fascinating woman!

I would never have admitted it, or thought to say it, but looking back, I know that deep in my consciousness I thought that America was at the end of some evolutionary spectrum of civilisation, and everyone else was trying to catch up.

Suzy Hansen, Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World

American exceptionalism did not only define the US as a special nation among lesser nations; it also demanded that all Americans believe they, too, were somehow superior to others. How could I, as an American, understand a foreign people, when unconsciously I did not extend the most basic faith to other people that I extended to myself? This was a limitation that was beyond racism, beyond prejudice and beyond ignorance. This was a kind of nationalism so insidious that I had not known to call it nationalism; this was a self-delusion so complete that I could not see where it began and ended, could not root it out, could not destroy it.

American exceptionalism had declared my country unique in the world, the one truly free and modern country, and instead of ever considering that that exceptionalism was no different from any other country’s nationalistic propaganda, I had internalised this belief. Wasn’t that indeed what successful propaganda was supposed to do?

“It is different in the United States,” I once said, not entirely realising what I was saying until the words came out. I had never been called upon to explain this. “We are told it is the greatest country on earth. The thing is, we will never reconsider that narrative the way you are doing just now, because to us, that isn’t propaganda, that is truth. And to us, that isn’t nationalism, it’s patriotism. And the thing is, we will never question any of it because at the same time, all we are being told is how free-thinking we are, that we are free. So we don’t know there is anything wrong in believing our country is the greatest on earth. The whole thing sort of convinces you that a collective consciousness in the world came to that very conclusion.”

“Wow,” a friend once replied. “How strange. That is a very quiet kind of fascism, isn’t it?”

Elena Anaya reveals the secret motives and tragic history behind her Wonder Woman villain
Fans of Spanish actress Elena Anaya might have had a hard time recognizing her in Patty Jenkins’ superhero sensation Wonder Woman. Anaya is a headliner in Spain, with starring roles in films...
By Tasha Robinson

“I went to Patty Jenkins and asked, “What happened to her?” And she said, “She did it on purpose… She wants to provoke painful suffering, so she tested her own gas on her own face.” …This is the sadistic side of Dr. Maru.”

Holy crap, Dr. Poison. 

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.


Percival: Come on Tina, you know I’m not sexist. I love powerful women.
Tina: You do attend a shocking number of Women’s Quadpot matches.

(Parks and Recreation; Season 2, Episode 17: Woman of the Year)

A mashup for every episode (23/125)

moonlight [3]

summary: The beast can only be kept in its cage for so long before it threatens to break free. || werewolf!bucky x supernatural!reader ||

warnings: none that I can think of

note: Another short installment, little over 700 words. I’m sorry. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


Originally posted by ilovebeingjoyful

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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.

anonymous asked:

how would law and lu have a child? can you tell me more?? :3

Originally posted by smileymingo

This guy right here. Ivankov uses his DF powers, Law or Luffy becomes a woman. Law uses Ope Ope powers to extract egg and then make the zygote, volunteer woman agrees to carry their baby, with zygote implanted via Ope Ope powers. 9 months later, LawLu baby.

Say it with me

Nick Carraway was in love with Gatsby

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.

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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.”

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She remembered the other Jotuns looking down on her, whispering to each other above her head about how strange she was. Such a small woman among frost giants, it had always felt as if she was out of place on Jotunheim. When she arrived in Asgard, it was her appearance that made others shrug. Her pale blue skin and deep red eyes were the look of a monster in this realm. She was, again, the different one, left out to be alone.

Until she met him.

Loki was, from what she had heard, an adopted child. She could admit that he did look different from the rest of the royal family. His black locks and pale skin, his gracious figure, all of this was opposite to Odin’s and Thor’s thick, tanned body and blonde hair.

She recalled, smiling at the gray sky she was blankly staring at, the very moment when that boy, who she felt quite curious about, talked to her :

« -Are you the lovechild of a Jotun and an Asgardian ? »

How shy did she feel ! This handsome man’s first words to her were so worthy on that awfully sunny day. Whereas everyone would stare at her or ignore her, he came and went straight for the truth, trying to understand her difference rather then judging it.

She had been hating the burning sun of Asgard ever since it first cast it’s rays of fire upon her icy blue skin. It was nearly painful, and she just couldn’t stand such heat, she that came from a frozen realm. But at that very moment, when the gilt light made the prince’s green eyes emerald-like and gave his skin a dazzling golden tone, she was thankful for it’s hateful existence.

She managed, after a short silence that felt somehow out of time, to pronounce an answer :

« -I am, Prince of Asgard.

-Then I believe I should teach you a little trick to look more like us here. »

She felt a pinch on the heart, as his declaration sounded as if he disliked her appearance and wanted her to change it, before he continued, gazing at the sun with a melancholic smile :

« -I have noticed you kept avoiding the sunlight. I believe this heat is hard to bear for a frost giant, but if your Asgardian side takes over, perhaps it should be more comfortable for you throughout your stay in Asgard. As well, if you do not have this Jotun face, my comrades will probably be less suspicious toward you, and you will have a better experience if you can socialize a little while here, instead of been treated like a… Stranger. »

He looked back at her, smiling in a peculiar ironic way, and she new that by stranger, he meant monster. Because that was what she was, whether she was among Jotuns or Asgardians. She looked like both but was neither. What was she ?

