fascinating woman!

anonymous asked:

When do you think Lexa started having feelings for Clarke? Btw I looooooveee the stuff you write <3

I have no doubt that this is when Lexa developed feelings for Clarke. Before their “adventure” with Pauna, the way I see it, Clarke had already evoked intense feelings in Lexa, though not romantic. Everyone has a different opinion about Clarke and Lexa, but no one can say they were ever indifferent to each other. 

Lexa is captivated by Clarke from the moment they meet. She is wary but she is intrigued, she is interested, she is fascinated. This young woman fallen from the sky is her enemy and yet Lexa can’t deny the similarities between them. That interest quickly turns into respect. After Clarke kills Finn, Lexa stays with her during the whole funeral and at the end she opens up to Clarke, sharing her painful past and her way of trying to cope with that pain. Love is weakness. We know that in reality Lexa feels A LOT, but that’s not my point here. My point is that, in the only way she knows, she tries to support Clarke. Lexa’s philosophy in later episodes is analyzed in relation to both hers and Clarke’s leadership roles, but in that scene the focus is curiously on their personal feelings. Love, pain, grief. And sure, Lexa is such a wonderfully nuanced character that she manages to also tackle the struggles of leadership during her brief exchange with Clarke, but her first and main focus there is on Clarke’s feelings. She offers her what little comfort she can by revealing to Clarke that she experienced that same loss, that same pain, and by giving her a suggestion to deal with that pain. Lexa wouldn’t open up like that with anyone. She feels a connection with Clarke, right from the start, and probably stronger than she even realizes. That funeral scene is a game changer. It’s a step towards something, but no one knows what that ‘something’ is yet.

It’s not a coincidence that at the beginning of the following episode, this happens.

And then Lexa saves Clarke’s life and Clarke saves Lexa’s and they end up trapped together and Clarke tends to her wounded arm and I could go on forever listing everything that happens between them in that episode. As they are stuck together Clarke proceeds to amuse Lexa with her stubbornness and fire, to impress her with her intelligence and resourcefulness, to touch her with her kindness.

And after Clarke finds a way to get them out, they stop to rest and Lexa spends the night watching over Clarke. She is injured and in pain, but she stays awake and alert and ready to protect Clarke. I can’t get over how beautiful this entire scene is, how intimate. From Clarke’s immediate concern for Lexa. “How’s your arm?” to Lexa admitting to Clarke she was wrong and recognizing her value and strength. I won’t talk about that here, I’ll leave that for another post. But by the end of the scene… we get this.

And this is the moment I believe Lexa realized she had feelings for Clarke. PS. I remember Kim, I think, making a comment about how the heart-eyes were at least in part in the script, so this look is intentional. Yeah, Lexa tries to close her heart and not to care, but you can literally see in her eyes that she realized it’s far too late not to care about Clarke.

SCORPIO - Dating


Scorpio woman is very emotional, very demanding and very demonstrative. She is full of flair and intrigue, a fascinating woman that the strong A-type personality male will adore, for she presents the right amount of challenge with the right amount of rewards. The Scorpio woman is the ultimate seductive, flirtatious woman. She won’t give a man her heart very easily because she is weary of trusting another person. The man will have to go through a series of ‘mental tests’ in order for the relationship to get solid and close. She may not show it, but she wants a close committed relationship. Ion order for this, the man has to be trusted, has to be affectionate and never try to control her. She is very possessive but the Scorpio woman is so full of mystery, sensuality and passion that most men do not mind being possessed by her.


The Scorpio male is unlike any other man of any other astrology sign. He is so unique that a separate section is needed to explain about dating theScorpio man. Unlike most other zodiac signs, what it’s like to date a Scorpio woman is very similar to dating a Scorpio man. The main difference is that instead of presenting a powerful feminine force like the woman, the Scorpio man presents a strong masculine, sexual force. The Scorpio man is easy to seduce and take home for the night, it is much harder to form a real relationship with him. The Scorpio man is very sensitive and feels lonely and unfulfilled, but he will never let a woman know this. Behind closed doors, be sensitive and affectionate to him appeal to his emotions only if you want a close relationship with him do not attempt to lead him on because he will see this and never forgive you. Toying with a Scorpio male is an unwise move. He will be jealous and possessive and will never allow a woman to control him. Let him take the lead because the Scorpio male is truly a fascinating person, you can never go wrong when he is planning the night! Scorpio men are very moody and their moods change like a pendulum on a clock. Stand by his side in these times and it will pass. Do not nag on him for he has a hard enough time understanding his own emotions. Scorpio men make excellent protectors and you will always feel safe under his radiating, passionate and energetic power.

kaitrionabalfe  asked:

I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.

Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)

Intersection: A Three Witches Story

Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.

To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:

“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)

Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.

And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.

But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.

“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)

“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.

Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.

Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.

Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.

But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.

But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.

So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)

The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).

In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”

Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.

Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)

It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.

Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.

Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.

Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.

Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.

But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)  

But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.

“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”

“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”

“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”

“Well then, take a seat, Mr…?”

“Fraser. Jamie.”

Keep reading

Feysand au

For the prompt: ‘you’re a vet and i’m pleading with you to save my goldfish and you’re the first vet i’ve visited to not ask me if i’m sure i don’t want to go and buy another goldfish for three dollars’ au

Please like and reblog? I’m trying to make friends in this fandom because you’re all so wonderful and I don’t want to just observe from afar anymore. ACCEPT ME! VALIDATE ME! LOVE ME!

Now enjoy some Feysand goodness.


“Please somebody help!”

Feyre burst into the vet’s office in a frenzy, her hair flying all around her and her eyes wide as saucers.

She then immediately froze, looking around the tiny waiting room and seeing everyone staring at her, even the various dogs and cats and the one random parrot.

“Um, ma’am?”

Feyre jumped at the secretary’s voice, whipping her head around to look at the most stunning blonde woman she had ever seen. The woman gave her a bright, sweet smile.

“Are you alright?” She asked cautiously.

“I – what – no!” Feyre finally managed to spit out, rushing to the counter. “Please, I need to see the vet immediately, it’s an emergency. No one will see her and I’m getting really scared and –“

“Slow down, honey,” the woman – Mor, according to her nametag – said gently. “What kind of pet is it, and what’s wrong?”

Heat bloomed on Feyre’s cheeks and she glanced behind her at the rest of the waiting room eavesdropping on her. She leaned over the counter as close to Mor as she could get and mumbled incoherently.

Keep reading

A. Ryder: Log #4

They rescue the Moshae, and Jaal realizes he’s feeling more then admiration for the human Pathfinder.

Even more surprising, she seems to feel the same.

Pre/Just beginning relationship JaalxRyder, spoilers for main story and Jaal’s history/romance.

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10609884/chapters/23486109

Somehow, despite the horror and rage running high during their attack on the Kett base, Jaal finds himself in awe of Ryder.

The Angara are not her people; she owes them nothing, has no reason to care, other than perhaps wanting to make a decent impression.

Yet she’s clearly just as disturbed and angry as he is, voice harsh as she tells SAM to hurry and open the chamber so they can help.

Ryder is a force of nature once they’re free - barreling through the Kett with biotics and gunning down those out of her reach - staying near while he mourns, briefly, the loss - before fighting further into the complex at his side.

They find the Moshae - save the Moshae - and then when she demands they destroy the facility, Ryder surprises him again.

By listening to him.

“I promised Jaal we would free everyone here; I won’t go back on that.”

It’s something more than awe and admiration he feels, then, though that realization is held back for the moment, concerned first with getting the Moshae back to the safety of Aya.

He finds himself speaking of her to his old teacher during their trip back, however, and she gives him a look that makes him wonder at himself.

It is only after they have returned the Moshae to Aya and Ryder has made certain comments to Evfra - ‘Jaal’s a valuable part of my crew, now. I’d like if he stayed with us.’ - that Jaal is sure of the things he is feeling, to a degree.

Ryder - Aria - is an interesting, lovely woman, and despite his past experience being rather disheartening, Jaal finds himself wanting to know her better.

To know what makes this feisty, easily flustered, brave human tick.

Jaal waits until after they’re finished on Voeld - the Vault opened, the planet significantly more livable, and the outpost up and running - before letting the topic come up, not wanting to push or scare her.

They’re talking as they often do, Jaal tinkering with his omni tool while Aria sits on the counter next to him, swinging her legs back and forth in what he believes is a nervous habit. (It’s adorable, regardless, but he keeps that thought to himself.)

She asks him questions, ever curious about his people - his history, his planet, his dreams - interested since he’d stepped on board.

