for dare and joy


Emma Thompson, Very Serious Dramatic Actor™

Mrs. Lovett, what a charming notion                                                      Eminently practical and yet appropriate, as always!                                    Oh, Mrs. Lovett                                                                                            How I’ve lived without you all these years I’ll never know!

Gracious heavenly Father, I thank Thee for Netflix and libraries and English Breakfast tea. I’m really extremely grateful for them. And that’s all the blessings I can think of just now to thank Thee for. As for the things I want, they’re so numerous that it would take a great deal of time to name them all so I will only mention the two most important. Please let the Netflix Anne of Green Gables series be super good; and please let me be good-looking when I grow up.

I remain,

Yours respectfully,

I dare you to tell me Dean only cared about Jo as a little sister

look at his face and just try to tell me he didn’t love Jo

I freakin dare you


my sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. grief is forever. it doesn’t go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. i will never stop grieving bailey because i will never stop loving her. that’s just how it is. grief and love are conjoined, you don’t get one without the other. all i can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

A Hero This Time

When they realized he was a boy, the Gerudo panicked. It used to be that the birth of the Gerudo male was a time of happiness and celebration. The goddesses promise to them was still there. Then Ganondorf came. 

Even his mother wasn’t sure what to do, turning to their chief, chosen by Nabooru herself to lead them and keep the peace between the Gerudo and all other races of Hyrule. She held him for a long time before making her decision. 

“We’ll raise him to be humble,” she said, “No destined to be king. If he wants to lead, he must earn the right.” The Gerudo sighed in agreement. 

“He will grow up knowing he has to save even the smallest of us,” she said, “He will be raised to be a hero.”

And she gave him the name of one. 

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Missing My Voice (Tony X Fem!Reader, Peter x Fem!Reader)

Characters: Tony X Daughter!Reader, Peter X Fem!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Blood, surgery, needles, injury

Request: OK, so I have another request (If you don’t mind, of course)! So can you do a Tony x Reader (adopted daughter/father relationship)/ Peter x Reader (boyfriend/girlfriend relationship) where the reader loves to sing and play the guitar and a ton of other instruments but goes mute during a mission (due to an injury), and how it impacts Peter and Tony? And can Tony like, go to a ton of doctors and stuff to try and find a solution? Whether he does or doesn’t is up to you. Thanks in advance!

Originally posted by blackinjustice

Originally posted by guywiththeguitar

Tony was walking down the hall to your room to tell you, his daughter, and your boyfriend, Peter, dinner was ready. When he got close enough, he heard your guitar and a bit closer, he heard your voice singing along, which brought a smile to his face.

You had loved the art of music since you were a baby. Before you could walk or talk, you always smiled and giggled when your dad put music on. When you could walk you would dance and when you could talk, you would try and sing along. By the time you were 3 you had tried making your own songs, which your dad proudly recorded you singing. You got excited to go see musicals and to go to choir practice, as well as band practice. You had learned the guitar by age 5, and you kept learning new instruments for fun; the trumpet, harp, drums, piano… but your strong point was always your old guitar and your voice. You had sung and played in public, and several record deals wanted you, but your dad told them to come back when you’ve finished school. He didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed and lose your love for music.

He knocked and opened the door, and you stopped and looked up at your dad. Peter was sat watching you, and he turned as well. “Come on you two, dinners ready.” He announced. You got up and followed your dad to the dining room.

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Rachel Joy Scott went to prom with Nick Baumgart on April 17, 1999, only three days before her death.

April 25, 1999 - 

“Nick remembers Rachel as she was a week ago Saturday night, the only girl at the prom in a sleek black dress. Everyone else wore poofy pastels. She had a good time pondering, he remembers now, why elephants don’t have toes. He sees Rachel in the restaurant, the only one in his group who dared sample the pate. He looks at a photo of her, so pretty, so bright, sees her laughing as she struggled to pin his boutonniere.

He and his friends have spent hours remembering Rachel. Joking about how she used to imitate the spitting dinosaur from “Jurassic Park”. Laughing at how she would take any dare you could throw at her.”

