he does this all the time with evidence

I’ve realized something about Coran while rewatching a few episodes with my brother.

He barely ever uses the Paladins and Allura’s proper names if he can help it.

He’s called Pidge ‘number five’ on numerous occasions, and mostly calls Allura 'Princess’.

When adressing them all, he calls them’ Paladins’.

There’s not much evidence for this theory of mine, but I think that Coran does this because he doesn’t want to get too attached to the Paladins. Last time he did, they we’re all destroyed.

Reasons why Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper is a  seriously underappreciated animated movie:

–both the princess and the pauper are in situations that teach self-sacrifice for the good of others

–the plot is complex and has multiple angles that all work together really well

–the glittery, feminine blonde princess is a science nerd

–the princess and the pauper are instant BFFs

–the songs are cute and catchy, but are also important to the storyline

–the love stories are realistic; the princess is in love with her best friend/tutor who she’s known for years, and the pauper falls in love with the king from a neighboring country because of their shared interests and beliefs

–the villain is a flamboyant and obnoxious character who is so hilarious all by himself that you will honestly laugh out loud more than once

–there’s a street cat that barks

–the street cat that barks falls in love with the dainty, sassy feline from the castle

–the princess and the pauper never go anywhere without their pets, and the pets return the favor by helping them whenever they need it

–did I mention the songs?

–the villain’s henchmen are named Nick and Nack

–the king (the pauper’s love interest) likes disguises for no apparent reason

–the tutor (the princess’ love interest) saves the day, like, three times without expecting a reward 

–both the king and the tutor become bros in a single bonding moment as they simultaneously chase down the villain that tried to hurt their women

–all the main characters are interesting

–not only does the king refuse to believe the pauper is anything but good despite the evidence that she’s a criminal, but he also patiently waits for her for months while she’s living her dream of traveling the world, and then takes her back the moment she shows up at his front door because he’s faithful to her

–the princess breaks royal tradition by marrying the tutor, but also finds a way to secure the wealth of her kingdom first so that her people will be happy

–there’s a double wedding

–the pauper wears a choker with her wedding dress at the double wedding

–literally everything is girly; even the castle is pink

–the overall point of the whole movie is that you are special and beautiful, and that as long as you stay positive and support each other, everyone will get their happy ending

BONUS:
there are specially-animated outtakes during the credits

Keith Kogan: A Portrayal of Homosexuality Done Right

I always tell people that Voltron is a lot more clever than it gets credit for. It can spin a cliche/trope on it’s head beautifully, and while all the characters are easily digestible archetypes (i.e: the nerd, the loner), the creators add layers to them that not only make them feel like real people, but also makes social commentary on those very archetypes.

In no better way do they do this than with the character of Keith.

Before I get into how and why Keith deviates from you’re typical gay male protagonist, I want to establish as a fact that Keith is homosexual.

If you don’t see - what I consider to be - blatant evidence that Keith’s gay, well, I can’t say I blame you. Most people have ingrained heteronormative lenses, meaning they’ll miss the subtext of homosexual characters. Us in the LGBT community are much more attuned to seeing these because, well, for one, we’re queer, and two, because up until around the 1960s, the portrayal of gay characters in the media was illegal and could only be shown subtextually.

So it makes sense that people overlook the very nuanced portrayal of Keith’s sexuality, but if you’re willing to take off those lenses, it’s certainly there.

The first standout appearance of this is in season 1 episode 6: Taking Flight. Or as I like to call it, the day the shows name officially changed to Gaytron: Legendary Homosexuals

I think one of the disconnects for some viewers is that they don’t completely grasp the saying, “Show don’t tell,” the mantra of pretty much every writer. Not always, but typically, showing is better than telling. Or more accurately, telling needs to be used at the correct times and for the right reasons.

So how do they show us that Keith’s gay in this episode? Through three things, body language, actions, and juxtaposition.

You don’t have to be a body language specialist to understand the clear meaning behind Keith’s posture. Leaning, looking someone up and down, and a small, lingering smile/smirk are all subconscious signs of attraction. They’re also common ways of depicting male attraction in the media.

Speaking of depicting male attraction, lets look at how Lance’s flirts in the same episode.

Leaning. Check. Lingering smile. Check. Engaged eye contact. Check. The biggest difference is how blatant they are in their intentions, but that comes down to pure character difference. Keith is self assured and more genuinely confident. He also has a lot of walls up and isn’t so open. While Lance puts on a show/over compensates so that he might appear cool. You can also see this in their respective ‘I’m-checking-you-out’ postures. Lance’s body is open, he’s engaged and his eyes are on Nyma’s eyes. While Keith’s posture is interested, but more in an appreciative way. His body is closed off, and instead of looking Rolo in the eyes, he looks at his - um - physique. This is really fitting for Keith’s character, who again, has walls, and who also puts this mission first, and most likely has no intention of letting this attraction lead to anything other than having a nice piece of eye candy around for a couple of hours.

This is textbook juxtaposition. So moving along now.

I don’t want this to be a shippy post, so I won’t add all the times I think Keith shows attraction towards Lance, but I do want to mention this scene.

The use of the rainbow(the most recognizable symbol in the gay community) over lapping the bi flag colors is relevant for the same reason why the use of purple to symbolize the Galra is relevant. Purple represents royalty, imperialism, but also gloom and danger. The use of these colors and symbols are conscious choices.

While the above scene shows that Keith is attracted to men, this scene shows that Keith is also not attracted to woman.

What I love about this scene is that it’s such a cliche, and like I said up above, Voltron is good at turning those on their head. Here they utilize the tiered and true trope of accidentally falling into each others arms. If this was a hetero-centric Romcom than this moment would’ve been obviously meant to establish attraction, but instead, it does the opposite. Rather Keith personally likes Allura or not, she’s a knock out. So, if he’s attracted to women at all, and isn’t use to having that contact- which hes not - he should be at least somewhat shocked/flustered. If it had been an attractive guy that fell into Keith’s arms, I have no doubt that his reactions would be something beyond that blank stare. Considering he literally gasps every time Lance touches him

The last piece of “evidence” I want to show isn’t as blatant and may just be my perspective, but it’s worth mentioning.

The themes of Keith’s Galra arc are very reminiscent to coming out. He’s discovering parts of himself. He’s internalizing and hiding away said parts. He’s scared of what the people he cares about will think of him when they find out. If this is intentional, it’s brilliant, because while Voltron is set in a futurist world where sexuality is supposedly not an Issue, it still is for the youth of today. Meaning by having these similar themes, Keith becomes more relatable to LGBT people.

This is the part where, if you still don’t think Keith’s gay, I’ll have to calmly yet firmly ask you to get off my fucking lawn. For the rest of you, onward to victory!!!

LGBT individuals have a history of being badly represented in the media, especially now that gay characters have become a marketing strategy for a more progressive consumer base. Their whole character is often reduced to stereotypes or used as a giant walking gay pride flag that reads: look at us, we’re hip and with the times. Meaning, the majority of these characters plots and personalities are based solely on their sexuality. Which is a problem, because not only does it not help to normalize homosexuality, but it’s just not relatable to LGBT people.

I’ll give you an example. My mom’s a lesbian. She married to a woman and has two daughters, one who is trans and one who is bi. But despite how “gay"her life may seem, she very rarely describes herself as that way. She’s not active in LGBT issues. She doesn’t involve herself in the community. Shes not lesbian first and everything else afterward, and she is certainly not alone in that experience. Don’t get me wrong, LGBT individuals are more aware of their sexuality than cishet people, but it’s typically only because others point it out and remind us that its not "normal.” Still, for a lot of LGBT people, our sexuality is just one part of our personal narrative, not the whole damn book.

Another problem with LGBT representations is that their often just built off of stereotypes. Gay men are feminized and their sexuality is typically made the butt of a joke. They are shown as being promiscuous and having commitment issues. These are the standards.

But Keith abolishes all of those, and in such a seamless way too.

While Keith’s character is in no way excessively macho, he’s certainly not feminine either. He doesn’t mind getting sweaty. He’s temperamental and has anger issue. He lived a pretty low maintenance life in a desert shack, sleeps in his jeans like a heathen, and probably uses a dagger to peel oranges. Keith is a masculine character. He’s confident and self assured, but not vain. He’s emotional, but in a very private way. Whereas many other portrayal of gay men depict them as almost theatrically sensitive, confident, but only in their sexual prowess, and self absorbed, but only when it come to their looks and not when it comes to their skills.

This is already an impressive deviation, but what really makes Keith’s portrayal stand out is the way his sexuality is but a mere footnote in what makes his character his character, and how that fits into his personality and story arc so well.

The first thing you have to realize about Keith is that, while he certainly wants to connect with people, it’s not his number one priority. He has barriers. He fears rejection, and despite wanting to feel as if he belongs, its not hard to see how Keith has been conditioned to assume he’ll inevitability be left behind, and therefore places personal relationships low on his list of priorities. Meaning, yes, he was checking out Rolo, and yes, I believe that he’s very very fond of Lance, but I can’t imagine that Keith really sees these relationships becoming something substantial or romantic, and thus doesn’t put too much effort into perusing them. You can really tell what’s important to a character by what they focus their time on. Take Lance for instance, he’s a character who blatantly cares about friendships and has no problem openly flirting. That’s not to say Lance doesn’t care about the war, just like Keith’s reluctance to pursue meaningful bonds doesn’t mean he doesn’t want them. It just means that relationships and love obviously mean a lot to Lance.

