here is my impression of a horse

anonymous asked:

Okay. Real Talk here. I don't know why, but I'm imagining Dio being like this Gaston styled Hunter of centaurs, and now I'm just wondering how Jona will react!

My headcanon was worse xD I imagined Dio was a satyr. But he is jealous of Jonathan who is so strong and impressive. So he kills him and switches lower bodies with him and becomes a centaur. Then when he makes Giorno he is sort of a deer centaur  due to the goat and horse mixing??? I made this headcanon because @badlydrawngangstar and i were discussing what giorno would be in the event if she had the time.

but your headcanon is more nice to Dio. and much more cool I think. Jonathan would probably take it upon himself to kill Dio, as he doesnt want his fellow centaurs to be hunted down, and by a puny human no less.-destiny

Three Days, Lafayette x Reader

Prompt: could you do a lafayette x reader soulmate au? thank youuu!!:


Warnings: Cursing (the usual), mentions of alcohol consumption and drunkedness, period-typical sexism, etc.


This thing literally spiraled out of my hands. I was supposed to sit down to write a shorter fic and I ended up writing the longest fic I’ve posted to date. 

I want to thank all of you for the lovely things you’ve been saying about the blog, like holy shit y’all are super sweet. 

Anyway, enjoy my reiteration of the Lafayette reincarnation, soulmate AU thing. Much love. xx

8th of November, 1780

The rain was cold on your face, and your skirts were no doubt ruined by now. You couldn’t find much in you to care.

How long you had stood there, with mud crawling up your shoes and socks, you didn’t know. The rain had been pouring for far longer though, that was for sure.

It was almost hilariously easy to go back to the party—the one being thrown in the honor of some scattered group of soldiers you knew but didn’t care about—if you wanted to. You didn’t want to; that was the entire point of the silent vigil you kept by the stables, letting the dirt and water thoroughly soil the dress your maids spent the better part of the week sprucing up and repairing of any running threads or loose hems.  

The Schuyler mansion glittered attractively in the distance, and in the cold, damp marsh of the stables, looked incredibly inviting. You knew, from experience, that the halls were warm with light and conversation. You knew that Angelica was probably (no, definitely) dazzling the room with her dizzying presence and slightly overwhelming charisma. You knew that Peggy was dancing the night away, the only sights of her you will catch a flutter of skirts as she was whisked away by some general or other. You knew that Eliza would be engaged in conversation with a handful of delegates, all of them staring openly at the middle Schuyler sister, who while not as handsome as the youngest or as openly flirtatious as the eldest, had her own brand of charm and youth that could ensnare even the hardest of hearts.

You knew that the entire galaxy that was held in that mansion, no matter how small, was falling in love with the fires residing in the darling sisters who inhabited it. (Angelica a powerful flare, Peggy a saucy ember, Eliza a tempered flame that sometimes caught you by surprise by how spiteful it could be.)  

The rain plowed on, relentless, and you managed to get impossibly more soaked than you were in the first place. The cold had, by then, long seeped into your bones, and desperate as you were to restore some kind (any kind) of body heat, your conviction proved far too strong to out rule the crawling, inside-out ache of the chill.

You were an oddity if there ever was one.

With the all-encompassing demand for freedom and revolution and warwarwar, you stood out as the white flag amongst the sea of red. Your parents were well-known pacifists, and you had been raised under a roof that promoted peace and quiet means of protest. However, as docile and gentle your parents were in displaying their views, you were…not.

The entire approach the Continental Army was taking was just all wrong.

“You can’t win our country through these means,” you had said that evening to one lieutenant, who had looked at you as though you were about to sprout wings and fangs.

“Girl,” the lieutenant had said (you never caught his name), carefully, like he wasn’t sure you quite understood. “We are in the middle of war.”

“It doesn’t have to be war,” you said earnestly, pleading that he understand what you were trying to say. But alas, as always, you were cast aside with a shake of the head and a scathing mutter.

You left the ballroom without so much as a goodbye to the sisters, something that gnawed at your guilt; the Schuylers were gracious enough to invite you to this ball after all, when everyone else had quietly shunted you away to some corner because of your views. But by the grace of God, standing in that crowded room, near so many people who had been so eager to cast you aside (both for your principles and your being a woman) was getting suffocating. (“You are a woman in a world that belongs to men, or at least so they think.” You remembered your mother saying to you. “You are unfortunately an example of what gentlemen hate the most, my darling; you are a woman with a brain she chooses to use and put on display.” Your mother smiled. “And I couldn’t be any more proud.”)

So you went, with a thunderous opening of doors into the howling wind and steady storm, and here you were.

The persistent quiet was broken by the click-clacking of hooves on wet gravel, and you looked up.

A carriage was slowly getting nearer. It was handsome and impressively ornate. Slightly ostentatious, in your opinion, but that was neither here nor there.

The horse drawing it cantered to a stop, and the door opened with a loud shout of laughter.

“My god, it’s pissing out here.” the voice closest to the door exclaimed, and with a loud squelch, a foot landed on the wet slush of dirt and pebbles. “Hold your coats over your heads, gentlemen, or risk facing the wrath of—“ he broke off, eyes landing on you.

“Nature,” he finished lamely.

You had stood up when you heard him step down. You knew who he was.

Alexander Hamilton squinted at you, at your dirtied dress, at the wet hair hanging around your face in sectioned clumps.

“Miss?” he called. You only looked on. “Madame over there! Are you all right, ma’am?”

Another voice was joining his calls. “Alexander, what is the meaning of this hold up?” It was a fellow soldier of Hamilton’s, you assumed. He wasn’t all that tall, and even from where you were you could see his freckles. “Holy Mother of God, is that a woman out there?”

“It is,” you heard Hamilton answer. “Ma’am! Are you okay?”

“My friends, we are already quite late. I do not think the general will appreciate our untimely appearance—“

Stepped down another soldier, this time tall and slender, easily towering over Hamilton and his companion. His voice was clear and pleasant, with the slightest hint of an accent interlacing his words. He, too, caught sight of you and was rendered silent. Between the four of you, the rain pounded on and was white noise.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle?” the tall one called. You looked at him, then. “What on earth are you doing out here in this weather?”

“Admiring the scenery,” you replied cheerfully, although the sarcasm was heavy and obvious in your tone.

The tall one looked confused. Hamilton, on the other hand, looked as if a sudden realization dawned on him quite abruptly.

“Ah,” he said, voice carrying in spite of himself (he never did learn how to keep his voice low), “I am guessing that you are of the Y/L/N family?”

You nodded, and this seemed to reaffirm Hamilton’s epiphany.

His freckly companion looked, to your rising anger, disdainful. “The pacifist nutters?”

The retort came out of your mouth faster than the crack of a whip. “Excuse me,” you fumed, “I’m afraid I do not know you sir, and I will not have a complete stranger strike an unearned insult at my family like that.”

The man shrunk behind Hamilton, who looked uncomfortable. The other, taller one, simply looked on in interest.

He was the one to break the silence once more. “Won’t you like to go inside the mansion, miss…?”

“Y/N,” you nearly spat.

“Miss Y/N,” he said, nodding. “You look a sight and you will catch a cold in this storm.”

You shook your head. “I’m perfectly fine,” You straightened, rearranged your skirts, although the endeavor was quite pointless. “Do not be concerned with me mister…”

“Lafayette,” he answered. A name to place on his face at last.

