if i were i'd be so bitter you have no idea

anonymous asked:

Them finding out that MC has a tattoo. I'm getting a tattoo soon and am very nervous 😅 so I'd love to see how they would react.

ooo, I personally love tattoos but could never get one for myself! I’m sure it’ll look amazing holy damn

Zen

  • His first thought is just
  • Woah
  • Has he ever told you how damn attractive you are??
  • Because you look so amazing with it, and it’s definitely a surprise to him
  • It lowkey reminds him of his motorcycle gang and he may even have one himself
  • But 100% loves it so much he can’t say it enough

Yoosung

  • oH MY GOD 
  • He never realised you were so badass?
  • I mean tattoos mean needles and pain he could nOT have done that
  • Literally thinks you’re amazing and can’t say how much he loves it
  • Definitely wants to touch is but is v shy. Proceed with caution.

Jumin

  • There was a slight worry that maybe he wouldn’t approve but?
  • It’s so pretty, and he loves every inch of you, so there wasn’t actually anything to worry about
  • A part of him is a little bitter that someone’s touched you to give you the tattoo (especially if it’s in a more intimate place)
  • But at least he’s the only one with access now so

Jaehee

  • She admires this side of you?
  • And now you have to talk about it! 
  • When did you get it? Does it mean anything special to you? Please talk about it, she’s in love
  • The idea of getting one crosses her mind? like she may not go through with it, but the thought definitely comes to her head

Seven

  • Woww you are wild
  • Even if it’s just a small one, he thinks you’re awesome for it
  • He’s going to try teasing you for it if he can as always
  • Even starts talking about matching meme tattoos with you
  • But would totally “settle” for one of you having a moon, and the other having a sun or something (matching tattoos are my aesthetic I’m sorry but fiGHT ME)

motherofmajesticflapflaps  asked:

Okay stupid question: why do you ship Andras and Lucien? Was there subtext that I, the English major who loves queer theory missed in ACOTR? I mean I'd love to read more fics and your headcanons of this!

omg someone is asking about Landras I’m DELIGHTED. Okay so like when I say I ship it (and I do, dear god I do) it’s…Like I don’t think it’s going to be canon/was ever canon/was ever really hinted at being canon in any way. I just…Enjoy the idea of it? And it adds another layer of angst to ACOTAR and a bit of extra depth to Lucien’s character and his early interactions with Feyre if you read it that way? So I choose to. 

That being said like…I didn’t pull it entirely from nowhere there are lines in ACOTAR that send the wheels a-turning. Which I will now take the time to point out. (Like I said I don’t consider any of this subtext or hinting or foreshadowing or evidence. I’m just like…okay but if you slap a landras lens over this it’s so much more fun to read so this is less…canon interpretation and more…okay but if you look at it like this it’s much more fun) 

“Is Andras dead, then?” (Lucien has….a habit of using snark to cover up his feelings) 


A nod from my captor—savior, whatever he was. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“How?” the stranger demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped his muscled arms.


“An ash arrow,” said the other. His red-haired companion hissed. “The Treaty’s summons led me to the mortal. I gave her safe haven.”
“A girl—a mortal girl actually killed Andras.” Not a question so much as a venom-coated string of words.

[…] 

“You’re joking,” he said quietly. “That scrawny thing brought down Andras with a single ash arrow?”

[…] 

“Did you enjoy killing my friend, human?” the red-haired one said. “Did you hesitate, or was the hatred in your heart riding you too hard to consider sparing him? It must have been so satisfying for a small mortal thing like you to take him down.”

[…]

She brought Andras down? We never should have sent him out there—none of them should have been out there. It was a fool’s mission.” His growl was more bitter than threatening. (Lucien feels guilty for sending Andras across the wall….which gets approximately 1000000x angstier if you consider them having been in a secret ‘in denial about feelings’ relationship beforehand)

 […]

I’m sure her life will be a fine replacement for Andras’s—maybe she can even train with the others on the border.”

A snarl of irritation resonated through the air.

 […]

“Please let me go. There must be—must be some other loophole out of the Treaty’s rules—some other way to atone.”

“Atone?” Lucien said. “Have you even apologized yet?”

Apparently, all attempts to flatter me were dead and gone. So I looked Lucien right in his remaining russet eye and said, “I’m sorry.”

Lucien leaned back in his chair. “How did you kill him? Was it a bloody fight, or just cold-blooded murder?”

My spine stiffened. “I shot him with an ash arrow. And then anordinary arrow through the eye. He didn’t put up a fight. After the first shot, he just stared at me.”

“Yet you killed him anyway—though he made no move to attack you. And then you skinned him,” Lucien hissed. ( :( ) 

[…]

Lucien clicked his tongue. “I’m Tamlin’s emissary for formal uses, but this was Andras’s shift. So someone needed to fill in. It’s an honor to do it.” (he is literally doing his old rounds and calling it an honour I??) 

I swallowed hard. Andras had a place here, and friends here—he hadn’t been just some nameless, faceless faerie. No doubt he was more missed than I was. “I’m … sorry,” I said—and meant it. “I didn’t know what—what he meant to you all.”

Lucien shrugged. (Lucien shrugging is like…Lucien speak for ‘I’m deeply hurt but have no idea how to properly verbalise my emotions so I’m just going to brush them off instead’ see also: the whipping) 

 […]

“No, no. Andras was High Fae, too. Tam can shift us into other shapes if need be. He saves it for his sentries only, though. When Andras went across the wall, Tam changed him into a wolf so he wouldn’t be spotted as a faerie. Though his size was probably indication enough.”

A shudder went down my spine, violent enough that I didn’t acknowledge the red-hot glare Lucien lobbed my way.

 […]

Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras’s old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn’t seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. (aaaand he keeps doing Andras’s patrol. It’s fine. I’m fine.) 

[…]

The wolf—Andras had just … stared at me before I killed him. Let me kill him. (Not exactly Landras related but let’s just TAKE A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT MY BRAVE WOLF BOY OKAY? And also Andras doing this so Lucien could be safe :) that’s fun too :) ) 

 Literally none of this really implies anything more than a deep friendship between Lucien and Andras (which…makes me feel things in itself because fuck me Lucien needed someone on his side at the Spring Court, someone who might actually care about him) But it’s fun to imagine there was more between them. (And by ‘fun’ I mean deeply and utterly agonising, my soul is in pieces, please join me in the pit of despair. There’s plenty of room. 

And if you want more headcanons that are purely headcanons and nothing to do with the text…let me know I have plenty. 

jigglejaggle  asked:

(this is someone else's prompt, i don't remember who made it though but it's a bit different than the original..) could you write something where lance is stuck cleaning the decontamination chamber and he accidentally turns on with him inside so there's water filling up the room rapidly and he's running out of time but someone finally comes by and hears him screaming and freaking out trying to get him out. You can choose if lance dies or not (I'd prefer that he almost does but is revived by CPR)

I hope you like it; I haven’t slept in 30 hours so I’m just chugging along here…

A few aspects of living in a flying castle really bugged Lance.

How is anyone in their right mind supposed to clean the thing, especially while trying to fight a war at the same time?

How is someone supposed to stay out of the frankly ridiculous amount of traps and strange places scattered haphazardly around?

And, most importantly, how is someone supposed to get out of said traps when there are only six other people on the ship with a once again absurd square footage?

More under the cut!

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Knocked Out (1/?)

Guess who got in her head about writing dialogue heavy fics, so she took a break by diving head first into the plot idea with language barriers?

Surprise, it’s me.

Consider this my attempt at a barbarian au. Not as worldbuilding heavy as a lot, since it’s much more fluff and getting to know each other and also being surrounded by your nosy friends kind of content, haha.

Shout out to @meridianbarony for the title. Cheesy but fitting haha.

Title: Knocked Out

Series: Transformers: Prime with the constructicons shoved right in there, and just a sprinkle of ideas pulled from tfidw

Pairing/Characters: Breakdown/Knockout, joined by Bulkhead and the Constructicons

Warnings: Robot injuries (nothing super gory), sexual jokes, language barriers, and fluff. Oh the fluff.

Fic Summary:

And so there Breakdown found himself, with an injured barbarian in his arms who turned those dazzling crimson optics towards him, and for a split second Breakdown felt as if it was his knees that were injured because boy did they feel weak.

Barbarian AU where the citymech unwittingly does the kidnapping.

Chapter Summary:

“Me? A kidnapped mate? Have you even seen me? It’d take a whole tribe of them to even carry me! Two if they decided to go for Bulk here!”

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|


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anonymous asked:

Part 2 of Takao's fem best friend's unrequited love please?? An extra req, if you're gonna do a time skip, can you pls not make it longer than two months? I'd like those emotions to be raw, esp right after Takao knows of her feelings ^^ Thank you!

Anonymous said: Takao anon here! Yes, I’m the original anon who requested the first scenario. Um, honestly, I can’t think of any general plot for this 2nd one; all I actually want is a continuation of the 1st scenario, with more angst before the happy ending~ and yep, I want Takao to return his best friend’s feelings! ^^ So aside from the 2-month specified time, angst+happy ending, and Takao returning (maybe realizing his hidden feelings for her?) that love, like you said, I allow you to do whatever you want. 

I hope you’re not mad at me for delaying this for so long! I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, but here it is, I really hope it’s satisfactory. Since you like the feelings raw, I didn’t put a time skip. Thank you for your patience!

This is a continuation to this story here. You are heavily suggested to proceed only after reading the first part. Female!Reader ahead for consistency. 