So what does Keith focus on? Well, he shows the most focus on relationships in season one, when the connections he had with his makeshift family was the post pressing thing going on. (You cant really form Voltron if you don’t connect with the other members) But after season one, with all the changes Keith goes through, we see a big shift in his priorities. First he finds out about his heritage, then Shiro disappears and he is thrust into leadership, and then most recently, he joins the Blade.

By framing Keith’s character like this, it allows the creators to make his sexuality natural and relatable in a very interesting way. Because as LGBT people know, our sexuality isn’t the most important part of our lives. Just like Keith, we have more to focus on.

That’s not to say that his sexuality will never be shown explicitly. Like I said, I don’t want to get too shippy, but I truly believe that Laith is endgame. So if and when that happens, his sexuality will naturally come into play. Sadly, their will be a lot of people who call it forced because they missed the subtext and are use to seeing gay characters depicted more as spectacles than real people.

Voltron has really done something special here. They’ve create a universe where sexuality isn’t an issue, and they make it believable by never bringing it up outside of naturally occurring, unforced, appropriate context. Even better, because the Voltron universe is so vastly different than our own, it would’ve been easy to make LGBT characters that we couldn’t relate to, but they don’t. They manage this so well that I honestly can’t phantom Keith’s sexuality being anything but homosexual despite the fact it’s never been explicitly shown.

But most importantly, they’re creating a higher standard for LGBT representation. They are normalizing it on a show aimed towards children who are heavily influenced by the media they consume.


That, my friends, is worth applauding.

THAT’S NOT SHIRO

i’mma call this guy Kuro, cos he sure as HELL ain’t Shiro:

  • Shiro’s prisoner number is 117-9875 (1x10). This guy is referred to as “subject Y0XT39″ {source 1}
  • When he first gets up off the operating table he faceplants like someone who’s never actually walked before
  • He looks surprised/confused by his metal arm
  • Kuro saw actual Shiro on an operating table on his way out of Galra captivity:
  • The Galra let him escape and then declared that “stage 3 of operation Kuron is underway” {source 2}
  • “Kuron” is Japanese for clone like Dreamworks ain’t slick okay {source 3}
  • Shiro has not been gone long enough for his hair to have grown that long (see ref. 2 above)
  • The Black Lion didn’t activate for him. And you cannot tell me after everything that happened between them in S1 & S2 that the Black Lion would suddenly go “eh, i’ve moved on”
  • Shiro is the Paladin with the closest bond to their Lion i mean i have written literally thousands of words of meta about this don’t test me Dreamworks
  • his weird mood swing from “mooching in my room with a depression beard” to “chipper and fine and ready to jump back in!”
  • Hunk’s whole thing in 2x03 about how the Galra have the technology to plant false memories in Shiro’s mind? Same applies to planting false memories in the mind of a clone, presumably.
  • That weird headache that he couldn’t shake? COME ON PEOPLE 
  • The fact that he could survive in that Galra ship for so long without food or water is DEEPLY SUSPICIOUS

alright but seriously the biggest evidence i can offer for this not being Shiro is that everything about him is just… slightly… off. literally everything: 

  • He looks different - but just similar enough to pitch me straight into the darkest depths of the Uncanny Valley
  • His voice is weirdly not… quite… right?
  • He fights differently - less gracefully, less smooth
  • His personality is off in little ways - he’s not as funny. He’s really down. He’s not as warm.

i mean Kuro just deadass does not ACT like Shiro. Shiro has a sense of humour - you can’t tell me Takashi “my wound’s great! it’s getting bigger all the time!” Shirogane wouldn’t be cracking some kind of Star Wars related joke to himself on that ice planet. Shiro is kinda cheerful and lighthearted despite everything he’s been through, and Kuro is just serious and down and moody and flat.

One of the defining traits of Shiro’s personality is that he never gives up and when he faces a challenge he fights it head-on and he’s not the kind of guy to just go mope in his room. Kuro has no drive. Shiro has a fire inside and Kuro just has nothing.

This isn’t Shiro. Whatever he is, he freaks me the hell out - but he sure as hell ain’t Shiro. the Winter Paladin, maybe? sleeper agent? saboteur? whatever he’s up to, ALL THE NOPE MY FRIENDS. ALL THE NOPE. that’s not Shiro. NO WAY.

(props to @dent-de-leon , @gitwrecked and @honkgarrett for the other posts which you should also check out)

Tease (M)

Originally posted by louizlake

Summary: Your best friend had gotten a new job, but wouldn’t tell you what it was. You decide to take it upon yourself to find out, so you find the address to his work. But… why did the address lead you to a strip club? 

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut (M)

A/N: This will most likely be a two-shot (if enough ppl want it), so you could expect the real smuttiness to occur in the next part ;) Anywho, there is brief mentions of arousal, lewd actions, and strip teases in this chapter. This will be a mature read, so you have been warned! 

part 1 | part 2



“This can’t be right…” you exasperate in confusion.

You look at the small entrance to the building, scratching your head. The place looked as if it was some type of club, as you could hear the loud music shaking the ground, even from where you were standing. There was a line up to get in, and you couldn’t help but notice that the majority of the people waiting, were females.

There’s no way Jimin would work here, he doesn’t even like clubs… you think in your head.

The reason you were out here by yourself at 11pm at night, was because you found out Jimin recently got a job. He would start buying more expensive clothing, and offer to pay more for you whenever you two went out. Obviously he was making some nice cash, so when you asked him about it; he completely ignored you.

You two have been best friends and roommates since freshman year in college, and now you both were in your third year. Jimin typically hid no secrets from you, as he was a very open and relaxed person. So when he purposely didn’t tell you where he was working, that made you highly suspicious.

Keep reading

collide

WHAT IS UP yALL

so i got this idea that derry was the upside down of hawinks and someone told me to write it, so here i am.

however, my wonderful co-writer and beta @richiewheeler helped me out A TON and she’s gonna be helping me write this whole fic so pls give her some love as well pls and thx

i hope you guys like it! we are SUPER DUPER proud of it 

without further ado, here is my stranger things/it crossover


summary: a stranger things/it crossover fic 

pairings: reddie def, and lots of others to be determined

words: 1991




Will Byers always had to ride his bike home at night, it seemed. Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons games managed to always run way longer than the group had anticipated, usually, 10 hours was a normal time frame for them. School nights always ruined the flow of it, sure, but Will’s team always won. Sometimes he wondered if Mike let them win, or, perhaps, it was just luck.

His older brother Jonathan was working a late shift, as was their mother, which was a common occurrence. He didn’t mind riding his bike so late, he’d gotten used to it. Nothing happened in Hawkins, so it was almost therapeutic. The sound of his bike wheels thumping against the pavement and crickets that chirped in the darkness.

Mirkwood, a street so familiar to him he could almost see it just as he would in the day, stretched in front of him. Since it was only a fall Sunday, there was no one there. He hummed to himself and looked through the woods of Hawkins Forest. He’s almost home.

Will looked back at the road, and saw a tall figure standing right in the middle of the street. Yelping, he slammed on his breaks, nearly falling off the front of his bike as he skids to a stop.

It was a clown, with wild red hair and a pristine costume. If it were Halloween, Will would’ve been impressed. But the autumn holiday was last month and this didn’t seem like a costume. It was too real as if the face paint wasn’t actually paint at all.

“Hey there, Will. Where are you off to?” The clown spoke, his words causing Will to physically shiver in fear.

His mother’s warnings of don’t talk to strangers rattled in his head, so he just swallowed and wanted to leave it there. But he had to know.

“How did you know my name?” Will asked, his voice sounding scared to his own ears. He wished he could be stronger about it, but he wasn’t.

“I’m a friend of your dad’s,” The clown said. “He tells me all about you, Will.”

He hated the way this guy said his name, and he knew his dad didn’t say many positive things about him. He changed the subject, “Why the clown outfit?”
“Well, I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown,” The Clown- Pennywise- said, grinning. In the light of the moon, his eyes shined bright and his teeth looked so sharp. “I was just at a party, and I thought I’d take Mirkwood home.”

Will smiled awkwardly a little, “We call this street Mirkwood too.” He didn’t know why he continued to talk to strange man in a clown costume. He almost felt compelled to stay.

“I know,” Pennywise said. Something in Will’s stomach twisted and his fingers clutched the handles of his bike until his knuckles went white.

“My mom’s expecting me home,” Will started to excuse himself, but Pennywise frowned. That frown sent a wave of discomfort through his small frame. A frown like that wasn’t normal. It was far too sinister, too off to be ordinary. The clown tilted his head a bit, his hair staying in the perfect “windblown” shape it had been in. That wasn’t normal either. His eyes, Will noticed, were a bright orange color. Number three on the ‘not normal’ list about this guy. One was lopsided as if he had a lazy eye. One concentrated on Will’s figure, the other looming off slightly to the right of him. Number four, check.

“Let me show you something first.” The clown spoke slowly as if he was trying to be friendlier, more convincing. Will felt as if he didn’t have much of a choice. The man blocked his way regardless, so he stayed put and kept his mouth shut.