This time, though, she asks if he has a partner. A mate?

Jaal smiles sadly, gaze still on the glowing tool on his wrist, “Not for a long time.”

And he tells her of the one woman he’d been entranced by - reflecting on the irony of how similar their names are, Allia and Aria - and how his brother had unintentionally stolen her, how she’d then joined his family as one of the Mothers.

Aria looks anguished, “You mean you have to see her every day?

“No,” Jaal responds softly, “They were taken by the Kett. Their children survived.”

“That’s… I’m so sorry, Jaal. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He chuckles, “Do not fret, Ryder; you have done nothing wrong. I do not mind sharing my past with you.”

“Okay… well. Just so you know… it was Allia’s loss not choosing you, in my opinion.”

That makes his fingers pause over his wrist, gaze sliding to the redhead sitting beside him, “Oh?”

Aria’s fidgeting, eyes locked firmly on her feet as they swing back and forth, “I think you’re interesting, and… well, great. Anyway, I’dliketogettoknowyoubetter.”

She says the words so quickly it’s a miracle that the translator is able to pick them apart, yet Jaal still stands a little taller, chest feeling a little lighter as a grin pulls at his lips.

She’d beaten him to asking, but more then that; his interest is reciprocated, and that alone thrills him.

Aria glances at him after a moment of quiet, amber gaze looking both hopeful and afraid, “What d’you think?”

“Yes,” Jaal responds easily, “I’d like that.”

She blinks in surprise, looking almost put out, “That’s it?”

“You are a lovely woman, fascinating, a brilliant risk-taker.” Jaal’s never been one to mince his words or hide his feelings, and now is no exception, “Knowing you better would be a gift. Sincerely.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Aria’s face has turned a rather alarming shade of red, but she’s smiling, which tells Jaal he’s done well.

Their talk is interrupted by Cora requesting her presence over the comm, Aria murmuring something about ‘duty calls’ before flashing him another small smile and slipping down off the counter, heading up to the bio lab.

Jaal is grinning and typing out an email before she’s even left the room.

Aria breathes a small sigh of relief once the door of her quarters has slid shut behind her, mug of coffee cradled to her chest and the open, quiet space of the room making her relax.

You shouldn’t drink coffee right before bed, Ryder, the caffeine will mess with your sleep patterns. She could hear Lexi loud and clear, ignoring the memory and taking a long sip of the hot liquid.

Coffee was familiar, and it was as much a comfort these days as it was a stimulant. She would continue to drink it when she liked, thank you very much.

Grinning softly and heading for her computer terminal at SAM’s quiet chime of You have new emails, Pathfinder in her ear, Aria thought back on the day and smiles wider.

One specific part of the day, with one specific member of her crew. She hadn’t known what to expect, honestly, and wouldn’t have taken any offence had he not been interested.

Yet… somehow, he was. Interested in getting to know each other, open to talking about his past… it was strange. And wonderful.

And slightly terrifying.

She would be the first to admit she doesn’t know the first thing about flirting, or romance, or anything along those lines. The few crushes she’d had previously hadn’t gone anywhere, and she’d always been the workaholic type, so… she was flying blind with this.

But Jaal doesn’t seem to mind, so far. She can only hope her awkwardness won’t be to off putting.

Speaking of Jaal… Aria’s brows lift when she opens her email to find one at the top from the very Angara she’d just been thinking about, curious, What did he…?

She opens it, reads the first word, and promptly turns red, eyes going wide and mouth open in surprise.

Dearest, he’d called her.

Aria slaps her cheeks and spins around in her chair twice before looking at the screen again, trying to make sure she isn’t dreaming.

Nope, the email is still there, still beginning with Dearest, making a strange sort of giddiness rise up in her chest.

She reads the rest of the email, a grin stretching her lips as she takes in the words, going back to starting again once she’s finished.

Then again…. and then once more, surprised happiness making her feel lighter then she has since going to sleep over 600 years before.

Aria doesn’t know what to write back - she’s never been good at expressing her emotions, in person or via email - and yet Jaal makes her want to try.

Jaal with his open shows of emotion, his often blunt statements, and his acceptance of who she is, a Pathfinder with little experience who likely comes off as incompetent at times.

He cares, and he showed that he cared; all she can do is try to reply in kind.