If you like good vocals, deep lyrics, and the ocean, please listen to Switchfoot they’re so good

  • Andromeda Tonks, who hears the wireless announce her husband’s death just moments after she’s stepped into the kitchen with the cold tea tray. 
  • Andromeda Tonks, whose world has been upended, who can no longer hear anything but a strange buzz in her ears and the crash of the china as she slams into a nearby counter.
  • Andromeda, who thinks that something’s not right, something’s wrong because Lee Jordan is a nice boy who wouldn’t lie about this, wouldn’t lie about things like this, but he must be because Ted can’t…he can’t have—
  • Then the buzzing stops and there’s a strange wailing sound coming from the parlour…Nymphadora, Nymphadora.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who runs on unsteady legs back to the living room to catch her daughter before she falls to the ground, her tears hot and heavy and splashing against her mother’s arms.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who sinks to the ground and holds her sobbing daughter to her chest and rocks her as she stares unseeingly at the floral wallpaper Ted had always detested.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who has to keep it together for her daughter’s sake—for her grandson’s sake—even as her hands are shaking and her mind is numbing and her heart is breaking.
  • Andromeda Tonks, no, Andromeda Black now, who comforts her Dora until Remus Apparates to their door and all three of them hold each other until Dora’s all but cried herself to sleep.
  • Andromeda, who feels only cold and numb but touches Remus’ rough cheek in thanks when he cleans up the kitchen and brings Dora up to bed.
  • Andromeda, whose wall of dignity and grace from years and years of Black upbringing finally collapses and she falls heavily on the couch because it’s the middle of the night now but she can’t she can’t go back up to the bedroom full of his things or the study that still smells like him or even the kitchen because he’d bloody bought that tea set
  • Andromeda, who can no longer stop the tears and the screams she tries to muffle by shoving her fists against her mouth and the agony is too much and she can be there for her daughter and her son-in-law tomorrow because it is too much right now and she’s panicking and gasping because she can’t remember Teddy’s voice she can’t remember she can’t remember— 
  • It’s many hours later before Andromeda’s throat grows hoarse and closes up and she just stares across the dark room with tears still sliding down her face and Teddy’s grin burned into the backs of her eyes.
  • Andromeda Black, who can hear many things: the cars passing on the street outside, Teddy’s whoop of delight when he jumped into the lake that afternoon in their fifth year, branches tapping the windowpane, Teddy telling her he loves her in a voice that’s raw and low and brittle as ice, a neighbour’s dog barking at nothing, Teddy laughing laughing laughing
  • Andromeda Black, who finally gets up from her sleepless dark eternity on the sofa at six in the morning with tear tracks on her sticky face and teeth marks on her fingers, who goes to the loo and washes her face and fixes her hair, who rebuilds that wall of strength and quiet courage and no, she’s not Andromeda Black, she’s bloody Andromeda Tonks and Ted Tonks will always be her husband and their lives aren’t over yet.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who marches onward for her daughter and her grandson and herself, who helps Dora give birth to a healthy baby boy, who squeezes her daughter and son-in-law’s hands when she hears her grandson’s name.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who goes back to that bedroom and that study—eventually—and tidies it up but just a little, even if just to remember the exasperated chuckle Teddy always used to make when she cleaned up after him.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who watches Remus Lupin come and go with more bruises and scratches and shadows under his eyes, and who then (after weeks of arguments) tentatively lets Dora back out because she trusts Remus to bring Dora back and trusts Dora to bring Remus back and they trust her to care for their son, their Teddy Lupin. 
  • Until one day, that horrible day in May, where they go and they don’t come back.
  • And Andromeda Tonks, who thinks she’s been here before, been in this suspended state of buzzing and silence and horrible clarity, feels as though the ground is swallowing her whole as she stares at Dora’s Lupin and her Dora, her beautiful beautiful baby girl, her darlingdearestdea
  • Andromeda Tonks, whose legs refuse to let her fall even as she gazes at her daughter’s peaceful face and thinks about how she’s failed Dora, failed Ted, failed the baby sleeping in the other room that has Dora’s mouth and Ted’s ears and—
  • Andromeda Tonks, who sees only blurs, who accepts condolences without listening, who returns stiffly to the house that once held everything and is now empty and silent and cold.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who no longer has any more strength to give, who no longer has any more tears to cry, who no longer feels anything except the throbbing throbbing pain in her chest that's’ never really gone away and is now threatening to crack her open because none of this was supposed to happen because being a Muggle-born wasn’t ever supposed to be a bad thing and this war wasn’t ever supposed to last this long and her sister wasn’t ever supposed to kill her own niece and she wasn’t ever supposed to have to outlive her own daughter, her own Nymphadora…
  • Andromeda Tonks, who finds that there are always more tears to cry, and this time when she collapses she’s scared she won’t ever be able to get back up again because all the walls of poise and dignity are down crumbling disintegrating and she won’t bother building them back up again—she doesn’t want to because it was that family that built them in the first place scorching them into her like a brand and that family that helped start this bloody war and that family that took away her entire world
  • Andromeda Tonks, who this time is silent in her grief, Andromeda Tonks, who is drowning in the feeling of her chest caving in and her mind screaming and her heart a writhing living broken flame burning and burning and— 
  • Andromeda, who through the tunneling blackness her existence has now become hears the wails of the one person, one thing she cannot abandon, because her health and spirit and sanity would fail before she dared to fail him; her grandson, her Teddy, her Dora’s pride and joy. 
  • Andromeda Tonks, who claws her way out of the empty chasm with no answer and furiously shakes away the numbness, who pulls herself up on her shaking legs and can almost hear Dora and Ted telling her to get up get up get up
  • Andromeda Tonks, who makes it to her grandson and scoops him up and holds him to her chest and sinks to the parlor floor where she’d held her devastated daughter once upon a time, cooing and fussing and crying alongside him for a mother who won’t ever return.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who remembers everything: Ted raising Dora above his head in the sunlight, the feel of his stubble in the morning, Dora’s giggles as she turns her hair pink blue green, those canary yellow sneakers she adored, licking the ice cream off Dora’s cheeks, Ted’s horrible singing when they stargazed on the Quidditch pitch in seventh year, Dora’s cartoons in the margins of her letters home, the three of them all together and hugging and laughing—and she knows she can be strong for Teddy and herself because she’s Andromeda Black and Andromeda Tonks and she will be the very best of both because this is her daughter’s son in her arms and their lives aren’t over yet.
  • Andromeda Tonks, who has risen and fallen and risen again and who will keep on rising for herself and for this boy, her grandson, her Teddy Lupin, and remind him all the rest of their days just how much his mummy and daddy and grandpa Ted and grandma Dromeda would always love him and love him and love him.


