back.  “Not particularly,” she said tightly.

“It’s not for that,” he said, and her shoulders let go of some tension.  

Up close, she looked just like he remembered.  Same delicate lips, same straight nose, same blonde waves.  Her body was harder and leaner now, and he was willing to bet her hands back then hadn’t been callused from holding a sword.  He had only seen her a few times, carried past their street on a litter, but he never forgot a face.

Especially not one as beautiful as hers.

“Wine?” He held a goblet out to her and she accepted it with a suspicious look.  “It’s probably been years since you’ve had something this fine,” he continued, and she lowered the goblet from her lips without taking a sip.

“What do you mean?”

Bellamy circled around to face her and wondered if he was about to meet same fate as the panther she’d dispatched.  “I mean, it’s a long way from Palatine Hill to the arena, princess.”

Her eyes snapped to him but otherwise her face remained impassive.  “I’m not sure what you’re saying,” she replied carefully.

“Pike was a soldier; he never spent much time in Rome.  But I grew up here.  Down in the slums just past the market.”  He took a sip of wine and cocked his head to the side.  “The market that the emperor’s son’s betrothed used to frequent.  Tell me, how do you go from princess of the empire to a slave in the Coliseum?”

Clarke’s nostrils flared.  “Your betrothed dies and his father is murdered by a butcher who has no business running a province, much less an empire.  You run, and you get captured by people too stupid to realize who you really are.  So you start fighting.”

“You haven’t touched your wine,” he observed.

“I’m waiting to see what you do with me.”

Bellamy gave her a crooked smile. “I’m offering you a chance to get what you want.”

Something sparked in her eyes.  “And what’s that?”

“Justice.  Revenge.  Whatever you want to call it.”


Bellamy stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the eye.  “I want you to help me bring down the emperor.”  

Anon: Please make us one of your really long essays (lmao) talking about about Kook/min in the 4m vapp live. Please! You have to do it, I don’t make the rules, it’s for science, I promise! :p 

There was quite a lot packed into that short segment (hm..), so I’ll just briefly go over what stood out the most: 

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Kitten; Epilogue

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Jon Moxley[Dean Ambrose]/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Crew, welcome to our epilogue! Tagging the amazing @tox-moxley, the awe-inspiring @oraclegazes, and our brave captain on this voyage, @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!

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Bitty’s the big spoon. He may be the smaller of the two, but he’s the big spoon. And Jack loves it. He loves the way Bitty tucks up behind him and fits his knees just so into Jack’s like they were made for each other. Jack can feel Bitty’s slow breathing as he sleeps and it calms Jack like nothing else. It’s so easy to match the slow, calm pace and clear his mind. Bitty’s hand rests above Jack’s heart and he can’t think of a better metaphor for what keeps his heart safe. Bitty is the big spoon and it’s perfect.

UFC - Michael Latta

Originally posted by livelovecaps

Notes: Such an original title, eh? I’m so creative wow. Regardless, here’s a cute lil Michael Latta imagine! Hope you all enjoy.

Mentions: Tom Wilson

Warnings: Like mentions of fighting but not between the couple

Requested: Yes | No

Up Next: Artemi Panarin OR Kasperi Kapanen

Teaser: “Honestly, kids, there’s so many people watching, and I really don’t think (Y/N) plans on switching from a UFC fighter to a porn star.”

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I was drawing something and realized

Matt’s outfit here has an awfully similar color scheme to the “galra” from the Weblum

now, originally, with the April Fools trailer we got, i presumed Lotor was the galra from the weblum. But now, looking at their respective outfits, it’s fairly easy to tell they don’t match up.

(Forgive the bit of cow) One of the most noticeable differences between the two is the different symbol on the front. This leads me to believe Lotor was a red herring, at least with these specific clips showing him in this outfit.

It should also be noted, the outfits of the aliens who broke out Matt were also wearing dark purples and oranges/reds:

It can be presumed that Matt is currently with them, or was previously with them, which would explain the outfit in the new sneak peek we got. Judging by the color scheme, this may be another rebel group operating against the galra.

Other important notes:

  • Episode 9 was Belly of the Weblum, while Episode 10 was Escape from Beta Traz. Voltron doesn’t mess around with their episode ordering- it always has a reason to be in that specific order, usually because something needs to be set up or established before something else. In episode 9, we meet the figure in the Weblum. In episode 10, we see Matt’s escape. If the figure is Matt, this setup would make sense, and would explain why we were shown Matt’s escape in that episode specifically.
  • The figure in the Weblum appeared to be in an escape pod. Presuming Matt is or was hiding with a rebel group, it’s possible at one point he got caught in a conflict and was forced to flee. If it was Lotor, it’s expected there would be more of a commotion from the empire as, hey, their prince and heir to the throne just got eaten by a space whale.
  • The figure in the weblum was specifically collecting the however-you-spell-it from the Weblum, and also was quickly able to turn their ship into a bomb. Assuming Matt is as tech-savvy as Pidge, then it would make sense Matt would be able to so quickly make the ship explode, and provide and explanation that Matt may have been collecting the whatever-it-is for something he’s building.
  • The figure in the weblum never takes off their mask and never shows their skin. (For good reason: They’re in space. If they had skin showing they would die- or at least that part of their body would probably freeze. Or suffocate. Or implode/explode. Fun stuff.) There actually isn’t anything telling us they’re galra, besides implications from the color scheme of the outfit, shape of the symbols on the suit and ship, etc. We never actually see them. However, we do know they’re about the same height as Keith. This wouldn’t make any sense for most galra, as the only galra we’ve seen who’s even close to human size is Keith, who is part human. (Keith might actually be a bit below average human height.) This puts the figure’s estimated height muuuch too small for a galra, but just right for an average human.

