even if you can't take them someone else might be able to

anonymous asked:

What would the guys do if they hear their crush say "me? who would like someone like me?" because they can't believe anyone would like them

Aw nonnie this is a sad/cute one. I hope this is alright! 


 - Noctis would be able to tell you were feeling a little glum, and when you had a few precious moments alone, he’d ask you what was wrong.
- You would try and brush it off at first, it’s not like you want to burden him with something like that…
- But this would just make the prince feel a bit useless, he’d really want you to confide in him. 
- You’d take a big sigh, and finally tell him. You feel lonely. You feel like a bit of a spare part. Everyone was settling down, even Noctis had his marriage to Luna. But you were just left on your own, as always.
- “Hey, don’t be so stupid.” 
- Stupid? This would anger you, you just confided in him like he asked and he calls you stupid?
- Noct would see how irate you were getting, and instantly feel bad.
- “Wait, that’s not what I meant!” And it honestly wasn’t. When will this boy learn to deal with his feelings and say the right thing?
- “Sorry that I’m bothering you with my stupidity Noctis.”
- “Look, that isn’t what I meant by it!”
- He panics that he’s really screwed this up.
- “Sure! I’m just whittling away for nothing!”
- “Well, yeah because-”
- “I should just get used to it.”
- “What?”
- “I mean, who would ever like me?”
- “I would!”
- There would be silence as you digest what Noctis had just said. 
- “You…? But what about Luna?”
- Okay, now his heart is racing.
- “We are friends, good friends, but this arranged marriage… It isn’t for me. Look, I’ve been trying to tell you… I, well, like you.” 
- His eyes sink to the floor and he plays with his arm band nervously. Now it’s calmed down he is self-conscious and can’t believe he just blurted that out…
- You’re stunned. Noctis… liked you? 
- He finally looks at you, unnerved by your silence
- Damn, have I really over stepped the mark this time?
- “Noct… you like me?”
- You can see little splashes of red colour his cheeks as he answers.
- “Y-yeah I do… is that okay?”


- Prompto would be heading towards the tent one night, after you had disappeared for a while. He was starting to get worried as to where you were!
- As he gets closer to the tent, he can hear your voice… He doesn’t want to intrude if you were on the phone. Though, it didn’t seem like you were…
- He listens for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help it. There was just something in the tone of your voice that made him stay, a little twinge of something like… sadness?
- “I’m not like Cindy, or Aranea, I’m just…not.”
- They are definitely talking to themselves. He realised.
- And then you said it. 
- “But really… me? Who could ever like someone like me?”
- It’s almost like you could hear Prompto’s heart crack.
- No. No no no no.
- He recognises the pain in your voice, he understands the self-doubt, he knows it all too well.
- Before he could stop himself or even think about what he was doing, he’d push open the tent flap and take you in his arms.
- There are tears pooling in his own eyes.
- “You should never, never have to feel that way. Not you. Not someone like you.”
- It’s hard to hear him as his voice is muffled, his face buried in your neck. His grip is tight, and he can’t even think about how forward this might be because he just has to make sure you know you’re loved.
- “I like you, I like you, I like you.” He can’t say it enough.
- His words warm your heart.
- You both sit like that for a while, just holding each other until the tears stop. 
- He pulls away, and gently whispers; “It’s you. It has been for a while now. I really like you.”
- You can hardly believe your ears. 
- Still holding you, he looks you in your eyes still wet with tears, now smiling a little sheepishly.
- “So… what do you say?”


- Prompto would be chatting away about Cindy, as usual, and you would roll your eyes.
- “Tch, she’s pretty lucky.” 
- Gladio would hear your mumbling, and fall behind the other three to walk with you instead. 
- “Hey, what’s that?” He’d ask, friendly as always.
- “Well, it’s lucky Cindy has someone to feel that way about her.”
- Gladio would raise his eyebrows in surprise and a little in doubt as well.
- “I’m not so sure she sees it that way.”
- “I guess, but at least she knows she’s wanted.”
- By now the other three guys are just a blip in the distance, walking back to the regalia.
- “What do you mean by that?”
- “Well, just that I’d love to be in her shoes. It’s not like anyone will ever feel that way about me.”
- Did they really just say that?
- Suddenly his strong arm juts out in front of you, preventing you from walking any further.
- You look at Gladio in shock, to see that his jaw looks clenched and he looks kind of… angry.
- “Gladio…?”
- “Is that what you truly think?”
- You nod, unable to do more and he finally looks at you.
- “Then, you don’t realise how crazy I am about you.”
- Your heart skips a beat at his words.
- “H-huh?”
- He retracts his arm now, standing up to face you.
- “Why else do you think I always let you fall asleep on me in the car? Because I love the way you feel in my arms. Or when I always ask you for help setting up camp, it’s because I really enjoy your company.”
- He would stand in front of you now, the familiar smile you know and love back.
- “Honestly, these past few weeks you’ve been driving me crazy, and then you say no one would feel like that about you?”
- He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes.
- “Well, I’m telling you now, I do. You don’t have to like it, I’ll understand if you don’t and I’ll speak no more of it. I promise.”
- He tilts his head, fully smiling now at your astounded expression.
- “Well… are you alright with that?”


- Ignis had noticed you’ve been seeming down lately, choosing to sit in the tent early or sitting in the back of the car in your own world.
- It really starts to concern him, he can’t fathom why you’re feeling this way.
- One night he brings you your food to the tent, seeing if you’re okay.
- You thank him a little despondently, so he sits down next to you and asks if you want to share what has been bothering you.
- Looking into those kind green eyes it’s hard not to start talking about what’s wrong. You knew Iggy was a great listener. 
- So you opened up a little to him.
- “I’ve been watching the others get closer to people lately, Prompto with Cindy, Noctis with Luna for example…”
- “What about it is bothering you?”
- “I don’t know. I guess it just sucks being on your own.”
- “Come now, you’ll meet someone who is just right for yourself.”
- He knows it’s true, even if it’s not with him. Though that thought hurts him more than he’d care to admit.
- You throw Iggy an incredulous look.
- “What? It’s true. You’ll find someone you really like.”
- Oh if only he knew.
- “That’s not the problem. The problem is them liking me. I mean, who the hell would fall for someone like me?”
- Suddenly Iggy’s eyes tighten, and he re-adjusts his glasses.
- He seems… annoyed?
- “Please, do not put yourself down like that. You’re a wonderful person.”
- Huuuuge eyeroll from you.
- “Uh huh, sure.”
- Here comes the generic ‘you’ll get there eventually’ chat.
- “I mean it.”
- “Really?”
- He’s persistent.
- “Yes, you’re funny, gorgeous, intelligent… anyone would be lucky to call you their partner.”
- Well… that you weren’t expecting.
- The fidgeting with his glasses is progressively getting worse, which is unlike Iggy.
- “Why are you saying all of this…?”
- “Because I…” He has to take a deep breath here!
- “I see you that way. And would definitely feel lucky to call you mine.”
- Your heart stops, you can’t believe what you just heard. And he’s looking up at you through those lovely long lashes, and you know he’s being serious.
- Oh my.
- “Iggy…?”
- “I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but please… I have to know how you feel about me.” His green eyes are gazing at yours.
- Oh my.

The Signs at their Best / The Signs at their Worst
  • Aries at their best: Full of life, adventurous and with a bright light in their eyes - a light bright enough to make all darkness disappear. Challenging, caring and with a big smile on their face. Admiring all beauty they can see, their head filled with plans. Nothing could ever bring them down, nothing could come between them and whatever it is that they want.
  • Aries at their worst: Doubting themselves in a very destructive way. They think it's all their fault and that they can't make anyone truly happy. Reckless. Cannot be reached by anyone, no one knows what's going on inside their head. Harsh. Don't care if they hurt someone's feelings or not. Don't care at all.
  • Taurus at their best: Absolute sweethearts with a great wits. Their heart is only open wide for people they choose carefully because they know it's for their own good. They know what's good for them and they're confident because they know what they're capeable of. A true and fair winner. Caring, charming, funny, intelligent, affectionate.
  • Taurus at their worst: They seem cold and careless. They know how to use words when they want to cause pain with them and they do that. Doubting themselves, suddenly lost all their confidence. Can't really control their feelings and tend to explode. Not looking after themselves and their loved ones because they're busy being stuck in a bad mood but deep down they're very very sorry for it.
  • Gemini at their best: A head full of ideas, a chest full of life. Up to something great, smiling, laughing, telling jokes, telling the greatest stories. Caring, motivating and inspiring. Freedom-loving, passionate about life, creative. Helpful, knows how to cheer you up. They don't run out of energy, they keep going.
  • Gemini at their worst: There is no sparkle in their eyes. Their hands are cold and their look is empty. Everything bores them, bothers them or sucks the life out of their bones. They don't see or hear anything, they're lost in thoughts. Get mean easily, say things they don't mean. Hurt others on purpose but end up hurting themselves. Self-pitying, over-emotional or not showing any emotion.
  • Cancer at their best: Brave people of good heart. Kind and caring, spreading love and good vibes. They fight for what they want, they always have something to say. Generous, understanding, shining as bright as the sun. A smile that makes others smile. They are very strong and handle their emotions wisely. Not to be underestimated.
  • Cancer at their worst: Say or do things they regret immediately. Forget to take care of themselves. They don't talk to anyone, don't reply. They tend to put themselves under an enormous emotional pressure. May manipulate others or completely lock themselves away.
  • Leo at their best: The literal sun. They shine so bright even when they're not smiling. Their laugh echoes, everybody hears it. Very proud, ambitious, kind, fair and loving. Bring happiness wherever they go, bring light into the dark. Full of dreams and very intelligent. The one that makes a boring evening a perfect one. Protective and they have a great sense of humour.
  • Leo at their worst: Believing themselves to be not good enough, doubting themselves and suffering from it. Harsh and kind of cold. Their look is still powerful and you dare not to speak to them. They drift away, may get mean or change their mind really quick because they just don't know what they want and it frustrates them so much.
  • Virgo at their best: Really good at doing what they love to do. Happy to spend time with people they like, generous and gentle, wise, gives great advices. Takes hints, makes great surprises and knows how to comfort people. Full of life and they have a great wits. The one that keeps you grounded. Honest and fair.
  • Virgo at their worst: Causing pain or worries to others to release themselves from it. They may be manipulative and self-pitying, exaggerating and not really speaking up. They tend to make decisions they will regret later. They forget how clever they are or they doubt their skills and their intelligence and make themselves smaller than they are.
  • Libra at their best: A great supporter. Someone with an eye for beauty, a charming smile and an amazing aura. They are funny, full of ideas and spontaneous. Remember little things and can easily make others happy what they love to do. Very creative, honest and they have a wild soul.
  • Libra at their worst: Moody, not seeing themselves as the masterpiece they are. Letting everybody know how they feel. Cold and feeling incredibly bad about it. They just hide away from the world and won't let anything come close to them. In pain just because they see all the flaws in their lives although there may not even be some.
  • Scorpio at their best: Passionate, strong, strong-willed, skilled and loving. They are full of secrets which is why they can keep secrets like no one else. An entire universe for themselves. They don't care about limits but in a good way. They share their ideas and dreams and cheer others up.
  • Scorpio at their worst: Neglecting their friends, their family, their duties and themselves. Reckless and not saying much about it. Things that usually fascinate them do not fascinate them anymore and they feel like nothing could ever make them smile again. Everything they love starts seeming so irrelevant to them.
  • Sagittarius at their best: Funny, uplifting, full of life and good energy. They don't care what anyone thinks of them, they will dance to loud music whenever they feel like it. They are open minded and interested in things, prepared to stand up for what they believe in at any time.
  • Sagittarius at their worst: Feeling depressed and not able to explain it, express it or talk about it. Over emotional and hot tempered, about to explode although they don't always know why. About to yell at someone for little things although they don't want to. Tired of everything.
  • Capricorn at their best: A guardian angel. Always there when you need them, glad to help. Caring for themselves and really moving things. Know how to use words and what to say in any situation. Working on something great, motivating others, taking care of people.
  • Capricorn at their worst: Sarcastic and they just shut everything down. Maybe bitter over something, maybe making others upset, too. Seem to have given up. Not sure what to do or what to say. Doubting themselves deep down but not willing to admit it. Not showing any emotions.
  • Aquarius at their best: An actual source of energy. Always have the greatest plans and ideas, dislike boredom. They love communicating and meeting new people, seeing new places. Curious about life, wanting to explore the world. Lift others up with their presence only.
  • Aquarius at their worst: Complaining over everything and annoying others with it. They don't care about anything anymore, reckless. Do not care anymore and do their own thing even though it might not be good for them. Ignoring others and feeling empty deep down. Like they ran out of energy.
  • Pisces at their best: Supporting others, taking care of others but also of themselves. Very clever, know what to say, funny. Their fantasy knows no limits and they're very productive. Do art or listen to music. Make others smile and fascinate them. Playing their own little games. Inspired.
  • Pisces at their worst: Feeling incredibly sad because of how the world is. Manipulative and stubborn. Actually dangerous because you just can't tell what they're up to. Revengeful. They have no energy and feel powerless, underestimated and not treated how they think they should be treated.
This Thing Called Love (I Just Can't Handle It)

