rumaan  asked:

you’re scared of haunted houses and halloween attractions and i don’t even know you but your friends left you behind (what dicks) so i’m gonna hold your hand and get you through this, alright? - for J/S please!

“Jon, before you head out, could you check the corner by room C-7? There’s a lady standing there who’s been there for about 20 minutes.”

“Sure, Sam… I’ll let you know if there’s anything up.”

Walking the inner halls of the Castle Black where he was playing the part of a murdered commander, Jon zeroed in on the area his friend had directed him to. There he found a pretty redhead hunched in a corner while texting furiously on her phone. Clearing his throat to announce himself, Jon asked, “Are you alright?”

Looking up, the girl let out a startled “eep!” and held her phone closer to her chest. She looked him up and down furtively.

Jon stayed where he was and ran his hand through his hair realizing that, while he had changed out of his costume, he hadn’t cleaned the bloody makeup off. “I’m Jon. I work here. My friend in the camera booth noticed you’d been here for a while?”

The girl, who was even prettier than he first thought, stood up straighter and responded stiffly. “Oh, sorry. I was texting my sister to get a ride home. And trying to remember how to get out. I can go now.”

Jon stared at her as she didn’t move. “Would you like me to take you out the back way? Then you can skip the jump-scares.”

She seemed to relax a bit. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a problem. Let me call Sam and let him know I’m walking you out. You can text your sister and let her know you’ll be waiting.”

Jon got out his phone and exchanged a few words with Sam while the beautiful redhead tapped out a message on hers. When he hung up, she had walked over to him. Feeling gallant, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Her eyes crinkled with a small smile when she took it. “Thank you.”

Aura Measurement (Final Rose)

Team RWBY looked about furtively as they were ushered into one of the outer labs beneath Beacon. 

“Welcome to my lair, children.” The professor cackled evilly and patted Professor Cuddles on the back. The lab’s mascot was wearing a lab coat and a pair of safety goggles. 

“Okay, that’s it.” Yang turned on her heel. “Let’s get out of here…” She trailed off as the doors slammed shut behind them. 

“Relax,” the professor said as Team RWBY fell into a defensive formation. “You’re only here for a routine examination.”

“Routine, huh?” Yang nodded at the doors. “Do all of your routine examinations involved reinforced blast doors?”

“Actually all of the examination rooms have doors like that.” The professor pulled a little treat out of her pocket and gave it to Professor Cuddles. The hamster gave a quiet squeak before picking his treat up in his little paws. “When you’re examining people with large Aura capacities or weird Semblances, it’s better to be safe than sorry. As for you lot… we’re going to be doing some Aura measurement today.”

“Aura measurement?” Blake asked.

“It’s standard procedure for all Senior Academy students to undergo a thorough Aura assessment. For various reasons, your year’s examinations have been delayed until just recently.” The professor shrugged. “But we started them last week, and it’s your turn to get them done.”

“Are all of the teams going to be assessed by you?” Weiss asked. It seemed like a horrible waste of the professor’s time given what else she could be doing.

“I think you’re overestimating how hard this is for me to do. The process is largely automated, so I’m basically just here to make sure none of you break anything.” The professor looked pointedly at Yang. “I’m actually on break right now, which is why I’ll be enjoying this tasty, homemade lunch that was lovingly put together by my darling wife.”

“Seriously?” Yang asked.

“Very seriously.” The professor put her lunchbox on the table in front of her and opened it. “See?”

Team RWBY leaned forward to get a closer look. The food inside practically radiated awesomeness. There was also a small note tucked into the lunchbox, and the professor opened it.

“Hmm…” the professor nodded to herself. “If you’re curious about what it says, I’ll show you.” She held the note up for Team RWBY to see.

The message was simple and to the point: You better not be home late tonight… or else.

“Or else what?” Ruby asked. She knew the professor was married to Lightning’s sister, but she didn’t know Lumina as well as she knew Lightning.

“You really don’t want to know.” The professor put the note into her pocket. “Never get a Farron angry unless you have a plan. It tends to end badly.” 

The professor reached for a spoon and fork and then leaned over to press a few buttons on the keyboard beside her. The floor beside Team RWBY opened up, and an intricate array of machines rose up. It looked, they thought, worryingly similar to a torture machine of some kind. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” the professor said, rolling her eyes. “If I wanted to torture you, I’d have brought you to a different part of the lab.” That was not the least bit comforting. “Anyway, Yang, you’re up first. The rest of you can sit over there. Yang, get in the machine.”

“If I die,” Yang muttered as she walked past her teammates. “You totally have to avenge me.”

“I heard that,” the professor retorted. “Just get in the machine.”

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He led the way in under the huge branches of the trees. Old beyond guessing, they seemed. Great trailing beards of lichen hung from them, blowing and swaying in the breeze. Out of the shadows, the hobbits peeped, gazing back down the slope: little furtive figures that in the dim light looked like elf-children in the deeps of time peering out of the Wild Wood in wonder at their first Dawn.


In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was Fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark. Then from the dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten. 