“Mister Lafayette,” you said, turning and preparing to walk away, before you felt the world spin on its axis and fall, fall, fall

When you came to, you were in the white, bare-faced room of a hospital. A nurse was pressing something wet and soft onto your forehead. You felt unbearably cold.

“Oh good,” a familiar voice spoke. “You’re up.”

It was Lafayette, standing against the doorway with his hands behind his back.

“You nearly gave all of us a fright back there,” he said, walking further into your room. You tried to get up, but the nurse stopped you.

“No moving quite yet,” she said, softly pushing you back into the covers. “You near contracted pneumonia out there, staying out in the cold for so long. How daft are you in the head, girl?”

You weren’t looking at her though, you were looking at Lafayette, who was smiling almost sheepishly down at you. (He was handsome, you noticed belatedly. Very handsome.)

It was the last thing you saw before you slipped back into the peaceful darkness of pseudo-oblivion.

9th of November, 1926

“Name your poison,” Slim purred as you hauled yourself onto a stool.

“For crying out loud, Slim, it’s nine in the morning!” you chided playfully, knocking a dainty knuckle on the bar top and laughing. “I’ll have a Champagne cocktail, switch out the bitters with absinthe.”

Slim smiled wryly. “And you call me an alcoholic,”

The speakeasy was already alive, even at the relatively early hour. Men and women were pouring in and rushing back out like a strong tide, and you were lucky enough to find yourself a spot on the coveted bar. Slim was nice, and he liked you, and he could spin up a good drink with nothing but orange bitters and gin, so you found that the long wait was quite worth it.

“Strong turnout,” you said as Slim made his way back to you, your drink bubbling happily in his hands. He passed the glass to you and you took a sip. The champagne was freshly opened, you could tell, and delightfully crisp in your throat, the tail-end of absinthe lingering on your tongue. You resurfaced and grinned at Slim, raising your glass. “I can see why,”

The absinthe did its job quite quickly and soon, after three or so glasses, you were spinning like a top on the dance floor, laughing and hollering and calling for more drinks. Slim, wisely, didn’t let you slip off with any more alcohol until you sobered up enough, but it was hours before you managed to do so.

“This is why you need to stop drinking so much,” Slim said as you slumped onto the counter, head in your arms.

“If I stopped drinking, who in God’s name is going to keep you in business?” you said, face still smushed into the crook of your arm. Slim laughed, slid you a glass of water.

“Not to alarm you,” he said as he gave you the glass, “but there’s a man who’s been eyeing you for the past hour. He hasn’t approached any other woman in the entire place.”

You grinned into your forearm, looked up. Slim was grinning, too. Subtly, he nodded towards a table that was occupied by the rowdiest bunch of men you’ve seen, which was saying something. Sure enough, you found a very attractive someone making eyes at you. From here, he looked slim, and even with the haze of smoke and the dim lighting and his loose clothes, you knew that he was fit. He glanced away as you turned to look at him, and after a while you faced Slim.

“Best make my move, no?” you said, emptying the glass and handing it back to him.

“Best,” Slim said shortly, although there was teasing underneath his terseness.

You sauntered over, your head feeling much clearer, and cleared your throat as you drew near. He and his friends caught sight of you, and they whistled as you approached. You smirked, groped around in your purse to fish out a long, thin cigarette.

“Excuse me sirs,” you said to the table at large but keeping your eyes on the one who caught your interest. He was, if possible, coloring an endearing shade of pink. “But do any of you have a lighter I could borrow?”

A broad-shouldered hulk of a man leaned over and offered you his. He lit it up, and you leaned, the cigarette in between your teeth and held steady by two fingers, never taking your eyes off of the brown-eyed, gorgeous man who seemed to be as interested in you as you were in him.

“Can you come with me outside? It’s a tad too stuffy in here.” you said, addressing only him. His friends were in uproar again, and he mumbled an agreement before shuffling out of his seat to follow you out of the speakeasy. On the way out, you caught Slim’s eye and threw him a smug grin.

“What’s your name, good-looking?” you said as you both climbed up the concrete stairs that hid the bar into the sticky, honey-glazed air of the Manhattan afternoon.

“My name is Lafayette,” he said, with the slightest hint of an accent.

“You foreign?” you asked, taking a drag and exhaling.

“French,” he said. A beat passed. “What’s your name?”

You smiled sweetly. “You’ll see.”

The two of you walked up the entire street, talking. At this hour, the city was starting to come alive with music, but the center of your gravity was firmly placed in Lafayette’s vicinity, and it was only when the two of you neared Broadway that you realized the hour.

“Drat, it’s getting late.” you cursed, looking at the clock that hung in one of the stores you passed by.

“I must be getting back to my friends now, as well.” Lafayette said, but you delighted in seeing that he seemed reluctant to leave. You didn’t want to go, either. “It was a pleasure to spend time with you, miss.”

You smiled at him. He really was something else. “I’d love to do this again sometime.” you said, not really caring that you were coming off as a bit too forward. (You were forward, and there was no shame in letting it happen.)

He grinned, a perfect, perfect smile. “I would love that as well.”

You walked backwards, eyes still fixed on him. “It’s Y/N,” you said, and he only looked at you. “My name. It’s Y/N,” You turned and walked, a feeling in your stomach that this won’t be the last time you’d see him.

10th of November, 2017

The day couldn’t get any shitter.

You had woken up late—for some fucking reason you had forgotten to set your alarm—thus making you miss the train. And now you had to wait for the next one. Hardee-fucking-har. You could take the bus, but at this point, taking the time to climb out of the subway and find a bus stop, the next train would be here and you just weren’t having any of that so you stayed in place.

Thankfully, the train appeared fifteen minutes later, and if you ran, you would maybe possibly make it to work on time.

You slumped into the first empty seat you could find, which happened to be next to this really tall guy with crazy curly hair that he had tied back in an attempt to tame it.

“Bad morning I take it?” the guy suddenly asked, taking you aback. You only nodded.

“The worst.” you said.

“Ah, I know the feeling.” he said, nodding sympathetically. He had some kind of accent, but it was barely there. If you had blinked, you would have missed it.

“It hopefully can’t get any worse, although knowing the universe, it could kick me up the ass when I least expect it, so I’d rather not jinx myself.”

He laughed. “You kind of just did.”

You groaned playfully. “Ah, shit.”

He chuckled, shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said, paused, “have we met before?”

You shook your head. “No. I would have remembered.” You didn’t have the best memory, but you would have certainly remembered his face. It was hard to miss and even harder to forget.

“Well then,” he said, clearing his throat impressively and holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Lafayette. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N, and likewise.” you said, smiling and taking his proffered hand.

He grinned, and the warm tickle in your stomach was new and yet strangely familiar.

My, What A Guy 

[Gaston X Reader]

Imagine being a bit of a misfit local in Villeneuve and Gaston defends you from the unwanted attention of a drunkard before seeking out your company for himself.


It was a typical Friday evening in Villeneuve. Half the village was in the tavern and the other half were sorted into various social gatherings at one another’s homes. Naturally you didn’t fall in to either category. You generally spent your Friday evenings alone with a pen and ink after having dinner with your family. Writing was your thing. You liked to conjure up stories that exceeded the bounds of this small town life. 

Tonight however, you were feeling utterly uninspired and, though you’d never admit it, a bit lonely. What you needed was a change of scenery, and unfortunately once the sun went down, there was just one option. It took all your willpower, but you shove your pen and journal into your apron before heading to the tavern to do some people-watching. If nothing else, it might inspire your writing. 