Aria fires off a quick little response of her own before she can lose her nerve - It’s not strange, I rather like it, in fact - and then forces herself off the computer and into bed, knowing she has a long day ahead and needs the rest.

She’s still smiling as she drifts off, dreaming of blue eyes filled with stars and the landscape of Aya.


This is my year when I want to bring back the word ‘Spinster’ as something positive. I was talking to a fascinating woman while filming Entebbe who turned 80 on set, via her companion because she didn’t speak much English. I said to her, ‘Do you have a family? Do you have children? And he said to me ‘No, she’s a Spinster,’ but without any sense of prejudice. It was just a fact. And I thought, well there you go. A man has been allowed to be a bachelor: glamorous, fancy free, youthful, and spirited. Why can’t there be glamour in ‘Spinster’? Why can’t we confidently say, ‘I’m a Spinster’? To say it with a bit of a flirt to it, as something seductive.

anonymous asked:

You should do 36, 50, and 58 with modern Kylo 💕 - @st-crylo

I should do that, haha. Hope you like this babe!  @st-crylo

Also, just a note, I decided to get really emotional and low key humanitarian with this one so I hope you like what I did with it.

Modern AU Kylo Ren +  “We’re going to be parents.” +  “Do you think we can do this, be good parents?” +  “I always wanted a family, I didn’t have that growing up.”

Your knees bounced anxiously as anticipation brewed within you. To some extent you were surprised your body could keep up with this, you had been just about this anxious the whole way over. Hours and hours you spent trembling and reeling over your own thoughts and worries. It likely didn’t help that Kylo himself was very much the same in his building anticipation as you.

Releasing a deep breath you looked over to Kylo’s mass frame seated beside you, his knee bouncing in anticipation as well. Your lips faintly curled at the side at the sight of him. As brooding and typically closed off as Kylo was, for once he was nervous, unsure. Though part of him was still clearly on an aggressive edge, deep down he was only nervous. 

Gently placing your hand over his knee he stopped suddenly as his head turned towards your faint smile.

“You’re nervous too?”

Kylo nodded as he brought his own hand over yours, “I’m just worried about them getting here.”

You nodded in response, gulping slightly, “They said they were sure they could get through without any trouble.”

Kylo hesitated for a moment before nodding again and turning back to stare at the wall before you both with one door off to the side. The facility you were seated didn’t have much to look at aside from the bland wall that sat before you and the awful flourescent bulbs above you. There really wasn’t much to do except talk and think about everything that was going to come.

After a moment Kylo’s voice suddenly cut the silence in the room.

“Do you think we can do this, be good parents?”

You turned to look at him as he intenly focused forward. From the way he hesitated to make eye contact you could tell he was deep in thought, reflecting on something. Running your thumb gently over the side of his hand you sighed.

“I do.”

He hesitated, seeming to gnaw at the inside of his cheek for a moment. Releasing a sigh of his own his eyes flickered down to the floor.

“Even if I’m…me.”

Your heart faintly ached as you tilted your head at Kylo, “Of course. You being who you are is exactly why I think you’ll be a good father.”

Kylo’s lip faintly trembled as he flared his nostrils, “But it’s not my child…what if…if I don’t connect?”

From the way his voice ever so slightly cracked at the end you were certain he had been harboring that very thought for days. Possibly even longer. Just the release of the thought alone seemed to put him more on edge. Gently you slid your hand out from under his and moved it to his back, carefully stroking it with a look of empathy in your eyes.

“You will, I’m sure of it. You may not do it immediately, but believe me, you will.”

Kylo released another faint gust of air from his nostrils before he turned to look at you. His eyes finally met yours as his lips just barely curled into a grin. You smiled at him, continuing your soothing motions.

“We’re going to be parents.”

Just as the room fell silent again you suddenly heard the creaky knob of the metal door turn. Instantly you and Kylo turned your eyes to the door as an older woman with black hair accented with silver strands walked in, a soft smile on her face. 

“Kylo and (Y/N)?”

You both nodded in response, your hands instantly linking again. The woman gave you a nod as she turned to her assitant in a blue vest who was walking into the room carefully with what appeared to be a baby carrier. Instantly your gut felt as though a flock of butterflies erupted through it as you watched the carrier in anticipation. Kylo’s eyes instantly followed yours as he ever so slightly craned his neck in an attempt to see inside it. 