The clown smiled once more. His face suddenly contorted, his head snapping to the side violently at a 90-degree angle. That’s when Will realized it was no longer a person. This thing wasn’t human, it never was, to begin with. Will watched in horror as this thing transformed into a large-scale version of the Demogorgon, one of the many pieces in Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons campaign from today. He was terrified, slowly backing up with his bike in a vain attempt to separate himself from this monster as much as he could. Will glanced around him quickly, seeing if he had a possible escape route. He didn’t.

When he glanced back at the monster, it started to advance. With no choice, Will threw his bike down and ran down the street, the thumps growing louder behind him. The last thing he heard was his own terrified scream before he hit the pavement and his vision clouded black.


In a town closer than they thought, Georgie Denbrough bounced beside his brother, Bill, as he made a paper sailboat as a storm crossed through Derry.

This was a tradition they had when it rained, seeing how fast one boat could go in the pouring rain. Georgie liked that even though Bill was sick, he was still gonna let him play. It wouldn’t be the same without him, but they both agreed that tradition was important. They couldn’t miss an opportunity.

“S-she’s all ready, Captain,” Bill said, coughing a little. Georgie nodded vibrantly and took the boat in his hands. Slightly sticky to the touch, he knew how much work his big brother put into it and made sure he handled ‘her’ carefully.

“D-don’t forget your g-galoshes,” Bill reminded as Georgie nearly raced out the door. “M-mom will k-kill you.”

Georgie made a face but nodded once more. When he ran down the stairs to the mudroom, he pulled on the dark green boots that chafed against his ankles.

He ran outside and Georgie turned, waving up to Bill’s window, showing off how well the boat was maintaining its structure in the downpour. Bill waved back at him, so he took that as his signal to start his boat’s journey. The static hum of the walkie-talkie in Georgie’s pocket made him smile, knowing Bill was sorta there with him.

“Be careful.” His brother’s voice crackled and Georgie was off. He placed the boat down near the street curb, watching with glee as it raced down the road following the direction of the water flow.

He tried being careful, he really did, but it was too easy for him to get distracted. Georgie wasn’t too surprised when he smacked into the orange sign, coincidentally at the perfect height to hit his head on. He didn’t want to lose the boat so he tried to keep up, but he cried out in horror as it fell down the sewer drain.

“Bill’s gonna kill me,” He moaned, disappointed in himself. He kneeled down and tried to see if it had caught on something. But instead of seeing the boat, he saw a kid.

Georgie yelped and fell backward, landing on his butt. Even to a little kid like himself, it was a little odd to see someone in a storm drain. The kid in the drain smiled meekly, holding up Georgie’s boat. He had brown hair, that was wet and flat due to the rain. His outfit consisted of a vest with a flannel underneath and a pair of jeans from what Georgie could see, but it was dark in the drain.

“Hey, Georgie, is it?” He asked, looking down at the paper boat. A drop of water landed on the ‘S. S. Georgie’ Bill had written on it, smearing the ink a bit.

Georgie nodded slowly, a little thrown off by his question but answered anyway. “Yeah, that’s me!”

The kid smiled. “Hey, I’m Will Byers. Nice to meet you.”

Georgie smiled back at him. “How did you get in there?” He asked, “Are you stuck?”

Will nodded solemnly, before his expression changed. If people got lightbulbs over their heads like in the cartoons, there would’ve been one above Will’s head. “If you help me out, I can give you your boat back! How does that sound? You can help a new pal out.”

The small Denbrough contemplated it for a second, before agreeing.

Will grinned. “Grab my hand.” He spoke, reaching his hand upwards towards the opening in the drain.

As Georgie reached down, Will’s face changed drastically. It contorted into something sinister, multiple rows of teeth baring in a mere instant.

His scream of agony could be heard all the way down the road but by the time anyone had checked, Georgie Denbrough was gone. The only evidence of that he was ever there was red water slowly flowing into the storm drain.

But no adult nearby saw it.


Will woke up with what he thought was the start of a migraine after the worst nightmare he’d ever experienced. A goddamn clown accosted him when he was just trying to get home. He just wanted to eat Jonathan’s breakfast and see his friends at school. He wanted to hug his mom and have her tell him the nightmare clown couldn’t get to him again until he believed her.

But instead of smelling pancakes and nearly burnt eggs, all it smelled like was like stagnant water and blood.

Will’s eyes snapped open, and all he saw was gray. He pushed up onto his palms and looked around.

He wasn’t in his room, safe in his bed under the covers and dry. Instead, he was in a wide, circular room covered in trash, soaking wet. How long was he asleep? Did he get knocked out?

Something dripped on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a trash pile that nearly skirted the tall ceiling. But more astonishingly, bodies floated. They floated around the room like limp rag dolls that Mike’s sister Holly played with. And they were all upside down.

A sound of squelching caused Will to look to his right, only to come face to face with the same clown that he saw on the street.

As if it wasn’t terrifying before, its clown face was now smothered in blood. It grinned, and the crimson-stained teeth looked even sharper than he remembered.

In its long, twisted fingers, it held an arm with a chunk taken out of it. In that quick glance, he could see blood and muscles and bone.

Will screamed and scrambled backward, a sharp pain in his side as his heart nearly beat out of his chest. How was this real? How was none of that a dream?

No. This is still a dream. This isn’t real, Will focused on convincing himself. He scrunched his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palms.

“Not real, Willie?” The clown’s scratchy voice said, sounding so close. But he refused to open his eyes. “Do you want to see a dream?”

He screamed and his eyes flung open. The clown grabbed him by the throat and leaned in close. Its breath was rancid like the trash that littered around them. It drooled blood and saliva all over him as he squirmed in a vain attempt to escape the clown’s death grip on him.

“I’ll show you a goddamn nightmare.”


so YEAH

i hope you guys liked that as we’d love to write a part dos

let us know how y’all feel about it!

masterlist

ask to be on taglist/feedback!

thank you so so much for reading <3

Zimbits AU where your world is black and white until you hear your soulmate laugh

-

Jack knows his parents’ story off by heart.

Bob had been on the ice at an away game. The crowd was screaming; it was overtime. Things had been a bit tense. 

And then Bob had put a puck in the net of the opposition and that was it. The disappointed home audience had fallen into a quiet grumble after some polite clapping. Many hands were slapped on Bob’s back as the team skated towards the edge of the ice. Bob had been just about to leave the rink, and then-

A laugh. A snorting, wonderful laugh, and his world filled with color.

He had frozen where he stood, ears caught on the sound of that laugh and the voice that followed.

“I told you, didn’t I? No one’s got it like Bad Bobby Z!”

It was his turn to let out a laugh and he did, with gusto. His voice boomed so loud it had seemed to reverberate around the arena, every head swiveling to the source of the noise.

Every time he told that story, Bob swore blind he heard his soulmate’s gasp in the ensuing silence. Alicia would roll her eyes fondly, stating that she did not gasp, thank you very much, and that the dreadful nickname she’d called him had been popular among hockey fans at the time. 

Whatever the truth, they’d introduced themselves moments later and were married within the year. It was like that, with soulmates. Instantaneous.

Jack’s not heard that story since before the Draft. He knows people think if he’d found his soulmate before- before, he wouldn’t have done it. But people tend to over romanticize things out of habit. In the end, soulmates and laughter and colors had very little to do with how he ended up here.

Keep reading

The Thing about Mary

It’s been awhile since I made a post about Mary… it’s overdue. *cracks knuckles, limbers up fingers*

It made no sense. None of what they wrote made sense. What was the narrative point of Mary? To “create” Sherlock Holmes and John Watson? I call bullshit; they were already that without any external help. Moreover, if that was her purpose all along, she sure did a lot to destroy that very thing: the dynamic of arguably the most famous and celebrated male friendship in English literature. Just in case we’ve forgotten: 

Mary started undermining both John and Sherlock, individually and together, from the moment she appeared on the screen. She had already interrupted John’s attempted proposal once to excuse herself to the bathroom or wherever she went (”Now then, what did you want to ask me?”)*, then interrupted him and corrected him and laughed at him throughout. Her pattern of gaslighting, demeaning, and manipulating him continues through every moment of their shared time together on screen. Nowhere is it more evident than in the opening of His Last Vow, wherein she basically follows textbook procedure on gaslighting, from correcting his perceptions (”about a month, actually”, “see? That does happen!”) to doing it in front of a third party (humiliation) to questioning his motives and abilities (”why you?”) to outright forbidding him to do something (”you can’t go”) to inserting her presence where he clearly didn’t want it, then trying to sugarcoat it all by giving him a compliment - one which he reacted to not with pleasure or a softening of his obvious anger, but with a terse statement that he was already aware of what she was complimenting him on. It’s an abusive relationship, full stop. 

*Shout-out to @blogstandbygo​ for pointing this out in our recent hang-out with @addictedstilltheaddict​ and another friend in Toronto last week

She inserted herself between them from that very first scene and made it clear that any form of friendship they were going to have was to happen through the medium of herself, and only on those terms. This was so clear to John that he patently disguised his intention to see Sherlock to her as of their first conversation about it (during which she was openly mocking his blog posts about Sherlock, another form of demeaning and humiliation). This forced brokering of their relationship led to John eventually being ousted from his own friendship with Sherlock (who was too distracted by Moriarty to notice Mary’s machinations, alas). John was so unhappy with this dynamic that became the least like his canonical self that we had ever been shown before that point, going so far as to actively seek out an affair. This is decidedly not like John Watson, the man who got himself arrested because someone insulted his best friend. Loyalty is as much a part of John as his thirst for adventure. He was made to feel so superfluous by the wife who compared him to a dog and the friend who didn’t notice what was going on that he was looking desperately for escape. 