You enter the pub unnoticed and slip over to the counter where you take a seat on your own. 

“Hi Y/N,” the bartender, Patrick, greets. 

“Hey Pat,” you reply with a kind smile. 

“Can I get you a drink?” 

You hesitate. “Uhh, maybe just one. Whatever tonight’s special is,” you oblige, sliding him a couple of coins. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you were desperate to overcome whatever mental block was holding you back this evening. 

You turn around on your stool, taking in your surroundings. The place seemed both noisy and quiet at the same time. Or maybe you were just selectively filtering out background noise as you scanned the room. There were the drunks who sat at the large central table, slamming their mugs down with enthusiasm after every sip. The Bimbettes, who occupied the smaller table one over where they whispered, gossiped and drooled over the town hunk, Gaston, with absolutely no shame. You gloss over them and roll your eyes in disgust. 

And of course there was Benny, the musician. He wandered around providing his own unique melodies day and night, somehow surviving off the pittance of coins that got tossed his way. He played the fiddle and harmonica, but there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that his instrument of choice was the accordion. 

In the far right corner was where things truly got interesting though. That particular territory was where all of the least astute inhabitants of Villeneuve gathered and descended into a collective mania. It was almost pathetic how little alcohol was required to fuel that portion of the room. Their activities ranged anywhere from eye-poking and arm-wrestling to juggling produce and throwing knives. Not surprisingly, that side of the tavern was always filled with both laughter and physical injury. 

Gaston must find that corner interesting too, because his chair is situated just across the way, in perfect view of the inevitable shenanigans. It was almost as if the villagers were unknowingly performing for him. You make a mental note of this. 

“Here you go,” Patrick announces, returning with your drink. “Thanks,” you reply absentmindedly as you take out your notebook and begin to write. A couple of hours pass much in the same fashion, with you bouncing between writing and observing, blissfully unaware of the leech of a man who had taken a seat beside you. 

“Hellllo darrrlin’,” the old goat mutters in his drunken stupor. You look up at the man. Middle aged. Probably had a wife and kids, but he was so far gone he could barely hold his own head up. Your senses are suddenly on high alert. You can smell the alcohol on this man from two feet away. 

“Cannn I… buy you a driiiinnk?” He slurs with what you can only assume was meant to be a flirtatious smirk. 

“No thank you, I’m busy,” you answer firmly, turning your attention back to your notebook in the hopes that your disinterest would make him go away. However, it seemed you would not be so lucky. 

“Aww come onnnn,” the man groans in disappointment. “You and me will have a reaaal nice tiiime.” He reaches over and places a hand on your arm, and before you even have a chance to react, someone else snatches his wrist. 

Your heart skips two beats; one in horror and one in surprise. “I believe the lady said ‘no’.“ Much to your surprise, it was Gaston’s booming voice that intervened. His unexpected presence gives you goosebumps, which you attribute to both shock and relief. 

Gaston removes the man’s hand from you forcibly with a grimace. “Shove off and let the girl alone,” he orders resolutely. 

“And if I doooon’t?” 

Gaston’s expression darkens. “Then you will answer to me,” he growls impatiently. 

“Oh yeahhh?” 

“Yeah,” Gaston confirms, promptly punching the man in the face and sending him reeling backward. His glass hits the floor. If the whole tavern hadn’t been looking already, they certainly were now with all the commotion. 

You gasp, shocked by the scene unfolding before your eyes. The man swings his fists wildly, but to no avail. Gaston grabs him by the collar and drags him out the front door. “Get out, scum! And if I ever see you harassing that girl again, I will tie you to my horse and drag you out of Villeneuve for good, is that understood?!" 

"Y-y-yesss sir,” the man stutters pathetically, scrambling to get his balance as he flees. You didn’t know what to do. You were utterly frozen in place, shaken and confused. 

Gaston steps back into the tavern and straightens his jacket when he notices everyone staring his way. “There’s nothing more to see here. Get back to whatever you were doing!” He instructs sternly. And they do. Probably out of fear, you realize. 

You’d never spent much time near Gaston. Your impressions of him were based solely on his reputation as an ego-centric military playboy. Anyone could see the man was full of himself, just by the way he carried himself as he walked down the street. And he certainly wasn’t the brightest guy around. However none of those preconceived notions mattered now as Gaston himself approached you. 

“Are you alright?" 

"Yes, I’m fine,” you reply, a bit desperate for breath. “Thank you.” Despite the arguably unnecessary violence, Gaston seemed to have had your best interest at heart. 

“It’s no trouble at all, my dear.“ 

You smile weakly and grab your belongings with every intention of heading straight home. 

“Where are you going?” Gaston asks, with a hint of concern in his voice. 

“H-home?” Your certainty wavers as your cheeks flush pink. 

“So soon?“ He furrows his brow disappointedly. "Won’t you… join me for a drink?” he asks with a dashing smile. 

“Well,” you hesitate, looking for an excuse. “I umm…" 

“Come on, I insist!” Gaston exclaims enthusiastically, placing a hand on your back and leading you towards his favorite spot in the tavern. 

(Chapter 2)


At this point I have to assume that even the book is frustrated that Syaoran isn’t getting it and is just fast-forwarding out of sheer spite. 

I can’t decide if I’m surprised that Syaoran can figure out how the SPONTANEOUS MAGIC BOOK HE HAS NEVER SEEN BEFORE works after only seeing it work twice but can’t figure out who the people in front of him are even after hearing an entire conversation. 

But I AM surprised that Baby Kurogane manages to get EVEN CUTER WITH EVERY PASSING PANEL OH MY GOD.

DAY 3286

Jalsa, Mumbai                   Mar 27/28,  2017                  Mon/Tue 1:16 am

Birthday - EF - Ambar Nath Mukherjee  … Ef Pratik Vora    …  Tue, March 28 and there are wishes for you both from us all here at the Ef brigade .. love and have a great day .. 

There is a certain passiveness in life today .. one that languishes between wanting to meet or not .. whether one should get out of bed or not .. whether certain appointments kept be deleted or postponed .. and there is no single explanation for it .. but there it is .. lethargy and the avoidance of making decisions, is Libran astrological pattern behaviour .. trying to defeat it is like seeking to rearrange the cosmos from Jalsa .. !!

So best to succumb to it than try for change .. that is another wonder quality of these ‘balanced’ people .. trying for change .. we do not appreciate it and never wish to practice it either .. it is another matter that it never rules true .. not in my case at least ..

Financial and business meetings are another aspect of these ‘horse’ bodies .. they are never able to understand a word of it .. or them .. and when you have to conduct in a most officious manner them that present themselves in droves, you step back and start writing a Blog ..

Some comments with regard to the Blog state that my texts here are not making any sense at all .. and that they wonder if my brain is in the right place ..

It actually is .. there is deformity, yes .. but it actually is in the right place .. it may not give an impression of being there .. of being of certain caliber, but .. there is little to challenge those aspects .. and that is as immodest as I can get .. any further and ye shall have to deal with another aspect, which could be somewhat surprising to all ..

I did a photo shoot :

there are more impressions of calibrated brain in there .. but I refrain from doing anything that may disturb those very delicate issues .. so I shall reserve them for another rainy day ..

I am to work early in the morrow and I am already late .. so 

Good night

Amitabh Bachchan

‘Hamtaro Abridged - Episode 1 ‘ Starters

From the video of the same name, perfect for crack and not-so-crack threads.