It Was Always You by Maroon 5


Originally posted by grrungegoddess

Stupid stupid stupid stupid, he thinks, hands balled into fists at how completely idiotic he is. He should’ve just straightaway ran to your house instead of asking your friends, waiting for them to pick the phone up to ask them where you were, if you were partying with them—that way, he could’ve caught you before it got dark. Although he’s close to your family as your best friend, how is he supposed to knock on the door to your home at nearly midnight? 

What is he going to say if your parents open the front door?

What is he going to say if you are the one who opens the door?

Takao sighs, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt and loosening his tie. His hair sticks on his face from sweat, but in contrast to his slightly ragged breath and the sensation of the cold air against his damp skin, his mind is numb. 

He can see your bedroom window from here. It’s dark. You’re probably asleep. The idea of throwing rocks at your window is quickly discarded—you most likely don’t want to look at him in the face again.

The glare of his phone catches his eye and tells him that his girlfriend is looking for him: ten missed calls and a couple dozen of texts, gradually changing tone from sweet questions of where he’s at to a storm of textual rage. He turns off the device—she’s the least of his concerns right now. Takao sits on your empty porch with empty eyes and a rabbit heart as his mind flashes him images of the last few times he hung out with you.

When he can only recall conversations about his relationship and that forced smile on your face, he curses. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says to himself, feeling as if his heart is in the fist of a phantom hand, painfully clenching the organ. 

The two of you don’t even talk to each other these days—at least nothing of substance like your usual deep or humorous exchanges. Since the end of his second year in Shuutoku, which is around the time he found his “soulmate” (Takao swallows bitterness at the word—how did he have the gall to use it so lightly?), the conversations he shared with you were shallow banter with him mostly talking about his girlfriend and you having to listen. He’d ask for relationship advice, what a girl likes, where to take her on dates. 

You were probably forcing laughter, faking smiles, crying yourself to sleep when you’re alone.

Takao let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. The night is dark and quiet save for the occasional gust of wind and sounds of crickets singing between the grass, but his mind is loud and disorganized: a mix of realization, question, and self-deprecation. The way you looked at him when he talks, how other people seem to let their gazes linger on you and him—everybody knew, even Midorima noticed, for heaven’s sake. How could he miss the signs? How could he be so blinded, even when he was the one that told you “nothing is going to change” when he got a girlfriend?

If only he could go back in time and punch himself in the face for saying that to you. It obviously turned out to be a lie, no matter how he didn’t mean it to be one. He didn’t just replace you, he made you suffer by putting it in your face for at least one year and you say a single word against it.

He blinks, and a tear slowly makes its way down his cheek. It takes a moment for Takao to realize that he’s crying, but when he does, a wave of thoughts darker than the sky he’s under flood his mind: there’s no way you don’t hate him right now, not when he’s caused you nothing but pain for a long time. That’s why you didn’t talk to him after the graduation ceremony, that’s why you’ve been rejecting his offers to lunch together, that’s why you’ve been oddly quiet whenever the two of you hung out. 

He remembers the big game Shuutoku won and how he doesn’t recall you congratulating him. It must’ve been since then. He must’ve hurt you so much without realizing, like the Prince in The Little Mermaid and how he asked her to dance the night away, not knowing of the swords she feels like she’s stepping on. And like the Prince, too, he discarded her for another, despite the sacrifices she has made and the pain she must endure.

Then, he thinks about what will happen next. His apology won’t be enough, not after what you’ve been through. You’ll grow to despise him, cutting him off from your life like removing a parasitic infection—that’s what he’s been anyway, sucking the life and love out of you. You won’t look at him in the face again when you pass by each other on the street. He might have his girlfriend in one arm, but the thought of him not being in your life coils a rope in his chest.

And when he thinks of you having another person by your side, someone who shares kisses with you, someone who gets to make you smile and laugh, the only one who is allowed to hold you in their arms—and that someone is not him…

Takao feels like he’s been physically hurt, but there are no wounds on his skin to show.

He spends the rest of the night punishing himself in the chest with these thoughts sharp as blade, bleeding tears into the night until he’s too tired to stay awake.


You wake up the next morning with puffy red eyes, gauging that it is approaching afternoon by the strong sunlight that enters your bedroom. The weight of your heavy heart is somewhat diminished, not only by the fact that you cried your eyes out the night before, but also by the faint feeling of hunger. After brushing your teeth and a brisk shower, you change into clean T-shirt and shorts, not bothering to conceal your swollen eyes since you’re staying at home for the rest of the day.

Your parents should already be away for work at this time of the day, leaving you alone in your house. Your assumptions are confirmed when you walk downstairs to find silence—even the television is off. 

So when you enter the kitchen to find Takao, sitting with a plate of half-eaten toast in front of him, you gasp as if you’ve seen a ghost.

He does look ghastly, his paler face contrasting to the marks under his eyes. He shows signs of surprise as well when he sees you, which quickly dissolves into hesitance. He’s here with the full intention of talking to you, apologizing, telling you how stupid he was and how he realizes he doesn’t want a life without you—

—you don’t even know he knows.

“Takao-kun…?”   

“__________-chan,” he says with a start—weird since he’s the one barging in your house. He realizes your swollen eyes and remembers that he spent the night crying too, but he can only hope that you don’t notice.

“What are you—how did you get it?” You look at the front door and back at him again, positive that the entrance is properly locked.

“Your parents let me in,” he answers, “I came here in the morning.” Takao still can see your mother’s reaction when she finds him sleeping on a chair as she checks the porch every morning. She was surprised more than anything, but she didn’t ask when he said he has something very important to say to you.

Maybe she knows, and from the way your father glanced at him before offering him breakfast, Takao thinks he knows too. Have you been so upset that your parents notice what’s going on, though you’re not the type to tell them? Did they mention his name during a family dinner, and all of a sudden you just got quiet, like when he mentions his girlfriend’s name? Did they hear your sounds of sobbing across the hallway at night?

“Oh,” you answer dumbly, making a sandwich for yourself as you face the kitchen counter. You don’t want him looking at you, not when you’re like this: vulnerable and unprepared. “What brings you here today?”

“I—you—” he trips on his own words, “__________-chan, we need to talk.”

Fear overcomes you for a split second at the seriousness of his tone. Takao has rarely used it in his conversations with you, but after knowing him for so long, you can tell. He means business.

“What about?” You ask, putting a slice of cheese on toast before busying your hands with something, anything. You don’t want to talk to him.

“__________-chan, look at me.”

You freeze for a moment and hope he doesn’t notice, but Takao does not hold the nickname Hawk Eye for nothing. You slowly turn to him, looking at him in the eye, keeping your defences up with whatever dignity you have left in you.

In front of you stands the boy who you had your heart in his hands, and instead of looking powerful and confident, he’s not much better than you are. For a second you are tempted to throw in a joke about his face—he must’ve partied so hard and the hangover still hasn’t subsided, but you know the humorous attempt is merely a cover-up of the truth.

“__________-chan,” he calls your name again, softer this time as if reminiscing a memory, “do you… like me?”

At that point, thoughts of lying to him, telling him that of course you do—you’re not best friends if you don’t, are thrown out the window. There’s no use for sugar-coating and false masks anymore. Your grip to whatever leash that has been keeping your sanity together loosens, and tears begin to pool in your eyes as fast as he made you fall in love with him, breaking the dam.

You defy his orders, looking down to the floor and covering your face with both hands. Takao’s eyes widen only a fraction before he feels a pang in his heart. He knows you don’t usually cry in front of people, that you prefer to let loose when you are alone in your room—the fact that you’re openly crying in the kitchen with the cause of your pain right in front of you is proof that he made you go through a lot.

He feels like he’s suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I—I tried not to… I thought—”

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, attempting to pull you into a hug, but when you flinch and freeze before taking a step back, another portion of his heart breaks. You inhale deeply yet shakily, cupping your hand over your mouth as if it stops the sobbing somehow.

“It’s okay,” you say, a sudden calm overcoming you and his eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “I, we’re not going to the same university, s-so we won’t see each other as much,” you continue, cursing inwardly at your shaky voice when you see Takao’s expression.

“I’ll—I’ll stay out of your way!” It comes out as a suggestion, but it’s like his heart is about to burst in the phantom hand’s tight grip.

“I promise not to get in the way of your relationship.” He swallows, scenes of not seeing you ever again playing in his mind, and his mouth feels dry and bitter.

“I didn’t want you to know in the first place. Just please… pretend you don’t know.” His stomach sinks at the request.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, but it feels as if you’re trying to convince yourself, “I’ll be okay.”

That’s when he snaps, pulling you into a hug so tight you’re encased by his whole body. The desperation in his hands as he cups the back of your head says he’s afraid that you’ll slip through him like sand. Pressed against his chest like this, you feel his rapid heartbeat and warmth, and the tears you have been trying so hard to supress makes their way down your cheek, seeping into the material of his shirt.

“No, don’t, please,” he tells you, exhaling shakily, “I was—if I let you go now you’ll run away, and I spent the whole night thinking about what would happen and I,” he swallows, “I really can’t imagine not having you with me.”

“Then what?” You cry, pushing at his chest in anger to put distance between you. “You want me to stick around and ‘stand by you’ while you’re with your girlfriend? I’ve done that for the past year!” Your voice breaks with the gradually rising volume, evidence of how hard you cried the night before. “I don’t want to go through that anymore. I’ve had enough.”

