i've been listening to her all week

guineapigwithaflamethrower  asked:

I've been listening to "Wicked Girls" on endless repeat for a couple weeks now (the song, not the album), and I just have lots of feelings about Susan and the way fandom has embraced her - took something that C.S. Lewis shamed her for and went "fuck that, we love Susan, here are all the ways she lives a badass life after Narnia" and, I don't know, it moves something really deep inside me every time I think about that, and your Susan verse kind of makes me cry every time I hear it. So thank you.

You are so very welcome.


my sweet bby girl with her new brows ~ i’ve missed you guys so damn much, i cannot explain to you the fkin stress from these last weeks of the semester. but!! it’s finally over, all my finals are completed, and summer may now take me and hold me and let me stay up until 5am without any consequences <33



every musical i can get my hands on: once upon a mattress (2005)
     “You can recognize a lady by her elegant air, but a genuine princess is exceedingly rare.”

The Unspeakable Pleasure of an Unforgettable Kiss

Ten x Rose, rated T

This is a birthday present for @rudennotgingr. When I asked her what trope she wanted me to use, she said, “Can I have confined spaces?” I said she could have whatever was in my power to give–which sadly excludes a living Dave Tiler.

This was betaed by @sequencefairy and @tardis-scooter, who were a tremendous help. All mistakes are, of course, mine.

Happy birthday, Jesse! I promise, when I get the machine working, you’ll get Dave.

Two weeks after The Stone Rose, the Doctor has been unable to forget kissing Rose. He tries to take her to a planet where even hand-holding won’t be allowed, hoping he can regain his control. Things don’t go as he planned…

AO3 | FF.net | Teaspoon

“Arms flexed, and grabbed Rose into a hug. Soft lips pressed hers with a kiss of gratitude and joy and unspeakable pleasure of being alive.”  ~The Stone Rose

It was all Mickey’s fault, the Doctor mused as he lounged on the jump seat and stared, unseeing, at the time rotor. If Mickey hadn’t shown them that statue of Rose, they’d never have gone back to ancient Rome and been turned into statues themselves, and he wouldn’t have been so grateful they were alive that he let go of more than a year’s worth of restraint and kissed her.

The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his face. It was just a quick kiss, he told himself. Barely more than a taste—a peck! he corrected quickly. But it was too late—now his bloody superior Time Lord memory was reminding him of exactly how good she’d tasted.

And that memory seemed to be infiltrating every aspect of his behaviour. This body was more tactile than his last, but the way he’d touched Rose since Rome exceeded even that threshold. In Scotland, he’d wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her bodily out of the way of the werewolf, instead of just taking her hand and tugging her along behind him. And then—and then!—he’d actually grabbed her bum in front of Queen Victoria!

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their-happy-story  asked:

Olicity (because they are beautiful) and.... uhm.... Felicity *ahem* distracting Oliver during a conference call. Bonus points if it's with QC's Russian branch. (I don't know where this came from. I've been craving it for like the past week. *hides*)

Oliver coughed, his brow furrowed as he stared at the man across from him, speaking in a thick Russian accent as he continued to try and tell Oliver about the recent changes made in their offices. He nodded to show he was listening, but in all honesty, he was much more interested in the hand currently resting on his thigh. Every once in a while, she’d flick her fingers down and trace the seam of his pant leg, letting her pinkie finger slide dangerously high. 

He’d already pressed his hand down to stop her twice, but he could admit that he enjoyed it a lot more than he should. They were comfortably hidden thanks to the high set of the table they were all seated at, meaning nobody had any idea that Felicity, who seemed extremely dedicated to whatever it was she was looking at on her tablet, was slowly and methodically driving him nuts. 

Eyes narrowed, he tried to focus on the presentation in front of him. Her hand was still, it hadn’t moved in some time, so maybe this was just another exercise in teasing him, letting him wait, anticipating the next slide of her fingers. But then she raised her head and smiled at the two men in front of her. “Could you speak a little more on that?” she asked. 

They nodded eagerly and launched into conversation that Oliver couldn’t for the life of him follow. Felicity’s fingers didn’t just stretch out and lightly drag over his pants. No, she slid her hand right up and cupped him, sinking her hand down low and squeezing his shaft. 

His breath caught in his throat and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table top. He could see their mouths moving, but there was just a rush of noise in his ears. Felicity rubbed her hand up and down before pausing and then, without warning, raked her nails across the front. 

He jumped in his seat, drawing the attention of everyone. 

He let out a breathless noise and shook his head. In fluent Russian, he quickly told them, “My apologies, I think it’s a mixture of jet lag and just generally not feeling well. I’m going to have to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.” 

Unable to argue with him, they agreed, and Oliver swiftly stood from the table and turned, taking Felicity with him, his hand wrapped around her elbow. “Miss Smoak, maybe when we get back to the hotel you could help me feel better,” he growled against her ear.

She grinned up at him. “I think I have just the cure…”

She turns to him knowing full well that he’s awake thinking of everything and nothing at the same time. “He would have liked you, you know? My dad.”

Sherlock shifts so that he’s looking at her where she’s laying against his side. He smiles a little at her. She’s always telling him small things like that as if he needs her to pull him back in.

He’s okay though. He’s been okay for a little while. 

When he has her near like this late at night he is aware of how lucky he is. Having someone to anchor onto when his head is so busy; it’s the nicest thing.

He leans over to wrap his arms around her fully and effectively pulling her closer to him. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Sherlock’s nose scrunches up at that. “I need a better answer, Molly.”

She just laughs.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “Do I have to answer that?”

When she doesn’t say anything for a solid two and a half minutes he listens to see if she had fallen asleep waiting on him. No snores on her end.

“I do. Always have.”

“Then trust me when I say that he would have.”

“I do.” He echoes. He presses a kiss to her forehead. “For the record my father loves you. He always asks about you when he calls.”


“Trust, Molly.”

She doesn’t have to tell him but she giggles at him before closing her eyes.