  • Curtains are against my religion! 
  • Don’t eat those we just moved here!
  •  Alright time to go exploring! Let’s find some new friends! 
  • Hey, that guy looks desperate. 
  • Maybe if i shout from this tree!! *tree snaps* OH FUCK  
  • I lost my sunflower seed! it was my only friend…! 
  • Don’t worry I have low standards! 
  • Great lets kiss! ❞
  • Do you think i could get a colonoscopy as a tax right up!? 
  • Sometimes I lose things that are two feet in front of me.  
  • My weight is finally dragging me down into the earth! My mom always said this would happen! 
  • Oh oh oh! Hey kids, i’m a man who lives in a hole.  
  • Golly! a mole man! 
  • Hey, hey, hey! Kids it’s me, Drunk Boss. 
  • You know, back in the day I was a human. 
  • It’s not the time to be weird and creepy! ❞
  • Here, come into my bungalow! This is where I liiive! 
  • Golly it sure is small and empty. 
  • It’ll be a team effort….Yup…Leave it to me.  
  • Did you say Haaamsters? I know where we can find some hamsters. 
  • So that’s the girl you like huh mister? ❞
  • Yeah! I come here to watch her sleep. ❞
  • Great looks like i left another body in here. Get out of here body you’re ruining my first impressions!! 
  • Please don’t leave me with him. ❞
  • One time two lesbians took me into a dumpster and fed me a hamburger. 
  • Don’t go outside again or else mom’s gonna put you into a sock and throw you into the river! ❞
  • Hey there champ! You’re faster than a starting line coming out of a horse! ❞
  • I just woke up at the club house and boss was there and i DONT know what’s going on! ❞
  • Shut up scarf! 
  • You have no other characteristics besides that scarf so until further notice your name is scarf! 
  • Your name is a noun just like all the others. Hat, Fat, Book, Book2, Girl, Corpse, Pacman ghosts, and panda. ❞
  • Ooooh I just drank a whole bathtub of absence  ❞
Piggy-Back (Alexis/Farrah) - MoulinMousse

A/N: Hi, I’m a new writer here on AQ after having lurked around as a reader for a long time, I decided to give it a go myself. Any feedback would be appreciated, it’s my first try at writing anything of this nature. It’s based off the piggy-back ride Alexis gives to Farrah and the subsequent episode. Enjoy :)

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The Fairest Of Them All

Requested by @skumar402 : Hi! Just wanted to say your writing is fantastic and I love your imagines! I was wondering whether I could submit an imagine for GoT. Could you write an imagine where the reader is the most beautiful woman in Westeros yet her family’s social status is at the bottom but yet all the sons of the noble families want her as their wife. You can choose who she ends up with! Thank you! Xx 

Word count: 873

The wind is warm and makes you smile. You don’t know why you had to put a dress on and brush your dark hair until it’s perfectly straight. Is it about politics? Will you use your beauty to blind someone and make them accept stupid terms? Probably. Your beauty uses to be a curse instead of a blessing. Poems and tributes are made about you, throughout Westeros. Even tough your House isn’t rich or famous, every Lord in Westeros wants you as their wife. You hate them. You wish they knew that you enjoy hunting more than anything in the world; that you love books more than you love people. But no, you’re no more than a beautiful Lady. The most beautiful of Westeros, they say.

“My lady. You look wonderful as always. ”

“Thank you, maester.” You offer him a sweet smile. It’s not his fault, after all. The old man knows how much you hate this, but he needs to follow your father’s commands. “What is it about? Some soldiers are hunting and I wanted to join them.”

“You have a new proposal.”

“Which House is t now? Bolton? Tyrel? Lannister? Martel?” You take a deep breath, mentally  counting how many letters you received this year.

“Stark, my Lady.”

“Good. Send him a Raven with my answer.” You wave your hand at the master, turning your attention back to the big trees outside the walls.

“He didn’t send a Raven. He came here.” The master words make you feel tired immediately. Now you have to deal with the Stark in person.

You meet him in the balcony, talking with you father. When they notice you presence, both come to greet you. You hug your father and let the Stark kiss your hand.

“I’ll leave you to talk.” You father smiles at you and disappears.

“My Lady, I am Robb Stark, first son of Lord Eddard Stark.” The man is very handsome, strong and gentle. You stare at him for a few seconds before moving away, sitting on one of the chairs, staring at the horizon.

“I know who you are. You’re the only Stark that looks like this.”

“Like this?”

“Yes.” You notice him sitting on the chair beside you, his eyes on your face. “Well, my answer is no.”

Behind you, on the hall, you can hear the soldier’s voices. They’re celebrating the hunt, and you can hear perfectly when someone says that it was the best hunt of the year. You sigh, shooting an angry look at Robb, who raise his eyebrows.

“Did I say something?”

“No. You decided to come here to ruin my plans and now I missed the best hunt of the year. Thank you so much, Robb Stark.” You stand up, walking fast to leave him, but Robb is faster and grabs your arm.

“Wait. You go hunting?” He seems impressed, a shadow of a smile on his beautiful lips.

“Yes. And riding and reading and fighting. Are you impressed?”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm, but yes, I’m impressed. You’re better than I thought.” Robb lets go of your arm, but you stand there, awkwardly staring at him. “They were right about you, you’re the most beautiful woman in Westeros. But I wish someone told me you like this kind of stuff. I’d come earlier.”

 “Go home, Robb Stark.”

 “Would you ride with me? The woods around here are fascinating.”

You think about denying, but something forces you to say yes. You father allows you to go for a ride all alone with Robb, and soon enough you’re both outside, tall trees surrounding you. Robb’s horse walks right beside yours, and the man keeps staring at you with a stupid smile on his face.

“Don’t waste your time, I’m tired of marriage proposals. Being beautiful is a curse for sure.”

“I know, Lady (Y/N). But now I have a new proposal.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “What kind of proposal?”

“I am very impressed, my Lady. I want to get to know you. You can spend some days with me at Winterfell. The hunts are even better.”

“Winterfell? Do you know that the heir of the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy lives there? He sent me dozens of ravens.” Theon tried everything to have you as his wife, declaring that he’ll be Lord of the Iron Islands even tough he lives in Winterfell.

“Theon won’t bother you, I promise.”

You try to hide how much you want to go. Robb is so handsome that you almost said yes when you first saw him. And the way he acts around you is different from anyone. You do want to spend more time with him. There’s something pulling you to him, you can’t deny it.

“I’ll-I’ll accept. Just a few days.”


The days turned into months, and the months turned into a whole year. Robb proved to be everything you ever wanted. He would hunt with you, teach you new moves with a sword and go for long rides with you alone. You fell in love and so did he. His eyes looking at the real you, not just at your pretty face. After two years living in Winterfell, you married him, the happiest day of your life.

A/N: Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

Avengers Academy Starters || Part 1 || A-B


  1. “Bombs away!”
  2. “Can we eat first?”
  3. “Don’t call me Blue Hulk.”
  4. “Ha! I can smash too!”
  5. “I’m A-List.”
  6. “It’s not easy being blue.”
  7. “Let’s go!”
  8. “Me and Hulk go WAY back. ”
  9. “Move it or lose it!”
  10. “You can call me Rick.”


  1. “After this party? I’m going to an ant party.”
  2. “Big power in an itty-bitty package!”
  3. “Hi, I’m Ant-Man. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
  4. “I feel like everybody’s lookin’ down on me.”
  5. “It’s ant-tastic.”
  6. “It takes someone small to see the big picture.”
  7. “Now you see me—”
  8. “Pick on somebody your own size!”
  9. “So far, so good, huh?”
  10. “Someday I’m gonna be a big time superhero.”
  11. “Superheroes have the best stuff to steal.”
  12. “Uhhhh…I-I didn’t do it!”