The room falls into silence as Takao looks at you while you quietly lower your eyes down to the floor. Thoughts run a thousand miles an hour in your head: if Takao only loves you as much as a friend does, there’s no point in having this conversation anymore—at least not until you move on. You must cut all ties with him, start anew, and fall in love again to be ready to face him.

“You hate me now, don’t you?” He asks.

Even the words sting his tongue when he says them.

This time you look him in the eyes as you give him your answer.

“I wish I could,” you whisper, “that would make things so much easier.”

And like a meteor colliding with Earth, there is realization and clarity, like the smoke is cleared out of his mind. When he pulls you by the arm and crashes his lips onto yours in a desperate kiss, it feels as if everything makes sense—it’s right, and he has never felt nothing as perfect as this before.

Your eyes widen at the foreign sensation. You’ve never expected this to happen, never in your wildest dreams—at least not after you’ve discarded them. You feel tears well again in your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours, because how can you not cry while he’s kissing you and you’re already giving up on him? Any form of resistance you can come up with is futile: your push isn’t as strong and your fists are instead bringing him closer, the way you try to pull away but always responding when he chases you.

Inside, you figure that there is still a bit of hope that he would return your feelings.

Takao’s kiss is deep, passionate, desperate. It’s more emotional than your previous conversation combined, it tells you everything you need to know about him and him you: that he is certainly not willing to let you go or run away, and that a small part of you hasn’t lost your wish of being with him despite what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he says in between kisses, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, just give me the chance to.”

You gasp his name and he moans against your lips, kissing until the fire in his gut slowly turns into an ember, and by then he’s peppering slow kisses around your face in silent admiration and affection.

“What about your girlfriend?” You ask quietly. You really wish that you can skip this part, but he’s technically still in a relationship with someone else. Takao sighs, fishing out his phone and turning it on. The two of you stare until the blank screen lights up, and after a few seconds you can see notifications flooding in his phone, her name glaring in pixels. You spot snippets of the long sentences she sent to him, cuss words and spelling errors that turns out to be a continuation of what he received the night before.

“It’s clear that she’s upset of me ditching the party last night,” Takao scoffs a bit at that, “but who cares? She most likely found somebody else to grind with on the dance floor if she has the gall to diss me like that.”

“That’s horrible,” you say, eyebrows scrunching lightly with discomfort.

Takao places the device on the kitchen counter, paying absolutely no attention to it before he moves in to kiss you softly on the lips. When you pull away, it’s slow and unwilling, like you want it to last forever, but the need for air makes such wish impossible. His eyes are lidded, looking at you with an expression you can’t exactly decipher. You’ve never seen this look on his face before—something tells you that you’ll see more of this side of him in the future.

“I can’t believe it’s you all along,” he whispers, kissing you one more time. You reciprocate with equally, closing your eyes as you allow yourself to sink in the feeling of him wrapped around your senses. He smiles into the kiss.

“We’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

anonymous asked:

Can you please tell us more about your thoughts on how Dandelion and Juniper would have turned out? I'd love to read more about them, if they'd survived! :) You make me wish they had lived!

Aw that’s so sweet, I’m happy you ended up liking them so well. ;w; 

Hmm, what else do I have on them… 

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anonymous asked:

When you're available to, I'd love to see Komahina with 43. “i am not losing you again!” Thanks <3

I had some inspiration today so here it comes ! 43 - I’m not losing you again.

“So, how long do I still have to live ?” Komaeda asks the doctor, his usual smile on his face.

Dr. Horiko rolls his eyes but the white-haired boy can see that he isn’t angry : they have been doing that for more than a year, now, and he had the time to get used to Komaeda’s weird fatalism. Or maybe he thinks it’s some kind of morbid sense of humor, that’s a possibility too.

“Hard to say,” the nice doctor replies without a hint of emotion in his voice ( and Komaeda can enjoys that, he would feel really uncomfortable with someone being sad about his life’s ridiculous circus ), looking at the brain scans. “For now it’s stable, I guess. It has been since you were put in the simulation, though the reason is a mystery.”

Komaeda’s smile grows.

“It’s my luck,” he sing-songs, and maybe he is being a little extra, because the good doctor is frowning. “It will run out - it always does.” He is matter-of-factly about it, but being anything else would be pointless : after all this time, if anything could have been done to fix his rotten brain, it would have been done.

“This is inoperable, Komaeda. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about, doctor.”

It was true then, and it still stands. And his desire to die didn’t have anything to do with creating hope or being a stepping-stone, for after destroying the world, for the better or the worse, there wasn’t anything he could do beside watching the amazing people from Future Foundation creating hope. It is nice, and he is happy to be the witness of such thing, but it is the end of the road for him. Just being there, not having any purpose, it can only last for a while, and even the idea to live ten, twenty, fifty more years is a dreadful one.

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nadinedimples  asked:

If you don't mind I would really like a newtxreader where the reader is a really short(5') sytherin who stood up to bullies for newt even though she's really insecure for newts feelings for her. Really fluffy and sweet with some of newts children (fantastic beasts). I understand if you don't have time or you don't like the prompt but I'd really appreciate a pick me up. Thank you so much for your time I think your a fantastic writer.

Newt Scamander X Reader – An Unlikely Friend

A/N – Sorry this took so long, major block. Also, since we’re in troubling times right now hopefully this will help people cheer up a bit ; )

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

@nadinedimples


Originally posted by elenarinya

“-and that’s how we brew a Confusing Concoction.” Professor Spraydel, a greying lady with more hair than she could contain, concluded after a brief introduction to the lesson. “Now, everyone into pairs please, you’ll be working together to make the potion. Mr Scamander, I’m afraid we have an odd number in class today so you’re with me dear.”

The class snickered as Newt sloped to the front of the class; this was a weekly occurrence since the class was always an uneven number yet Professor Spraydel always presented it like it was something new.

You glanced at the empty seat next to you where Olive Perplinski usually sat. Apparently, she was still in the hospital wing after being incorrectly hexed during the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson; the spell had been mispronounced, resulting in toxic purple smoke escaping Olive’s mouth whenever she spoke.

You raised your hand, “Excuse me Professor, Olive hasn’t come back from the hospital wing yet.”

“Oh.” Professor Spraydel perked up, eagerly taking the opportunity to put Newt with somebody his own age. “In that case, Mr Scamander will pair up with you for today. Go on now dear,” she ushered him to the back of the class, “that’s it.”

Somehow, Newt looked even more embarrassed to be working with another student rather than the teacher. You wondered momentarily whether it was because the two of you were the only Slytherin/ Hufflepuff pairing or if he was just afraid of you like he was the other students.

“Now everyone, you have 45 minutes to complete the concoctions and five minutes to test them at the end; antidotes will be provided afterwards. Begin.”

“Hi.” You said over various sounds of bubbling cauldrons, chopping boards, and clinking vials.

Newt hunched over his potions book, hiding his face with a mumbled, “Hello,” back.

“I’m (Y/N).” You continued, undiscouraged by his shy nature.

“Yes, I k-know.”

You smiled empathetically. If you had been as ostracised as Newt had been during his time at Hogwarts, you would have probably acted the same way. You’d often observed Newt from afar during the years because Slytherin and Hufflepuff were usually put together for shared classes; it gave you time to admire his gentle manner and patience, even if he tended to get a little distracted. You also appreciated that he never fought or snapped back when bullied, which was the majority of the time, nor did he become bitter as some others may have done; it complimented his shy nature.

In the past, you’d desired the opportunity to speak with Newt and extend your hand in friendship but on the few occasions that you’d attempted to he was nowhere to be found; today’s potion lesson would be your first real chance.

“So, I think if we start with dried sage-” You picked the wrong ingredient on purpose, hoping that it would help bring him out of his shell.

“(Y/N), NO!” He grabbed your wrist from the cauldron which was bubbling away with pre-gathered blob fish mucus.

“Something wrong?”

“It’ll uh- It’ll explode.”

“Oh? Well, I best put this down then. Alright, where do we start?”

“It um- it’s actually dried rosemary so uh, you weren’t far off.”

“Right, I’ll chop that up and you can tell me what I need to get next.” You placed him in charge of the situation, deciding to take over if he got too anxious later on.

“Um I- I d-don’t think that’s a good i-idea.”

“Nonsense, if it weren’t for you, this pot would be up in smoke. So, I’ll get to chopping.”

With ten minutes to spare, the two of you had what looked to be an exquisite potion and as suspected, once Newt new what he was talking about in regards to the concoction, he had become much more confident, talking more to himself than you; you didn’t mind, so long as he wasn’t distressed.

“You did great Newt.” You praised excitedly, “You ever thought of being a potioneer?”

Newt blinked rapidly, taken aback by the comment, then once again bent over pages of his notebook, clamming up completely.

“Awh, don’t tell me you’re shy now, seriously, I think ours may be the best in the class and-”

“Can you just stop?” Newt murmured shakily.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t have to pretend to be my friend anymore, the lesson’s almost over.”

A stray tear escaped him, you looked around to see that nobody was watching, leaning against the book to shield him from view in case he should cry some more. “Hey, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just… I thought we were doing really well together and you’re real’ nice so-”

“That’s enough.” He whispered more harshly this time, a finality to his voice. “It’s bad enough that people hate me, I don’t need you setting up some elaborately cruel prank and pretending to like me to make it hurt more.”

“Newt, I didn’t- That’s not-”

“Ooh, this looks promising.” Professor Spraydel interrupted, cutting you off.