Summary: Clarke Griffin’s ill-timed discovery of her feelings for her roommate, Bellamy Blake, leads to a misunderstanding that confuses the both of them.

for awards winner @bispaceprincess

Word Count: 2320

Warnings: Slight Language


“Here’s the deal,” Clarke said, collapsing onto Bellamy’s bed as he shuffled around getting ready for the day. “Tonight is a good night to stay in and be lazy. So I’m thinking you and me, Chinese takeout, and a Netflix documentary of your choice.”

Bellamy looked over at her as he shrugged on his jacket.

“That’s tempting,” he said with a small smile. “But I can’t tonight.”

Clarke’s own smile faded and she sat up.

“You busy?” she asked.

He nodded as she tried to remember if he’d told her something about tonight. He never worked on Thursday nights, a byproduct of working at his station so long that he was consistently able to request them off.

“I’ll be late so don’t wait up, okay?” Bellamy said.

“Yeah sure,” Clarke nodded, unable to keep from frowning.

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anonymous asked:

A Supercat prompt if you're still taking them (I miss your fics!) Footage of Cat hotly kissing her female date in an elevator is leaked and goes viral. Cat is unfazed and loving her new status as a sex symbol and lesbian icon. Kara can't stop thinking about the footage and realises that her feelings run deeper than hero worship...

It leaks overnight.

Half of the evening crew is pulled to work on containing the situation, while the remaining journalists attempt to keep things as ‘business as usual’ as possible. The end of the world is no excuse for anything less than perfection at CatCo, why should this be any different? Even if it was far closer to home than some looming threat most people would never actually come face to face with, they still needed to make it seem as if CatCo were unphased by the news.

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anonymous asked:

Autistic people are often framed as having only a singular, heavily involved "special interest", or perhaps 2 or 3, to the absolute exclusion of anything else. While I know this is likely true for some, I can't imagine that every autistic person ever doesn't have multiple hobbies or interests pursued with varying degrees of engagement. The sense I get from the NT-written things I've encountered make autistic folk seem very one-dimensional. I'd like some help clearing this up, please!

This is one of those topics that hasn’t really been researched, as far as I can tell, so I’ll be sticking to my usual method of speaking for myself and inviting autistic followers to add their thoughts. I can in no way claim to speak for everyone, but am happy to share my perspective.

First off, let me explain how a special interest works for me with a simple metaphor: falling in love. When I first come across a new special interest, its eyes sparkle at me from across the room. I get a tiny taste of it, a fragment of information or a glimpse of a picture, and a spark flies, and a fuse lights, and a bomb of euphoria goes off in my head. This thing, this thing right here, is quite clearly the most amazing, important thing I’ve ever come across. This thing is frigging incredible, the best thing that’s ever happened, and the world needs to know.

I become obsessed. I gobble up information wherever I can find it. I learn everything there is to know as quickly as I possibly can. I become an expert on this thing in a remarkably short amount of time. This is LOVE, man. Well, more accurately, this is infatuation. Puppy love. That drug-like rush of chemicals in your brain when you feel you’ve found THE ONE. I talk about it constantly, much to the annoyance of those around me who just don’t quite understand why this thing, this one thing, is so amazingly great that I need to rant about it to the exclusion of everything else in the world. (Especially since they’ve heard it all before.) Just talking about it gives me a rush of euphoria. Sometimes I can see that those around me aren’t interested, but I just can’t stop. The words pour out of me, the excitement radiates off of me, I can’t be ignored, can’t be interrupted. This is like nothing that has ever happened before! Surely, if I can explain it well enough, everyone else will see, too, right? Right?

If you’ve never been in this kind of love, you might not have learned this lesson yet, but here it comes, folks: that kind of love doesn’t last. That euphoric high that results when your brain decides to take a bath in happy chemicals - it’s just physically impossible to sustain it. Eventually, the high, the firey passion, wears off. For me, this usually takes about a year. I’ve read and watched and learned everything I can about this thing. It’s been the center point of my life for a long time, the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. And one day, suddenly, it just… doesn’t hold the same appeal. It’s not that I don’t love it anymore! I will always love it. But the love changes. It becomes the old, familiar love that comes with time. You don’t get that high from being together anymore, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy each other’s company. You no longer try to persuade the world that this one is the one, is the best thing ever. You no longer need to. This love just settles into the back of your mind, always there, always a comfort, always ready to give you a hug when you need it.

The expertise I’ve gained from all my intensive research, that stays. I will always know just about all there is to know about that thing (at least, all there was to know when I was researching it). I’ll always be able to call that knowledge to mind later on, when it’s useful. And I’ve developed quite the reputation for being a “know-it-all”. I always seem to have some random, obscure fact right on the tip of my tongue, and it’s usually debunking some common misconception that my friends would just as soon keep on having rather than feeling like they’re constantly under attack by that one girl who just HAS to know EVERYTHING.

But it doesn’t feel that way for me. A key difference I’ve noted in communication between autistic and allistic people, and the source of a large percentage of our miscommunications in life, is this: allistic people communicate to bond emotionally and to establish and display power and dominance or submission. Autistic people communicate to share information. When I correct someone, it’s because I know that if I was wrong, I would want to be given the correct information, so I could stop being wrong. But when an allistic person is corrected like that, they take it as an attack on their status, a display of power, and a denial of their feelings. The “golden rule” doesn’t always work. It’s a constant problem.

In any case, I have always been described as someone obsessive. Someone who finds one thing (although it’s often two, three, even four things at a time) and just obsessively learns everything about it and won’t shut up about it for months and months on end. And that really does seem to be true, in a sense. I have very extreme levels of interest. Either something is amazing and I need to know everything about it, or it just doesn’t catch my interest at all. There isn’t much in between.

On the other hand, due to all the many special interests I’ve had over my more than three decades of life, I have built up quite a broad range of interests. I never lost any of them. All of those things still interest me now, and when someone brings one of them up in conversation, I still get a spark of the old obsessiveness deep inside. As a result, I now seem to have a wide range of interests, some of which I’m overtly obsessive about, and others which I keep on file, ready to pull out whenever they’re needed. When I was young, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s likely that I may have been viewed as somewhat one-dimensional as a child, obsessed with just a few things and completely uncaring about everything else. (And when my parents, trying to make me act “normal”, tried separating me from my special interests, the pain was as crushing as being forced to leave your True Love because the rest of the world doesn’t want you to be together - and only made my obsession stronger.)

What I want you to understand is that I don’t see that as a negative thing in any way. An allistic person might see that narrow range of interests and think “oh the poor thing, it’s like she lives in a tiny world and is missing so much of life!” But from my perspective, it’s allistic people who are missing out. Allistic people never seem particularly interested in anything, not by my standards. From where I’m standing, it looks like allistics just drift through life, dabbling in a little of everything but never mastering anything, never finding any real interest, never getting any real, intense joy out of any of their hobbies. An allistic person might say to me, “Yeah, I do a little crocheting, but I’m not really that into it.” And in my mind, I’ll think… then why do it at all? How horribly unsatisfying must it be to go through your entire life, never falling in love with anything you do? Never feeling that euphoria that I get to experience over and over again every time I find a new interest?

Autistic and allistic brains are specialized differently. Allistic brains are best at navigating social rules and structures and internalizing broad strokes and large categories. They look at a table for the first time and think: “That’s a table.” And that’s pretty much as far as they go. They might spend a few seconds to note the material or color or overall condition of the table, but that’s it. 

Autistic brains are specialized in details. It means we have more information to process, all those details without any mechanism for discarding the ones that aren’t important, but it also means we get to see everything about something. I see that new table and I can get lost in tracing the patterns of the grain for hours on end. Sure, it takes me longer, but I get a lot more out of it, and I get a joy from that which allistic people just don’t seem to get.

It’s similar with our interests. Allistics have broad interests, dipping their toe into the shallow ends of a thousand different pools but never really diving in. Autistics have narrow but intense interests. We absorb every detail, and in doing so experience an intense and wonderful euphoria. Honestly, sometimes I feel sorry for all the allistic people in the world who never get to experience that. The poor things… ;)

-Mod Aira

For me, I can have both special interests and normal-level interests. Just because I have stuff that I really really love and am passionate about doesn’t mean I can’t also have other interests, that I’m not quite as passionate about but that I like to dabble in from times to times or as a part of my routine. I do not feel however the urge or will to research them in more depth. There is joy that I can derive from it, but there is not the same “drive” to pursue it. I’d say that’s the main difference between a regular interest and what we call a special interest: a drive to learn about it, talk about it, read about it, build projects about it, engage with it, that is much stronger. So one person can have one or a few special interests, but I’d say it’s not always to the exclusion of everything else.

I think the intensity of special interests, their “obsessiveness” and whether or not the person likes to engage with other subjects that their special interests depends a lot from one person to the next. My special interests sound less intense than what Aira is describing, and I may have more varied non-special interests. So really I’d say this is something that depends a lot from one person to the next.

I also want to add that just because someone has a narrow range of interests doesn’t mean they’re one-dimensional: I’ve seen a special interest described as a lense through which you understand the world. The world is large, and even if you have only one such “lense”, that’s a lot of things to discover with that unique point of view.

-Mod Cat

anonymous asked:

Fremione! "I can't believe you talked me into this"

Everything was ready. The plan was flawless and they’d been going over it for weeks. Today was the day, today it was finally going to happen.

And then, hopefully, George would shut his big fat mouth.

Fred’s face couldn’t help but contort into a blissful grin as he envisioned a future where his brother and Angelina finally got together, meaning that Fred finally got to go ten seconds without hearing his twin talking about how amazing Angelina was or having him ask Fred if he too had noticed the confidence she carried now as their team captain.

Ugh …

Instead, Fred held out hope that the two of them getting together would mean less talk and more snog, strange as that might sound. But if it was for the greater good! Even Lee, who never shied away from expressing admiration for any lady, was growing tired of the rambles of a lovesick idiot.

It was near Christmas and mistletoes existed in abundance, but the one Fred had designed was engineered to nail down anyone who stepped underneath and wouldn’t let go until they’d kissed properly—as in none of that friendly peck on the cheeks nonsense. There would be no room for misinterpretation. All that remained was for Lee to steer the lovebirds to stand beneath the archway on the fourth floor. It was secluded and quite romantic with its view of the snow-covered grounds and the looming sunset. It was the perfect setting for his plan …


Fred startled, flying up from his crouched position where he’d been peeking around the corner to where the archway was, and turned around meeting Hermione Granger’s suspicious gaze. She raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

Recovering from the surprise, Fred plastered on the most innocent smile available in his repertoire. “Hermione,” he said, “good evening.”