Mary, on the other hand, never gave John her loyalty. She never even gave him the truth. She died without him even knowing whether her name was really her name (doubtful, given the sort of work she was doing while using it). Mary gave John nothing but lie after lie after lie. He could never trust a word that she said, and he hated it. She was willing to do anything to him, as long as it kept him by her side. She was willing to shoot the man he was still grieving years after his (supposed) death and never tell him after, no matter how much it would have devastated him to lose Sherlock all over again. As for Sherlock, she shot him without a second thought, smirking and condescending. 

Mary never once showed a shred of remorse for any of it. Not for any of her past crimes, which included killing people for money - not for anger, not for principle, not for political manoeuvring - but something as tawdry and meaningless as money. Gross. And she never regretted it. Not that the creators of the canon decided to show us. She never expressed any regret for having lied to John, nor for the way she constantly treated him. She never expressed any gratitude to Sherlock for having rid her of the blackmailer that would have sent her to prison for a very long time. She accepted it as her due, without blinking. She never thanked Sherlock, John, or Mycroft for having become accomplices in her attempted murder on Sherlock’s life in not having reported it. She assumed that was her right, too. Mary was a psychopath and narcissist, not caring about right or wrong, just what benefited her. 

Mary never changed her ways. There was no development of character, no softening, no realisation that everything she had ever stood for was completely terrible. Right to the last she was calling a man she had tried to kill a “pig”, offensively mimicking accents, still owning and carrying around guns and enough drugs to knock out a seasoned user. If anything, what we were shown was someone who had not only not changed, but someone who kept repeating the same behaviour. When the .A.G.R.A. team got into trouble on its final mission, Mary cut and run, leaving the other 75% of her team to be tortured or killed. She never went back and checked to see if a rescue mission was possible, never followed up, never confirmed the deaths of her teammates, just blithely moved on with her life and got married without once looking back. Sherlock offered to help her, twice. With the weight and power of the British government directly related to him, this isn’t exactly an offer to be taken lightly, yet Mary attacked him on both occasions, first shooting him in the heart and running away, then drugging him and running away - just as she left her former colleagues behind. 

If you want to take the argument that motherhood somehow redeemed Mary, think twice on that, too. I’m not a parent, but just about every mother I know would never leave an infant behind. Obviously it happens; infants get abandoned all the time. Most mothers don’t, though. Was Rosie not nursing anymore? Was she ever? Did Mary think about that before she cut and run, or was she too busy with her offensive faux-Jewish accent and possible flight attendant murder there? My mother used to tell me that her own life took on so much greater weight once I had been born because she had something to live for, someone who needed her. She stopped taking any sort of risk that would endanger her, because she had a child to care for. Mary doesn’t seem to have been similarly affected by parenthood. Her inexplicable and unsupported decision to jump in front of a bullet says that perfectly, if her previous abandonment didn’t. 

Never forget that John had the measure of Mary. It was John who knew that Mary would turn on Sherlock, should Sherlock warn her about Ajay and offer to help her again. It was John who grimly suggested putting a tracking device in the USB, knowing that Mary would attack Sherlock and steal it from him. While she was living, John had no illusions about who Mary really was. 

Mary’s decision to defy physics and leap in front of that bullet was not the culmination of an arc of redemption. What it was is a completely out of character action that jars with everything that came before it. It’s wholly unsupported by any of her previous behaviour. This was, if anything, a “redemption split second”, not an arc. Followed by her DVD wherein she pointedly tells Sherlock to kill himself or get himself killed, it is to be understood that this behaviour was an aberration from the norm. Mary never changed. If she had, she would have gotten rid of her guns and ninja outfits and come properly clean with John without waiting until circumstances forced it out, and even then only giving him partial truths. It could almost be said that Mary was pathologically incapable of telling the truth, but that would be making excuses for her. She knew what she was about. She made all of these decisions by herself, to benefit herself and her own interests. 

The Mary in John’s head never existed. It can’t even be discussed in a conversation about Mary’s characterisation, because it wasn’t Mary. It was John. And what John said about Mary at the end of The Lying Detective is a displacement of his own thoughts about Sherlock. John has a lot of dissociation issues in this episode in particular, and what he says about Mary is a statement which actually applies directly to Sherlock, not to Mary. This is John simply unwilling to believe that his marriage was as abusive and terrible as it really was, and trying to make himself feel better about it. The one person who genuinely believes that John Watson is a far better human being than he actually is is Sherlock, who calls him the “bravest, kindest, and wisest human being (he has) ever had the good fortune of knowing”. Mary literally called John a dog. That’s decidedly not what he was aspiring to. The one time she says something genuine about John’s moral superiority over her, it’s worded as a complaint (”you don’t make it easy, do you… being so perfect”). It’s as close to a real compliment as Mary ever gets. Sherlock is the one who believes in John, who sees past the temper and the grumpiness to all of John’s sterling qualities of loyalty, kindness, courage, humour, and accepts him as he is in his everyday self, too. 

The post-mortem DVDs just don’t even make sense. How did Mary know she was going to die? Even if she suspected that one of the many enemies her life of professional criminality had made would come for her eventually, it seems impossible to avoid the conclusion that Mary was still, even beyond her death, doing everything in her power to drive a wedge between John and Sherlock, even to have Sherlock die. For her to finally assume credit for their friendship is an insult to the intelligence of the viewers. 

anonymous asked:

Im kind of in a bad mood can you tell me cute burkie stories

fear not, for i am about to tell you all of the burky stories that i can think of

  • we’ll start with the most iconic burky story: mistaking a stranger’s car for his uber. boy just got into a random-ass car. luckily the people were nice and took him to where he needed to go anyway
  • burky engages in almost constant twitter and instagram chirping with willy and latts
  • he will take any and all opportunities to engage in hugs
  • while tom wilson often claims that he (and occasionally latts) is the one to take care of burky, but really it’s the other way around. burky does all of the cooking (featuring swedish pancakes and swedish meatballs)
  • speaking of cooking: even though burky can make some swedish meatballs, he prefers to get them at ikea
  • when he was living with nicklas backstrom, evidently he acted like such a child that nicky actually called him his son
  • when the three brobeans lived together, burky and willy constantly engaged in wrestling, according to latts
  • once pronounced chipotle really badly
  • one time the brobeans were watching tv at home in the dark and burky spooked the fuck out of latts and willy laughed his ass of
  • he very much enjoys dubsmash (x)(x)
  • as a teen in sweden burky did some modeling (for shampoo i think) and the pictures are so hilarious and awkward and burky is embarrassed by the whole thing
  • when the caps went to joint base andrews they made burky be the dummy for the attack dog
  • burky went vacationing with the carlsons, and in a poolside moment they were having a discussion and gina tried very hard not to say a certain word in her video, but when john asked what they were referring to, andre just immediately stated “VAGINA
  • when the caps had their team bonding dart competition in new york it was around the time when burky was getting scratched, so in ovi’s instagram story you can see andre just drowning his sorrows in beer at eleven am
  • the boy CAN’T SING. at the halloween party he tried to sing abba karaoke and just failed miserably
  • speaking of the halloween party: he and willy went as the step brothers. fun fact: burky had never seen that movie before
  • nicky, mojo, and a swedish interviewer once pranked burky and the poor boy had no clue what was going on
  • he once posted a video of a snake in a cage, and he captioned the video “hate sneaks”
  • when the caps went to six flags in 2015, brooks laich convinced a terrified burky to go on the skydiving swing with him. brooks told andre he’d pull the cord on three but pulled it on one, causing some bloodcurling sceaming from andre and maniacal laughter from brooks
  • in the 2016 canine calendar shoot he was talking about how cute puppies are and how he just ones to take one home and cuddle everyday, AND THEN THE PUPPY CRIED AND HE GAVE IT A KISS
  • once played nhl 17 with willy, schmidty, and chorns; he scored an own goal and his teammate willy yelled at him
  • on swedish heritage night mojo stuffed some sort of cream roll into burky’s nose and burky declared “watch it jojo i’m coming for you”
  • went on a segway tour with nicky, mojo, and brooks laich, and i just….i can’t describe it you just have to watch
  • for picture day this year he fucking. with his hair. i can’t.
  • is the glue that holds the capitals together
  • god there’s so much i’m missing. the boy is so kind and cares so much and tries so hard what a gem
Evidence of Time Travel

In January of 1709 during the War of Spanish Succession and a notoriously harsh winter, a man was found just east of Tours walking on the frozen Loire river. Naked and covered in burns that took the shape of vertical stripes all over his torso and legs, the man was found to speak only English and a bit of an unidentifiable dialect of French or Italian. Believed to be an opposing soldier, he was held in a military prison until 1714.

During his time in the Tours prison, he made numerous bizarre claims. The man, who accounts record as calling himself “Alexandre Ramieresse” stated that he was from the future, coming from a city called “Baz-Dan.” He stated that he was a university professor and scientist and that he had accidentally thrown himself back in time about 300 years while developing a type of vehicle, which he claimed was supposed to send people across great distances in a second. His accounts of how it worked were stated to be gibberish by his captors.

Yesterday, February 18th 2016, Professor Alexander Ramirez of Boston University disappeared from François Rabelais University near Tours while working on a quantum entanglement study.