You didn’t get a chance to explain to Newt, he hurtled out the classroom as soon as the class was dismissed.

“Oy (Y/N).” Michael Bowspark called over. “Pity you had to work with such a freak innit.”

The group around him howled madly with laughter, clearly waiting for you to join in. You bristled, and yelled, “SHUT UP MICHAEL.”

You ran out in search of Newt, leaving the group in stunned silence for a few seconds before more raucous laughter followed you out.


In the following weeks, Newt avoided you completely, even in lessons. It wasn’t like before though because snapping at Michael lost you the few friends you had within your own house. Although you knew it meant they weren’t real friends and you should be glad to be rid of them, you’d never felt so utterly alone; Olive only stayed with you for lessons because she had to.

Unbeknownst to you, Newt kept an eye out, waiting to see how long it would take for you to admit the game was over and regroup with your friends; as each day dwindled on, it became less and less likely that you would, and more obvious that this may not be a game or trick of some form. Still, he kept his defences up, staying away from you just in case, disappearing as he always had after lessons in case you got the urge to search for him.

You gave up hope of companionship for a while after a nasty argument in the common room. Various snippets of unimportant conversation surrounded you as you trudged flights of complicated moving staircases to the library where you hoped you’d find peace.

“-and the nurse couldn’t fix her boils-”

“-It’s true, the slugs really ate my herbology homework-”

“-So, I can’t go home for Christmas now cos’ me pa hates muggles-”

“-P-p-please, let me -d-down-”

You came to a halt, searching for the source of the last voice which was unmistakably Newt’s terrified squeak. It didn’t take long as a small crowd gathered at an unmoving area of the staircase where a lanky, sneering Ravenclaw girl had just begun levitating Newt for all to see; she was flanked by two burly Gryffindors, who you supposed were her bodyguards. Without hesitating, you ran up the last few steps, pushing forcefully to the front of the crowd.

“What’s your bets lads?” The girl jeered through her incredibly nasally voice. “How many spins before he vomits?”

You stood behind the taller, more built guy, though it was hard to call him a guy as opposed to a walking slab of beef with a face. Despite the fact that he was leagues taller than you, as most people were, you reached up, yanking his hair back sharply and pulling him closer to your level. He screamed in agony, turning everyone’s attention to you. The Ravenclaw turned to you, casually slinging her wand over her shoulder, keeping Newt suspended as he watched with streaming, embarrassed tears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Ravenclaw demanded casually.

“YOU. PUT. HIM. DOWN. RIGHT. NOW.” You spoke through gritted teeth, unable to contain your seething fury.

“I think you’ll find that I have extra muscle.”

“YEAH? WELL, I THINK YOU’LL FIND THAT I’D ONLY HAVE TO SMASH THIS IDIOT’S FACE ONCE AGAINST THIS FLOOR TO BREAK HIS NOSE, AND HOW WOULD YOU EXPLAIN THAT?”

The girl’s lip curled, making her face look more like that of a rat’s, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” You raised the boy’s head slightly, showing your full intention and capability.

“Urgh, fine.” She huffed, lowering Newt slowly to the floor, where he scrambled up, getting behind you for further protection. “It’s not like he was much fun anyway, come on boys.” She parted the crowd, who were dispersing at your savage gaze as fast as they could manage to get a staircase.

“You alright?” Your tone took a worried edge on as you turned to Newt, craning your neck to face him properly.

He was wiping his tears away whilst staring at you in disbelief, constantly wondering how something so small could be such a threat, “Y-you were r-really going to h-hurt him.”

“Actually, he was really heavy, I doubt I could’ve done much.”

“T-then how-”

“You make a scary face and keep a confident voice, it’ll fool most people. Though, come to think of it, you should learn some defence spells or something, then you’d be okay.”

“I k-know the spells, I just d-d-don’t like to use t-them.”

You exhaled tiredly, leaning your head against the wall to laugh almost silently. Newt watched as if you’d gone mad.

“(Y/N)? Are you a-alright? If you need h-help-”

You waved his offer away weakly, gasping for air between more desperate giggles, “You’re- really- something- Can’t- believe- you- know- how- but-”

Newt caught your drift, laughing a little himself, though often checking to see that you were okay for him to join in.

When you finally regained control, you asked in all seriousness, “What were they even doing it for?”

“I uh- I wouldn’t tell them where I go after classes, they thought it would be a good place to bunk off lessons.”

“Ahh, your super, secret hiding place, got’cha.”

“Y-Yes quite. Um, actually, (Y/N), I’m afraid I o-owe you a bit of an apology about that p-potions lesson.”

“Forget it.” You smiled, relaxed.

Newt tensed up, stating formally, “I will do no such thing. You were being polite and I made a rather rude assumption against your good name. I swear, I’ll not rest until I make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah? And how’re you gonna do that?”

“I’ll… I’ll…” He paused, the sudden bravado disappearing as quickly as it had come until he looked a little hopeful, “Do um, do you like magical creatures?”

You chuckled quizzically, “Sure, I think they’re unique.”

“Then I’ll… I’ll show you my hiding place, come on.”

He walked past you, gesturing for you to follow down the many steps you’d just travelled up. You followed eagerly, curious to see how the magical creatures and his secret place interlinked.


To say you were out of breath was an understatement. You were used to long walks through the Hogwarts grounds but you didn’t usually have to trek through the thick wood of the Forbidden Forest in full uniform. At first sight of the forest you had been hesitant to proceed, knowing of some of the dangerous creatures that lurked within but at Newt’s first real smile at you, you knew that it would be okay somehow, like he knew what lay ahead.

After trekking further on, until you could only see the towers of Hogwarts above the treeline, Newt stopped in front of a large thorn bush. He pushed a few of the branches aside, leaving a small opening for you to enter. You looked from the opening to Newt, seeing how it was too small for any person.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe, I promise.” He reassured you, nodding back at the gap.

You sighed, hunching up as small as you could to avoid the thorns but you quickly realised that each one you hit turned to smoke then rematerialized as though it had never been touched.

“It’s just an illusion.” Newt explained, following you in and putting the real thorn branches back where they belonged.

You came to the end of the illusion tunnel until you were in a rounded hut, made entirely of weaved willow. Piles of cushions and muddy blankets covered the floor, acting like a thin carpet, and animals the likes of which you’d never seen had nests and sets in various spots of the room.

You were awe-struck as you watched a small, green, leaf-like creature climb up Newt’s trouser leg.

Newt looked down, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him, this is just Pickett, he has some attachment issues.”

“And Pickett is a…?”

“A Bowtruckle. He was my first rescue, it seems his family tree suffered lightning damage but he was the only one who stayed to protect it, I imagine that’s why he has issues with others of his kind.”

The confidence faded from Newt’s voice momentarily as he gazed at you apprehensively, “Do you… do you like him?”

By now Pickett had stubbornly made his way up to the crook of Newt’s elbow, you bent down to the creature’s level, “Hello Pickett, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Pickett paused, not used to being addressed by anyone other than Newt. He turned to glare at you, sticking his tongue out in obvious disdain.

“Now Pickett,” Newt reprimanded, “that’s not how we treat guests, be nice to (Y/N), (s)he was nice to me.”

Pickett ignored the request and continued his climb.

You were about to speak again but you were interrupted by a mournful warbling, you felt the sudden urge to cry at the terrible sound, like something dreadful had just happened but you couldn’t remember what.

Newt bent to see four small, murky green chicks, residing on a bright yellow pillow, “Ahh, Audrey, now is not the time for that, see, your sisters are being nice and quiet, aren’t they?”

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked sadly. “Is she sick?”

“No, Augurey’s simply chirp when it’s about to rain but she tends to do so at any given time, it’s why she can’t be reintroduced with the others when they grow a little more.”

You raised your eyebrows at his use of the word chirp, “So she doesn’t get the weather right, how come that means she can’t go back out there?”

“Augurey’s only fly in the rain, and since Audrey can’t get it right it would make her survival increasingly difficult.”

You nodded, feeling a little better now that the wailing had stopped. “So this place, you made it?”

“With magic.”

“And you rescue animals?”

“Yes, I want them to be understood as something more than potion parts… I-is that okay?”

You looked back to Newt, who was towering nervously nearby, much closer than he was before, “Just tell me one more thing.”

Newt gulped apprehensively, waiting for you to run out and tell the headmaster.

“How can I help?”

“W-what?”

“This is a great cause.” You stopped to admire a fairy that had just appeared in front of you. “I want to be part of it.”

Newt’s heart skipped a beat at your apparent enthusiasm, “F-forgive me for saying it but… I’ve never met a… a Slytherin like you.”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly, “Yeah well… we’re not as bad as you’d think. So, can I help then? Am I in?”

“Y-yes, of course. C-come on, I’ll t-teach you about kneazles.”

You moved to a small pile of books, kept safely behind a fireguard away from the creatures. Throughout the remainder of the day, Newt taught you all about the creature’s he kept, pointing out why he kept them and why the needed him. Even though it was a lot to take in, you felt confident that with Newt to teach you, you’d be able to remember it all in no time.

Not One to Forget

A/N: I can’t believe that my first Gravity Falls fanfic is a 9k fiddauthor angstfest that was originally just a short Fiddleford character study. What a hell of a way to come off a 5-month writer’s block lmao. 

Shoutout to @tallykale whose amazing fiddauthor fics MAY have influenced me writing this (seriously, pls read their stuff, it’s so good!!). Also thanks to my friend @toobookishtohandle for listening to me wail about my own writing and who implored me to give this a happy ending and tone down my angst for just ONCE in my goddamn life (I failed, btw). 