She wasn’t fooled and crossed her arms, making her robes move and call attention to the shining Prefect badge on her chest. “What are you up to?”

“I—“ There was a tingling sensation and Fred stopped in horror. He looked to the side, with Hermione following his move, and as he’d predicted, there was his brother. But he wasn’t alone.

“Angelina?” Hermione’s frown from before let up and was replaced with a look of surprise. “I thought you were on your way to the Quidditch pitch?”

Angelina grimaced. Fred could hear the gears in Hermione’s brain working next to him, attempting to discern the cause of Angelina’s guilt-ridden face.

Fred addressed his brother, “George, tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

George—who unlike Angelina bore no signs of feeling bad—smirked. “I did nothing that you hadn’t already planned on doing to me, Freddie.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” grumbled Angelina as the twins were fighting a battle with their eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged. “What? What is happening, Angelina? Why can’t I move?”

Fred broke away from glaring at his brother and pointed up, sighing, “Mistletoe.”

Hermione groaned. “Merlin …”

“Now, we’re merciful enough to not gather you an audience, but hopefully this’ll remind you to not meddle,” said George, catching Fred’s attention again.


Fred ignored Hermione’s questioning eyes, knowing that she wanted to know how much he was to blame for their situation. He instead busied himself shouting obscenities at his brother, who did nothing but wave unconcernedly whilst walking away, Angelina trailing behind him and sending a last ‘sorry’ Hermione’s way.  

Once they were around the corner and out of sight, Fred stopped his shouting but continued cursing his twin in his mind. If they had the connection everyone always claimed they had, then George would be hearing him loud and clear.

“What do we do now?” Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

“There’s nothing to do,” admitted Fred, facing her at last. “This thing isn’t going to let up until we’ve done as told.”

“I can’t believe someone with your genius didn’t build in a failsafe.”

“Failsafe?” asked Fred, hint of a smile growing wider, “And excuse me, did you say genius?”

Hermione ignored him, “Failsafe, as in a code word in case you wanted to abort the mission.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know—perhaps for situations like this one!”

Fred grinned, “You know, we could really use brains like yours developing products.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, which did nothing to hide the fact that the flattery had got to her, “This is not the time to try and recruit me. Honestly, what are we going to do?”

Fred took some time to think, going over the various precautions he’d taken to ensure that whoever ended up beneath the mistletoe wouldn’t be able to get out. There really was nothing else to do but … He swallowed at the thought. This was not how he’d imagined this would go. He’d built up this image of what he was going to do for so long now that the fact that reality had caught up with him made him question everything. Surely, Hermione couldn’t be looking at him with those gorgeous and clever brown eyes of hers, asking him for a solution. Surely, she wasn’t standing so close that he could feel the warmth of her against his front (he forgot that this was because of the gravitation spell he’d cast on the mistletoe) and that he could count the freckles on her nose that were infinitely fewer than his. Surely, she wasn’t there for him to kiss. It was insane. It was preposterous. But somehow, it was reality.

Hermione spoke then, her eyes taking on an amused glint, “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless.”

Fred couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “You do have that effect on me.” He summoned some courage and willed his hand to move a lock of hair behind her ear.

To his delight, a furious blush appeared on the witch’s face. “I …erm, that is …”

“Look,” said Fred, “there really only is one way to get away from this mistletoe and …I’m  afraid that—“

“Fred, I’d rather give you a small kiss than stand here any longer, so perhaps we should just get it over with.” Hermione’s face remained red, but she looked determined. Fred felt sorry as soon as he told her it wouldn’t be that easy, and watched her determination faltered.

“Bloody hell, I need to build one of those failsafes next time.”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded in agreement. “All right, we should …we should just go ahead. And do it. I mean, do the kissing. That.”

Fred let out a long breath. “All right. Try to not fall in love with me after this, Granger,” he added with a wink to cover up how nervous he was.

To his surprise this made Hermione’s eyes widen in horror. Something inside Fred stirred at the look. “Granger?” he asked. “…Hermione?”

“I …” Hermione avoided looking at him now. She shook her head. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. Let’s just do this and you can leave to do your pranks.”

Something wasn’t quite right, but before Fred could ask what was wrong, Hermione had grabbed him by his tie and crushed her lips against him.

At first, there was surprise. Then, amazement at the feel of her soft mouth caressing his and the way her body molded itself against him, making him clutch her tighter at the waist with one hand and tangling into her hair with the other. And after that, Fred’s sense made a slow return and he noticed the desperation emanating from the girl he was kissing. The only girl he’d wanted to kiss for months now. But somehow, he didn’t think she knew that. So he made sure she knew.

Hermione made a startled noise as his kiss deepened, but he could feel confusion gradually replace the emotions from before. After a while, the two of them broke apart gasping for air and Hermione’s eyes searched frantically over his face.

“Fred,” she asked, her eyebrows pulling close together, “are you …?”

“Yes,” he said, determined to meet her uncertain gaze as steadily as he could. “For a long time now.”

“Bloody hell,” she breathed. And then she pulled him close again, neither of them noticing that the mistletoe above them had burst into colours before disappearing.


“It’s worse than I imagined,” Lee groaned, watching Fred and Hermione. He righted himself and looked back at Angelina and George standing next to him behind the wall. “But hopefully this’ll put a stop to his ramblings, the lovesick idiot that he is.”

Can’t Take It Back

A/N: A request from @sweetg for a piece where the reader is interested in Spencer, and without realizing it, he leads her on (basically, she interprets his niceness as more than friendship). The reader thinks she has a chance and confesses her feelings, only to realize that Spencer was just being nice, and that he actually already has a girlfriend. @coveofmemories


As you sat at the table, looking across the coffee shop at your friend who’d just walked in, you wondered if you should continue coming here. Whenever you walked in, you sat down at your usual table to start working and ended up getting lost in thoughts of the boy genius’s fluffy brown hair, soft brown eyes and slightly upturned smile. 

Nearly two months ago was when you’d met him for the first time. Ever since then you’d been smitten, but you didn’t have the courage to tell him how you felt, so instead, you did what someone in your shoes would do in a cheesy rom-com - get lost in a daydream until it was too late and never have anything happen. But rejection was a great deterrent. “Hey, Spencer,” you managed to utter as he came to your table and sat in the seat across from you. “How’s work been?”

“Awful,” he said, pushing a cup of coffee your way. The past couple of weeks had apparently brought a number of ridiculously difficult cases past the members of the BAU. “This last case involved a man who was killing boys that were in similar childhood situations to his own because he thought it would be a mercy for them. He killed five before we were able to apprehend him.” 

You couldn’t imagine being in his position. His work was exemplary and what he did took an insane amount of courage you weren’t sure you possessed, but how he came across such horrific situations day in and day out and didn’t lose his mind was beyond you. “I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you said, keeping yourself from reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. It didn’t seem appropriate given that you weren’t dating, no matter how badly you wanted to be. 

“I just don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to do this.” You convinced him that he was stronger than he gave himself credit for, and he’d been okay with time. 

After finishing your coffees, Spencer invited you to a movie. He needed to get his mind out of work, and he claimed that between you and a movie, he could make that happen. 

Once the movie was over, you both went your separate ways for the day, but your heart skipped a beat when you got a text from him saying how much he appreciated you letting him vent today; he needed it, and didn’t have too many people that were willing to listen to him. The entire way back to your apartment, you debated whether or not to say something to him. He’d always been so ridiculously nice to you. He bought you coffees at the shop all the time. Whenever he asked you to go out so he could vent, he always paid for you, even though you could’ve paid yourself. And he seemed to get nervous around you. Maybe he did like you?

But maybe he didn’t. And if he didn’t, you weren’t sure if you could deal with that reality. On the other hand, if you didn’t tell him, then you’d never know what might have been, and you weren’t sure which reality was more painful.

As the next few weeks went by, whipping Spencer up in another couple of horrific cases, you tossed the idea of confessing your feelings for him back and forth. After much deliberation, you’d decided; it had to be done. Even if he did reject you, you didn’t think that pain could be worse than never knowing. 

When Spencer texted you to tell you he was back and was wondering if you could talk, you jumped on the opportunity, telling him to meet you at the coffee shop in a couple of hours. You were unable to control yourself, so instead of waiting in your apartment, you walked down to the coffee shop ahead of time and sat down to read a book. 

The hours felt like days until he walked into the shop, thrown off by the fact that you were sitting on the couch at the side of the store, rather than at your usual table. “Hi, Y/N,” he said with a smile, sitting down next to you.

“Before you say anything,” you started, ensuring you could get this out before you lost your courage, “I need to tell you something.” He looked at you quizzically, but didn’t say anything, so you continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve had a crush on you.” If you had been looking up at this point, you would’ve noticed his face sinking and undoubtedly stopped.

“You’re really sweet and funny. You’re so nice and obviously crazy smart. I just think that we could be really good together, and I wanted you to know that. I feel like you might see it too.” When you stopped, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders - until you looked up and met his gaze. “You don’t feel the same way, do you?” you asked, the tears already forming a wall in front of your eyes.

Spencer took a deep breath. “I-I do,” he hesitated, looking down and fiddling with his thumbs, “It’s just that…I have a girlfriend.”

That you did not expect. He’d never mentioned a girlfriend before, and you’d been friends for months. The realization that the entire time you’d felt these things for him, he’d been actively thinking them about someone else, broke your heart. “Oh…” you breathed, feeling a weight descend on your chest. “I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

For a few minutes, neither of you said a word. He was with someone else and you realized that you’d ruined your friendship. As the tears rose to your eyes again, you picked up your bag and placed the strap over your shoulder. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his eyes pleading with you not to go.

“Yea…” you said, as a tear escaped your eye. “I thought you felt the same way…you were always so nice to me and never mentioned a girlfriend, so I thought maybe you liked me, but I guess I was wrong. I’d like to be friends, but I don’t think I can do that right now.” You situated your bag on your shoulder and turned to leave. “Bye, Spencer.“

You could tell that he reached out for you as you left, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and pretend that what you said hadn’t been said. As the world zipped around you, the only thing you could hear was a mumbled noise that sounded like your name, and the only thing you could feel was the wall of tears streaming its way down your heated face.

anonymous asked:

Do you think Robron have the best sex or just causal sex? The reason I ask that is because I actually can't imagine Aaron been one to really let loose in the bedroom, Robert definitely, but I can picture Aaron holding back. Help me out lol?

Oh anon, my beautiful, wonderful anon, bless you for this question.

Firstly, I can totally see where you’re coming from in terms of Aaron being more reserved emotionally than Robert. But the thing is, Aaron’s inability to communicate his feelings is predominantly to do with having an audience. You’ll remember him being reluctant to say ‘I love you’ to his mum over the phone because Robert and Charity were behind him. It’s the same with anyone - Aaron hates having anyone watching him when he’s being ‘soft’, but the beauty of sex is that he gets to have Robert on his own, no one to make him feel self-conscious. So the Aaron we see on screen is definitely not the version of Aaron that Robert sees behind closed doors.

But, I’m nothing if not generous, so I’ll happily help you out. 

In terms of casual v best sex, Aaron and Robert most definitely have the latter. There’s a reason they continued with the affair despite all the obstacles in their paths. Yes, they were falling in love and neither wanted to let go of the other, but that affair was fuelled by sheer, unfiltered lust. Sex, for them, is both physical and emotional. The connection they have is unlike anything either have experienced before, heightened to the point of intoxication during sex. It’s necessary, not the sex per se, but that feeling of unity and closeness which goes with it.