With a smile the young woman set the carrier down before you and gave you a nod before she walked back out of the room. The older woman pulled out a clipboard dense with paperwork as she pulled her glasses down to the bridge of her nose.

“Alright, looks like all of your legal documents have been filed, your approval’s here, and last but not least, your new little bundle’s legal birth certificate.”

Carefully she handed it to you as you took it into your own hands. The moment your eyes landed on it you smiled.

“Amra Ren.”

“Considering the circumstances of her birth she had no real birth certificate, so we reprinted one with her given name and your family name.”

Kylo looked up from the sheet for a moment, “What about her familys name?”

“Unfortunately under the circumstances she was born, there was no family name given. Only the parents name for her and the date and location of her birth.”

Kylo nodded in silence as he looked to the sheet once more. Looking up to the woman you gave her a hopeful gaze. 

“Can we see her?”

The woman nodded, “Of course.”

Gently she picked up the carrier, bringing it closer to you and Kylo, and placed it before you. Just before it settled to the floor she turned the opening towards you, causing your heart to swell. Wrapped inside a bundle of blankets and peacefully sleeping was a two month old baby girl. Despite the chaos of war she had been born in, losing both her parents and siblings, she looked like an absolute vision of peace. 

The woman smiled as she unclasped the front buckle of the carrier, gently stirring Amra from her slumber. At the sight of her big brown eyes you practically melted. Kylo’s usually stern expression faded instantly at the sight of her, ovwewhelmed with just seeing her in the flesh. 

“You can hold her if you want to.”

You nodded, “Yes, yes I would love to.”

Carefully the older woman took Amra out from her little cocoon of blankets. Softly she whimpered as the woman handed her to you, her tiny body writhing. The instant you took her into your arms you felt your chest warm, a smile spreading across your face. Kylo looked over to you with a look of both fascination and admiration. The woman smiled at you both.

“I’ll leave you all for a moment.”

You and Kylo nodded in response as the woman left, closing the door behind her. Gently craddling Amra in your arms you sighed at Kylo. Kylo instantly scooted closer to you, dying to get a better view of this new child of his’ face.

“Our little girl.”

Kylo smiled ever so faintly as he gave one nod. The rigid exterior he had held melted away as he watched her in your arms, the sight too much for him to not react to. Suddenly he heard your sniffles, causing his brows to furrow.

“Are you crying?”

You nodded as Kylo instantly brought his hand to your back, using the other to carefully wipe the tears from under your cheek.

“It’s just…I always wanted a family, I didn’t have that growing up.”

Kylo pulled you towards him carefully, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Now you do. We are a family now.”

You sniffled again as you looked to Amra in your arms, sighing in content as she settled peacefully in your arms. Even though you were a stranger to her, she seemed to find comfort in you regardless, as if she had known you were going to be her guardian.

“We are.”

Random trivia moment… At some point in time, before we had iPhones and Google, the Vatican placed Charmain’s book (as pictured above) on the naughty list, prohibiting people from reading it! For some odd reason these fearless folk were not afraid of the devil and read it anyway. Simone de Beauvoir penned “The Second Sex” back in 1949 and it’s pretty much a feminist bible about the unbelievably shitty treatment of women throughout history. Some things just never change. Know what I mean? At any rate, despite my poopoo wordage, she was a fascinating woman; read more about her here. If you want. I mean, you aren’t gonna catch me telling you what to do. I think we’ve had enough of that. 


 Blanche, it just isn’t that simple! I can’t go back now, Clyde needs me, and I need him. What we’ve got, it don’t come into your life more than once. I can’t leave him anymore than you could leave Buck.

العربي ينبهر بالمرأة الفنانة، يهيم بالمرأة الذكية الفتّاكة، لكنه لا يتزوج إلا المرأة المكرسة. المرأة التي لا تخرجه من إطار الأمان، و لا تستفزه بذكائها أو طموحها. تلك التي لا وجود لها على إحداثيات الكون إلاّ من خلاله، هي النصف الضائع الذي يبحث عن حائط “ظل رجل”، و ما من طريقة للتنعم بظله إلا بالجلوس قرب قدميه. في البداية تجلس في ظله، ثم تتحول هي إلى ظله. الظل و الذل بينهما قرابة من الدرجة الأولى”

(via lulu-a)
An Arab man is fascinated by an artistic woman, he falls for an intelligent and lethal woman, but he only marries a devoted woman. A woman that will stay within the boundaries of safety, someone that won’t provoke him with her intelligence or ambition. Someone that has no way of existing or connecting with the world except through him, the lost half that searches for a “shadow of a man” to lean on. where there is no way to be blessed within that shadow but to sit by his feet. At first she sits in his shadow and then she becomes his shadow. Where shadow and degradation are first degree relatives. (translated by: warag-3nb)

Lithographies Originales (1896). Georges de Feure (French, 1868-1943). Poster.  