anonymous asked:

Can you do an angsty fic where Makoto thinks Haru is in love with Rin, when really it's him Haru loves

How do you angst? I tired!

Makoto’s feet froze, his heart in his throat, as he heard three simple words fall from Haru’s lips.

“I love you.”

The three words he had always longed to hear Haru say. Only problem.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Rin teased.

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After Damien had a frank conversation with Dick, Grayson gossiping
  • Tim: Damian-fucking-Al-Ghul!
  • Damian: ??
  • Tim: Did you seriously think that I'm a girl ?!
  • Damian: Aaaaam...well...are you not?
  • Tim: Are you fucking seriously?! I'm a guy!!!
  • Damian: Well, you know, you have long hair and you're so skinny!
  • Tim: I have changed suit on patrol with you!
  • Damian: I thought you just have a small chest !!!
  • Tim: Have you really bought me a dress and wanted to invite me to the prom?
  • Damien: And I want to have sex with you in the backseat of the Batmobile!
  • Tim: Well, finally, I thought you'll never dare!!!!
  • Dick: * through tears of joy *
  • Dick: I'm a great matchmaker, and they are just made for each other
  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means:
  • listen I get why it's so easy to be cynical about disco and everything associated with it especially given how dead the genre is but dont tell me that there's no beauty in that balance between tacky and opulent that makes it both desireable and attainable for the everyman and dont you dare say that there isn't pure joy and sex and youth in this movement and dont you talk shit about disco not being Real Music because like all important genres of the present it was the music of the devil that parents didnt allow their kids to listen to and quite frankly if you dont see the charm in disco with all its rhinestones and dance and boundless sexuality then i'm sorry for you like seriously Donna Summer and the bootcut jeans belong on that pedestal we build for renaissance art and Bach<p/></p>

anonymous asked:

Hey... so I've read your last poem about bisexuality, and I thought you could do something aromantic/asexual related? Thanks :)

You’ll find the right girl
Maybe you just like boys
Have you ever tried it
How do you know there’s no joy
How dare you trust your instincts
How dare you know your mind
You’ve made up an identity
To seem more special than the rest of the vine
the fact of being who or what a person or thing is.
There is no physical way this can be falseness
An identity is who I call me
And if, god forbid, I don’t think sex is necessary
Who could you be
To tell me
My identity is not who I call me