Also available on my brand spankin’ new Ao3

Warnings: fluff then devastating angst, non-consensual touching, lots of anxiety, blood, and a few other disturbing things. Nothing too harsh tho, I think. Also mostly canon-complaint? Just with a lot more gay. 

…anyways, welcome to run-on sentence hell… hope you enjoy!


Fiddleford Hadron McGucket wasn’t one to forget things.

It wasn’t to say he didn’t forget things, or that he didn’t have a few memories he’d rather not remember, but he’d always been good at seeing the truth of things. Like how when he introduced himself with his full name, soothed by the Southern accent he’d inherited from his Ma, people tended to either snicker or look doubtful that he was in college in the first place. Or when he first walked into his dorm to the sight of his future roommate dropping a stack of too-many boxes filled with too-many papers all across the floor, and the man had stammered out a quick apology at the same time he introduced himself as Stanford Pines and practically threw himself at Fiddleford, offering him a handshake before remembering his insecurities and wincing as Fiddleford grasped the six-fingered hand. In the space of that time, Fiddleford saw a lot; this was a man that had been ridiculed just as much as him (for a birth-defect rather than just a silly accent and a big brain, Fiddleford thought), someone unused to social interactions, someone that with a wince said silently, “Let’s get this over with…”

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Fenris concerned about Hawke having to go to Skyhold. Bonus points if they decide to go together in the end 'cause i'd love to see Fenris there

“Do you have everything you need?” Fenris asked. It was the first words he’d spoken since they’d stopped fighting, the two of them retreating to mutual silence, the home they had shared for such a short, blissful time silent but for the sound of Hawke packing, and Fenris cleaning up broken glass. He had thrown a lot of plates in his passion.

They were the first words spoken between them, even after they made love – after Fenris came to Hawke with no apologies, but with kisses and purposeful hands, resolved that, whatever the bitter taste the situation left in his mouth, he would not let Hawke leave on a fight. Hawke’s hands had trembled against his skin. He had never held him tighter. Even in his anger, Fenris knew this was no easier on Hawke.

The mage was quiet for a long time, not answering, and Fenris might have thought he slept, were it not for the index finger that traced the marks on his belly by memory, the touch so soft, so sweet.

Finally Hawke said, “No,” and a moment longer passed, then he said, “I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you.” Fenris didn’t bother pointing out that he wouldn’t have to, if he weren’t so stubborn. They had spent hardly more than a day apart since they met, it seemed, and the concept now of weeks, months without seeing his face was something difficult for Fenris to grasp. He hated the idea of Hawke fighting without him there at his side.

I can’t lose you Hawke had pled, his voice ragged, his eyes panicked, and Fenris had felt something in him deflate. He had planned to follow after anyway, once Hawke was gone. Stay at a distance until they were too far to turn back.

But he’d seen a terror in the mage’s eyes that he’d never seen before, and quietly, bitterly, Fenris agreed to stay behind.

He felt Hawke’s lips on his neck, his arm going tight around him. His palm pressed against him, firm and large and warm. “I love you,” Hawke said. “You’re the only good thing I have left in this world.”

Fenris wished he didn’t sound as if he was saying goodbye.

anonymous asked:

why dont u wont your art reposted on anything other than tumblr? mind ofc that a lot of people would give credit and twitter/ etc brings a lot of attention to your blog/art ? not to be mean or anything! just wondering, bc i'd love to post them on mine with giving credit included

To be precise, I don’t want my art to be reposted anywhere - tumblr included. There’s this button you know…

it allows you to reblog posts.

Art reposted on other sites doesn’t bring a lot of attention to the creator’s blog. It brings a lot of attention to the reposter’s blog/site.
How do you think, who gets the notes, likes, comments, all the feedback? Well, guess what :) Not the author! (who in most cases have no idea someone took their art in the first place!)
You want to bring attention to someone’s blog/art? Share the link and write something nice about their creations. If it’s all about the artist then there’s no problem if their pretty drawings don’t appear on your site.
No picture - no example? Well, let’s think. If you’re very popular people will check the link to see who you reccomend, you’re famous, a trendsetter. If you’re not very popular then people who follow you must know you quite good and will trust your judgement, they’ll check the link.

Now you’re writing anonymously, I don’t know you! Even if I said yes, how am I supposed to know where you want to put my art, what you plan to do with it??? How am I supposed to keep the track of what’s happening with my drawings?? Have you linked me to your site and asked what drawing you want to put there??? I don’t think so.

You may say artists are stupid, why don’t they want the recognition, the fame, the glory??? Well… respect the fact the art is made by them, they did it, they were sitting in their dark room, googling their eyes and ignoring the wrist pain with determination to get that tiny line right at last. And even if it seems abnormal that they want to keep their art only on tumblr or deviantart, stop making them happy against their will! Artists are weird, just deal with it!

What else? Ah.. In my faq you can read:
Can I use your art as an icon/sidebar/theme element?
Yes but give credit! (also please don’t use the icon I am currently using :))

^ this is not about reposting my art!
also:
DO NOT REPOST MY ART ON OTHER SITES AND TUMBLR!
^ I guess that’s clear.

Now, do people follow these instructions? Hell no! I can enter some blogs that have my dawing as an icon right now and I won’t find any ctredit if I turn their blogs inside out. Why? Because they don’t give a shit. They like the picture and nothing else matters.*

All these things, the fact that so many people take artists’ stuff without asking, without giving credit, (MY GOD!) editing it as they like without permission, make artists bitter and distrustful, suspicious and apprehensive. So don’t be surprised that if you send some artist an anonymous message saying: “Hey I love your art! Can I post it to my twitter?” the artist can say NO!

*Metallica

twobrokenwyngs  asked:

hey girl, do you ever take prompts? I just thought of something (black sails) and you were the first person to come to mind for it -- either flint or silver hears the other one telling someone "i'll handle him." this hits at their pride and they set out to prove that they will not, in fact, be handled. (does it work tho? you decide! haha) ...I thought of you b/c you are excellent with power play. so I figured I'd throw it out there! have a good one! :D <3

(whoops I love this idea more than I expected so I wrote a thing)


John Silver stood in the upstairs room of the tavern, leaning on his crutch. He was filled with an agitated energy, and would have paced if not for his leg. As it was, he couldn’t sit down, not when any moment Flint would arrive, and he wanted to be standing for this fight. 

The door opened, and Flint entered the room, pinching the bridge of his nose in a resigned gesture. “Billy says he can spin this so the fallout won’t affect us,” he said. His tone was infuriatingly calm, and Silver bristled. 

“I’ll handle him?”

“Beg pardon?” Flint asked, furrowing his brows. 

“‘I’ll handle him,’ that’s what you said. Is that what I am? Some wayward cur who can be brought to heel? Or did you think because we’re fucking now that you can—what—compel me to obey you outside our bed?”

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fuckingskywalkers  asked:

Hey! So, I know this is not the brightest question out there but I'm super confused with all the Targaryens and their similar sounding names and all the Duncans and whatever, so I thought I'd ask you... What the hell happened in Summerhall? I get that it burned down, was it Aegon the Egg (as i call him) trying to get some dragons going? Why would a nice fellow/king do that? Why do I feel like I'm way off in the timeline and it's another Aegon/Aemon and I'm missing something? Please help

~it is a mystery~

No, really, we have no real idea of what truly happened at Summerhall and why. And GRRM has straight up said we’re not going to find out in The World of Ice and Fire (as significant spoilery information will be blotted out somehow). It’s unknown if we’ll find out the details in the later books of ASOIAF (god knows when), or in the final Dunk and Egg story (that is, never).

But here’s what we do know:

  • Summerhall was the Targaryen summer palace, a castle located in the Stormlands near the Reach border. Also, like Dragonstone is granted to the Targaryen crown prince, Summerhall seems to have been the home of the fourth son. (Maekar was Prince of Summerhall before he became king, and his fourth son Aegon may have been Prince of Summerhall as well.)
  • The event that fans call “the tragedy at Summerhall” occurred in 259AC, when the castle burned down in a great fire.
  • It is believed that the fire caused the deaths of King Aegon V (Egg, age 60), his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Duncan the Tall (Dunk, age ~67), and Aegon’s eldest son Duncan the Small (aka “the Prince of Dragonflies”), among others. (Note that Duncan Targaryen was not Aegon’s heir, as he had abdicated in order to marry for love.)
  • Duncan Targaryen’s wife Jenny of Oldstones had a friend, a dwarf woods-witch (that she claimed was one of the Children of the Forest, but that’s unlikely). It may be thought that this woods-witch died at Summerhall, but she did not — she’s still alive, and currently known as the Ghost of High Heart, living in the Riverlands and exchanging prophecies for wine and music.
  • The fire at Summerhall was on the same day that Rhaegar Targaryen was born. (Rhaegar was the son of Aerys and Rhaella, the children of Jaehaerys II, Aegon V’s second son.) Rhaegar may have been born at Summerhall itself during the event (as the World app says), but as yet that’s not been made clear in the books.