The description of “Alexandre Ramieresse” does indeed match Alexander Ramirez, bald with a thick black mustache is all that the historical records say about his appearance. But they do list a good number of his rantings and prophecies. Among them are claims that France and Germany would have two great battles in the 20th century, one of them due to a German Tyrant whose name was stated but not recorded; a claim that he flew to Tours in a large metal object with wings; a claim that people across the globe would one day be obsessed with a play called “La Guerre des étoiles” (Roughly translated “the war of stars”), and that they would spend most of their time writing words on communication devices called “His Salt” (“his salt” in French would be “sel fon”).

Alexandre Ramieresse died in 1716 and was buried in the Holy Innocents’ Cemetery in Paris, but his grave marker has never been positively identified. Notably though, in 1987, a geiger counter located a heavily radioactive corpse buried in the cemetery, which was removed for public safety. The corpse, unidentified, bore several anomalies, including a fatally high polonium levels and evidence of advanced dental surgery. Suggesting a further connection, individuals who had extended contact with Ramieresse were said to have gone bald and suffered from tumors. Alexandre Ramieresse himself was not stated to have had any deformities, but the bones of the removed corpse did bear signs of internal cancerous growth.

Most alarming of all though, is the will of Alexandre Ramieresse. Dictated to an avocet in 1715, the will is in English and though it does not definitively state that he had traveled in time, its actual contents are quite suggestive of the phenomenon. It reads in its entirety:

“To Monica I leave my home and its furnishings. To Maurice I leave my accounts at Banque Courtois and my cat, Frodo. To Marie I leave one hundred livres on the condition that she pass on my letter to be delivered to the François Rabelais University on February 15th, 2016.”

Upon reading this bizarre will, investigators checked with the University to see if any letters had been delivered. Indeed, one had been received on the 15th but had been stowed in a sorting pile due to its faded address through the 18th and was only opened this morning. The letter read:

“Alex- It’s you from the past. For the love of fuck don’t use a resistor on B-13 or B-15. It will send you back in time and hurt like a mother fucker. Also I think you forgot to throw out the expired eggs in the fridge. Have Marty toss them fast or it will stink up the house like one of Larry’s farts.”

The final evidence came this afternoon when investigators contacted Ramriez’s T.A., Martin Salandor Essex and sent him to the refrigerator in question. Upon opening it he reported a smell that he confirmed was indeed nearly identical to the farts of student Larry Perspex.

Upon learning the near incontrovertible evidence that time travel is real, Martin stated for the record: “It’s true. It’s all absolutely true: Larry farts like a fucking skunk on Taco Bell.”

4 | Save Me

BTS X READER: GANG / CRIME AU
word count: 3,076
not as long as usual woo

warnings: violence, gore probably smut at some point I mean it’s me we’re talking about, dead bodies, non-con etc. this chapter has mentions of not eating idk if i should disclose that but here we are

Originally posted by annabartollo

masterlist | ask | prev | next


“Taehyung. They’ve found the professor.”


“Y/N, are you awake? They want to go over the plan one last time.” Hoseok stood in the doorway to your grey haven, not trying to hide his bright and showy smile, “Namjoon’s waiting.”

“I’ll be there in a sec, just let me get dressed first.”

It had been three days since the whereabouts of your old professor Mr Lee had was discovered. Three days since Jimin had been shot. Three days since you had shot the leader of a rival gang. Three days since Namjoon had almost killed you for being so reckless.
Only nightmares and dread pooled your thoughts, you couldn’t believe that you had actually shot somebody. Much to gang Bangtan’s dismay, you hadn’t eaten or had a good nights sleep since the night the bullet penetrated Jackson’s shoulder, you were still in shock.
If things weren’t already problematic enough, Mr Lee had been spotted too close to HQ for comfort, and he was looking for you. The professor you once trusted had now put a price on your head. Since the elusive man was seen back in town almost 60 people in the ‘industry’ had been killed, everybody suspected he was to blame. The odds of survival weren’t in your favour.

Walking downstairs into the lounge you saw everybody seated. Namjoon was sitting in an old eccentric armchair separate from the others. Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung sat on the same long luxurious sofa, with Hoseok perched on the arm next to Jungkook. Jin and Yoongi were sat on the edge of the coffee table, their backs facing you. The seven men abruptly stopped their conversation when Taehyung caught a glimpse of you, both he and Jimin immediately stood up so you had somewhere to sit. Yoongi scoffed scornfully at their action, ridiculing them,

Keep reading

Okay

{told in 3rd person limited: Shiro}

It’s been bothering Shiro for quite some time now.

Lance sneaking off to the bathroom or to the side for longer than the usual. Covering his mouth when he coughs— but he keeps his mouth covered for a while after he’s done coughing. Wiping blood on his gear and clothes sneakily.

Shiro at first thought Lance caught some form of TB or pneumonia and it could’ve gotten to the other team mates, so he talked to Lance about it privately.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Lance scrubbed his gear with the cloth.

Shiro’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Really? I don’t want you or the team to get sick… you know you don’t have to hand wash that right? The castle will just do it.”

“I like to do it. It calms me down.” Lance replied still refusing to look at Shiro, focusing harder on shining the chest plate on his lap.

“Okay…” Shiro hesitated before leaving the room. He was still uncertain about what was going on with Lance so he investigated further.

Shiro— against his own morals— went through Lance’s room while he was away and looked for evidence. When nothing was found, he asked the other team members.

“Nothing unusual. Though he coughs more than he talks.” Pidge scratched at her back while staring at the screen.

“Hell if I’d know.” Keith shrugged as best as he could before swinging his sword down on a robot. “He does seem less chatty though. I’m not complaining.”

“Lance? Well to be honest I don’t spend too much time with him. All he does is make passes at me.” Allura shook her head. The tone she used made Shiro frown yet he continued on with his search.

Hunk and Coran’s answers were the most helpful: “We saw Lance coughing in the bridge after dinner and a petal fell on the floor. I figured it was from what I made but now that I think about it; it was bloody.” Hunk nodded slowly to himself.

“And he cleaned it up! Quite well I might add! Nice to see he’s looking out for the whole team.” Coran added.

Then all of Shiro’s suspicions were shattered and he was left with one horrible answer.

But it all seemed to fit. Why he was so secretive. The blood, excessive cleaning, distancing himself from others, and consistent coughing.

Lance was suffering from Hanahaki disease.

But Shiro had only heard about that in stories his father had told him. Warnings not to fall in love so easily, and the rumors of people in town suffering from it. Luckily no one had died that he knew of… but this was Lance and it could get complicated.

In order to save Lance, Shiro felt the need to confront him again, and with good luck too because when Shiro opened the door to Lance’s room… the blue paladin was curled into a ball on his bed surrounded by blood and purple flower petals.

“Lance…”

anonymous asked:

Why do you think Nick rarely calls Judy by her first name?

This may sound slightly weird, but I think it has a lot to do with the old saying, “If you name it, you get attached to it.” 

As we know, Nick doesn’t like to get close to people, since he lives in this mindset where the world is out to get him. He doesn’t want other people to hurt him, so he doesn’t let them get close enough to. Calling people nicknames is a way of keeping his distance, of not getting attached. Nick isn’t getting close to Judy Hopps, he’s being bothered by a rabbit, a meter maid. It’s very impersonal. 

When Nick first meets Judy, he calls her all kinds of nicknames - evidence that he’s keeping his distance. He doesn’t know her, he doesn’t want to, so he avoids attachment by keeping her at a safe distance. 

The first time we see him come close to calling Judy by her real name is after he defends her to Bogo. 

By this point, they’ve grown to be a lot closer. This is a sign that Nick is allowing himself to open up to Judy, which is shown by how he literally does so moments after, when he tells her about his childhood. 

The first (and only) time he calls her by her real name, Judy, is when he thinks she could be hurt. 

At this point the two are full-on partners. They’ve connected and become close over their experiences, and Nick has fully opened himself up to her. Instead of trying to push her away, Nick calling Judy by her first name is a sign that he deeply cares and is worried for her. 

After Nick becomes an officer, we see he still calls Judy nicknames, but they’re no longer in a derogatory way. He’s not trying to belittle her, but instead, the names are terms of endearment. 

I think that him calling her, “Carrots,” and so on is his way of saying that he cares for her, without actually having to flat-out say it. It’s a different way of holding his emotions at bay, however, this time it’s in a far more positive light. 

A small note on Grantaire characterization:

I cannot tell you how many edits/headcanons/fics/etc. I have seen that either outright call Grantaire a cynic or have him express cynical views on something.

This may be a bit pedantic, but Grantaire is not a cynic. He is a skeptic.

Among all these passionate hearts and all these undoubting minds there was one skeptic. […] Grantaire was a man who took good care not to believe in anything.” Victor Hugo takes the time to not only specifically name his outlook, but to go even further and specify what he means by it.

Quick crash course on Cynic vs Skeptic:

Cynicism is an outlook on life, a lens through which to view it, that regardless of evidence, causes the cynic to expect the worst of a person or situation in terms of their results or intentions. Cynics can often believe that people are incapable of altruism, are selfish, will always be selfish, and thus improvements in society won’t be made because everyone acts in their own self-interest. These are beliefs that cynics can hold, regardless of how much proof they are given to the contrary, purely because they believe the worst of everything. This is pessimism to the extreme.