You were right, Controller… I am just a ‘frail, deluded animal'… But I’m also a Time Lord. My people were mapping the routes of eternity when your planet was a pile of cheap cosmic dust. We’re the guardians of History… and you’ve just given me access to the ultimate source of our power. Bad move. The Space/Time Vortex is passion and wonder and joy. It’s my home! How dare you try to cage it? Oh, shut up! You’re like a blind man trying to tell me how useless colour is! You’re so finite it’s pathetic! You’ve angered one of the primal forces of reality Controller. But that wasn’t your biggest mistake… YOU’VE ALSO ANGERED ME.
—  the Eighth Doctor, The Flood 
this-is-ama-zing replied to your post: Settings I want to see Eri in: - Eri and Izuku…

Eri hugging night eye’s leg and him walking around like normal and when someone had to report to him they’re a little hesitant since she’s there and he’s just like, “don’t mind her,” so they continue on. Or someone tries to remove her because they think she might be distracting night eye and he just glares at them, taking it as personal offense. Then they both become so close that one day as she dozed off next to him as he worked he saw her future and sees her smiling happily so he smiles and pats her head

Excuse me, how dare you make me bawl out my eyes in joy while imagining this.

Bravo! Everything about this, please, with a bit of more happiness and fluff on top!

Horikoshi, do your job! XD

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a oneshot or something where the reader is practically believed to be like Negan's queen and all his people respect her like they respect him? She's always where he is and they're inseperable kinda thing please? :)

His Queen

Ships: Negan x Reader 

Words: 260

Warnings: None

They were all afraid of crossing you. And honestly, you couldn’t totally blame them.

You were his right hand, his wife, but now, you are the Queen. You are the only one that he will listen to. You can calm him down when he is in one of his rages. You know all of his sweet spots and what he likes and what he doesn’t like.

There was one day, the day you knew that you were truly his, where one of the men had the misfortune of thinking that you were just “anyone” and he had let his finger slip, stepped out of line. Hell, there was no line in sight.

When Negan found out, he ripped though every man and woman before him, trying to find out who would do such a thing to his Queen. Queen.

The men and women at the sanctuary all bow down to you, and in their books you are as fearsome as the lethal man beside you. You have been with him through ever second of pain, torment, and joy. You are respected by everyone. Anyone who dares challenge your opinion is as good as dead when Negan finds out.

You are unrivalled by any woman. You are his only and you will always be his and he will always be yours. And at night, when he thinks you asleep he would sometimes whisper that he loves you. But your favourite thing that he would tenderly whisper to you is:

“You are my Queen.”


Hi Nonnie! I hope that this is what you were asking for :/ sorry it was a little rushed since I’m gonna be watching EP3 in five minutes so I was a little pushed for time :/ I hope you enjoyed it though! Feel free to message me if you liked it or didn’t! Have a great day! C:

anonymous asked:

HELLO HI I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT THE GARDENING THING WITH WHIRL MADE ME CRY LITERAL TEARS OF JOY IM NOT EVEN KIDDING HOW DARE YOU???? So idk since your blog says that requests are open i thought i might as well request something; im getting a budgie on monday and i jsut.. what if whirls s/o had a lil birb friend like that? (Also if u have any name suggestions id love some..)

name it whirl. easy. also im glad the headcanons could make you happy, that’s why im here <3

Whirl (MTMTE)

  • Whirl wouldn’t like to be around it very much at first, he’s always so afraid that he’ll accidentally smack it out of the sky or crush it or something. He normally kept his distance. However, as time went by, Whirl got to know the bird better and actually started talking to it (he will never let anyone else know that) and enjoys its company.

  • Whirl realizes that he doesn’t really mind having it around when he’s doing his own thing, but he absolutely refuses to let it join him when whatever he’s doing involves weapons. He’d feel so bad if something happened to your bird under his… “care.”

  • Because of his size, Whirl is extremely slow and gentle-moving if the bird decides to land on anywhere aside from his head. He likes having it perch on his prongs! Or his gun barrels. 

  • He’d definitely love to go flying with your bird… if it wasn’t in danger of dying every second of the trip. Whirl has a hard time predicting the bird’s flight patterns and doesn’t know how to stop it from flying straight into his rotor blades.