Things we are unsure of:

  • Whether Jenny of Oldstones died in the fire. “Jenny’s song” refers to her “dancing with her ghosts” in “the halls of the kings that are gone”, which could mean she survived Summerhall and afterwards lived (in madness) in the ruins. But note Oldstones is also a home of dead kings (the Mudd dynasty of the Riverlands), so it could be that part of the song refers to where she came from, not where she ended up. Or it could be both, songs are like that. Either way, the Ghost of High Heart is still broken up about it 40 years later.
  • Who else died in the fire. It could have included Aegon’s unnamed third son and/or other members of the Targaryen family (like Duncan and Jenny’s children, if they had any; or Aegon’s sisters and their families, etc), which would explain why there were so few Targs in the next generations.
  • What caused the fire. It is usually blamed on an attempt to hatch dragons through sorcery, but that may not be the full truth.
  • If it was an attempt to hatch dragons, why did Aegon want to do so? (Besides general Targaryen desire for dragons, of course.) But Barristan speaks of Aegon’s sons’ marriages for love causing enemies, and that may have been what spurred on the tragic decision. Also note that Jenny’s woods-witch prophesied that the Prince That Was Promised would come from the line of Aerys and Rhaella (and so they were commanded to marry), and it’s possible another one of her prophecies is what led to the tragedy.

Possibly we will find out more details (though not all of them) from The World of Ice and Fire. If not, we’ll just have to wait for later books for the whole truth.

Quotes about the events at Summerhall under the cut:

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anonymous asked:

Eliot, Parker, and Hardison together is probably one of the best parts of the show tbh. They're just- amazing together? And it's wonderful? And I'd say more, but I honestly have no idea what goes where at this point because I watch random episodes too freely, and I really don't want to spoil anything. But, favorite character? Favorite episode? I'm curious and loving watching you get into this series, I'm sorry. Thanks for responding to my first ask!

omg of course!!!

okay i LOVE THEM SO MUCH. LOVE THEM. psa i’ve totally finished the whole series because i have no self preservation instincts.

okay so my favorite character has to be hardison because out of all of them he’s the most ‘normal’ in comparison. not like, in his abilities or his wants, but in his ability to relate to other people. he’s been through rough shit, and he always comes out kinder and stronger and more loving. and i love him the most because he’s the one who could mostly be happy living among normal people, to be honest i feel as if he needs the team the least but wants them the most. he could be a nine to five hacker, just presents himself as a genius geek who works from home or even gets himself an office or whatever, and live a mostly normal life among normal people. he just - for the shit he’s been through, he doesn’t have all that much baggage. normal people dont confuse him or bore him, they’re not a mark like they are for sophie, a puzzle for parker, a mass of mistakes and faults for nate, a potential threat for eliot. they’re just people.

and because hardison doesn’t try to put people into boxes is why he loves this team so much and so unabashedly from the start. for people that are so defined by their role on the team, he doesn’t define them. nate questions eliot’s ability to cook and be a hitter, but hardison just takes it in stride. this is eliot, he’s an amazing cook, great at wines, spends more time on his hair than any girl hardison has ever known, and he knows 43 ways to kill someone with a plastic butter knife. cool. he never wants anyone to change, he supports them if they choose to change, but he doesn’t ask anyone to be what they are and instead does his best to change himself in the way that he relates to them. and he tries so hard and so much. sophie and nate, they’re on another level, a little to arrogant, a little too bitter for it to work.

but eliot and parker man. fuck. talk about two people who’ve spend almost their whole lives being told how they had to be and how what they were wasn’t good enough, wasn’t right. and then hardison comes in and just. is there. protecting and caring for them without asking anything in return. and parker and eliot keep waiting for the other foot to drop, for there to be some sort of catch in how hardison just keeps being there for them, but it never comes. and at some point down the line they finally accept that this is how hardison is, and how they kinda cant live without him anymore, which a whole new different realization for another reason.

just. the thing that gets me about this OT3 is that every single one of them feels like they got lucky, like they’re the ones dating up. parker has eliot who understands her, and hardison who’s patient and so good to her, and she looks at these mostly normal guys and wonders why they’re bothering with her and her weirdness and hang ups and insecurities when they could be having a normal relationship with each other. eliot looks at parker, the best thief, and hardison, the smartest man he’s ever known, and he knows he’s not the best hitter in the world, that even if he was that he can’t sustain that, and parker and hardison are criminals but they’re not murderers and they’re kind to each other and good to each other and can touch each other without worrying if they’re smearing blood on their lover’s skin from the countless people that have died under their hands, and just, eliot considers himself the soiled, bad man who’s potentially ruining a perfectly healthy, if not normal, relationship between people who’ve never gotten their hands dirty. and hardison looks at beautiful and graceful parker, and eliot who shifts between controlled finesse with a sword in his hand to a deadly tornado in a hand to hand fight, and hardison walks into walls and trip over his own two feet, he doesn’t know what these two amazing people are doing with him, because he knows parker and eliot speak this secret language of people who use their body as a tool, but hardison can’t do that, cant share a look and shrug with them and have it be a conversation, instead all he has is words, a flood of words, an endless waterfall of words to talk about his feelings, and he knows most of the time they don’t want his words and he can’t understand them in the way they understand each other, and basically hardison is terrified of the day that eliot and parker figure out they’re perfect together and decide they don’t need him anymore.

my precious insecure children who love so hard and so clumsily and so much that it ends up spilling out of them and over the floor and up to their necks, threatening to drown them if they’re not careful.

just. jesus fuck these three and this show has fucking ruined me.

aslo, favorite eps: the 12 step job, the grave danger job, the rundown job, the first david job, the lost heir job, the gone fishing job, the san lorenzo job, the queen’s gambit job

heyseoulsisterr  asked:

Hello~ May I request a scenario where you are Joey & Mark's best friend ever since u were in diapers. All three of you grew up together and you started to develop feelings for Mark. But you know that he doesnt want to be in a relationship with someone who is the same age as his brother (u are younger than joey by a month). And all this stuff happens (mark rejects u wen joey convinces u to ask him out ) and then mark realizes that he has feelings for u l8er on. A little angst + happy ending pls.

Oooh! This seems interesting! I’ll have fun writing this and I also hope you have fun reading it!

“What’s up with you?” Mark chuckled a bit, watching you nervously fidget around in front of him. Something was clearly on your mind, but whenever Mark tried asking you about it, you would quickly evade the topic.

Now you weren’t going to back down anymore. You were going to Mark Tuan out. It was now or never. What was the worst he could do? Say no and then break your heart? Ha. No biggie. You knew your chances with him weren’t very high. You were younger than Joey, his younger brother, and you knew about his ‘not-dating-anyone-younger-than-my-brother’ rule.

What a stupid rule.

“I wanted to ask you something, Mark…” You paused for a few moments, trying to find the right way to ask Your heart was beating and you could have sworn it was loud enough to be heard by Mark himself. 

Why were you risking everything now by asking Mark out? You never would have done this before, but Joey convinced you that it was worth a shot and he thought his older brother liked you, too!

24 hours ago…

“It’s just disgusting, you know? I’d like to enjoy some time alone without having to watch two people practically eating each other’s faces in public,” You ranted on, talking to one of your best friends, Joey. 

The slightly older boy chuckled softly, “Sounds like something a bitter single person would say. Tired of being single?” He teased and you could see that smirk growing on his face, even if you weren’t with him.

“I don’t give a damn about being single!”

“Yeah, I don’t believe that. Let me guess… You still fantasize about your dream life with Mark Tuan of GOT7?”

Your cheeks burned hearing this little quip, “I told you I don’t like your brother like that! Stop trying to make things awkward,” you muttered grumpily. Why bother ranting to this guy?

“There’s no point in lying. I know you like him and I’m sure he likes you, too! So what’s stopping you two?”

“You’re joking… Right? Have you never met him? ‘Yeah, I just don’t think I’d be comfortable dating anyone younger than my brother…’” You said with your best Mark impression.

“Oh my God, you know I’m pretty sure you don’t know him! He only says that cause of the crazy fourteen year old sasaengs.”

You were quiet for a few moments after that. Why would Mark just say that? Despite what Joey was saying, you still felt a bit skeptical. 

But here you were, about to confess your feelings to the popular idol slash best friend of yours. Joey was able to convince you to take a chance, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous. You kind of wished Joey could be there now. Before you knew it, your hands were trembling slightly so you quickly shoved them in your back pockets as you kept your eyes on the ground. Mark was staring enough for the both of you and you couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Alright… What’s up?” He asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“The truth is…” You decided to just blurt it out. Saying it slowly and uncertainly would only drag on this agonizing awkwardness. “I really like you! And I have for a while… And I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?" 

For a few moments, Mark just stared at you with slightly wide eyes. It was nearly impossible to understand what you just said, but after replaying it in his head, he was able to figure it out.

"Oh… Y/N…” He started, awkwardly reaching out to grab both of your arms. There was a short pause before he pulled you into his arms for a small hug. “You know I love you, right?”

This sounds an awful lot like a rejection… 

“Mhhm,” you managed to mumble against his chest as you reluctantly hugged him back.

“But… I’m really sorry… I don’t think it’d work if we were together. I don’t want to make things awkward between us and… Yeah…” He let his sentence hang a bit awkwardly as he stroked your hair gently, “Sorry.”

You hesitantly pulled away and grabbed his wrists, pushing his hands down. “Yeah, no… I get it. Hahaha!” You laughed loudly to hopefully clear the awkwardness, “I don’t know what I was thinking! Sorry. I forgot age was such a big thing for you.” You weren’t sure why you were suddenly being snappy, you just felt slightly irritated with everything. You got your hopes up, even though you knew you shouldn’t have.

It also just kind of pissed you off that Mark treated anyone younger than his brother like some awkward kid when it came to dating. You were already an adult, so it’s not like it really mattered?