Here, represented is a supremely elegant woman of fascinating beauty who is deeply engrossed in her admiration for the cover of the album of lithographs being advertised. The text of Album No. 1 appears on the back of the sheet being held by the woman. The exquisite Art Nouveau image is also self-referential as his signature appears in the lithographic stone at the woman’s elbow.

Track 7 - I Love You
Track 7 - I Love You

Track 7, the Seduced Ending and the last track of the Oikawa-sensei cd! So, voting is now open for who you want for the next cd! Besides that, enjoy you and Oikawa-sensei finally being together.

Track 7 Seduced Ending
Finally we can be alone. There’s no one else here beside us. So I want you to say your true feelings. I will say my true feelings too. What do you think about me? You already knew my feelings, didn’t you? I’ve told you so many times. I love you. More than anyone in this world, more than every woman I’ve met before, I think you’re the most fascinating woman to me. I can see no other woman but you.
Now, it’s your turn. Tell me your feelings. What do you think about me? I can understand if you’re just keep silent. Or, do you want me to force you to say it? Say what you think yourself. If you’re my student, you should be able to do it. With your own words, what do you want with me? Say it. Do you want to stay as my student, or do you want to be my woman? I can’t understand if you just nodding your head. I don’t want to just bothering you. Tell me.
“I’ll be in your care.” That means… you’ll be my woman? For real? You will not regret it? It’s like a dream. I always wait for you to hear those words from you. For a teacher, all students have the same right. That’s a lie. You are far more important than the other students.
Hey, can I hug you? Right now, I really want to hug you. Thank you. *hug* It’s still unbelievable for me, to be able to hug you like this. This is the first hug after you become mine, right? You’re right now, is not my student. But, my woman. For a while, let’s keep it a secret. Until you graduate, our relationship is not something that we can boast off. This is a forbidden love, for a teacher to date his student.
Eventhough we’re dating, we have to keep our relationship a secret, and we can’t tell anyone. On top of that, we can’t go to a date much. In school, we have to act like a proper student and teacher. It must be hard, but my feelings won’t change. I will treasure you with all my might. As your lover.
Ah, eventhough I am your boyfriend, I will not treat you specially at class. You can’t get your scores fall just because we’re dating. Ups, I slipped to speak like a teacher. When we’re alone, I am not your teacher. I will be more careful. From now on, not as a teacher, but as a man, I will teach you many things. Like a pleasure being a woman, and the way to kiss.
I am at fault because I fall in love with you. But you became my accomplice since you accept my feelings. If someone found out our relationship, it will be the end for both of us. Don’t tell anyone about us, so we won’t be found out.
Good response. I love you. I will not let you go. You are the woman I love the most in the world. *kiss*

Haikyuu Character: Oikawa Tooru

Drama CD: Zettai ni Kudokaretewa Ikenai Kyoushi 24ji vol 1

Producer: EM2 Record

VA:  Namikawa Daisuke

Dont repost plz.

A Thought About The Raven Cycle

Okay guys so I am just gonna put this out there:

I love Pynch. I really, really do. They are one of my OTPS. Adam Parrish and Ronan Lynch are ground shakers, they are amazing, I love them so much.

BUT, when people act like the only reason reading The Raven Cycle is worthwhile is because of Pynch, that BREAKS MY HEART.

I mean, there is literally so much to love about the Raven Cycle. It is such an amazing series and no part of it is skip-worthy.

You have Blue and Gansey, who are well developed characters in an equally well developed ship. Like, they exist outside of their feelings for one another, they don’t lean on the typical YA hetero romance tropes where the guy is a brooding, dark asshole who exists to make out with the protagonist and win fans over with his silly angst and witty comebacks. Gansey and Blue’s relationship doesn’t rely on any sort of sexual factor at all. They fall in love without the help of frantic, passionate make-out scenes. And their love makes SENSE. You don’t wonder why the hell they are in love, and it isn’t that bullshit Insta-Love that is so popular with straight couples in YA. That is just… so fucking…. nice.