Aaron is often a closed book, preferring to say nothing at all than open himself up to anyone, but when he’s alone with Robert, safe in the knowledge that they’re not going to be disturbed, his inhibitions are entirely lost in the feel of Robert’s touch. He allows himself the opportunity to just want Robert, not to hold anything back because he doesn’t have to. Plus, Aaron has never been able to resist Robert or his advances, he just gives in completely, willingly.

I don’t think Aaron found his more adventurous side until Robert. Before that he’d only had two previous relationships (with men, I’m  not counting Victoria or Holly in this) - Jackson was his first, and at that point Aaron was still wrapping his head around the idea of him being gay and out; with Ed, I think they probably explored a bit more, but Ed always seemed fairly safe in all regards, plus I doubt Aaron ever felt fully comfortable with him because chances are Aaron thought Ed deserved someone better. But Robert? Aaron wanted Robert any way he could have him, was quite willing to fuck him in the passenger seat of the truck the first time they kissed. That is not a man who is unable to ‘let loose’, in fact, it proves the contrary. The thing is, Aaron’s doesn’t really think when he’s around Robert - it’s instinctual, that desire an almost sickening ache which has his breath faltering, his heart staggering to keep pace with the blood coursing through his veins. 

When it comes to sex with Robert, Aaron is stripped of fear and nerves - he wants Robert and that surpasses everything else. And the reason it does is because he knows, categorically and without hesitation, that Robert wants Aaron just as much. He’s made no bones about that, in fact he’s always been very upfront about his desperation for Aaron, wherever and whenever they possibly can. And that makes Aaron confident, flying high on Robert’s desire, the darkening of his eyes, the graze of teeth against his skin, the shiver which travels the length of his spine when Robert moans against his mouth. He loves everything about Robert, but that feeling of being wanted, of making Robert want him without seemingly trying, is a novelty which has his head spinning.

So he loses himself in it, luxuriates in the knowledge that Robert’s sole focus is on him, and enjoys every second as it burns its way into his skin. He loves bringing Robert off with just his mouth, the tip of his tongue, fingers pinning Robert’s hips to the bed as he writhes beneath him. He loves bringing Robert to the very edge, have him pleading with Aaron to just finish it, refusing to tip the balance until Robert is practically screaming expletives into the pillow. He loves taking his time, working over every inch of Robert’s body at a languid pace which has both their eyes drooping in the darkness, his thrusts achingly slow and punctured with whole minutes of just lapping his tongue into Robert’s mouth. The thing about their sex is that they vary it so often, everything they do feels fresh and untried, even as their re-mapping over well-worn territory. Sometimes Robert tops, sometimes Aaron does, most nights they’ll alternate with each go because it’s never enough just to have each other once. And there’s a spontaneity too which adds to the rush for Aaron - he never quite knows what he’s going to get, and the unknown is only part of the excitement. Robert might come home irritated from a meeting, and Aaron will have to spend hours nuzzling at his neck and peppering kisses down his chest just for Robert to relax. Other days Robert will practically shove Adam out the door of the portacabin just so he can take Aaron over the desk, too desperate to wait until they get home. 

He loves all of it, and they’ve come to a point where they know each other so well that verbal communication is rarely needed now. Their bodies are entirely in tune, so that Aaron knows exactly when Robert is close and Robert knows to the second when Aaron has been worked open enough. There’s a trust between them which has been built over years now - destroyed to the point of no return, and yet still somehow the foundations have remained. And now they’re stronger for it, their relationship more solid than it has ever been, and the sex has, if anything, improved as a result. Aaron knows Robert inside out, both physically and emotionally, and there is no greater reward after all those agonising months of heartbreak and trauma, than to know he can have Robert anywhere and anytime he likes.

anonymous asked:

Can you explain to me what it is about Tyrion you like? I don't mean this in a antagonistic way or anything. As a little person I feel like I get told so often I should like him but I just can't get into him, if anything I find myself more disliking him than anything else and I'm not sure why, maybe im misunderstanding him. I feel like he has a very complex interesting story it just doesn't appeal to me and I really wish it did.

Well, first off I just want to say that you have no obligation to like Tyrion just because you share his disability, and I think it’s insulting for people to tell you that. Liking a character is a personal choice and of course not all people are the same and it’s up to you what you find clicks with you and your experience.

I’m not sure if you’re asking why I like Tyrion in general or why I like him as a disabled person, but I will answer both. I identify a lot with Tyrion’s disability narrative, but of course that doesn’t mean that everyone has to. The disabled are not a monolith.

At the same time I get angry when I sometimes see people in fandom who have put themselves out as spokespersons for the disabled declaring that Tyrion is not good representation because they personally don’t like him, or because he has some really negative flaws. Like, it works both ways and some people identify with Tyrion’s disability narrative while other people don’t, but nobody should be saying that no one should find him to be good representation, and a number of disabled people and disability advocates and media critics, including Peter Dinklage who plays him on the show, have spoken out about why they do find Tyrion to be very good representation. If a character clicks with that many disabled people then I think he is good representation, even if some people don’t identify with him personally. Here’s a post from a person with dwarfism on why they find Tyrion appealing, if you are interested. Again, I can’t tell you what to think (and I don’t want to do that) especially as I am not a little person, but you might find that article helpful.

Also, note that I am using the word “disability” a lot to describe Tyrion’s experience, although I know that some little people do not identify as disabled. I am using the word because I find that I identify with Tyrion because of my own experience, as someone with a visual disability, so I use that word.

Although I don’t talk about my personal experience a lot because for a long time I didn’t identify myself as disabled. I still feel iffy about using that word to describe me, because I feel sometimes that I am not disabled enough, and I’ve realized that this has caused problems in my life, such as when I take the bus (I cannot drive a car) I used to feel bad about sitting in the seats reserved for the disabled at the front of the bus, and would sit in the back instead and consequently miss my stop over and over again. So I’ve gradually come to the realization that it’s okay for me to identify as disabled.

And I think that’s part of why I identify with Tyrion, in fact, because like Tyrion I have a complicated relationship with myself and my disability. I like that Tyrion tries to own who he is but I also like that he struggles with that. I specifically identify with Tyrion’s struggle to be taken seriously. My disability impacts my mobility and being able to drive a car is a symbol of adulthood that is out of reach for me. Similarly, Tyrion cannot ride a horse (the medieval fantasy equivalent of driving a car) without special aid. Reading Tyrion makes me feel better about riding the bus because I feel that it is okay for me to find other alternatives to mobilize myself and that it doesn’t make me less of a person. Tyrion tries to be cavalier about the way that others treat him but experiences intense feelings of anger and shame, and sometimes lashes out at others in very unpleasant ways. I love that about him. He feels very real to me. I also like that he has feelings of compassion which he longs to express but often feels unable to, because no one will accept them. He’s smart but not a supercrip, because he’s not always right and although he thinks of himself as very practical he is often ruled by his emotions.

Another reason I love Tyrion is a reason I love a lot of the characters in asoiaf. I’m drawn to characters who are isolated (which I’ve recently come to realize has a lot to do with my disability experience) and Tyrion is very isolated from others and has trouble forming meaningful relationships.

I also love characters who are walking contradictions. I can’t help it. I find that this is the reason I both read and write (and teach) fiction. Like GRRM and Faulkner before him, I agree that “the only story worth telling is the human heart in conflict with itself”. Although this can apply to many characters in the text, I feel that Tyrion exemplifies it best. Is he a villain or is he a hero? We don’t really know, he just is. I think one of the main central conflicts in Tyrion’s story is a desire to be a good person. One of the things I teach when I teach creative writing is that a story should ask the question “what makes a good life?” and I think Tyrion’s story does ask that. A good story doesn’t necessarily provide an answer, and I’m not sure if Tyrion’s story will, but it gets us thinking about it and that’s the point.

Tyrion is also a great deconstruction of specific stereotypes applied to little people. Little people in fantasy are often jesters, or if it’s postmodern fantasy then they are jesters who are secretly wise mentors. Tyrion isn’t just a subversion of this, he deconstructs the trope entirely because he is funny and he does give wise advise and he very much has elements of the trickster archetype, but he’s so much more than those things. Tyrion also is a deconstruction of the “lustful dwarf” trope which is, I think, more applied to men with dwarfism. Tyrion is lustful, but he also longs for a romantic connection and has both perpetuated and been a victim of sexual abuse. On the other end of the spectrum, Tyrion is very much a deconstruction of the idea that people like him should be completely sexless - specifically little people who often get treated like children in media and real life. This is specifically called out in the scene in ASOS where Tywin says that he forgets that Tyrion has sexual needs because he thinks of him as a child.

I just find Tyrion really fascinating both from a disability perspective, a personal perspective, and a literary perspective. I think he’s one of the most finely crafted characters in modern literature. You can peruse my Tyrion Lannister tag if you’re interested in hearing more about why I love Tyrion.

ladymayhem505  asked:

I've really gotten into bnha! it's such a good manga, I stopped at chapter 117 and I have to say I'm a bit confused about Bakugou (tbh I can't really say I like him that much, he's kinda annoying) did he know about one for all the whole time? Is he jealous of Izuku?

That’s totally awesome dude! you have fallen into bnha hell and now you’re like the rest of us ouo

Please do not hate Bakugou, he might be a little hard to understand, but he’s a real sweetheart. As for your question, no he didn’t know about OFA when Izuku indirectly told him about it the first time. When Izuku first told Bakugou about his quirk, Bakugou thought he was just talking nonsense,

he shrugged it off and he didn’t bother to think about it because he was still pissed off about losing the hero vs villain training stuff. What I think is that Bakugou continued to watch  Izuku grow and get stronger, more confident, and brave. Then, he probably thought “maybe what Deku said about being entrusted with a quirk wasn’t just a load of bull” of course he didn’t think about All Might entrusting Izuku with his power because All Might doesn’t break his bones after he uses his power…. at least until Izuku stopped breaking his body and learned how to control his quirk better in less than one week.

I think this was where he was totally convinced that Izuku was telling the truth about being entrusted with a quirk, he didn’t say it but I feel like this is what he was  thinking. He probably put some more thought into it afterwards but he still couldn’t put his finger on it.

AFO said All Might had gotten weaker… and that obviously means that they knew each other before.

Bakugou found out that they probably had some kind of connection in the past from listening to their conversation, but he couldn’t exactly trace it back to Izuku just yet. While he was worried about All Might, he was probably thinking about Izuku at the same time. All Might getting weaker… Izuku suddenly getting a quirk… of course Bakugou knew that giving your quirk to someone else was physically impossible. But then, Ragdoll lost her quirk, and AFO had the ability to literally take away people’s quirk at the snap of a finger, plus the Noumu had multiple quirks, so the odds of passing on a quirk to someone else were pretty high.

This is where Bakugou was finally able to connect the dots together, All Might sent a message that everyone interpreted as a victory, but only Izuku was able to interpret it differently from everyone else. At first, I used to think that maybe Bakugou was feeling sympathetic for Izuku here, since All Might would probably never be the same and Izuku loves All Might so much. But no. He was like  “oh. He really did give his power to Deku” so the next question on his mind was “WHY?”

Bakugou knew about All Might and Izuku since the Kamino arc, but he just wanted to hear it from one of them. I mean look at his face here.

He even asked All Might but of course All Might didn’t tell him directly (I also think that All Might had a feeling that Bakugou was finally able to put the pieces together) so going to Izuku was the next best option, because Izuku, being the timid boy he is, would definitely tell him what he wanted to hear.