So, TL;DR:

Theory that the “Galra” in the Weblum was actually Matt.

And So, Humbled they Came


Anadûnê was a star of five points. She had seen it drawn out upon a map; and she had seen it, too, through the eyes of a great seabird wheeling high above, wings spread to the thermals. It was a star of five points, and so a star of five points – not eight, never eight – was embroidered upon its banners, engraved upon its fine, high doors.

In the center of the isle, or near enough, there was a mountain, the Pillar of Heaven, Minul-Târik. It, too, was a star of five points when seen from above, five long ridges of stone spreading out from the central base. It was said there was an altar at the top, a degenerate thing dedicated to the gods of the Nimîr, but she had never seen it and expected she never would.

Her ship had landed at Rómenna. The passage had been long, and distinctly unenjoyable; the sea smelled to her heavy and decaying, nothing like the clean, dry winds of her homeland. The salt reek of the waves had sickened her, or their ceaseless, grey and white movement had; and she had curled miserably below decks and longed for the umber and gold of the great Dune Sea upon whose verge her city had rested, longed for the cool blue shadows of evening and the hot, sharp vibrancy of day.

They had looked at her strangely in Rómenna, jabbering to each other in the Adûnâyê which was and was not like the Adûnâyê she knew; the rhythms had been strange, the words. The vowels had seemed longer, the consonants clipped off as though bitten between sharp teeth. She had not understood them, but she had understood enough. They looked at her, at her clothing and her hair and her skin, and knew her for foreign. She had never felt so alone as she had upon that reeking dock, nor so stripped down naked and vulnerable.

Upon her arrival at last in Armenelos, however, she had quite quickly learned how much more alone and vulnerable a woman might be. Her betrothed husband Tarannon Bâr n’Sakal, a man of noble birth and of many victories in the conquests of Umbar, had looked at her as a man might have inspected a mare for his stables. Not once had he looked at her with any softer expression, through all the long and all but incomprehensible ceremony which was their marriage, through all the long and all but unbearable night which followed it, nor in all the long and interchangeable days since then.

There were gardens at her husband’s house in Armenelos, though they were not like the gardens she knew. She walked in them, all the same. There were birds in the gardens, tiny red ones called kiriniki which were much beloved by the men and women here. Raucous white gulls wheeled always overhead, and larger birds, ospreys and sea eagles with far-reaching eyes which she loved to borrow and pretend she was as free as they. She missed the britti of her homeland, the muted brown bird sometimes called a desert lark. She missed the little pink pimchee flowers. She missed the long-legged desert cats, and the black crows breasted in white. She missed air which was not wet; and she missed good sweet mint tea.

She missed eyes which did not look at her and see only strangeness. She missed the sound of voices speaking like her own.

She wore black, in this new land, and jewelry of silver set with amber and nacre from her homeland. She wore her hair in tight braids, pulled back and away from the bones of her face, and she wore a head-covering of thin silk held in place by silver combs. She would not ape their foolish garb with its stays and bindings and its brightness; and she would not be a pretty, all but silent kiriniki. She was britti, she was a long-legged desert cat. She had been Tamar Margoliantë; in this new land she renamed herself Béruthiel.

There was only one here who was of her lands and might understand; but he was so far above her as to be unreachable. He might just as well have been across the sea in the east, for all she could speak to him. Or all she could even try. The Zigûr, the wizard he was called. She had known him – known of him, by other names. Giver of Gifts was one. Eye of the Sun, another. Her mother had told her the stories; but the great Lord in his fiery manse in Mordor had fallen before Béruthiel-who-had-been Tamar had been born.

She walked in the gardens at the palace of Ar-Pharazôn, her husband having been called to a council. It was a great honor, she was cognizant of it; and knew further she had been brought only as an ornament to his power. So too had he brought his horse, a proud-necked Umbarim stallion the color of beaten gold. So too had he brought his slaves. Or his other slaves, the ones who wore their collars and chains more openly.

But she had not been invited to the council, of course, but been left to her own devices once her purpose had been served; and, left to them, she had found the gardens. With half her mind soaring above on the wings of a sea-eagle, she could walk their twisting pathways, graveled in pale stone, and forget. For a little while.

I Can Mend Him

Request: Hi can I have a request that draco gets hurt and breaks several bones and the reader takes care of him. Thanks I love your blog btw

Thank you! You’re so kind ((:
I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Visionary of sex (no smut). Fluff.

Disclaimer: I mention Slytherin beating Hufflepuff and stuff along those lines. I have nothing against Hufflepuff it’s just the first house that came to mind.

Italics is Draco’s POV ((:

School has just started back up again. You were excited to see your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. This year was going to be better than ever. It may be just like any other year but you just had a gut feeling it was going to be great.

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s my pleasure to see you again.” A familiar, husky voice spoke. You spun around and your Y/E/C orbs met Draco’s blue ones. You missed seeing him and you were glad to be back. You laughed at him and gave a quick peck.

“I miss you so much! I can’t wait for this season.” You squealed happily. That was probably your favorite thing about coming to Hogwarts. You loved watching quidditch even though you weren’t very good, it was still fun to watch. It made it even been since Draco had been made the team captain.

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Spring Husband: Ratonhnhaké:ton

Originally posted by hamstershepard

Summer Husband: Edward

Originally posted by miyku

Fall Husband: Haytham

Originally posted by templarscreedme

Winter Husband: Shay

Originally posted by marishash