  1. “Jeez this place is packed with tough girl SHIELD agents.”
  2. “It’s hot today. I’m glad I wore white.”
  3. “Ask Hydra why the number thirteen is unlucky.”
  4. “I guess Hydra just loves getting kicked in the face.”
  5. “If I can avoid getting a stain on this outfit, I can do anything.”
  6. “I’m trying to be an agent of SHIELD. Or am I? Just kidding, I definitely am.”
  7. “I’m searching for the worlds greatest hamburger.”
  8. “You don’t want to mess with me, just ask Agent 12.”
  9. “They asked me to keep an eye on Captain America. I like my job.”


  1. “A Baron never tells.”
  2. “Bow before Zemo!”
  3. “Chaos is coming.”
  4. “Get out of my way!”
  5. “Hail HYDRA!”
  6. “It’s only a matter of time.”
  7. “Ridiculous!”
  8. “The Zemo name is legendary.”
  9. “Victory is inevitable!”
  10. “Watch and learn.”


  1. “I steal jewels and hearts.”
  2. “Don’t you know no to cross a black cat.”
  3. “Anything a guy can steal, I can steal better.”
  4. “I make these nine lives look good.”
  5. “I can take care of myself.”
  6. “Who needs a key when you’ve got me.”
  7. “In a world of spiders, I’m happy to be a cat.”
  8. “Did you miss me?’
  9. "Meow.”
  10. “Finders keepers losers weepers.”


  1. “My honor is intact.”
  2. “The ebony blade is with me.”
  3. “The black knight has returned.”
  4. “Find me a horse.”
  5. “Don’t ever touch my sword.”
  6. “There can be only one.”
  7. “Let’s get medieval.”
  8. “I have a tradition to uphold.”
  9. “Chivalry is here.”


  1. “You’d be a foot to challenge the Black Panther.”
  2. “I do not like fighting. But I do not lose fights.”
  3. “The King has spoken.”
  4. “Do not wake a sleeping panther.”
  5. “A wise decision.”
  6. “Nothing compares to the wonders of Wakanda.”
  7. “Impressive.”
  8. “I approve.”
  9. “I must make my mark on this academy.”


  1. “[whispered] "Can you keep a secret?”
  2. “Follow me. And do exactly as I say.”
  3. “Forget you ever saw this.”
  4. “Good to know there’s at least one competent person on my side.”
  5. “How do I know you’re not a double agent?”
  6. “I’d ask why I’m the only one taking this serious, but your answer would just annoy me.”
  7. “I’d rather work alone.”
  8. “I’m. Just. Peachy.”
  9. “It’s…not that I don’t trust authority. It’s just that I don’t trust anyone.”
  10. “Let’s find what this place is hiding!”
  11. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”
  12. [loud sigh] “The things I do for spying…”
  13. “Tch. What’re you looking at?”
Jungkook Scenario: Shared Fates - Part 2.

Request: Girls hello!! I love everything about this blog❤️❤️ you have no idea! Can i request jungkook being a prince? But i want something a bit different like y/n saving Jungkook? Something that is different and a little funny and romantic too! Is this too much? Maybe y/n can be a bandit and she thinks the prince is full of himself but helps him get over a difficult journey. I will be so happy if you can make this❤️

Genre: Fluff.

Part 1

-We will keep your secret, so don’t worry-

Jungkook and you looked at each other from the corner of your eyes, you didn’t know what had given him away, but the couple knew. You really didn’t want to do it, but how could you risk taking him to safety if someone knew his identity? You had a hand on your dagger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and do it, they had been too kind, they were nice people. Your breath got caught in your throat and Jungkook grabbed your wrist making you loose your grip on your dagger.

He turned slightly. -What do you know?-

They looked at each other and knew you were going to regret this, they were kind but they were fools. 

-That she’s a girl- the woman said, noticing you two were tense she had a rather nervous pitch. -But we won’t tell anyone, we know it’s best for her, for the travel-

A girl, that’s what they knew. You sighed heavily, Jungkook doing the same.

-You seem relieved- the man smiled. -Don’t worry, you’re doing the right thing, your girl there will be safer if she hides like that-

He nodded and you two went outside, not bothering correcting the man on his erroneous remark about you being Jungkook’s, all you wanted was get out of the farm as fast as you could.

That afternoon everything was going well until the cart broke. It fell in a trench and the wheels broke like crackers. Jungkook tried to fix it, which in all honesty impressed you, you wouldn’t have thought he’d be willing to collaborate on these things but he crouched down and tried to repair the cart but it was too far damaged for him or anyone to do something.

-We have to keep going, later on we will find a place to sleep, maybe find another horse, but we can’t stay here-

He agreed, you threw his fancy cape on the horse’s back which you figured would like that since the velvet would cushion the weight a bit more, you arranged the few belongings and food you carried in the saddlebags and you were ready to go. But you only had one horse.

-I’m a better rider than you, I’ll lead- you said making him snort. -What?-

-I’m a better rider, I was the best in the castle and surely I was the best in the tournaments-

You rolled your eyes. -That doesn’t mean anything, have you rode for your life after being chased by other riders?-

Jungkook narrowed his eyes and leaned to your height. -Have you fought with a sword while being chased? I can control the spear, the bow and the sword while riding a horse-

You glared at him -That doesn’t mean you are better rider- you pointed at his injured arm with your chin. -Besides, you’re wounded, can’t let the poor hurt prince ride like that-

You mounted on the horse and Jungkook was left looking at you baffled. -You know you act like I did something to you-

You didn’t look at him and just hurried him up. -I’m trying to take you safely-

He mounted behind you, the horse moving a little adjusting to the new weight, Jungkook also shifting his position until he was comfortable enough. -Don’t do me any favors-

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attababyeatsomepeaches  asked:

Mythological Mondays \o/ yes please. One of my favourites is Orpheus & Eurydice, I'd love a retelling of that.

OK here goes, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, as told by me at 21:46 after three rock cakes and way too little caffeine. If you want to skip an awful retelling of a story about a man who plays John Mayer in Hell, then press J on your keyboard now as this is quite a long post! There’s some salient historical / literary information under the Read More, if you’re so inclined. 


Once upon a time, in a land far far away (Greece. It was Greece) there lived a man named Orpheus. Orpheus was basically Ancient Greece’s answer to John Mayer, only with a moral compass that didn’t just point South. He had a reputation for being able to charm anything – literally anything, living or non-sentient – with nothing but the gift of song. Basically, he was the kind of guy who wandered around and serenaded boulders with Mumford & Sons’ collected hits. If he were alive today, he’d be That Guy who shows up to Youtube gatherings with a ukulele.

I can’t exaggerate this guy’s musical ability. This one time, he played his lyre so beautifully and loudly that it drowned out a bunch of Sirens (the kind with heaving bosoms and razor sharp teeth, not the ones you hear when someone’s cat is stuck up a tree) and saved the lives of his fellow manly sailors. Imagine that you’re at a Beyonce concert, having paid over $500 for the privilege, and you’re just getting into Single Ladies when John Mayer shows up and starts singing so loudly that Beyonce just leaves the stage, and you don’t even mind because John Mayer is singing something about loving you unlike any other and it’s just getting right to the core of your being, man. That’s basically what happened.