“Y/N…” Mark started, a small frown on his handsome features.

“Alright, well, this was embarrassing. I’m just gonna go,” you finally said and quickly turned to leave. Luckily, you were too ticked off to cry cause that’d just make you feel even more embarrassed.

Two days later… 

You’ve been avoiding Mark over the past two days. You didn’t really want to confront him after that embarrassing confession. Sometimes it really did seem like Mark had a thing for you as well, but apparently you were always just that little sister in his eyes. Joey tried calling you a few times as well, probably to see how things went, but you didn’t answer your phone. You were done with the Tuan boys for now.

No, it wasn’t like you hated them or anything. You just needed some space for now. It was typical for a young adult to act like this after an unexpected rejection, right? At least, that’s what you tried telling yourself.

What really sucked, though, was that Mark hasn’t even tried contacting you during your two day absence. Normally you would visit him or at least send him a little text everyday, but he wasn’t even going to question you when those little gestures suddenly stopped. Maybe he didn’t notice? Maybe he felt too awkward now and you completely screwed everything up?

“Ugh! Screw relationships!” You groaned loudly and sprawled out over the couch in your living room. You were tired of thinking about this and you kind of just wanted things to go back to how they were. 

Deciding that it was about time you stopped sulking around, you grabbed your phone and called up a friend for a distraction from your currently sad, little love life. The two of you agreed to going out to a cafe and after an hour, you were sitting across from each other at a table.

The two of you were talking about what happened again. Of course, you already told her what happened before, but she was now trying to give you advice on how to move on. After a few minutes, however, she paused and discreetly pointed at a figure behind you. “Y/N, there’s a creepy guy sitting two tables behind us who’s been staring at you the whole time…”

You tried turning your head subtly to look back, but when your eyes did land on the figure, you froze a bit. “Some creeper, alright,” you got up. “What’s Mark doing here?” You demanded from your friend who quickly tried feigning innocence.

“That’s Mark?! Well, I never! I had no idea he’d be here!” She exclaimed with a firm nod.

“If you don’t tell me what you were planning, I’m just leaving,” You said coolly. But before you could leave and before she could explain anything, you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/N, please don’t avoid me anymore…” His words were slightly muffled by the black face mask he most likely wore to hide his face.

“A-Avoid you? Pfft! Don’t flatter yourself, I’ve just been busy…”

“I know you’re angry at me,” he said quietly, still holding onto your arm. When you tried walking away, he tugged you in a bit closer. “And I know why. You’re right. I shouldn’t be too hung up on age.”

You were frozen for a few seconds. What was he saying? You knew this time not to get your hopes up, especially if this was just a misunderstanding.

“Joey told me about how you were coming to him about me… And I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” he chuckled a bit and loosened his grip on your arm. 

You rubbed your arm gently before lifting your hand to smack his shoulder for being an idiot. Before you could actually smack him, though, he grabbed your hand with a little chuckle. “Still as abusive as always? I don’t know if I can date a girl who’ll constantly hit me like that…”

“Wait, what,” you blinked twice. Did you hear him correctly?

“I guess I can give this a shot. If you wanna ask me out again, I can almost guarantee a different answer from before.”

“Hell no, it’s your turn to ask,” you said with an excited grin and a soft chuckle.

Mark laughed a bit in return then shrugged his shoulders, “Alright, Y/N, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

anonymous asked:

Hi Jen, do you think you'll make any posts about tvd season 7 and how you feel about it? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Yeah… I was going to totally write a post on TVD and forgot! 

See, this is probably why reopenning my asks is a good idea. You guys remind me of stuff all the time! So thank you! Let’s do this.

Oh man… TVD. Where to begin? Let’s start with what I’m enjoying (it’ll be quick.) I like the flash forwards. I know some people think it’s lazy storytelling, but I love flash forwards. Total sucker for them. I like piece puzzles together and what’s more fun than a backward puzzle? Not a whole lot! Good times!

I am enjoying that the Salvatores are Elena free and can simply be bros. I was enjoying Steroline, but I have a few complaints. And of course, I always love Damon and Bonnie. I also like that Damon is getting his mojo back. I miss old Damon. Didn’t particularly enjoy Elena whipped Damon. I like Damon when he’s being Damon - which is bad.

And that’s about the it. TVD lost me right about the time they wrote Candace Accola’s pregnancy into the show. Excuse me Dries, but have you heard of a Birkin bag? It’s this beautiful, designer, EXTREMELY LARGE, purse Caroline could carry around to hide her burgenoning belly. It worked for Kerry Washington on Scandal! Other options were also, couches, plants, grocery bags…. maybe just have Stefan stand in front of her. Whatever.

ANYTHING BUT writing the pregnancy into the show would have been fine to me. My major beef is that they undid a basic tennant of Vampire Diaries mythology. Not the first time TVD has done this (won’t be the last either) but they made the situation all the worse by making Caroline and Alaric “a thing” in the future. I mean… GROSS. Alaric and Caroline????? 

I don’t particularly care that they are simply trying to keep Stefan and Caroline apart so the audience is wondering if they’ll be together again (Spoiler Alert: they will). Pick another guy. Any other guy. NOT ALARIC. I sort of feel like they just did it because it was so bizarre. TVD writing is basically, “Hey… this will shock them because it makes absolutely NO SENSE” since about Season 4.

My other beef is Steroline. Things were clipping along nicely until they essentially decided to repeat Stelena’s entire Season 2 storyline. Remember how Stefan’s first love Katherine came back in Season 2 and how she wreaked havoc on Stelena’s relationship, including making Elena feel insecure about their relationship and Stefan reexamine his history with his first love? 

SOUND FAMILIAR? It should. Because that’s basically what they are doing with this whole Stefan, Caroline, Valerie nonesense. I don’t mind Steroline, but I do mind Steroline when they are retreading Stelena storylines. Find a new theme writers and if you can’t… end the damn show.

Also, I can’t stand insecure Caroline. Elena, even at her most insecure, was always pretty damn confident about Stefan’s love for her. Caroline insecure is the actual worst. That’s Season 1 Caroline and quite frankly the character has come way to far to regress like this. Hard pass.

I’m pretty bored with the bad guy too. It’s a bummer because we’re coming off a great Season 6 bad guy with Kai. C’est la vie. Lily and her “kids” are just boring to me. I did enjoy her complicated relationship with the Salvatore brothers, but of course TVD has to kill off an interesting female character the Salvatores are not romantically involved with just as the storyline is heating up. Sigh.

Other issues? Not enough Damon and Bonnie. I’m a Bamon shipper through and through. So imagine my disappointment that Bonnie is with Enzo in the future. My disappointment is not 100% Bamon related. I don’t like Enzo. At all. I realize I’m the minority in this but that’s where I’m at.

As I always say, I’m in TVD until the bitter end, but we’re rapidly approaching bitter. Hell, I’m there. It’s time to wrap this show up. Also, Nick has completely stopped watching and he’s been a Steroline shipper for 7 years. The show is so bad h e couldn’t even stick around to see his ship shail finally. Poor bastard.

anonymous asked:

I have a drabble prompt for you. I know you have tons still to do, so please take your time, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I've read today that for the next week JK Rowling is going to write commentaries for the Quidditch World Cup on Pottermore, and singing them as Ginny Potter. Rowling also wrote on Twitter that Ginny is expected to be joined by her family for the Final. I'd love a drabble about Harry stuck at home with the kids - welcome appearance by R/Hr :D Could you do that?

Thanks so much for this prompt, and I’m sorry it took so long! Since we’ve obviously had some new material the last couple days, I took the liberty of tweaking your idea a bit to incorporate it - hopefully you like it! :)

“For the last time, Hermione, I’m not having our children cheering for your Hogwarts sweetheart,” Ron reminded his wife as they ambled down the path toward the Potter residence, their fingers entwined as they swung their hands between them.

“And for the last time, Ron, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Hermione replied. “And besides, if anybody was my ‘Hogwarts sweetheart,’ whatever that means, it was you.”

Ron flushed, clearly pleased, but still argued: “We weren’t really together at Hogwarts.”

“Not while we were both students, anyway,” Hermione countered, a particular gleam in her eye as she turned to grin at her husband.

Ron beamed at the memory. “Yeah, dunno if we want to use the term 'sweetheart’ to describe those encounters though, do we?”

“Seems a bit tame, yes,” Hermione agreed sagely.

“I’m still buying the Brazilian gear,” Ron said as they approached the doorstep of the house, designed to look like a cottage but far too large to truly fit the term.

“I know,” Hermione affirmed with a roll of her eyes, though Ron knew without looking that she still wore an affectionate smile as she knocked on the door.

They could only make eyes at each other a second longer; the door was opened so suddenly and with so much force that they nearly jumped out of their skin.

“Uncle Ron! Aunt Hermione!”

James flew through the entrance hall on a toy broomstick, performing various tricks that should not have been possible on a child’s broom and, much to his godparents’ chagrin, holding onto his younger brother, Al, by the ankle.

“James Sirius! You let your brother go this instant!” Hermione scolded, racing toward them as Al continued to dangle precariously in the air, looking quite unsure as to whether he should be enjoying the ride or screaming with terror.

“It’s useless, Hermione, just let them be. James will get bored soon enough.” Harry had just appeared in the foyer, holding a screaming Lily in his arms. Though she was already six years old, she hadn’t quite outgrown her temper tantrum phase. “I wouldn’t let her have another biscuit,” Harry explained wearily as he shifted his daughter from one side to the other.