With the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons.  Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more.


Today has been really long and really difficult, but thank you @shinjiofficial for tagging me in this “six selfies” game so I had the opportunity to take some goofy mustache selfies. I like to think I look… Fünke-esque.

I would like to tag @deku-sprout, @aurumvorax, @jacquelynkelly, @vidollia, @vicarious–vagabond, and @tgirllucina, and anyone else who wants to do this! Post six selfies, and tag six people, if you so desire! No pressure, though. Have fun and be safe!

Arya Stark is important for feminism, and not because she has a sword

And no, not because she’s “more empowered” or she “acts like a man”. Arya is important for women and girls who do not and cannot (and shouldn’t have to) conform to patriarchal standards of what femininity is.

Arya is important and sympathetic to many women because she’s a young girl who struggles with constant feelings of inadequacy because of the ridiculous standards placed on her by the patriarchy.

Arya’s stitches were crooked again.     

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa’s needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. “Sansa’s work is as pretty as she is,” Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. “She has such fine, delicate hands.” When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.”

Arya glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read her thoughts, but the septa was paying her no attention today. She was sitting with the Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. It was not often that the septa was privileged to instruct a royal princess in the womanly arts, as she had said when the queen brought Myrcella to join them. Arya thought that Myrcella’s stitches looked a little crooked too, but you would never know it from the way Septa Mordane was cooing.

What’s interesting about this passage is not that Arya’s stitches are crooked, but in the last paragraph Arya thinks that Myrcella’s stitches are crooked, too, yet Myrcella isn’t put up to the level of scrutiny that Arya is because Myrcella is a royal princess who presents herself the way girls in this society are supposed to be seen. In contrast, Arya is constantly criticized for not being like her older sister. Sansa’s needlework is tied directly to her femininity “Sansa’s needlework is as pretty as she is”, while Arya is described as having “the hands of a blacksmith”. There’s an implication here that women who don’t conform to specific standards (standards that are defined by heterosexual men) aren’t “real” women. This causes anxiety in Arya because she’s a young girl, and she spent much of her formative experience being told that she was defective because of it. Even after she is somewhat freed from these standards, she still thinks about it often. She has anxiety about how her family won’t want her back after she’s lived as a boy and done “masculine” things. And yet she still struggles with trying to fit into even a nontraditional role, because society has no place for girls like her.

She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.

Arya may have a sword and knows how to use it, but she still struggles with the fact that she’s “just a little girl” and that society labels girls as weak.

I don’t think Arya is distanced from her femininity, but one of the things that I think people fail to take into account about Arya is her age. I have this unfortunate feeling that part of the reason people see Arya as less feminine, and therefore less feminist, is because she’s not quite old enough to be sexualized (the show is a bit of another matter, because Maisie Williams is older and quite pretty). This is why many young girls struggle with their femininity. Not very many girls want to play with swords but young girls aren’t weaponizing their femininity either. Little girls are often demeaned by the patriarchy because they aren’t old enough to be sexual objects, and like Arya, they haven’t learned how to “pass”, and many of them never will, because there are plenty of women who don’t fit patriarchal standards: disabled women, women of color, lesbian and bisexual and trans women, women who aren’t good at putting on make up or attracting a man or just don’t want to.

And that’s not only okay, it is wonderful and feminist and worthy of praise. This does not mean that the Sansas of the world don’t deserve our support, but Sansa isn’t “more feminist” than Arya or more relatable to “real women”. It’s misogynistic to even suggest that there’s such thing as a “real” woman, and it’s especially suspect when you’re defining womanhood using patriarchal standards.

The other thing I don’t like that I see often in this debate is the praising of Sansa as an example of a “good victim”, and the connotations that this often has for women who don’t fit traditional feminine roles defined by the patriarchy. It is absolutely vital and important to support women who are victims of abuse, and Sansa definitely needs this support, but the unfortunate aspect of this is Sansa’s abuse is often romanticized because she’s feminine and pretty. I like to call this “maiden in the tower” syndrome, because it lines up with the way that the patriarchy romanticizes the brutalization of beautiful women, reducing them to sexualized, tragic objects.

The way that Sansa is often praised usually runs along similar lines: She suffers prettily, she doesn’t talk back (because smart women don’t talk back), she uses her femininity as a weapon. And yeah, there are a lot of women and girls who are like Sansa, women who are trapped in their circumstances and have no choice but to try and play a role. But to say that Sansa is “more realistic” or “stronger” or that she is more relatable to abused women everywhere than other abused women in the text is exclusionary to women who don’t or can’t smile prettily in the face of abuse and use their femininity to manipulate men, women who aren’t viewed as sexy or feminine according to patriarchal standards. Women who don’t stay quiet, women who fight back even without success, women who aren’t smart or subtle or graceful who are trapped in abusive situations. Women who aren’t women at all, but little girls who are told that they need to be sexy and feminine in order to be worth anything before they’ve even reached puberty, because being appealing to men should be the ultimate goal.

This is why Arya is important, and why I will always disagree with people who say that she’s cliche or not realistic.