I don’t want to say anything that’ll be a spoiler for you (you are at one of the best arcs in bnha right now)… it’s not that Bakugou felt jealous or anything… he was just like questioning his goals, and his choices because he was like:

They both looked up to All Might, they both aspired to be a hero, but Bakugou was always stronger, he was always better, but All Might saw Izuku, he chose Izuku instead even though Bakugou admired him just as much as Izuku did. I do think that he felt a little pang of jealousy at a point… but he was mostly pissed off at himself above all. If OFA was passed onto Kirishima, and Bakugou found out about it, he wouldn’t really be bothered by it. But the fact that it was someone he’d known for a long time, and the fact that that person who just happened to be a weak good for nothing was chosen…. irritated him.

It’s not Bakugou’s fault that he’s like this, he’s just used to always being the best, he grew up constantly surrounded by praise, he was never scolded for being an asshole… and all of this just led to him getting an inflated ego. That is, until he got into U.A. It was U.A that made him realize that there are people stronger than him, it made him realize that he wasn’t the best anymore and he couldn’t get away with doing anything that he wanted.

Bakugou attacked Izuku in middle school, in front of the teacher but the teacher just shrugged it off as a bunch of kids messing around, because he didn’t even think that there was a way for Izuku to get into U.A either. Bakugou literally ran out to attack Izuku in front of the whole class again at U.A, but Aizawa stopped him unlike his middle school teacher. After this, his world continued to crumble around him, first he lost to the boy who he NEVER EVEN IMAGINED HE’D EVER LOSE TO IN HIS LIFE.

The poor boy almost had a mental breakdown here, this was the second time he was being humiliated, with the first time being with the sludge villain. Things just went south for Bakugou throughout his first months in U.A.

Then, in the sports festival, all he wanted was a simple victory, he just wanted to win so he could showcase his power to the world. He wanted to earn it. But Shouto just stood there, he didn’t take him seriously (even though it wasn’t actually his fault because he had a lot of things on his mind), but he took Izuku seriously, Izuku of all people, when he was clearly stronger than him, but Izuku somehow managed to get Shouto to use his fire. It’s as if Shouto didn’t even care about winning anymore, because he literally just stood there and allowed Bakugou to push him out of the ring.

It’s like Shouto just let him win, and a false victory is not what Bakugou wanted. 

Then there was the hosu arc, Bakugou chose Best Jeanist for his field training because he was one of the top 5 heroes in the world, and that seemed like a great way to gain popularity, but what did he get?

A freaking make over and tight jeans?! He didn’t even do anything worthwhile with Best Jeanist, and then Izuku suddenly got stronger out of the blue. Then of course there was the Kamino arc, and All Might losing OFA. Bakugou felt responsible for that 

The hero world changed in one night, and All Might probably would’ve still had his power if he didn’t get kidnapped. Right here, he’s in shock, and he’s just feeling extremely guilty.

Even his mom said he was the reason for everything that happened. Although this was portrayed as a humorous scene, it still must have hurt him a lot.

The hero license exam arc was a good way for him to get his mind off of the whole incident in Kamino, but even during that arc he was constantly being reminded of everything that happened. Like here:

I don’t think that he was mainly angry at Izuku for saving All Might here, sure he was pissed off at the fact that Izuku saved the day again, but I think he was just feeling bad because he literally just caused All Might to lose his power and now he was responsible for All Might almost getting crushed by a boulder. He was angry at himself.

Even after he failed, they still reminded him of the fact that All Might can no longer be All Might because he “fell”, and he felt that it was his fault. The whole reason why the exam was conducted was because, the heroes needed all the help they could get from people with quirks suitable for acting as heroes (since you can’t use a quirk without a license or qualification) because All Might was no longer round to help. 

The poor boy had to carry this guilt throughout the exam, and after that he just had a bunch of emotions that he desperately wanted to get off his chest. Bakugou is a good guy, he’s an awesome character who’s been through so much, he’s gone from saying that he’s better than everyone else to encouraging his friends. 

This is just me babbling about how awesome Bakugou is because I really, really want you to like him… anyway chapter 118 will most likely change your opinion about Bakugou though.

…I should’ve just told you to ask @saisai-chan​ though (she is the bnha encyclopedia)… she’s a lot better at analyzing characters than me… this meta stuff ain’t my thing.

can't it be me instead? chpt 1

chpt 2, chpt 3, chpt 4, chpt 5, chpt 6, chpt 7, chpt 8, chpt 9

Summary; the love of your life, Rocky, get’s a girlfriend suddenly and it feels like your world is falling apart. With the help of Moonbin, you try to win him back, but in the end you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

Genre; Angst, Fluff 

(based on the Japanese film ‘Heroine Disqualified’)

Originally posted by moonbinny

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anonymous asked:

(1/2)I love your metas, but I do have a point of contention WRT GC Elthina. From Sebastian's (canonical) short story and personal quest, it seems that she views the young Starkhavener as a sort of adoptive son, and it isn't hard to imagine that she feels the same way about the KC and the GE. Honestly, Elthina has always seemed like a tragic character to me. Watching two people you care about have a falling out is never a good feeling. I can't blame her for not wanting to look into the eyes of...

(2/2)… One of the people she loved and tell them she was siding against them. Both M and O were hardliners, refusing to: give magi the benefit of the doubt; and prioritise the stability of the chantry over the lives of his people; respectively. This was exacerbated by depression (O) and RL use (M), making it impossible for them to find compromise. Her devotion to neutrality didn’t help in the long run, but I can’t bring myself to hate a tired old woman who wanted her kids to get along again.

Hi, Anonymous person. Thank you for the compliment, but … really? I mean this, specifically:

Both M and O were hardliners, refusing to: give magi the benefit of the doubt; and prioritise the stability of the chantry over the lives of his people; respectively. 

Oh, Orsino. Why do you have to be so extreme with the ‘not wanting to die’, or even, let’s be really daring, ‘not wanting to be tortured to the point of committing suicide’? Why can’t you understand that it’s important for the Chantry, with all its wealth, power, political influence and privilege, to retain its iron grip on Thedas? I mean, think if it didn’t. We might have things like religious tolerance and basic rights and free speech, and then where would we be? Can’t you and your helpless mages just suffer quietly so the rich, corrupt and powerful can keep on being rich, corrupt and powerful? Look at it from Meredith’s point of view. All she’s done is illegally take control of one little city-state and spend nearly two decades abusing her power to the detriment of pretty much everyone, but especially the mages, who are dying in droves. Is that really so bad?

Look. In terms of his perseverance, and his courage in the face of terrible abuse and mortal peril, Orsino is fierce and heroic. But politically, the man is a moderate. He’s too moderate for me. I mean, I love him, because I understand how he got to this position, and why it’s hard for him to go further, but this is not a winning strategy.

Me, I’m with Anders and Fiona and Adrian and their ilk. The mages must be free. The Chantry – its wealth, its power, its status, its legal hold over so many lives – must go. Not just for the mages. For everyone.

Orsino isn’t asking for that.

As first enchanter, Orsino worked tirelessly to improve the lot of the mages. He wanted, as much as he could, to make their days in the Gallows worth something. Even if they were still prisoners, and even though it was hard, he wanted to give them hope. More importantly, he wanted to give them something of a life so that death would not be preferable.

World of Thedas, II

He’s not trying to tear down the Circles, or put an end to the Chantry, or anything like that. He wants the mages to be able to walk sometimes in the sun. To not be locked in tiny cells. To be safe from beatings and rape and torture. To not be made Tranquil when they’ve passed their Harrowings. To have meaningful work and leisure. To have a life inside the Circle, while living by Chantry rules.

That’s … not a hardline position. That’s … just a basic standard of living. Meredith is an extremist. The treatment of the mages in Kirkwall is considered remarkable even in other Circles. Even non-mages in Kirkwall have been stirred to sympathy for the mages:

Every Circle in Thedas suffers from individual mages who rebel and attempt to flee. These apostates are usually found and returned to the Circle or mercifully killed if they have fallen to demonic temptation. Until now, I have never served anywhere that the populace does not fully cooperate in hunting these rebels.

Here in Kirkwall, citizens actually help rebel mages escape. Escaped apostates have survived their freedom long enough to form the “the mage underground,” a network that feeds and shelters escapees and even transports apostates into remote areas of the Free Marches and beyond our easy reach.

– The Mage Underground

The mages are hurling themselves from the top of the fucking tower, it’s that bad in there, and people have noticed that something is wrong.

Note that Elthina’s ‘kids’, as you put it, have never got along. Meredith was against Orsino’s election the position of first enchanter. Not because she thought somebody else would be better at the job, but because she didn’t want the mages to have an advocate at all.

First Enchanter Maceron died in 9:28 Dragon without naming a successor. Many were surprised to learn that the Gallows still had a first enchanter; Maceron had spent nearly all of the last decade in his chambers, emerging only rarely. But now he was dead, and the Gallows in need of a new first enchanter. Knight-Commander Meredith was of the opinion that there was no need for one. After all, the Gallows ran perfectly under the Templars, without interference from Maceron. But Orsino realised that the mages needed someone to speak on their behalf, lest the Templars rob them of what few liberties they still had.

World of Thedas II

It seems she ultimately let it slide because she didn’t really believe he could accomplish anything. As far as I can tell, all he’s managed to do is slow her down a bit. The mages are being tortured to death, and are due for total liquidation in the very near future. But even that is too much for Meredith. The Templars regard Orsino as ‘a menace’ simply for winning his people a few small liberties – liberties of which, by Act 3, they seem to have again been stripped.

Elthina doesn’t give a shit about Orsino or the mages. You know how I know this? Because past a certain point, inaction is in itself a declaration of support. If you’ve got two friends, and they’re arguing about who gets to drink the last beer in the fridge, you can say ‘I’m just going to stay neutral, and let you two sort it out’. But if one of your friends picks up a rock and bashes the other’s skull in, then disposes of the corpse to obscure the evidence and makes up a story about how your now-dead friend was a dangerous criminal and had to be killed, and is awarded medals and accolades for it … and you stand there and watch, and say nothing, and do nothing, then you have sided with the murderer. You are protecting them, and keeping their secrets, and doing nothing to either help or get justice for the victim.

The thing is, Meredith doesn’t need Elthina to side with her. She is not in need of help. She is the de facto Viscount of Kirkwall. She is Knight-Commander of the Kirkwall Templars. She’s not only been brutalising the mages, but attacking the citizens of Kirkwall as well. She can, and does, do whatever the fuck she wants. Elthina standing in the middle of the street and yelling ‘Meredith is right about everything!’ wouldn’t actually change the situation much.

Orsino does need Elthina. He’s not some willful child who just can’t get along with his sister. He is a desperate man struggling to protect people who effectively have no legal rights from a woman who enjoys watching them suffer. He needs Elthina to face down Meredith. He needs her to write to the Divine to plead for their lives. He needs Meredith removed from power. He needs protection and care for his people. He needs these things, not as some ‘hardline’ anti-Chantry position, but just to live.

Elthina does not care about him or his people.

Now – she might care about Meredith. I’m fairly convinced she only cares about people insofar as she can use them (Sebastian included – Elthina has a prince in her direct service, remember), but she has been able to use Meredith, so she might care about her. That’s … not really a point in her favour, though.

Let’s backtrack a bit here, shall we? This is tricky, because we’ve mostly got Chantry sources to work with, and they don’t come right out and say what they’ve done. But the criminal partnership of Grand Cleric Elthina and Meredith Stannard is a long one.

Records indicate that Elthina was born in a small village nestled in the Vimmark Mountains just south of Kirkwall. When she was just a little girl, both her parents contracted a terrible fever that took them both. Elthina never caught the illness, thanks to a kindly neighbour who cared for her while her parents were sick. When her parents died, the neighbour’s husband refused to continue paying for the upkeep of the orphan child, and Elthina was given to the Chantry. She became a lay sister as a girl and, when she came of age, was given the choice to leave the Chantry or take an initiate’s vows. Elthina chose to stay. When she was twenty, she moved south, to Kirkwall, and became a revered mother at the chantry there.