Anyway, Orpheus has this hot wife, Eurydice. Like literally every woman in Greek mythology, she is renowned for her beauty. You’d think that, seeing as every Greek myth starts with ‘token woman, renowned for her beauty’, people would make less of a fuss of this kind of thing, but no. Apparently not. Anyway, at the point at which this stories starts, they’ve been married for like an hour, and they’re enjoying wedded bliss, probably because Orpheus hasn’t had a chance to make any kitchen jokes yet and Eurydice hasn’t told him her view on attachment parenting. They’re still newlyweds, and they’re fucking revelling in the delights of holy matrimony, if you catch my drift. After a while, Eurydice, probably saying something like ‘come on, Orpheus, I need to have some space if this marriage is going to work’ goes for a little wander, and makes the fatal mistake of walking in some dangerously long grass, leaving Orpheus to play some solo music.

While Orpheus is lying back, strumming some sweet notes on his lyre, he suddenly hears a scream. He runs to find Eurydice, but by the time he gets there, she’s already dead, having been bitten by a viper. Not surprisingly, Orpheus is a bit upset by this, seeing as he’s only been married to her for a few hours and he hasn’t even had the chance to finish explaining all the ways in which her rights as a woman are about to fade from significance now that she belongs to a man. In a fit of grief and sorrow, Orpheus pulls out his lyre (like seriously, this thing is practically surgically attached to him; I’m starting to think it’s just a euphemism at this point) and starts playing a mournful melody. Probably that one from Titanic, you know, the one when the ship’s going down.

After a few hours, he feels a tap on his manly shoulder, and turns around to see a nymph. She’s all “dude, you’re like really talented, do you have an EP?” and Orpheus is like “look, I’m flattered and everything, but my wife has literally just died. You see the body of that woman there? That’s the corpse of my wife, and if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get back to singing haunting ballads about the finite nature of our corporeal existence. I was just about to get onto Tubthumping” and he turns away. The nymph has a little think, then taps him on the shoulder again and says “no, but really, you’re incredible. I mean, I still think you should look into Youtube’s Partnership programme, but in the meantime, have you considered going to Hades and playing him one of your original songs? Maybe he’d let you have your hot wife back” and Orpheus just does one of his (probably) trademark crooked grins, the kind of smile that’s genetically evolved to appear on debut EPs with titles like ‘For You, I’d Go To Hell And Back (Baby)’ and he says “that is literally the best idea I have ever heard, nothing at all can go wrong with this” and the nymph says “I’m glad you like my idea, can you sign my shirt” and Orpheus is like “nope, this guy has underworlds to visit, or at least one” and off he goes.

(And a nearby boulder just sighs and says to the nymph “I was listening to that, do you mind?” and the nymph goes home and writes self-insert fanfiction)

Orpheus eventually reaches the underworld, where he meets Hades and his predictably hot wife, Persephone. Hades is all “dude, I don’t want to freak you out here, but are you aware that you’re not actually dead?” and Orpheus is like “I am completely aware of that fact, but thank you for the clarification, now tell me – what do you think of Bastille?” and then proceeds to play an absolutely stonking rendition of literally everything in the iTunes top 40.

When Orpheus is finished, Hades wipes away a tear and says “I was particularly impressed with the way you managed to turn Katy Perry’s ‘Dark Horse’ into a mournful eulogy” and Orpheus is like “yeah, I’m really sad right now” and Hades is like “I bet that’s really good for your artist’s soul” and Orpheus nods and says “yeah, it is actually surprisingly conducive to creativity, but also my wife is dead and I know she’s here and I’d really like her back if that’s at all possible, Mr Hades, sir” and Hades just shakes his head sadly and says “I have a reputation to maintain, you know. I can’t just let everyone swan out of here when they’ve expired, or I’d have millions of people trying to extend their best before dates, you dig?” and Orpheus is like “yeah, man, I dig, but tell me this – have you heard ‘Hallelujah’ by Jeff Buckley?” and before Hades can protest, Orpheus has started playing the most hauntingly beautiful and tragic song that anyone has ever played, and Hades can feel his dark resolve crumbling away into dust, like the dried remnants of life itself when it reaches the looming doors of his lair, and eventually Hades just cries “stop, please, I’m getting the urge to write poetry about my feelings” and Orpheus stops and so does Hades, and they both just look at each other for a moment.

Then, Persephone is like “look, boys, before this turns into a scene that will probably ruin both your reputations forever, why don’t we agree on a compromise? We can let Orpheus have his hot wife back, but we can implement some sort of condition. Something that’s literally impossible for him to fail, but will at least make it look like you’re not a total pushover. Are we agreed?” and Hades nods gleefully and says “that’s perfect, I knew I kept you here for a reason apart from your flawless cheekbones and the fact that it pisses your mother off no end. Here’s what we’ll do, Orpheus – you can walk out of here right now, and Eurydice will follow, but there’s a catch. You can’t turn around while you’re walking out. Like, at all. Not until the both of you are out of here. That’s very important. You both need to be out of the underworld. The two of you. Each one of you. Not just you, and not just her. The two of you. Les deux. And y’know, that shouldn’t be too hard. It’s literally that easy. Walk out of here and keep facing forwards. I think that should be doable, don’t you?” and Orpheus is like “no shit, Sherlock, I do that every day” and they shake hands and Orpheus makes his way out and Hades just calls out “I really mean it about the turning around thing; if you turn to look at her, she’ll be stuck here forever” and Orpheus just waves his hand, all callused from the lyre, and says “I think I can manage, bro” and walks out.

(And then Hades cries into Persephone’s shoulder for six hours and she has to make him six mugs of hot chocolate and tell him that his blue pallor is very handsome, and yes, of course it’s OK to be in touch with your feelings as a heterosexual male)

As Orpheus is on his way out, he can hear footsteps behind him, and he’s about to turn around when he remembers Hades’ warning. He just shakes his head and thinks to himself ‘nah, not falling for that one!’ and he keeps going, presumably playing the Victory March on his lyre the entire time.

The closer he gets to the surface world, the more anxious he becomes. He starts to wonder things like ‘what if it’s a lie and Eurydice is some sort of night-time creature who can’t survive outside of the underworld and sparkles in the sun’ and ‘what if the footsteps behind me aren’t Eurydice at all, but some other dead guy called Jeff’ and even ‘I’m starting to get cramp in my left hand from the sweet chords’, but instead of doing the sensible thing and just calling out to see who’s behind him, he waits, walking more quickly to just get out of the sunless void of the underworld, and then there’s two steps to go, and then one last victorious note on the lyre and then he’s out.

As soon as he takes his first step on surface soil, Orpheus turns around and looks back at the tunnel he’s just emerged from, and to his relief, he sees Eurydice, about four steps behind him –

- with about four steps to go until she is on the same surface soil as him, her face still shrouded in the deathly evanescence of the unliving, and with one last scream of ceaseless finity, she’s gone, still four steps behind and so many more now, and Orpheus drops his lyre onto the grass and sinks to his knees and says “well, I fucked that up royally, didn’t I?”

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vimyvickers replied to your post: vimyvickers replied to your post: …

Yeah, I should really ask my mum who in the family has them now. The story that has most viscerally imprinted itself on my brain is the one where Durrell family go for a picnic on the beach to impress some relatives from out of town and set up the blanket with a lovely length of driftwood to lean against, only to realise, upon noticing a strange pong, in the middle of the meal, that said driftwood was, in fact, a (very) deceased horse.

oh my god I’d forgotten that one. I think my favorite thing from the Corfu years was the passage about going out with the night fishermen and catching octopus with a trident, but my favorite overall is his descriptions of capturing armadillos in Argentina in The Drunken Forest… and tbh literally everything else in that book, the whole thing is a hysterical zoology misadventure.