Thoughts After the Conference and Looking Forward

You know what guys, I honestly do not think the situation is that bad between EXO and Kris. A part of me now feels like they’ve worked it out  or kind of knew already. Lay updating Weibo and still following him, Luhan and Kris’ bag (also still following on Weibo), Tao and the teddy bear… I don’t have proof, but before the conference (about 20 minutes prior to its start) I saw Luhan and Kris online on Weibo at the same time. After a while I saw Kris go offline, then Luhan a few minutes later, then the conference began. It’s too much a of a coincidence really. I’d like to believe that at least these two speak to each other frequently enough. 

So don’t be upset at the other 11 because for all we know, SM could be coaching them on what to say under these circumstances. (Which in my opinion, is understandable because EXO’s still a group of rookies but SM just kind of really sucks at handling lawsuits and any legal matter at that.) But I admit, the conference was disappointing. We all know that overcoming the past week, could make any band stronger and more ambitious. Rather than hearing them reiterate what they’ve been saying all along, I think many of us just wanted more details about Kris and how’s he fairing because his side’s chosen to take the quiet approach. 

With that said, Kris being quiet might actually be pretty smart. Considering what SM tends to do with words and the fact that whatever Kris says at this point can be used in court, downplaying it may be the best option at the moment. Kris’ lawyer was Hangeng’s right? He probably knows how to handle SM better than us, so let’s have faith in him, shall we?

And think. Kris was online the entire time during EXO’s first concert. And Kris still follows ALL of them. He’s still thinking about them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually encouraged them behind our backs. The whole strength EXO displayed to move on…The whole “we will continue as 11”… have you considered that maybe Kris is also helping them too? If Kris knew that the dispute over the matters of his contract may just confuse the EXO members and cause them to waver, wouldn’t a good friend simply say, “Focus on what you have now.” and wouldn’t a good leader say, “Take the world on by storm!” ?

Just for that chance, I’d like to extend my support to both Kris and the other EXO members. I may not have a clear picture about what’s going on between them, and I may be (stubbornly) unsatisfied until I hear from Kris himself, but I have no doubt in my mind that everyone of them is trying their best to look forward. All 12 of them would come out stronger from this.

And so will we - those who chose to stay with them.  

So let’s look forward too. Their futures are still rich and in the middle of being crafted, and they’re all still dreaming, and we are a big part of that. No one knows what’ll happen from now on, but no matter what, don’t give up on them because it’s clear - it’s just the start of a new chapter in the book of EXO and (especially very much so) Kris. 


Written for the Sterekwriters network’s Sterek Summer Bingo! Crossing off Baseball, Heat Wave, Sunburn Aftercare, Boating and Summer Camp, because I decided I could do that (can I do that??)

“Anyways, I love you,” Stiles says sweetly.

“Love you too, son,” the sheriff answers, surprised but pleased.

Gotcha, Stiles thinks, adjusting his grip on the communal Camp Timberwolf phone and turning furtively away from the counselor timing calls. “If you really love me, you’ll let me come home.”

“Stiles!” the sheriff protests, “we’ve been over this.”

“And I said I hated it! I’m dying, this heat wave is killing me. It’s literally a hundred degrees out there. Please, I just want to drink slurpees and play Call of Duty, I’ll…”

“No,” John says, and hangs up.

It’s marginally cooler out on the water, and blissfully quiet without the other campers. His dad loved this place as a kid, but his dad was athletic and outgoing. Stiles is neither of these things. He hates sports, he hates people, and dumb arts and crafts can only amuse him for so long. Campers are barely allowed to use the two anemic plugs in the main cabin, so he can’t even play games on his phone. What a waste of a summer.

Lake water laps at the sides of the wooden hull, rocking it gently. Stiles shrugs out of his shirt, unembarrassed for once at his lean, pale body since he’s alone. Technically, you’re only supposed to go boating with a buddy, but if the counselors can’t be bothered to supervise the docks, Stiles is well within his rights to “forget” that little rule.

He dips his shirt in the water and drapes it over his shoulders, sighing at the momentary cool. Skin like his burns way too easily, and he didn’t plan enough ahead to grab sunscreen. He lets himself zone out to the sound of cicadas, trying to ignore the awful, oppressive heat. Then, another sound interrupts his daydreams: the tell-tale crack of a baseball bat. Stiles sits up, squinting over the water to the old field just past the shore.

Boyd and Isaac are there, he can make out their cheerful voices and laughter. And closest to the shore stands Derek Hale. Stiles leans in and almost flips the boat. He scrambles for balance, heart pounding for more than one reason. They share a cabin, so it’s not like he doesn’t know Derek is hot. Only now he’s wearing goofily short shorts and an old jersey cut into a crop top specifically to showcase his abs. Oh God, the glory of men.

Isaac lazily tosses a ball to Derek, who whacks it with perfect, precise form. Stiles can see muscles in his calves and arms even from this distance, glistening with sweat, every bulge and lean line highlighted. Well. Not such a terrible way to pass the summer, after all.

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