World of Thedas II

That’s Elthina’s backstory. Note that she came from nothing: an orphan and a pauper. And yet her rise is incredible. By twenty she is revered mother of one of the largest cities in the Free Marches. Note that ‘revered’ means she’s actually responsible for the Kirkwall chantry, not just holding the rank of ‘mother’ like Petrice. This is a woman of drive and ambition. These are not bad things in themselves, of course. But they are noteworthy things. They demonstrate that Elthina is not weak willed or retiring by nature. She’s clawing her way up the Chantry hierarchy as quickly as she’s able.

Now, unfortunately, the way the Chantry works puts a bit of a roadblock in her career there. No further to climb until the boss kicks the bucket. And so the next point of interest …

Following the death of her predecessor, Elthina was appointed grand cleric of the Free Marches by Divine Beatrix III.

World of Thedas II

Not surprising, perhaps, but noteworthy still, because it reminds us where Elthina owes her favours. Now we get to the meat of it.

In 9:21 dragon, Divine Beatrix commanded that the Kirkwall Templars force the Viscount to allow Orlesian ships through the Waking Sea passage. Knight-Commander Guylian was against it.

It is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.

– History of Kirkwall: Chapter 4

However, there was a certain knight-captain who was not so scrupulous, and who was poised to take command of the Templars:

When Guylian gave a command, it was Meredith who enforced it. Her drive and her devotion to her duty made her a bit of a legend among her fellow Templars, and privately, many thought she possessed a hundred times the old knight-commander’s charisma. Many said that it was Meredith who was really the leader of the Templars, despite her junior rank.

World of Thedas II

The official story is that Viscount Perrin Threnhold hired mercenaries, who stormed the Gallows and publicly hanged Guylian.

Maybe he did. But. It’s a bit convenient, isn’t it? A man who did not want to fight the Viscount was abruptly replaced by a woman who absolutely did want to fight the Viscount. And he wasn’t just replaced. These mercenaries didn’t do anything sensible, like capture and hold the Gallows, or get hold of all of the Templars’ top officers, or gain control of the lyrium supply – you know, stuff you might do if you were actually trying to beat the Templars. No, they lynched the knight-commander, right out in public, and apparently left every other Templar free to retaliate. Now that they had the justification to do whatever they wanted.

Note that the mercenaries disappear from the story at this point. We don’t know who they were or what happened to them.

Interesting, isn’t it, that a Grand Cleric appointed by Beatrix resides in Kirkwall? Orders for the region would naturally filter through her. Likewise, the Knight-Commander would have first brought his protests to her.

In any case, the Templars stormed the Viscount’s Keep and Perrin Threnhold was arrested.

He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later.

– Knight-Commander Meredith

Three days? That’s quick, for deposing the ruler of a city. And with what, exactly, was he charged? This all happened because he opposed the Orlesian empire, and because the Templars were themselves going to war with the Viscount. We don’t know. We only know that Grand Cleric Elthina personally had him imprisoned. Then he died.

Also convenient, isn’t it, that he died mysteriously? Who would have motive to keep him from talking? Or, who might be concerned that he might be able to retake power? How about the people now ruling the city?

Because that’s what happened.

Following Threnhold’s arrest, Grand Cleric Elthina appointed Meredith as the new knight-Commander. At Knight-Commander Meredith’s strong suggestion, a new viscount was chosen: a man named Marlowe Dumar.

World of Thedas II

Meredith’s service to the Grand Cleric, the Divine and the Orlesian empire was rewarded. She was given the top job in the Templars. The Chantry effectively had control of the city. Meredith cemented that control by finding them a convenient puppet.

Look at who has benefited from this scenario. The Kirkwall chantry is wealthy and influential. Its large Templar presence ensures it is able to maintain its hold on the city.

Elthina has gained quite the reputation for ‘managing’ the Templars:

People frequently turn to her to mediate disputes—particularly those involving the powerful Templar Order, over whom she holds authority as the Chantry’s ranking representative.

– Grand Cleric Elthina

That sounds nice, until you remember that she appointed Meredith to her role, and that the Templars are ruling the city. There shouldn’t really be disputes with the Templar Order. They are empowered (however little I may like it) to take mages to the Circle, and to hunt apostates. They should not be interfering with the general populace at all. Of course they are. Meredith was selected precisely because she was willing to interfere, and she has kept on doing so. Elthina’s reputation is thus one long con. She has been smoothing over those occasions when her knight-commander (and partner in crime) stepped on a few too many noble toes.

And Meredith?

For now, she enjoys the grand cleric’s full support and has free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force.

– Knight-Commander Meredith

Meredith has, all these years, enjoyed Elthina’s full support. Not just in her role as the boss of the Kirkwall Circle, but as Kirkwall’s military leader. Elthina has backed Meredith every step of the way, since she took control of Kirkwall.

That’s an almost pre-red lyrium Codex entry, from the very first time you meet Meredith. Elthina is worried now, because Meredith’s behaviour is becoming erratic. But prior to this, they have enjoyed a long and fruitful partnership. Whether Elthina cares about Meredith as a person is up for debate (she might!) but she certainly cares that Meredith is no longer doing her job as well as she once did.

So I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in sweet Grandma Elthina. Probably that was the writers’ intent, but either they wrote her very badly as a sweet old lady, or there’s some epic subversion going on here. Nothing I have seen in these games, or their Codices, or the supplementary material, has given me any reason to see Elthina as anything other than a manipulative, terrible person, who only works for her own advancement.

I don’t think of her as tragic, and I don’t mourn her death. She’s part of the problem. A bloody big part, at that.

Y’all let’s talk about WINGS album solo songs. No, specifically, let’s talk about Kim Seokjin’s solo song for the WINGS album okay. I’ll be using this source because I didn’t translate the lyrics myself and as an International ARMY I’ll use English translations. I’ll also use these sources here for various references used in this analysis: x x

OKAY, so, we know that Jin wrote his own lyrics (with a helping hand from a few members and other staffs) as well as had a hand in composing his own song this time around. (he explained that it was his first time helping compose and that he was nervous and it was difficult). Jin has done writing on lyrics from many other BTS songs in the past, and has always expressed very anxiously and excitedly that he enjoys writing lyrics.

So, we know that BTS wrote their lyrics for their songs or at least had a hand in writing the lyrics. So, this leads to: Jungkook’s song being about his love for his Hyungs and how they helped him to grow and ‘become himself’, Yoongi’s song being about music. Hoseok’s track being @/to his mother, etc.

These songs are all dedications and their deep personal feelings. They were given a chance to do a solo track and have a hand writing lyrics and composing. The concept is about growing up and fighting hardships at it’s core, when broken down to the simplest concept. So, their solo songs really say alot about who they are and how they feel.

Let me tell you this. This will be a long breakdown, very long. Jin is someone who is routinely put on the back-shelf as a singer and musician within Bangtan. Most of his lines within the distribution of BTS is harmonizing and bridges. He is without a doubt the least appreciated/popular/recognized member within BTS by both Bighit and the fans as well. Not because he isn’t just as talented but that’s just the way it is. Why??? idk it’s a mystery. So, what did he do with his moment of truth, his moment to shine, his solo song he had a hand not just writing but producing, where he can make a declaration that he wants as long as it doesn’t conflict with the concept??

믿는 게 아냐
버텨보는 거야
할 수 있는 게
다 이것뿐이라서 

It’s not that I believe (it)
(But that) I want to try holding out
Because this is
All that I can do 

Jin is a member who is repeatedly treated as the ‘extra’ member of BTS. He’s the hyung, has a beautiful, literally ANGELIC voice, but the least popularity in rankings and the least vocal distribution in songs.

Yeah it’s my truth
It’s my truth
온통 상처투성이겠지
But it’s my fate
It’s my fate
그래도 발버둥치고 싶어

Maybe I I can never fly
저기 저 꽃잎들처럼
날갤 단 것처럼은 안 돼
Maybe I I can’t touch the sky
그래도 손 뻗고 싶어
달려보고 싶어 조금 더

Yeah it’s my truth
It’s my truth
I will be covered with wounds all over
But it’s my fate
It’s my fate
Still, I want to struggle (and fight)

Maybe I, I can never fly
I can’t (fly) like the flower petals over there
Or as though I have wings
Maybe I, I can’t touch the sky
Still, I want to stretch my hand out
I want to run, just a bit more

Yes, I recognize that this song fits in with the main character and concept of the BTS HYYH and beyond, concept. But please, recognize that this is Jin pouring his fucking heart out okay.

A man who is coNSTANTLY the underdog of this group, the one who is always overlooked, singing a song about how it’s possibly that he will never be able to reach the level he wants to, and yet he will continue fighting anyways.

Maybe I, I can never fly
I can’t (fly) like the flower petals over there

Did this literally fuck anyone else up? (BTW this is the voice of a TRUE fucking ANGEL).

Listen, don’t tell me that Jin isn’t unappreciated because he’s criminally underappreciated. Tell me that this song isn’t literally the most symbolic, beautiful thing.

People want to label him as only the handsome guy, or the house ‘mom’ and laugh at him, occasionally swerve into his lane when he looks good, etc. But let he fucking tell you what, Kim Seokjin is a fucking MIRACLE.

This is a man who once said that he hates dance more than anything, and yet literally never complains when dancing—works hard, memorizes every single dance without fail, performs them better than any cover dances I’ve ever seen, performs them day in and day out—performs them even when he’s in pain, even when he doesn’t feel he’s a good dancer. This is a man that people make fun of relentlessly for his dancing when all he does is work veryv ery very hard at it. 

This is a man who trained in acting, who trains his vocals and they improve so much every single year. Even though his voice is barely utilized to it’s full potential he still improves so much and practices so much.

This is a man who only ever puts on a brave face and jokes and smiles with ARMYs even though he knows he’s ranked the lowest among fans (particularly in SoKo fanpolls). Always takes care of Bangtan like the good Hyung/eldest that he is even though he was the youngest in his family. Who is the first one to notice that the other members are upset and run to their side, who feeds them, supports them, praises them. Supports and loves and showers ARMY with attention. All the while covering up any awkwardness or insecurities he might feel by joking around or making ‘handsome Jin’ comments.

And he poured his heart into this song. Not to be dramatic but this Solo song practically has more lines than Jin has recieved within BTS in the last 2 whole albums tbh. I mean, not literally but who the hell is counting? Jin stans are because they can’t catch a break.

I’m just saying, please stop, take a second, listen to the fucking PASSION he sings with, listen to the lyrics, read the lyrics, take in the lyrics. Recognize the parallels between the concept and what he represents there, and what he as a person and idol deals with every single day.

Because Kim Seokjin is a blessing to this Earth and it’s time we stop boxing him into the goofy handsome house mom stereotype and occasionally being like ‘everyone pay more attention to Jin’ and then everyone goes back on their way without fucking actually doing it. I’m guilty of this too, SO many ARMY sleep on Jin. We should stop this. He really honestly doesn’t deserve it.

anonymous asked:

I used to love the "I love you" scene but lately the more i think about it the more I wish it would have been different. Was it really necessary a(nother) near death experience? If it wasn't for the bomb would Brian ever said it? It might have taken him another 5 years...