Fatesona 30 Day Challenge

Day 1: A greeting from your Fatesona + a link to your Fatesona ref

Hoshino is a budding Kinshi Knight still getting used to flying on her partner Kinshi. Her face betrays her cynical and sometimes vulgar speech but she’s got a good heart deep down. Likes puns. The most easily impressed by anything. [Hoshido]

My own fatesona! I decided to try making one. I gave her a name similar to what my name means. So here is Hoshino and a bonus comic:

Edit: Her backstory/longer personality description is below the cut

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kat51298  asked:

Hi. I love your blog! I just had a quick question. My neighbor just bought a horse and they told me that it was "Impressive bred". I saw something about HYPP also? I was just wondering what those thing mean

Hey! You can find a lot of information about HYPP or Hyperkalemic periodic paralysis here. In short, it’s an inherited disease of the muscle which is caused by a genetic defect which has been identified in descendants of the American   Quarter Horse sire Impressive. The disease is characterized by sporadic attacks of muscle tremors, weakness and/or collapse. I have never seen an affected horse personally, but I know it’s most cases are seen in the US.

I think @craigslisthorses might know more about it.

Go Ahead and Break My Heart Lyrics Analysis

Okay so a bunch of people requested this but I didn’t have any prompts that really fit with what I wanted to say, so here is a text post!! 

First of all, I don’t think this song had anything to do with HOW they figured out the next step of their relationship. I know he said he was trying to impress her and “get somewhere with her,” but I think he was just trying to sound charming. I mean, I’m pretty sure he tries to “impress” her like almost every day. Remember when he bought his and hers horses? Or flew overnight to go to her son’s birthday party. Anyway, I think this song is about that process obviously, but I don’t think it’s a part of it. I’m sure it did help solidify things though. <3

So my interpretation of the song comes in the context of all the other things we know. Splash was July, then I’m pretty sure Getting Warmer was in early September, and then Make Me Like You, Misery were September 22 & 23, and Truth was October 23. Also in mid and late September, Blake and Gwen both said some pretty cool/magical things were happening in their lives during interviews. 

So anyway that’s kind of where I’m coming from with this analysis. To me, the emotional vibe is the most like Getting Warmer. I recommend listening to that right before this for more of Gwen’s mental state. 

Go Ahead and Break My Heart

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Sasha Braus: Confidence and Character Development

I know we talk about Armin, and the confidence he gained throughout the series an awful lot, and it is very interesting character development, but the person whose development tends to be overlooked is actually the one whose is the most interesting: Sasha.

Let’s see; Sasha starts off as the slightly dorky kid, a bit goofy, but she’s also rather insecure. Like, look at her behaviour around Ymir; she goes along with Ymir’s demands, calling her ‘lord’ etc. and bowing to everything. She didn’t really have any need to do so, as I am ninety-nine percent certain that if she’d stood up to Ymir - who wasn’t really doing anything wrong either way, but who was making Sasha her servant for fun - nothing else would have happened. Instead, Sasha went along with it, and I think that stemmed from insecurity and desire to be liked and accepted. She even saluted Ymir and Historia - then Krista - during one of the dining room scenes. It shows just how little confidence she had at the start.

She’s also insecure about her accent, as we saw during the chapter in which she rescued the little girl from her village. Coming from a small community in the throes of famine, you can imagine that Sasha had quite a sheltered life. I have conflicting feelings here; on the one hand, her father seems like a fairly integrated part of the village. On the other, if Sasha really had grown up in Dauper then surely she’d have been recognised by more people when she joined up with the train of horses? It’s a possiblity that her father only began to get more involved with village life afterwards, but Sasha did always introduce herself as ‘from Dauper village’. Either way, I don’t think Sasha ever had much of a social life in and of itself; sure, she probably chatted to people her own age and stuff, but my impression of her past is that she never had any particularly close friends. This is based off only a few panels, but it seems to have been just her and her father for a lot of the time. Dauper probably experienced a high death toll during the famine, and was then repopulated with the refugees from Wall Maria; there seems to be a certain level of emnity towards the survivors of the Titan attack on Sasha’s part, which probably led to a slight disconnect between her family and the village.

Sasha’s a bubbly, sociable girl, but I think her father was her social support, rather than a large amount of friends or family. Though she probably wanted to make friends and has always been rather out-going, she also seemed a little in awe of the more outwardly self-assured girls like Ymir, who at least projected an aura of self-confidence, and Mikasa, for whom a lot of stuff is so effortless that she probably seems self-confident without even trying. That’s possibly why she’s friendlier with Connie than the others, though they all seem to have a relatively close bond, because Connie is a little more normal than the rest of them.

Sasha starts off as friendly and sweet, but there’s always a level of insecurity and awkwardness there; she tries to fit in more than be herself, and I think this is in part because she isn’t used to being around so many people of her own age. Her outward projection of goofy fun-loving foodie means that her lack of confidence and then her character development and the way in which she learns confidence is somewhat masked. It’s a gradual thing, which we don’t really notice until we go ‘woah, look at how badass Sasha’s become’.

I’ve always wondered why she never showed off her talent with a bow and arrow beforehand; while I doubt the army would ever have trained with them, because they’re useless against Titans and guns are a more effective crime deterrent, presumably the opportunity to practice aiming came up every once in a while and Sasha has pinpoint aim. Possibly she’d have thought a bow and arrow would seem out of place in the army, or maybe she didn’t want to have questions asked or something. But it’s fairly symbolic that her growth in confidence came after she picked up that bow and arrow to save the little girl.

Of course, there were other factors too; she made peace with her father, who always indirectly contributed to her insecurity - I am convinced he loved her and that their relationship was close, but we can’t forget that they clashed on several points, and she seems to have been waiting ages for her to tell her that she’s become a ‘fine woman’. 

But I think Sasha’s self-confidence comes from her accepting her past. She’s always spoken formally rather in her natural dialect and denied her roots. By picking up the bow and arrow - I’m discounting the hunting OVA here because that’s just a bit of fun for us fans really - the weapon with which she hunted when she lived with her dad in her village, she became more in tune with who she was and merged her former self with who she is now. It was an instinctive reaction, definitely, but she seems to have just continued along with using a bow just fine afterwards.

Her dad’s affirmation of who she’s grown into played a huge role in this, in my opinion. She’s become someone different, that’s for sure, and he’s proud of that. There no longer needs to be a clash between who she was and who she is now; there are more important things at stake, like protecting children from Titans and doing her job and her dad knows that and is proud of her for it. She’s reconciled with him and it does wonder for her confidence.

I don’t think Sasha necessarily ever had low self-esteem; she always seemed like she had a fairly good opinion of herself without being conceited, but just never appeared very secure in herself. It was more of a desire to be recognised outwardly by others rather than a need to be recognised by herself - very similar to Armin in that sense.

The scene when the gang are rescuing Jean and Armin is very telling; not only does Sasha show off her badass bow and arrow skills, she reprimands Mikasa and refers to the merchants as prey. She’s perfectly open about how she used to be and her roots now, and it shows in how she treats others. I’m not saying she automatically became a bitch and started snapping at everyone - because she didn’t even snap - but she gained the confidence to tell Mikasa, of all people, the girl who graduated top of the Southern 104th and who used Sasha as a bit of a butt monkey, albeit without intent to hurt her or cause offence, that she made a mistake.