Skepticism is about evidence surrounding someone or something, or more specifically, the lack thereof. Unless given irrefutable proof, a skeptic will feel/express doubt over a purpose or outcome. They may doubt that the outcome to a situation will be good, but it is important at the same time to recognize that without a lot of evidence, they will also have doubt about the inevitability of a bad outcome.

Grantaires’ position in Les Amis is “juxtaposition” to the others. He does not necessarily believe that everything will go wrong, but it can seem that way sometimes when “all these undoubting minds” are around him going ‘This will work! Things will get better!’ and Grantaire is the one going ‘…but it might not.’

This nuance can be hard to emulate thought, and at the same time, you could argue that throughout both the brick and the musical that Grantaire expresses more cynical views than skeptical ones, which…. yeah that argument could certainly be made. If this is true though, he would still be a cynic hiding under the guise of skepticism.

On the other hand, words aren’t real and these characters and stories have morphed into something even bigger than the author’s original text, so I guess,,, feel free to ignore everything and write whatever you’d like?

tldr: I like philosophy and nitpicking, and grantaire doesn’t believe the worst, he’s just doubtful about anything, good or bad. Write what you love regardless.


ps. On another, brighter note, this means that Grantaire’s “fanaticism” over Enjolras is even more interesting. Whereas its possible that Grantaire has just made an exception in his personal philosophy, bc like Enjolras is pretty and loud about his feelings–it would be understandable, lbr–another possibility to this would be that Grantaire maintains his skepticism, but believes he has enough evidence about Enjolras to place his belief behind him, capable of being terrible and all.

anonymous asked:

Okay but what if Harry's on radio 1 with Nick and he's trying to pry into Harry's love life and he's usually one to be dodgy and vague but FOR ONCE he says he's found someone because he's SO happy and confident in the relationship you two share and he gets carried away talking about the stars in your eyes and admits that he's in love (!!!!) with you and what if it's the first time he's ever said it and he doesn't realize you're listening in to the radio BUT. YOU. ARE.

And this happens right around the seven month mark, right? And Harry’s just popped in to chat with Nick, no real reason behind it, so they’re just talking and laughing, and Harry will introduce the songs before they play them from time to time, and they have casual conversations in between each tune, and you’ve been lying in Harry’s bed back at his place and listening, because you just couldn’t get yourself to fall back asleep when he woke you up to kiss you goodbye and Nick and Harry are always good entertainment. 

After a bit, though, Nick asks Harry what he’s been up to, and he shrugs and tells him he’s taking a couple weeks off before it’s time to start rehearsing for the arena tour, but your cheeks heat up at the response Nick has for him. “Y’gonna’ be spending that time with anyone special?” Nick asks, and you imagine Harry’s probably covering his face with his hands like he does when he gets extra bashful – it’s one of the cutest things about him, he’s like a little kid. “I knew better than to come see you, Nicholas,” Harry says, but there’s a smile evident in his voice, and that makes you smile as you roll over to hug his pillow close to you. 

“Oh, give it up, Styles. We’ve all seen the pictures. You can tell us. This is a safe place,” Nick presses on, and you roll your eyes at the fact that Nick is pretending to not know whether the two of you are together or not, when he was just over for dinner a couple of nights ago. You hear Harry’s breathy sort of laugh, the kind he lets out when you start kissing all over him for no particular reason, and you grin. 

You don’t expect him to confirm he’s in a relationship, let alone that it’s with you specifically. You get enough hate on social media just for the fact that you exist in the same general vicinity as him sometimes. It had been your idea to maybe not hold hands and appear so couple-y when cameras are around, too, because you never wanted Harry to think that you didn’t understand that things would be different with him. Relationships, in the past, have been hard for him to maintain with all that comes with being Harry Styles, and you get that, so when he says ‘yes’ you have a moment of genuine surprise.

“Reckon I will be, yeah,” he tells Nick and the entire world simultaneously. He must surprise Nick, too, because the next thing you hear is Nick practically yelling about how ‘you heard it here first – the notoriously private Harry Styles has confirmed his relationship status!” Harry groans in the background and Nick laughs. “You’re happy, then?” Nick questions just after, and you can still hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he speaks. “’M quite happy,” he confirms, and you smile wider, burying your face in his pillow for just a moment and breathing in his scent. “Do you think it’s love?” Nick presses on, and Harry waits just a beat before he answers and it makes you all the more anxious for his answer. Neither of you have said that yet. “’M pretty sure of it, yeah. Love her quite a lot,” he answers, and you’re smiling just as big as you’re certain he is. “Don’t tell her, though. I haven’t even told her, yet. She’s at home sleepin’,” Harry giggles, and you grab for your phone beside you and open your messages with Harry and type: Can’t sleep without you here with me, actually. You wait a few moments more before you type out the words: ‘Told my mum the same thing you told Nick this morning a few days ago btw x’ and press send. 

It’s only about an hour later before he’s home and he finds you sitting at island in the kitchen on a barstool, wearing one of his shirts and eating a bowl of cereal. You smile at him as he walks towards you, and you kiss him back as soon as you feel his lips on yours. “Hi,” you say, after a breathless sort of kiss and he grins. “Told your mum y’quite in love with me?” He questions, and you shake your head, your eyes wide and a hand resting on his chest. “Oh, god, honey – no. I meant I told her I knew better than to come see her. Tried t’send me off with a million tupperware containers with enough food to feed a small village,” you tell him, but you’re smiling before you even get the whole sentence out of your mouth, and he smiles wider once he realizes you’re joking. 

“You’re a menace,” he tells you, and you press your lips to his once again. “I love you,” you murmur, and he kisses you again before he repeats the three words back to you. “I love you.” 

BTS reaction to an accidental kiss with their best friend

A/N: Gosh at this point, these things should be called drabbles, not reactions anymore. This is like 300 words per member  y I K E S. Which is why I have to put this under the read more cut, sigh. PLUS, I know I have a couple of requests but at this rate, it’s going to take me a while! I just thought of this cute idea though one day and I was like “yeeep, I gotta churn this out first before I work on requests–it’s too cute.” I am sorry not sorry for Namjoon’s imagine. It is so cliche I’m screaming. Actually, all of this is too gosh darn fluffy and cute ew. Some of them probably doesn’t even make sense bUT YA KNOW WHAT: please enjoy <3 

Keep reading

svoba  asked:

Are you still writing "A Hundred Lesser faces"? Don´t stop there - that was perfectly wonderful, but I want more. I need more. What happened next? What about Jenny!!?? What Laoghaire? ... What about Fraser Ridge? Do you planing another chapters?

A Hundred Lesser Faces: Eleven

  • Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? :  [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)
  • Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine) (Ten) ]

Eleven 

Previously: Jamie and Claire are still at the Inverness inn to which they traveled after reuniting at the stones (in the nick of time). After talking through a number of things, particularly Claire’s built-up fears around sex, they managed it….with distinction :D. They fell asleep happy and safe in one another, having experienced that sense of ‘heat and light’ together that they each have lacked for so long.


Waking to see the morning sunlight igniting his curls into radiance, framing his still-sleeping face…. 

Watching him, waiting eagerly, as though for a shooting star, to perhaps glimpse a fleeting, somnolent smile…

Leaning over and kissing his face, smoothing away that long, beautiful hair and whispering a secret that only his dreams would know: 

God…how I do love you, Jamie Fraser….’


Yes, that’s how I would have LIKED to awaken on this blissfully-complete morning. 

As it was, I was JOLTED out of sleep by a great cataclysm taking place on the mattress beneath me and a stream of unintelligible curses ricocheting around the walls like so many whizzing demons straight out of the bloody pit. 

“JESUSHAYCH—Rizz—Vel— SHHHIT—” 

Damn me, I couldn’t manage to get my tongue to catch up with my brain or my eyes to unblur, but I managed to rally and slur out like a lunatic: “HURT??”

“M’back,” came the strangled reply as my hands found him. 

As my eyes adjusted, the room revealed my bare-arsed husband contorted into an impossible shape on his side, trying to both clutch at and keep from moving the muscles of his lower back.  

“Roll onto your belly,” I instructed at once, supporting his hips with both hands to help keep the motion steady. Lord, I thought he would lose a tooth at any moment from how tightly that jaw was clenched against the pain.  “Has this happened before? Did you injure it? When? Wh—”

“Sassenach, a moment,” he moaned. Using the strength of his arms, he  lowered his chest the few inches to the mattress with a great gasp, exhaling stertorously before answering. “Not injured, not anytime that I can recall, but aye, this has happened bef—gahh—” Another shudder as he laid his forehead to rest on his arms. “Several times over the last few years. Canna explain it, it just—Christ— seems to come on as it damn well pleases.”

“And in the times that it’s happened?” I balanced on my knees as I ran my hands over his bare skin, checking for any herniation or trace of a tear, though I thought either to be unlikely.  “What have you done to get rid of it?”

He gave an approximation of a shrug. “Waited for it to pass.”

“For how long?”

“One, maybe two days.”

“Of course you did, bloody hero.”

Laying both palms flat on the small of his back, I applied a gentle pressure, then jumped as he arched in a great spasm of pain. He was strung tight as a bowstring, the poor man, the muscles taut and convulsing like mad. 

“But where are ye going?” he blurted in acute distress as he felt me leave the mattress. “Sassenach, please, dinna—”

“If you lasted one or two days in pain last time,” I said firmly, adjusting my blanket toga at the door, “you can wait twenty minutes for me to fetch some oil and hot water.”