Ah yeah, I get it, and while it personally doesn’t bother me, I don’t think it’s an entirely uncommon gripe. I see it mainly through two lenses:

  • From a storytelling standpoint, the writers needed to come up with something big. We’ve been watching Brian and Justin’s relationship evolve over five years, and while we all know Brian loves Justin more than anything, he can’t bring himself to actually say the words. They have been building this up for years, slooooowly bringing us along for the ride as Brian comes closer to acknowledging his feelings. Now, for people who didn’t watch the show live, it may not feel that long, but if you were one of those people who tuned in for the pilot, you would have been waiting 1,687 days for Brian Kinney to finally tell Justin he loved him. If the writers wrote something more lowkey, with Brian just telling Justin he loved him because he just woke up one morning and realized he had to say it, it may have felt like a bit of a letdown after such a lengthy build up. Now, would it have been possible to have some drama without another near death experience? Sure. Could it have been done even better than what we saw on screen? Quite possibly. But we all know subtlety was never Cowlip’s strong suit, so it does make sense in my mind why they went (as usual) for the big ~*dramatic*~ moment.
  • Also… Brian has issues. I mean, that may just be the understatement of the century, but it’s true. Brian has very real and legitimate fears about love. He’s spent his entire life believing it didn’t exist, and that even if it did, that he wasn’t capable of giving it and didn’t deserve to receive it. And then, of course, the first time he goes out of his way to do something romantic in the name of love, it ended with Justin nearly being killed. Love for Brian Kinney is a toxic emotion. Beyond that, for Brian, admitting he loves somebody is admitting a vulnerability. It is a way to open himself up to hurt, but, more than that, it requires him to give up some of his control, to fully surrender his heart to someone else and trust them enough to live with any of the consequences…and we all know Brian Kinney needs to always be in control. So all this is to say, Brian is terrified of the thought of love, and the only thing that would shake him free of that is a bigger fear – and, in this case, it was the fear of losing Justin forever and Justin never knowing how he felt about him. Brian needed a really strong jolt, because, at least at that point, it was the only thing that would allow him to forget about all those fears and insecurities that have held a tight grip on him for more than three decades.

Now, if there had been no bombing, would it have taken Brian another five years? Possibly. He’s made great progress, but there’s a lot to unpack and issues to work through. Maybe with Justin gone, in time he would have realized how much he needs him in his life and worked himself up to be able to tell Justin he loved him. Or maybe Justin leaving him would have solidified in his mind that he wasn’t worthy of love and not capable of loving Justin the way he wants and so Justin is better off without him. Who knows? Brian Kinney shall always remain a bit of an enigma.

But anyway, that’s my thought process. I do get what you’re saying though, and I know there are plenty of people who agree with you. But for me, it just kind of makes sense that for Brian Kinney, a man who “has enough disorders to merit [his] own classification in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual,” it just kind of makes sense that it would take something rather extreme to get him to admit what we all see as plain as the nose on his face.

If You Think My Truth Is A Lie, You Can Get Bent

This wonderful fic was born from a request I couldn’t turn down for a fic with Bart being trans. It took me a few days, but I’m proud of the result and I hope this hits the spot for the anon who requested this fic. I got you fam, and your gender is valid; anybody tries to invalidate anyone for being trans or non-binary and I’ll go full-on NB-battle-ax on them.

I hope everyone enjoys this fic and has as much fun with it as I had writing it. n.n

Oh yeah, and a couple minor warnings for mentioned transphobia and Bart’s justified swearing.

EDIT: Credit for the ‘bug fucker’ insult goes to @disregardcanon. Thanks a ton for thinking it up! I just had to use it. n.n

Kid Flash. B-2-3.

Before the computer had even finished announcing his arrival Bart was half-way across the zeta-tube chamber and on his way to storm through the passage between the living room area and kitchen of their current base and down the hall straight into his room. He was going far more slowly than he would have normally, closer to the rapid furious stalking of non-speedsters, but it was more out of an effort to not throw everything into disarray in his wake than out of any actual restraint. As soon as he was in his room (and damned if he wasn’t frustrated about not being able to slam the door) he snatched his pillow from his bed, covered his face with it, and screamed.

There were a lot of things that frustrated him about the past… this time… whatever, but for the most part he was of the opinion that it (justifiably) was better than his original time. However, one thing he had run into on a routine basis that never failed to make him want to tear his hair out was the complete and utter bullshit he got over being trans. In his original time it hadn’t even been that big a deal! ‘Oh, you’re a guy? Okay. No problem. Just try to avoid Reach attention. None of this “you don’t know what you’re getting into” or “it’s just a phase” or “you’re just confused” bullcrap! He threw the pillow across the room with another frustrated scream as he yelled, “That egotistical bug-fucker!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Companio,s react to someone saying something sexist to Sole! Example: you can't lift that sledgehammer you're a girl and girls are weak OR You're a guy, guys aren't supposed to know how to sow/knit that's a girls thing

Given the harsh nature of the Commonwealth, gender roles and expectations are a little different from Pre-War attitudes. As long as you’ve got a big enough gun and the mind to defend your beliefs, your life is your business. No one gets any say in the clothes you wear or the people you spend your life with. But in every society there’s always a few assholes waiting to ruin someone’s day. Sole receives some ignorant insults from a few such people, and it’s up to the companions to stick up for their partner.

Cait: She’d be over there in half a second, fists curled into their collar as she wrenches them off their feet and stares them dead in the eye. Cait been through some goddamn shit, and ain’t nobody about to tell her or Sole how people are supposed to live their lives. Depending on how much of an asshole the person is, she might start a brawl right then and there, because Cait doesn’t put up with bullshit.

Codsworth: If they were still in the Old World, Codsworth might agree. He’s an old-fashioned bot, what can he say? He liked it when everyone had a place, when they knew what they were supposed to do. But now, even he admits that things have changed, and everybody ought to know how to defend themselves and stitch up some clothes. He’ll scoff, and give the person a few cutting remarks, but he’s too polite to really start a fight about it.

Curie: Her first reaction is the scientific one. “Oh! Well, but actually, you see, though there are some innate biological differences that separate the sexes, by and large there’s enough genetic variation that with enough effort, either gender could… Where are you going?” She’s confused when the jerk rolls their eyes and wanders off, grumbling under their breath. It’s only later that the intended cruelty of their words occurs to her.

Danse: Danse, being a soldier, knows perfectly well that women can hold their own in a fight to the equal of any man. He also admits, reluctantly, that men can be just as proficient in… child-rearing, or other civilian female activities. So he tells the person as much. “I find, that in battle, the gender of your companions matter less than the quality of their character. And I advise you to hold your tongue in future, civilian, or you might see the consequences.”

Deacon: As someone who likes to wear dresses and make-up from time to time, he’s well aware of the assholes who like insult people. He also knows that it’s his gun-given right to wear what he wants. Deacon prefers to avoid confrontation, so he’ll endure the insults, sure. But afterwards? When the person goes home? They may or may not find themselves being assaulted by a gang of angry wastelanders. All because one bald guy spread a few rumors.

Dogmeat: He’s not too picky on who his owner is, and he doesn’t know any better about their habits. Whatever Sole wants to do is great, because Sole is great, and he loves Sole. Sole is the best. Sole gives him pets and bits of brahmin meats. So this asshole comes up and starts talking shit? They better be careful, or they’re gonna find themselves missing a chunk of their leg or arm.

Hancock: Oh, hell, no. Nobody talks to Sole like that. Nobody talks to him like that, either. Hancock’s a firm believer in people being able to do whatever the fuck they want, so long as it doesn’t fuck with anybody else. So he pulls out his favorite shanking knife and gives the asshole a big ol’ toothy grin, just to give them the chance to run. Whether he follows or not depends on how much of a jerk the person was, but he’ll still give ‘em a good scare.

Nick Valentine: Now, Nick might have a lot of nostalgia for the past, looking back fondly on curvy dames in tight red dresses and stoic police detectives in battered trench coats. But nobody’s got any right pushing their nose in everyone else’s business. So he lights his cigarette and gives the person his best golden-eyed glare. “Why don’t you go take your dogma elsewhere, pal? Because we sure don’t want to hear it.”

MacCready: He’s a bit of a straight-laced guy, himself. He likes cold drinks, pretty girls, a clean gun… But even he knows everybody’s got a right to their own thing. “Right back at you, asshole. Don’t you have better things to do than be talking crap to people? Maybe a job, or something?” He gives them a glare, standing just behind Sole with fingers twitching for his rifle. If Sole asked him to give this person an extra hole in their head, he wouldn’t mind.

Piper: Word of advice: never make the hot-headed journalist feel like she’s being oppressed. In an instant she’s up in the person’s face, dark eyes all alight with anger as she waves her hands at them. “What did you just say to them? What did you say? Because what you just implied, buddy, you’ll have to take up with me. Oh, oh, oh, I should write an article on you! Tell the world about everything wrong with beliefs like yours. In fact…” And so on.

Preston: His eyes harden, jaw tightens. He doesn’t like anybody talking to Sole like that. He knows very well that anybody can do anything they put their minds to. But he doesn’t want to just start a fight, either. He’ll move to stand in front of Sole, and put his hands up, and try to calm the person down. “Hey, we’re all friends here. No need to judge anyone’s choices. We’re all just trying to get by, do the best we can.”

Strong: For the record, Super Mutants do not have genders. Whether you’re male, female, old, young, whenever you’re infected with the FEV virus, you turn into a mutant. And he doesn’t register gender much in humans, either. They’re all just different degrees of ugly. But he’s more than happy to beat the snot out of anybody who looks at Sole funny.

X6-88: Why should he care what this person thinks? He knows what he’s capable of. He knows what Sole’s capable of. Wasteland prejudices don’t matter to him. He doesn’t care about genders or traditions or anything else. He is assigned to Sole, and he will protect them. Unless this person begins causing problems, he will continue to ignore them. They are beneath his notice. If they become a threat, however…

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Obvious In Game Text Spoiler Warning Obvious

Vergissmeinnicht für Ain

Along with the mission, the Goddess told me,
Do not disturb their order by being stained by the color of their world.

The last chance to fulfill my mission…!!

… Elsword, why do you want to restore the El?
The energy I felt just now from Elsword… It’s from that time…!
There’s no mistaking it. He is a being with the same root as I… Elsword will definitely try to find Lady of El and restore the El. No, he will never give up its restoration..

That’s no good. My strength hasn’t returned yet, but I must intervene.

…? I can't… intervene. What… What’s going on…?
Elsword is next to me and yet… I should try again.

How can this be… I definitely have enough strength to maintain my existence.
But why… can’t I intervene? Why…
Intervene… I must intervene…
If even the Holy Beast has changed… This is a serious situation.
I must intervene… and solve it. I must… do it.

If I… was there…

That human… he doesn’t belong in this time period. How is he here?
What is his purpose? He must be planning something.
Elsword… I must tell you about that human…
That’s something… I have to do.
I must annihilate the demons preying on the El, and restore the El and return its energy.
I don’t have time to be doing this… There must be a way to recover my strength… something… I have to try anything…
… I must intervene. If I was there, it would’ve been easier to take care of them.

I failed again this time. I don’t understand the reason…

My body… is splitting…
But I ended the intervention… How…?

… I can’t do anything in this state. I must… hurry and intervene…
Elsword, if I was there, you would’ve followed it much easier.

I can sense those demon’s aura, so I’m sure I can be of h…

No… Elsword, you can’t trust that human…
Only I can be your help…

I must help… Elsword…

I must… intervene to solve this.
I have to intervene…
No… My body can’t maintain my form and has started to split…

Elsword Are you okay without me?
Don’t you…
Don’t you need me?

Secret of the priestess of water…?
What is that? Priestesses have secrets?
How come I… didn’t know?
The mission I received… is to return the El’s energy.
To achieve that… I must know everything about priestesses of El and the El..

How can I… be so utterly powerless…
The mission the Goddess gave me..
Is absolutely vital in maintaining the existence and balance of this world…
And I, the one who will perform the deed, also am…. important…
I am… definitely… needed

Elsword… Can you not hear my voice anymore?
I thought…
I thought you are different from other humans…
Why can’t you hear me…

… No.. I will do it with my own strength. If I can gather up all the strength in me, it shouldn’t be hard to intervene. That’s right… if I gather all the strength…


My body… has disappeared… My form… Everything…

… O… Goddess…
… It’s no use. Elsword…You can’t remember when I have not intervened.