And the women of 300 Fox Way! Don’t even get me started on how amazing they are! I mean, here we have a whole cast of adult women in a YA novel who are complex and realistic and powerful and all of them are unique and fascinating. Each woman is a person, they exist outside of their usefulness to the protagonists. I love them dearly.

Noah Czerny is also such a unique fucking character. He always seems to fall between the cracks, but let me tell you, Noah is just as thought out and developed as the rest. The more you learn about him, the more heartbreaking his story becomes. You can’t NOT love him.

Henry Cheng, anyone? I hope you didn’t make it all the way to the 4th book and still believe that Pynch is the only good thing in the series, because even this last minute addition of Henry to the Gangsey is fantastic. Like, Henry is a snatcher of hearts??? I love that he is so different in TRK from how he is portrayed in Blue Lily Lily Blue. I guess it just goes to show that people become more complex, become more like REAL PEOPLE, once you actually take the time to get to know them? That’s so beautiful? Henry is so beautiful?

Hell, even Mr. Gray is a show-stopping character. Who would have ever thought that the hitman who rolled into town to fuck people over would actually become this surprisingly lovable character who doesn’t judge all the other characters for their weirdness and who forms a relationship with his girlfriend’s daughter when his girlfriend isn’t even around. Like he just genuinely gets along with her. No needless angst.

All of the characters, even the villains and side characters, are incredibly well developed and real feeling. The plot is so raw and genuine and every relationship, platonic or otherwise, is so well executed.

One of these well executed relationships is Pynch, yes. They are my favorite pairing in the book, and Ronan is my favorite character. I can’t imagine The Raven Cycle without Pynch.

But I ALSO can’t imagine The Raven Cycle without any of the characters and elements it currently has, either.

So yeah, every aspect of The Raven Cycle is phenomenal, please do not simplify it all to being one good ship with some surrounding events.

Okay, thank you, this has been a rant from yours truly.

Something about you

Newt meets Tina and Queenie’s sister, who has been blind since birth.

This will be a multi chapter fic, I hope you all enjoy it.  

 part two

Part three

Part four

Part five


Originally posted by stallingdemons

Newt cautiously made his way into the pub behind Tina, Queenie and Jacob. This place was far more his cup of tea than the blind pig, a log fire crackled, giving the place a warm orange glow, a welcome contrast to the bitter cold outside. the wallpaper was peeling slightly at the top corners, beautiful soft piano music drifted in the air; it reminded him of the type of place that his father would frequent.

Queenie and Tina immediately strolled over to the piano, where y/n sat, playing beautifully, their dresses sparking as the beading caught the light. Newt had briefly met her a couple of nights ago, but that had been it, and after all that had happened since then, newt felt it was only right that he take you all out for a thank you drink.

It was Queenie who had suggested this place, insisting that newt and her younger sister would get along famously. Tina however wasn’t too keen, she seemed especially protective of y/n, not that she thought that newt or Jacob would do anything to hurt her. It seemed to be out of habit more than anything else, people were careless and don’t tend to think before they speak. She just wanted to protect her youngest sister from the cruelty in the world, she had known so much of it already from such a young age, it didn’t seem right that she should have any more.

Newt and Jacob got the drinks, letting the sisters chat for a few moments before the youngest began playing again. Newt let the music wash over him, allowing it to carry him away to some far off place, before Queenie’s bright voice brought him back to earth. “thanks for the drinks honey, y/n will be finishing up soon, then she can join us.’ Newt smiled slightly, something about the youngest Goldstein intrigued him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

A smile on her face, Queenie began chatting, keeping newt from becoming nervous, he was occasionally grateful for her legilimency, only occasionally mind you.

Before too long, the music drew to a close, and y/n stood and took a small bow to the hand full of people Sat closest to the small stage. Queenie and Tina were by far the loudest, giving whistles and whoops along with their applause, she blushed furiously on the stage, as she patted her leg for her bloodhound, Toby to help to clear her way and to guide her to where her friends were sitting.  

Both sisters stood, embracing their blushing sibling, ‘you were wonderful honey bunny’, Queenie praised ‘as you always are’ Tina added with a smile.