While Armin’s  and Jean’s are the character arcs most people talk about, and that are stressed on the most in canon material, especially the anime - in my view - there’s no denying that Sasha’s is just as important and just as interesting.

I interviewed the director of The Sisters of Mercy's Dominion: David Hogan

Dominion: the ultimate combination between rock-opera, gothic and glamour

The Dominion music video is still my favorite video all time and for Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace I did serious effort to find promotional photos made in Jordan. For a book you need the HQ and original photos, so it requires tracing those back. Story goes that the result of the promotional shoot were given to the record company and were never seen back. Neither I got my hands on HQs of the behind-the-scenesphotos. With the stressing deadline for the manuscript, it became an impossible task to include (unseen) ‘Dominion’ photos in Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace. But.. who I did get to speak to was the director of the Dominion video: David Hogan!

Not the espionage-theme (FIY: Andrew was not looking for the holy grail!), the irony of wearing white by the then band-members Patricia Morrison and Andrew Eldritch, and the overly seriousness of the video make it so memorable, but especially the location, the City of Petra in Jordan was the best choice. If shooting the This Corrosion video would go well, the record company would give The Sisters of Mercy a green light for Jordan. David Hogan, a well-known music video director was willing to do the not-so-awful job.

The filming was during the first Persian Gulf war and the King of Jordan turned out to be very helpful to the the American director and his crew. For instance, they could borrow a military helicopter! A large part of the video was smoothly filmed with help of this huge chopper. However, not everything went well: Andrew is scared of horses, the first day it was snowing in the dessert(!), and the camels were a pain to work with! Hogan almost had to cut all the camels out the scenes. The animals definitely didn’t appreciate the cameras and never wanted to do what Hogan planned. One of the Bedouin men suggested they should dress up the camera with cloaks, so it looked like a person. It was a hit.

The local people were polite and helped cast & crew, says Hogan: Several of the elder Bedouins even had experience working in front of the camera on Lawrence of Arabia. But that only the men could be on camera was something Hogan didn’t know: “In their society it’s impolite to say no, which is a blessing and curse, when it comes to production. Everything they promised was delivered, but when I requested three women in traditional clothing (covered in burqas) my bodyguard told me yes, when the answer was absolutely no. Photographing Arab women is strictly prohibited!”

Smoking joints in Petra, horse racing with Bedouins during sunrise in the dessert - Hogan has good memories filming here. Also, Patricia considers Petra as her favorite “The Sisters of Mercy”-memory. And for me? For me it is a great memory too: it was the first Sisters of Mercy song that I heard - the combination of a bombastic song and the impressive video made me an instant fan.
Synonymous with Outlaw
Bushranger (Outlaw) AU | Shingeki no Kyojin (SNK) | JeanMarco
By Organization for Transformative Works

A commission for the wonderful @lifeisaponderland, who entrusted me to write a Bushranger AU.

Pairing: JeanMarco [ Jean Kirschtein / Marco Bodt ]

AU: 1860s bushranger / Australian outlaw AU


‘Gentleman Jean’, a kind and rugged bushranger, seeks justice for the actions of the police and finds himself curious of a strange man that stands up to him.

Jean had always found it easier to understand horses than men.


“I am not working with you,” Marco retorts, drawing his eyebrows into a line behind his glasses. He adjusts them and frowns at the honesty he sees on my face. He is not impressed with my answer and I cannot blame him for his misgivings. I am an outlaw, bearded and dirty, dressed like a man about to steal a town’s fortune. He has every reason to distrust me, but yet I find myself wanting him to. He is still here, sitting and waiting for me to speak. I am not deserving of such patience.

Read this chapter on AO3.

If you are interested in a commission, feel free to send me an ask.

Things Chopped has taught us

Geoffrey Zakarian has the spice tolerance of an unborn fetus

Chris Santos must always be introduced as “fearless chef and restaurateur” No one knows what precisely he is fearless about, presumably his baldness.

 You can add chocolate to literally anything and call it a mole, but somewhere in the world, Aaron Sanchez will raise his eyes to the heavens and say in his wonderfully accented voice “something is wrong in the world, the name of mole is being defiled by Chad from Oklahoma City and his BASTARDIZED ORCISH SATAN CHOCOLATE PRETENDING TO BE MOLE”

The only thing your deconstructed dish is accomplishing is deconstructing your chances of being taken seriously by EVERYONE WHOSE WATCHING.

There’s always that one contestant who seems to just….operate on a deeper plane of reality than the rest of us can perceive, a culinary Charlie Sheen if you will.

I.e “I see the chives and the sheep bladder and the eel liver and i immediately think, i’ll do a twist on peaches and cream. The judges will be impressed by my technique and my creativity and I’ll definitely take home the 10,000 dollars. I grew up hunting eels in the south of France from the back of a horse so this is a dish I’m very comfortable with.”

There’s always that male chef whose like “I’m here to prove that New York is the best culinary city in the world and if I win I’ll use the money to get myself a BIGGGER PENIS BECAUSE NEW YORKKK”



buttons-with-strawberry-lemonade  asked:

Doctor/Rose + Dancing under the stars (if you are still needing prompts) :D

(Set just after The Stone Rose - the Doctor and Rose have returned the statue of Rose to Gracilis and Marcia’s villa, but they can’t quite escape - in exchange for returning Optatus, Gracilis insists on throwing a banquet in honor of the Doctor and Rose.)

The Doctor and Rose swayed comfortably in a light breeze, to the tune of a lyre whose player seemed the only other person in the villa to be awake. It had been nearly a half hour since Gracilis and his wife had bid them good-night - and yet another fifteen minutes since Optatus’ and his friends could be heard softly snoring at the banquet table, and so the Doctor maneuvered them quietly into the courtyard. 

A clear sky full of stars, and Rose in his arms. It was so very different than the future he’d been imagining just a few days before. 

Rose, pleasantly full and rather lightheaded from several cups of wine, lifted her head from the Doctor’s shoulder and said the first thing that came to her mind. 

“You kissed me,” said Rose. 

The Doctor squeezed her waist. “That I did. Stole a horse, fought off a lion, saved a beautiful damsel from petrifying distress,” here, he tapped her on the nose. “Hercules, who’s he? Make way for the Doctor, I say.” 

Rose, in response, giggled, and tucked her head back into his neck. “My hero, she breathed. “You think you’re so impressive.”  

The Doctor gave a little shudder, and then wrapped his arms around her fully, so that their dance was little more than a standing cuddle. With his right arm wrapped tightly around her waist, he used the other to card through her hair. 

“Will you kiss me again?” 

The quiet question took him a moment to answer. He ducked his head, leaning his forehead against her temple, so that he spoke directly into her ear. “Oh, probably,” he says. “Some other night when you haven’t had four cups of wine.” 

“M’not drunk,” said Rose. She looked up at him, her mouth curved in a pout, and he stuttered, body and mind, scrambling to find a reason not to press her into a nearby stone column. 

“’Course, course,” he said. “But I am a gentleman, Rose Tyler - “ here she snorted. “And you are -” 

Home. Beloved. Precious, precious girl. 

“Your lucky pants,” said Rose, very seriously, and then after a beat, both of them broke into quiet giggles that punctured the night, their noses bumping as they laughed.