« -You are unique. » He replied, as if he had read her thoughts. This time, his smile was genuine, and she was overwhelmed by his gaze, as if he was stripping her of her physical appearance and reading into her soul as in the pages of an uncommon but fascinating book. The young woman smiled at the prince. She felt as if her whole world had been brighten up by his smile. For the first time, she wouldn’t feel lonely.

Little by little, he taught her some magic basics that could help her use her different genes to vary her looks. She remembered him taking her blue fingers in his hands that were so cold, to lead them as if in a dance. She learned quickly and was soon able to see her other face, the one of an Asgardian.

And the man had seen right. People felt less uneasy and came to speak to her. Her time is Asgard was much better since she had met the God of Mischief. And the sun would be much more tolerable, but she still preferred cool weather.

Such as today’s.

Little was she aware that she wasn’t alone in this hall. The younger prince was discretely spying on her, dreamy. There wasn’t anyone else to spoil this instant. Now that she had been speaking to others, he had not been able to find a single moment to have her for himself. But on this cloudy day he did, and he was savoring that idea before going to her.

Then, thunder roared loudly. He saw her jump from fright, and her skin turned blue as she was so startled. Her reaction stole a smile from his lips, and he walked up to her, chuckling :

« -It seems that you’ve just had a good scare, my dear ! »

She looked at him with her red eyes, her heart beating faster then usual, but she couldn’t tell if it was that horrifying sound or his piercing eyes. His predator-like smile, filled with mischief, softened as she noticed her blue hands and began to make them pale again.

« -Do not. You can stay like this, it does not bother me. It has some strange beauty. »

She suddenly felt her cheeks burn as this compliment left Loki’s mouth. It was nothing much, but those words turned her upside down. For the first time, she was something else then weird or different. The prince laughed lightly, making her blush even more, before he spoke in a playful tone :

« I didn’t know Jotuns had purple cheeks ! This is probably the cutest blushing I was given to witness. »

Her embarrassment grew even more, and she was about to defensively reply that she wasn’t blushing when something outside caught her attention.

Something fell from the sky, quickly, and she did not have the time to identify it, but soon, another one did as well. More of them did. She gazed in disbelief, and bent from the window. Some fell on her head, and slid down her hair before continuing their fall. It was all colorless, and it felt cold on her skin, as she noticed it to be wet.

« What is this… » she muttered to herself.

Loki realized that the young girl, having grown up on Jotunheim, was for the first time witnessing this natural phenomenon, and her innocent eyes curiously staring at the sky warmed his cold heart a little.

« It looks like tears… It’s sad but beautiful ! »

A strange new fragrance caressed her little blue nose as another drop fell on the tip of it, surprising her before a soft giggle came out of her throat. Loki couldn’t help but smile, and in a soft tone, he declared :

« -This is rain, my dear. It is only water falling from the sky. I can teach you how this works if you want to know more about it.

-It’s like snow on Jotunheim but with water ! Loki, I want to go outside ! » She cheerfully screamed before running toward the nearest exist. He followed, of course. He wanted to watch her discover this little trick from his realm with her childish delight.

She ran outside, then stopped and stretched her bare arms out, before tilting her head back to receive this blissful freshness on her face. After a while, she parted her lips to stick her tongue out, and giggled as drops landed on it.

He joined her, feeling her childish joy poor into him. She did look funny, with that deep blue tongue of hers hanging out of her mouth. Her hair and clothing were soaked, sticking to her body quite messily, and the young prince could see the curves of her silhouette that the delicate fabric always kept well hidden. He gazed at her, realizing that no other woman could compare to such innocent beauty.

The sent of wet soil was everywhere around them, and the Jotun was delighted by it. She was dancing in the rain, bare foot, splashing water around her when she would step in a puddle. She liked it better then Jotunheim’s snow. It tickled her skin, it was refreshing but not freezing. She looked at Loki, with a bright smile on her face.

The prince was beyond handsome now. Some strands of wet hair stick to his face, giving him a slightly more savage attitude. Could this man ever look anything like but gorgeous ? His smile always had her shiver, and right now, she was thankful for the rain, that made him even more beautiful then the burning rays of gold had the day Loki had cast a bright light upon her cold and dark world.

She came up to him and took his arm in her small hands, before yelling that he had to catch her now, and ran off, all excited by this new weather she had just discovered. He coudn’t help it and smiled again, before going after her, allowing himself be a child again, letting go of reality. He ran after that girl under the rain, playing and laughing heartfreely with her, and it was just like a dream, a piece of life full of pure joy and a pinch of innocent, growing love.

Little was she aware that she had, as well, brought a new breath to his agonising heart, swollen with pain and darkness. She made it all different, looking straight at him unlike others did, as they always preferred his brother. That bitter taste he had since the truth about himself was revealed to him was softenend by this sweet girl, half Jotun and half Asgardian.

Just like him.