It actually only took ten.

“The cook was very helpful,” I explained as I carefully climbed back onto the bed with my tray of supplies. “Grinning at me like a cat in cream all the while. Do I have you to thank for that, by any chance?”

An interrogatory grunt. 

Ded ye have a PLAYSENT evening, then, lassie?’ I drawled in imitation of Ms. Fiona’s jocular teasing below. “Ye wairked him that WEE BET too hard, sounds to me! Och, but I’ll wager he’s no’ altogether fashed aboot et, backache or noo! Ye braw wee thing!” 

Terrrrrrible,” Jamie laughed, then instantly regretted it. 

“Oof, sorry, darling, here you are,” I said, sobering at once and lifting the hot brick wrapped in rags. “Show me where?”  Feeling the gentle heat settle on the spot, Jamie moaned again, but this time in relief. “Try to relax your back as best you can, my love….That’s it….Let the heat soak in….try not to tense up again….Good….This will help, I promise.” 

I couldn’t help admiring him while he lay obediently still, stretched out on his belly like a cat in the sun. His body, though not quite as it had looked at twenty-five, was still firm and beautifully fit. It seemed—fuller, somehow; muscled, certainly, perhaps even more densely than before, but with a less chiseled aspect, to my eye, that paradoxically made him look all the more more powerful. 

I couldn’t resist laying a hand on his buttocks to feel the neat, shaped muscles beneath. He started a bit, but then relaxed, humming a happy, contented note. “It’s wonderful to have ye touching me again, Sassenach,” he said huskily.

“It’s wonderful to do the touching,” I murmured, meaning it. I surveyed him eagerly, each long-lined limb and gentle curve, and felt a sudden twinge of something like annoyance. “How bloody have you managed to stay so fit?” 

I mean honestly! The man was a goddamned Adonis. 

He snorted, but answered readily enough. “A bachelor’s diet… That in addition to lifting heavy crates and operating the printing press day after day—It all does a man good, I suppose.”

“Evidently so!’ I adjusted the position of the brick. “Truly, you look wonderful, Jamie, whatever you did to maintain yourself.”

“Well, I…” He stopped, sounding surprised and a little hesitant. “Ye ken, I suppose I’m grateful that, in all the confusion and rushing about, I didna have much time to worry about my vanity.” 

“Didn’t you?” 

“I had to catch ye first, after all,” he said, with a smile, reaching back to touch my thigh. “But I do wonder…. Do I look verra much an old man, Sassenach? Seen now in all my flesh, I mean?” 

“Old?” I shorted. “At three-and-forty? Hardly.” 

“Well, but many a man in this time looks considerably the worse for years at such an age, Sassenach. Surely you’ll remember that yourself, from before.” 

“True… but you’re hardly the sort likely to waste away from bodily neglect, Jamie Fraser.” 

“No, indeed,” he said, smiling and sounding more than a bit relieved. “I did always—well—” 

He broke off, shyly, enough so that I was grinning like a fool in anticipation of the secret he obviously wanted to share. “What did you do, exactly?” 

He shrugged, and this time, it didn’t hurt him. “I tried to do all the wee things ye’d taught me, ken? Cleaning my teeth of an evening or dipping a blade into boiling water before touching food wi’ it, and the like. Eating live things, as often as I could, too.” I was beaming, but he wasn’t finished. “Even when I was in prison, I made it my duty to see that all my men ate as many green plants as could be scavenged, to ward off the scurvy, so….” He broke off, still that shy, pleased smile in his voice. “Those things could only have helped in terms of preservation, aye?” 

“Most definitely,” I said, genuinely touched and not a little choked up. “The nutrition, especially.” I couldn’t help bending over him and kissing the warm skin behind his exposed ear, then the russet curls above. “Thank you for taking it all to heart and taking care of yourself; and doing your best to share it. I do hope it helped others, but if it meant that you alone were able to keep all your teeth, then I’ll still thank my lucky stars.” I kissed his temple. “And on a purely aesthetic level…’all your flesh’ looks incredible, Jamie.”

“That’s most kind of ye to say, mo nighean donn,” he said, his voice a soft purr in his ever-relaxing state. “I’m no’ saying this only to be kind in return, but…” He turned his head to lay on one cheek, craning his neck around. With a fiendish grin, he tugged the blanket from out of its tuck under my armpits and growled in soft appreciation at the sight left in its wake. “Ye look unbelievably fine, yourself.

I flushed and grinned, for, much to my own surprise, I believed him, my not inconsiderable insecurities and fears of the night before having evaporated into the dawn. “Ten or more years of working on one’s feet does a lass good, herself, I suppose.”

“Your feet?” he grunted as he reluctantly turned his head back forward, his voice muffling into his arm. “How do ye mean?”

Had I not mentioned in the letter? No….I suppose I hadn’t been able to bring myself to say much about what *I* had been up to in our twenty years apart. It had been easier to focus upon the news of Bree. No use giving him anything of me to drive him mad, I’d thought at the time. 

Shaking off the remembered despair of that day, I brightened and said, a little shy now, myself,  “After Bree was grown old enough to go to school, I got my medical degree. I became a doctor.”

Jamie’s head whipped back around over his shoulder, a movement simultaneous with the immediate unbidden ‘GAHH!’ of pain that ensued. 

“CAREFUL!!” I snapped, “Don’t you dare thrash about like that! Lay your head back down this minute!”

He obeyed, grunting and wincing, but tugged me up toward the pillows so he could look me in the eye without twisting. His eyes were wide and blue as he stared. “Ye became a doctor? A physician?”

“Yes?” I said, suddenly rather nervous, given the intensity of his disbelief. “Erm….a surgeon, more specifically, a doctor that cuts people up to fix the ailments inside the body— cutting out sickness and so forth, then stitching them up again. It’s…” I cleared my throat. “Well, it’s a rather prestigious specialty, even as far as physicians go.” 

“Claire…. That’s—” He’d been watching me intently as I spoke, his smile growing wider and wider. Now, he was unabashedly beaming. “That’s marvelous, lass. Did ye no’ say once that all the doctors were men?”

“I was the one and only woman in my class,” I admitted, glowing with no little pride under his eye. 

“Oh, well done, Sassenach!” He beamed up at me, running his hand over my leg, squeezing. “Tell me ye showed them all up tidily—Made them think twice or thrice about underestimating a woman’s capabilities?” 

I grinned and nodded. “Made something of a point of it, I must say.” 

He laughed, delighted. “God, how I should have loved to see the looks on their faces.” 

“Well, it wasn’t always good fun, seeing those faces, but the end satisfaction more than compensated for the occasional nastiness.”

Removing the brick from his back, I poured some sweet oil into my palms. As the heels of my hands met the now-supple skin, he gave an ecstatic groan of pleasure. 

“Lord, Jamie! You’ll give Fiona even more to smirk about if you carry on like that!”

“Feels grand,” he said in his defense into the pillow.

“So I can HEAR! Wake the whole tavern, why don’t you!”

Despite the rather lewd soundtrack, the massage did work wonders, and soon, he was able to move his head and neck about with no pain to the strained back. “Whatever it was about the profession that kept ye on your feet,” he said, doing so to look back at me again, “it did do ye much good. I mean, Christ, lass, ye look scarcely a day over thirty.” 

I snorted so loudly my hands skidded off his rump and the resultant disturbance made the bed timbers squeak. 

“It’s true!” he insisted, almost affronted. “I mean, look at ye! What is your age? Forty….?”

“Forty-eight.” I groaned with all the agony of defeat, working my thumbs into the base of his spine.

“Mm-HM!” he grunted in triumph, a suspicion confirmed. 

“….What?” 

Witch.”

“Where I come from, witches are well-known for looking old,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And if I’m a witch, what does that make you, being married to one, mm?”

“Happy. Lucky.”

“Too right!” 

I could feel the muscles easing under my hands. “You know, I’m fairly confident I massaged you like this once or twice before.”

“I recall. My neck was terribly tight once on Charlie’s campaign, and ye sorted it right out. You’ve always had a good touch, mo chridhe.”

“Did it not occur to you to try massage, then, those other times you threw out your back like this? Rather than waiting about for days for it to pass on its own?”

A too-long pause followed, and when he spoke, his voice was clipped. “Aye, it did.” 

I let the silence ask the question for me. 

“There are verra few people I’d allow to see my bared back, Sassenach…. let alone touch it.”

And somehow, that single statement made me sadder than nearly anything else could in relation to what Jamie’s life had been like since we parted. 

I wondered suddenly whether he had allowed Laoghaire, but then banished the thought, feeling it an intrusion even to speculate on the possibilities. Still, to have no one in his life—either to hand when needed, or at all—who could do such a task for him; no one he trusted enough to render him such an intimate service… 

I leaned down, filled with tenderness and heartache, both, and kissed his shoulder, then the broadest of his scars, laying my head gently upon him, just to have him know I was there. Here. Always, 

My heart thumped with a sudden warmth, a memory. He’d allowed me to see these scars that first night at Leoch. For whatever reason, by whatever nudging of fate, he’d decided to trust menearly at once, before I even knew his real identity or he, mine. 

The shoulder beneath my cheek heaved with a slight shrug. “You’ve always been a special case, my Sassenach.”

Mindreader,” I muttered in mock-accusation, planting one more kiss and sitting up, grateful for the lightening of the mood. “Bloody great warlock.”