No one can remember me.
Without the intervention…
I’m just a helpless mass of light..

Elsword… In the end, you were just like other humans.
That energy I felt… The original power of El…
Was that just my mistake?



El… sword?
Yes? Ah, well, that… Yes…

He remembered me… and called my name… By Elsword calling for me… I have returned. Elsword… You are…

That Nasod’s mission have become solely our mission now. It was a very Nasod-like ending for him…

A life born with a mission, living to fulfill that mission, and disappearing after it’s become useless…

..Is there anything different from my own life?

I too will disappear when I’ve fulfilled my mission… I will be forgotten from everyone’s memories. Is that what I truly wanted? To disappear after I’ve fulfilled my mission?

… No, I don’t need to think about something like this. My mission is my sole reason to exist here. Useless thoughts… emotions… I must get rid of them.

But if I throw them away, then I’ll end up becoming like Nasods. I… I don’t want to be like that. I… don’t want to be a tool.

… They are grieving for someone they’ve known for such a short period of time. 

When I disappear after fulfilling my mission, would they remember me and grieve for me?

… There’s no way they can remember me.
I’ve been created this way… What was I expecting…

I see now… I didn’t want to be forgotten by them.

How stupid of me… to think such thoughts…

Lady of El… We’ve finally come this far. It won’t be too long. We will recover her, restore El and return its energy… then I will disappear.

… I don’t want to disappear like this… Not like this…

But… I cannot abandon my mission. I must fulfill it.

Nasods are disposed when they break down or malfunction. There’s always replacements to do the exact same thing.

It’s not so different from my fate. If I can’t fulfill my mission, or even disappear… A new being will descend here with the Goddess’s mission.

But I don’t want someone else to replace me… I want to stay in their memories. 

As someone who made the long journey with them…
I want to be acknowledged as their ’friend’.

But, that’s just my wishful thinking.
A wish that will never come true…

I was envying the Nasod boy without even realizing. He will forever remain… in their memories.

… I never thought I would find each moment so precious… I… have become sentimental.


Elsword, you want to find Lady of El and restore the El, right?

Will you ever… change your mind?
… Yes. I see. I… wanted that also.
… I must restore the El.

Because… there’s something I have to do. For that… I must.
I… want to restore it. I think I want to.

… Actually..
… Actually, no… I don’t want to. If that happens…!

I don’t want to disappear…
I don’t want to be forgotten.

Elsword… I don’t want that…

This is it… When Elsword walks into the light,
I will be able to fulfill my mission.

…If I stop Elsword here…
I might be able to stay next to these people.

I might not disappear. 
I might not be forgotten.

But… this moment can’t last forever.
Elsword has to make a decision.

… Elsword and the El Search Party.
I was happy I could be with you.
Thank you… for everything.

…Even if you forget me, I will not forget you…

Flower by Kim Chun-Soo

Before I spoke his name,
he had been nothing but a gesture.
When I spoke his name,
he came to me and became a flower.

Now who will speak my name,
A name fitting this color and fragrance of mine,
the way I spoke his
So that I may go to him and become his flower.

We all yearn to become something.
I yearn to become an unforgettable meaning to you,
And you to me.

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"I can't take this anymore"
  • Rose: I can't take our relationship being secret anymore! Scorpius we need to tell them and if my family finds out from someone else, they're going to murder you and then we can't be together and I won't be able to bear that because I need you so much in my life and I know that James and Fred scar you shitless but please do this for me so that we can finally be free and I really really really want to be with you and show all those girls that you're mine and not anybody except me's snog buddy-
  • Scorpius drags her into the great hall where everyone is having dinner and kisses her right there because even though it turns him on to hear Rose becoming all possessive he decides that he might as well give Rose what she wants so she can be more possessive openly and that would be one hell of sexy-
  • Rose breaks his train of thought while reciprocating even harder and Scorpius has never felt more turned on before.
  • James breaks the silence and asks: WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?
  • Scorpius decides that it doesn't matter that James Potter and Fred Weasley are this close to breaking is neck because he's got Rose in his arms and she smirks at him and all Scorpius can think is that they were right about red heads being the sexiest and most feisty. Oh the things he would do to drag her to his dorm and continue what he started.

AU set shortly after Neverland, in which the gang find themselves in the Enchanted Forest trying to defeat the Wicked Witch – and, in Emma’s case, trying not to admit her feelings for the pirate, until circumstances conspire to admit it for her. Based on this post.

She doesn’t meet his eyes after the ogre attack that nearly kills her. She lets her mother hug her, reassures everyone loudly that she’s okay, she’s fine, but she doesn’t look at him.

She doesn’t run to him when they rescue him from the Wicked Witch’s minions, his shirt ripped and his cheek bloodied. His eyes do meet hers, though, and she remembers thinking she’d never see him again. She remembers how she fought, with quiet, deadly determination and flat-out refusal to accept any other outcome than this.

She leaves the room once she’s healed his wounds after the skirmish with the flying monkeys, the claw marks and the blood imprinted on her memory. She doesn’t want to be there when he wakes up, and she leaves it to her mother to check on him. She knows he’s healed. And she knows that she doesn’t want to see him with his shirt off when he’s not hurt—or rather, she does, which is exactly why she shouldn’t.

He follows her lead and does not reach out to her, does not take her hand or hug her the way she sometimes thinks he wants to.

But they are still on the same team, and he does not hold back with his opinions.

And that’s how they end up here.

“Swan, I really don’t think that you want to do this.”

“Yeah? Well, I think I do, so we’re doing it.”

I’m not.”

“No one’s asking you to!”

“I know th—I’m merely voicing a concern.”

“Oh, now you’re concerned?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey... I have a lot of ideas for writing but I juat can't put it on paper... Whenever I try to write I really hate the way it turns out and throw it away... I don't know what to do, how can I write better and stop being ashamed of myself?

Well, the first thing that occurs to me is that you need to stop throwing away what you do write.

The negative perception you’re describing here – where what you’ve just done seems awful or looks like shit – is something that (as far as I can tell) every writer living deals with to a greater or lesser extent, and the only way many of us get anything much done is by learning to shut it up or just ignore it. Some writers suffer from it far worse than others, especially when they’re just getting started.

Here’s the source of the problem. Most of what you read in the world (unless you spend most of your time reading the comments on YouTube) is well-structured, polished, “finished”. It’s been rewritten sometimes numerous times, and then it’s been edited multiple times and gone over by either gifted amateurs or paid professionals. Even badly written stuff, by the time you’ve seen it, looks pretty good.

What comes out of your head onto the paper the first time, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of finished. It is just beginning. It’s almost certainly fragmentary. It’s likely to be all over the place both structurally and stylistically. You may have absolutely no clear sense of where you’re going with it. You may not really know who the characters are or what’s driving them. (Or possibly worst, why anyone in their right minds would like them.)

And all of us who do this work sooner or later find ourselves, in our heads, comparing these tattered just-written piles of unlikely-looking word-blots and splotches against two things: the images of what other people’s work looks like – well-structured, eloquent, rounded, very put-together – or the image of what your work was supposed to have come out looking like. This is where a lot of us run into trouble. We can see in our minds that shining image of the completed work, effective and beautiful and perfect (look up the word eidolon, it applies…). And the shabby raggedy ill-realized thing that’s all we were able to create today stacks up so unbelievably poorly against either what our work (we think) should be, or what (we think) others’ is, that the urge to chuck our own production in the fire or highlight the whole damn thing and hit DELETE is extremely strong.*

And this comparison is exactly the wrong thing to be doing. It is the job of written works in their early stages to be threadbare and patchy and faded-looking. The process of turning them into finished work is like making a film of the wearing-out of a piece of clothing, and then running that film backwards. You look at the patched holes and pull the patches off. The holes get sharper-edged. Then they heal. The garment gets less faded as you work. The seams pull tighter together. The longer you work the more clearly you can see what the “new” garment looked / will look like. And finally you’re done (or as done as you can be when you’re finished telling yourself the story for the first time). …This is of course the point at which you realize the garment’s pockets aren’t big enough, but never mind: dealing with that is what your next draft’s for.

You’ll never get there, though, if you keep trashing your work in the thing-of-rags-and-patches stage. That initial sense of shame will only get worse the more you indulge it; so you’ve got to stop indulging it by throwing your work away.

Therefore, your mission (Mr. Phelps, should you choose to accept it) is this: you’re forbidden to throw any writing away any more. Everything must be kept. Not just as part of a plan for dealing with this problem, but because (deep breath: shouts) NO WORK IS WORTHLESS. Every piece of writing you do is worth something. You may not be able to perceive just what, at the moment, but that’s not your job. Analysis comes after execution. Overindulge the analysis in the “during” stages and you’ll just turn yourself off.

So cut that the hell out.

Your job now becomes to write and then put what you’ve written away. Don’t come near any given scrap of work for at least thirty days. Put it in a drawer and lock the drawer. Or give the file to someone who won’t look at it. Don’t peek. Let it alone.

After a month you can take a given piece of work out of the drawer and look at it. And you are still not allowed to throw it away. If you hate it, you have to sit down and write at least a page of analysis, specifying what about it doesn’t work. (And none of this “Because it sucks” crap. You need specifics.)

Then you put that analysis away with the piece of writing and leave them for another month. (And no, I’m not kidding. In this world of instant gratification, one of the single most useful things a writer can learn is patience. Are you serious about this? Then take a breath. Having written, go do something else. Leave that bit of work alone and don’t even think about picking at it. Give it time to mature.)

And also: the next day, write another thing. And put it away. And then another thing, and another, and put them away. Little scraps, they can be. To start with, the garment always looks like it’s entirely made of patches. (Which is just fine, because it is.)

If you did that for a whole month – wrote, say, a thousand words a day, and put them away – by the end of the month you would have thirty thousand words. They might not be joined together in any recognizable sequence, but that doesn’t matter. You’d have 30K of words, and such are the wonders of the Law of Averages that I can tell you this with absolutely no fear of being wrong: They cannot all be bad. Some of them will have to be good if only by accident. (Lots of us are beneficiaries of these happy accidents. The more you write, the more likely you are to have them. The universe can be surprisingly kind once you’re starting to impress your will on it at regular enough intervals.)

Anyway. Do that for another month, and you’ve got 60K of words. Do it for another, and you’ve got 90K. That’s a fair sized novel’s worth of words, these days.

Now you put them all in that drawer or file folder again and let them be for another month. No peeking.

After that month, you take out those scraps and start arranging them into a shape that approximates a story. Don’t rush. Pull out and set aside the sequences of words that you don’t like in association with the others. They may be useful for another project.

Something you’ll notice at this point, though. Your embarrassment, your shame at the newly-created stuff, will have started to fade, because you will have been reeducating the parts of your brain that were harboring it into more useful behaviors. Somewhere along the line you’ll realize that you’ve sweated the shame out entirely, forgotten about it. It may pop up again every now and then when you start something new or something particularly ambitious, but the same approach outlined above will get rid of it again. You may have to exorcise this particular minor demon a few times. Don’t fret: you can do it. You’ll find it gets easier every time.

…Now get out there and get started. One scrap at a time. :)

*My personal image of Heaven is (among many other things) as the place where you get to sit down and read the perfect, Platonic-solid versions of your books – the books that have actually come out the way you saw them in your head; as if lifted up at a great distance, radiant, satisfying, perfect. Every writer knows what it is to look at a book, even a very successful one, and sigh because whatever else it is, it missed that. And you turn away and say to yourself, Ah well… because we’re in the wrong place for perfection. But it doesn’t mean we don’t yearn.

(ETA: reposted at “Eating Paper”)