Y/n managed a small wave from behind her sisters backs, to newt and Jacob. Newt returned the wave with a smile stupidly, before remembering that he would have to use his voice. “good evening, you did play fantastically’ newt managed to choke out through his embarrassment, her smile widened, she seemed to light up the room, giving the fire a helping hand.

A large wet nose pulled newt from his thoughts, Toby poked his head between newts legs from under the slightly sticky table. “hello Toby, did you enjoy listening to your mummy play? It was lovely wasn’t it.’ The large dog licked at his hands as he murmured to him, as he was smiling down at the sweet tempered blood hound, he felt someone brush against his arm. “sorry’ y/n mumbled ‘that’s quite alright’ newt wondered if the lovely woman sitting next to him could sense him looking at her with curiosity and admiration.

Newt concluded that she could, as her cheeks flushed with a rosy glow, she cleared her throat slightly as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “teenie told me all about the misplacement of your creatures, I’m pleased they’re all home safe and sound.’ Her tone was light but genuine, newt chuckled as he scratched behind Toby’s floppy ears. They chatted about a great many things, music, newts creatures, school, where newt planned to travel to next  and your families, as Queenie and Jacob danced and Tina chatted with a friend at the bar, occasionally glancing back to make sure that her youngest sister was alright.

“would you like to dance?’ newt asked a little awkwardly, he had noticed your hand tapping to the beat of the jazz as you swayed along. “oh, are you sure, I mean you don’t have to. I’m not very good’ she rambled slightly, newt smiled ‘of course, I’m terrible as well so we can be bad dancers together’ Newt managed to put a little more confidence in his voice than he was actually feeling.

She offered him her hand, newt took it gently, his rough fingers ghosting over her knuckles, Newt barely heard it but she let out a tiny breathy gasp. He guided her to the dance floor, he stayed towards the edge, so people were less likely to bump into you. He laced your fingers together and placed her hand on his shoulder before he placed his own on her back. He began leading her in a simple dance,she fit perfectly into him. He could feel her fingers gliding over the fabric of his jacket and the skin of his work worn hand.

Yes their was definitely something fascinating  about the woman currently dancing in his arms.


Have a great day and be safe

Forever yours

Summary: “can you do one where the reader is Alex’s wife and they have the kids just like Eliza and alex did and the Reynolds pamphlet comes out and you can decide the ending”

words: 2,398 (I know, wtf)

Keep reading

Originally posted by nbiancaandreea

A/N: Just something running through my head for the past few days. Didn’t quite turn out how I wanted-especially the end, but oh well.

“You seem a little too happy for someone roped into a family reunion that isn’t theirs.” You mentioned, eyeing your boyfriend.

Klaus simply smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “Despite what you may think of your family, they are fairly pleasant. If it were my family gathering, someone surely would be dead by now.”

You refrained from pointing out that he’d mostly likely be the perpetrator. Instead you chose to eye your tipsy second cousin trying hit on someone’s spouse. “I don’t know. If my cousin Jean doesn’t stop flirting with every non-related man, she’s going to get her ass kicked.”

“I can’t disagree with you there. Though it’s tragic from what your grandmother told me, Jean was a fairly nice girl back in the day.” Klaus hummed.

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe my gram likes you.”

He smirked. “She’s a fascinating woman. Has almost as much stories to tell as I do.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered.

His smirk only widened. “It’s not just her. Your parents have been introducing me as their son all night.”

A groaned escaped you. “We’re not even married.”

Klaus shrugged giving you a fond look. “Perhaps we should. Then this could be my crazy family reunion as well.”

  You couldn’t help, but smile at his words. Who would’ve thought the original hybrid would be so sentimental? If someone told you three months ago, that Klaus would be helping your mom with groceries, reminiscing with gram, or playing war with Dad, you would’ve laughed. Now however, you could see his desire to be a part of it all.

Locking fingers with him, you shot Klaus an equally fond look. “It already is. Besides I thought we were your boring family, remember?”

   He shot you a surprised look, but before Klaus could reply your dad called him over. “Klaus, I need someone to back me up in a game of bags. And who better to do it than my own son?”

   “See? Already apart of it, but just know I don’t plan on ever calling you brother.” You teased, pushing him towards your dad. 

     Klaus hesitated for a second, swooping down to give you a quick kiss. “Good, because the only thing I want to be called is husband.”