As I finished the massage, he stretched and began to sit up with intake of breath that, quite suddenly, broke off; not in pain, but from an unspoken word abruptly halted. 

“What is it? Does it still hurt?” 

“No, it—Well, a bit, still, but no, I can move now, at least. Only…would ye be willing to have a look at my leg as well? Medically speaking, I mean. It doesna pain me all the time,” he added hastily with a sad smile, “and certainly not at the moment, but as you’re a physician now?” 

My gut clenched. I had all but forgotten the passage from the Lord Melton’s journal. ‘A great wound, festering and pustulant.’ I swallowed, nodded, and whispered, “Of course, Jamie.”  

He rolled onto his back, eyes carefully cast aside, though I don’t think it was lost on him that it took all my will and restraint not to gasp from the shock and grief that welled up in me at the sight, the sheer fury at whoever had dared to hurt him so. The fact that a twenty-year-old wound could still look as gruesome as that—

“Jamie,” I moaned in a whisper, spanning my hand across his thigh to better see the eight full inches of twisted, ghost-white scarring running up the thigh and toward his groin. “My God.”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, certainly,” he said, uneasy, reaching for the blanket, meaning to cover himself. “I’m sorry, lass, ye dinna have to—”

No!” I breathed, reaching out my other hand and laying it over his belly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it—It just—” I swallowed, but the lump in my throat still remained as I looked into his face. “It makes it so real…. What you went through. You didn’t die, but—God, how you suffered.”

He opened his mouth several times, different responses dancing through his eyes. In the end, all he could do was nod. 

A tear rolled down my cheek as I ran my thumb across the mangled bit of scar barely covering his femoral artery. “How on earth did you survive this?” I whispered. 

“….Jenny.”

The silence rang around us for a long time, unbroken.  

Jenny, beloved sister who had watched over him all his life, who had saved it after Culloden; to whom I must owe my own, if she personally had stood herself between him and this certain death, refusing to let it claim him. 

….Jenny, who out of spite and God-knew-what-else, had nearly cost us both this second chance at a life together. 

However would we—could we ever— reconcile the two?  

“I suppose,” Jamie sighed, reading my thoughts once again, “we really must be discussing what’s to be done, about Jenny. Laoghaire. Us.” 

I nodded, knowing he was perfectly correct, but with my own thoughts still many, many years away, on Culloden field, where my heart had lain and suffered. On impulse, I bent over him and kissed slowly along the entire length of the scar, pressing my cheek against his thigh afterward, as though touch and sheer will and desperate love could erase the vestiges of his agony, all of it. 

“I’m glad ….that ye didna have to see me that way, Claire, when I lay in fever…” His voice was choked and hoarse with emotion. His hand came to rest on my scalp, warm and complete as an embrace.  “…..but I’d have done anything to have ye there wi’ me, even so.”

I reached up and found his other hand, squeezing hard. “So would I.” 


Remember the time when Rick didn’t trust Michonne, when he saw her as a potential threat. That time when he wondered if she was worth all the lives in his prison …

It’s a long time ago when we had to look for evidence and debate with unbelievers …

- He  will be with andrea as in comics

- They have no chemistry 

- They are like brother and sister

 - There is no sign that they will get together

- Jessie is made for Rick

- Rick does not deserve Michonne

 - Michonne and Rick will never be together

- Between them, it’s not serious

- No, there is still no chemistry between them

Now, they are Alexandria’s dad and mom, husband and wife… *sighs* It’s so good to be a Richonner.

Season 8 tomorrow, I know we will have a few Richonne scenes because Danai was filming other projects during 8A but still, every Richonne scene, every Grimes 2.0 scene will be a pure bliss! I want a lot but I will be happy with a few because I know where we come from!

Let’s this family make me cry again!

youcancallmesassypants  asked:

I would love to see head cannons for Asuma getting drunk with his s/o. ( I swear he doesn't get as much love as he deserves), a jealous Itachi, and Shikamaru sfw and nsfw.

Drunk Asuma Sarutobi Headcanons

Originally posted by shisuithegreekgod

• When Asuma goes out for drinks his main intent is to get drunk, the whole idea of social drinking is really lost on him – where you’re supposed to take your time and not get too hammered. He really likes the idea of losing control, and unwinding entirely. After only a few drinks, Asuma turns into a smiling mess, he’ll start laughing over nothing and he’ll have this giddy grin perpetually stuck on his face.

• This can really be awful at times, but after a drink or two Asuma starts telling people what he really thinks – no filter what so ever. Usually he is the calm, reserved type, but when he’s forsaken sobriety all of his thoughts just come flying out no matter the consequences.

• Expects you to watch for him when you’re both drinking. It can be a pain in the ass if you want to relax and maybe get drunk yourself. He just throws that responsibility on your shoulders unfortunately, so it can really sour the whole time if getting drunk and having someone watch you is your plan. It’s funny but Asuma has trouble lighting his own cigarettes sometimes when he’s especially plastered – you have to light them for him if you don’t want to see his whole beard light up in flames.

• Is surprisingly good at sex even when he’s drunk. Of course it will be a little sloppier than usually, it’s hard to have amazing motor control when your drunk, but his lazy and lingering movements prove to be quite hedonic during oral because he will drag his tongue all over. When it actually comes to sliding his cock in, he has these slow erotic strokes that can just drive you crazy and make you want to scream.

Jealous Itachi Headcanons

Originally posted by fullchakra

• Itachi himself isn’t a jealous person. He’s not one to become green with envy if someone hits on you or if you hug one of your guy friends. Go ahead and kiss your foreign friend’s cheek, he won’t mind a lick. Being platonically affectionate to your pals won’t throw him into a frenzy or make him doubt his place in a relationship with you. 

• Thing is, if Itachi of all people is with you that means he explicitly trusts you. Do try not to break said trust. Heartbreak is a serious condition in the Uchiha clan. Nevertheless, if he does begin to suspect that you’re drifting away from him and spending more time than necessary with friends or that hottie from the Hyuuga clan, then, yeah, doubt may speckle a bit in his mind. He won’t jump to conclusions unless given reason to. He would rather finish putting the pieces together than key your car singing Carrie Underwood’s hit song Before He Cheats with only a couple pieces of evidence.  

• And, you know, he communicates with you. Any and all issues can resolved with some talking in your relationship. If he has suspicions, he will sit you down and discuss. No sugarcoating, straight to the point, nice and painless. You can enjoy a hand squeeze or even a faint smile when you soothe his worries and tell him that guy friend of yours was just that – a friend. 

• All in all he’s not the jealous type, and if he did get the j-word, it would be worked out. 

• Trying to make him jealous on purpose isn’t cute, so do not try it unless you want a serious discussion with how your relationship will go on from then on.

Shikamaru SFW and NSFW Headcanons

Originally posted by ginny-sama

SFW

• There was an exact second in which Shikamaru knew he had fallen in love. There was absolutely nothing extraordinaire in that moment: he just saw your back as you walked in Konoha’s streets. But his heart was breaking his ribs, his stomach was full of butterflies and his face was burning. Then, he knew there wasn’t anything that could be done. After that, everything was strategies: he exploited his brain until every single neuron was thinking in a way for you to fall in love with him.• He is not much of an eater -it is too troublesome-, usually, Chouji or his family have to remember him. It is not that he doesn’t want: his thoughts always distract him, clouds float over his head, and he always finds something more interesting to do. He has spent entire days cloud-gazing, forgetting to do anything related to his physical needs.

• Shikamaru tends to forget important dates. Birthdays, anniversaries, important outings… He is also unapologetic about it: his S/O has to understand it. He cares about you, but it just isn’t the way he lives. He isn’t one to plan long term, Shikamaru prefers surprise gifts to show affection. 

• He is going to complain about how much work a relationship needs while smiling and kissing your neck. Shikamaru is always making his best effort to please you, but he wants to keep a certain image. He is lazy, except with you, but complaining is the perfect way to ask for more attention. If he does something difficult and troublesome for you, then, he deserves more kisses in return. 

• Shikamaru finds dandelions extremely interesting. They have accompanied him in his lazy afternoons. While laying on the grass, they tingle his skin. He loves watching them disintegrate when the wind is blowing. More than once, Shikamaru has found himself making a wish.

NSFW

• His favorite kind of sex is lazy sex. No frustration, no rough moves, no heavy atmosphere. He loves sloppy kisses and wandering caresses and soft moans. Shikamaru thinks love is something slow and dainty, and although he can have sex full of harshness and tension, nothing makes him happier than sweat bathing your sleepy face in the mornings.

• Finds your naked body extremely alluring. Shikamaru can spend hours just observing you. Every blemish, every scar, every part of your skin excites him. He especially loves running his fingers around your navy.

• Although he is pretty good at oral, he hates giving it. Shikamaru is more of a receiver; Shikamaru’s penis is really sensitive, particularly in the tip, and for him, almost nothing can compare to the feeling of your tongue licking it.  About pleasing you he prefers masturbating, either fingering or handjobs.

• His favorite position is the reverse cowgirl. Although there is not much physical contact, Shikamaru finds very exciting having you control all the action. While comfortably lying on his back, he likes running his fingers through your back or slapping your ass. 

• Likes outdoor sex.  The thrill of being caught gets him going. For him, the more rural the place, the better. He loves how your face contrast with the sky. Teasing him in public or while cloud-gazing is the easiest way to get Shikamaru going.