“Place damn near falls apart without Ginny, eh?” Ron chortled, but Hermione frowned.

“Are you really letting your sons roughhouse like that, Harry?” She crossed her arms as James giggled and zigzagged between his father and his uncle. Al had begun to laugh as well, though rather nervously as he swung into Ron’s leg.

“I’m watching them; they aren’t going to be hurt,” Harry dismissed, nodding toward the kitchen. They all followed him, even James on his broomstick. “Did you send Rose and Hugo along already?”

“They went ahead with Charlie,” Ron replied. “We’d have gone, too, but we reckoned you might like a hand with this lot.”

“Yeah, well, maybe the International Portkey will calm them down a bit,” Harry remarked. “James! Al! Get down from there, will you? We’re off in…” He paused to check his watch, but realized it wasn’t there. Lily, seemingly exhausted with her crying, had torn it from his wrist in a fit of anguish and was now shaking it insistently.

“We’re off in ten minutes,” Hermione informed him, using her wand to immobilize James’ broom while Ron took Lily from Harry. For some reason, a stern word or two from her favorite uncle had more of an effect on her behavior than even the promise of ice cream.

As Hermione lifted Al from James’ grip safely to the ground, Harry leaned back against the kitchen table and sighed. “I don’t give a dragon’s snout about the match,” he declared. “I just want my wife back.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically, but Ron laughed. “Nice try, mate, but I know how much you want to see Krum get his trophy.” Ron reached over to grip his shoulder. “I won’t even hold it against you, how’s that?”

“As if you didn’t want to see him win, too. You just won’t admit it,” Harry retorted, and Ron shrugged.

“Ginny said Skeeter’s going to be there. Gotta keep up appearances, y'know, give her a scandal. Otherwise she’ll create something twice as bad.” Ron tapped his head knowingly, and Lily giggled, the trauma of being denied a biscuit seemingly forgotten.

“Why she considers us celebrities, I’ll never know,” Hermione added, patting Al on the head as he dragged his knapsack toward the pile of luggage at the foot of the kitchen table. “We live rather unglamorous lives.”

“And thank Merlin for it,” Harry concurred. The three of them chortled and shared a knowing smile. Twenty years since the first time they’d gone to the Cup, and now they were taking their children.

So much had changed, Harry thought, his grin widening as he watched his best mates talk to his children, Ron reaching for Hermione’s hand with his free one - but the most important things, thankfully, would remain ever the same.

anonymous asked:

Hello, I think I remember -e had some really good explanations about how inter-poc 'racism' is different from the racism that stems from whiteness and perceived whiteness (or something?), like how the concept and word racism only has meaning in a white western context and that while inter-poc discrimination is a thing, it's a slightly different but related thing... are those posts tagged with anything? I'd love to read them again. I think it was this blog... I'm sorry if I was mistaken! Thanks!

i may have spoken about this before but we probably didn’t tag them… unfortunately, we’re not super consistent with tagging. but i can try to restate my thoughts on this here.

Keep reading

stephaniesonia  asked:

I'd like your advice... I'd say I loved the guy i was in a relationship with a few months ago but he ended things in October. I'm doing better now, but i came across one of his pictures of him now. We no longer talk or see one another. When i saw the picture it just freaked me out, how you can know someone so well and then in an instance you don't know them at all and they change and look different. its hard to wrap my head around and makes me upset. Any advice based off of your experience?

Not entirely sure what to say because I have never experienced what you are going through .. I understand that people change but that is part of life. The experiences we go through do not make us who we are, how we come out on the other end does. There are two types of people in the world: people who allow a bad experience to make them bitter and people who allow a bad experience to make them better. People change everyday. The people we meet can influence us to improve ourselves or to ruin ourselves. I am sure you haven’t had the same haircut your whole entire life or dressed the same your whole entire life so you should not be surprised when someone else doesn’t appear the same any longer .. maybe they just thought it was time for a change because their life was changing?

I don’t know.
We never go to bed and wake up the same person we were yesterday. You broke up in October, there has been a long gap in time since you’ve seen each other so of course he looks / or is a different person and that’s completely okay. You should allow others to grow, it’s healthy.

I got out of a marriage in November. I have no idea who my ex-husband is now and I have no idea what he looks like now, but I do know that we weren’t right for each other and that he was preventing me from being the person I wanted to be (which is just someone who is always kind and positive) so I didn’t stay around to be dragged down with his negativity. My hair is a different color, I no longer only wear neutral colors - I’ve added some brightness to my wardrobe, and I’m not the person he was married to anymore.

I’m not the girl who lays in bed until sunrise because my heart aches from feeling empty inside while lying next to “the rest of my life,” I’m not the girl who dismisses her friends when they try to talk to me or hang out with me because my “husband” doesn’t appreciate the people I have in my life,” and I’m not the girl who spends all day doing nothing because he would rather stay at home and play video games than go to the park to feed ducks or sit in the pool to cool off in the Florida sun. Now because I’m not with him, I’m the girl who wears yellow because it’s the color of the sun and it makes me happy. I am the girl who goes to bed feeling completely fulfilled because I have everyone & more that I need (back) in my life. I am the girl who can see my friends whenever I want to because the person I’m with understands that I have my own life but will also willingly come for the entertainment of conversation. And now I am the girl who goes outside for a walk, goes on an adventure somewhere far away because it’s my day off, goes to book stores / craft stores / & second hand stores to fill in the hours between wake, work, and bed.

Life is an endless cycle of phasing in and out of things & people. Who we allow to share our time with and where we do ultimately makes us who we are at the time.

The time you shared together is now the past, just like how he looked and how he acted.

anonymous asked:

Everyone whining about Regina have been doing so since the first season. The list of demands from certain fans for what they believed was the only way Regina should be aloud to remain on the show was ridiculous. Her name was the Evil Queen. Nobody rooted for Darth Vader to be redeemed, yet at the last minute he was, Regina has to be Allowed to fall down and get back up for the rest of the series. That's the only way i'd believe a Genocidal Dictator could be redeemed. She's the anti hero.

I’m sorry, but did you tune in much later? Because since the early beginning Regina immediately stood out as most compelling and, as her past with Snow got revealed, bit by bit–the most complex character. When the ‘evil’ got other dimensions–and the young girl, the hard-ass Mayor, and the overbearing (but caring, in her broken “I don’t love so well” kind of way) mother who chose to try and become a better person to earn the love of her son, all emerged–giving legitimacy and verisimilitude to her character growth. In fact, her and Rumple were undeniably the most popular in S1, if I remember well?

Granted, they knew fuck all what to do with her once she was set on path of redemption later, so their affinity for the campy, fabulous but incredibly two-dimensional ‘Evil Queen’ did more harm than anything, in those largely useless (narrative-wise) flashbacks. But still, ‘genocidal dictator’? As in (definition) someone “methodically carrying out deliberate and systematic extermination of national, racial, political, or cultural group”? *raises eyebrows* Mass-murdering, yes. But genocidal? Hardly. I realise their increasingly worrisome quality of writing might contradict its own foundations (as in, nothing is black and white, good or evil–it’s all about choices and the paths you take) by making it seem so basically ”either-or and nothing in-between” but I’m sorry–I refuse to see Regina as cardboard-cutout ‘antihero’ like that. The one that starts as evil, falls down and just gets back up. Because there is SO much more to her development, to all facets of her hardships, and to multitudes of angles of all the choices she’s ever made, good or bad. And THAT is why we all love her. Not because she was this cartoonishly two-dimensional but fabulously looking, clevagey slutbomb–taking people’s hearts and crushing them and now she became ‘good’. But rather because she was extremely relatable in that “good can come from broken” kind of way.

So I’m not sure who the ‘whining ones’ you’re talking about might be, but I can tell you who WE think they are. They’re the crowds that tuned in around S2, then their attention wavered as the handsome dude didn’t get too much screentime (as Colin broke his leg, if I remember well?) and then tuned back in full-force when he got more screentime in S3–when the epically craptastic ship called Captain Swan set its sails. And then the bitter rivalry started, because we (as in, those who were here since the pilot) all saw Hook’s character as male version of Regina: fabulously goodlooking, seemingly evil, but with a hefty background motivation to pursue years’ worth of revenge for having lost the love of their life–indicating much more beyond the initial ‘villain’ thing. Yeah, it was a heteroenforcing, cheap substitute for a big fucking rainbow-coloured elephant in the room that’s been there since that first “You’re Henry’s birthmother”, and that obviously became too much for them to handle? And that is where modern fairytale about “strong female characters” started turning into an ode to manpain and epic degradation that those female characters have to endure–just so certain male characters could learn and grow and be redeemed–by being baptised in female tears and love, or some shit like that.

And that is when all the frenzied Regina hate started. In the beginning it was just simmering, because their ‘battle’ was elsewhere (they didn’t stop until SwanFire was sunk, Neal killed off, and MRJ left–in quite an ugly way?) but then they focused on Swan Queen. So three years later, here we are. Not allowed to support our favourite character because she is constantly ripped apart for being an evil mass murderer, child snatcher and abuser, rapist and whatnot–by people who only see her as a threat to their ship (consisting of a character who followed a similar path, only of male persuasion–so there’s been a lot of whitewashing and privilege) ironically, for all the things she’s done only in that first year–back when they didn’t even watch the show? And of course, we’re not allowed to enjoy the ship we’ve been here for, since day#1. The Mothership. Because of course they are threatened by it, since Regina is the ONLY one who can deeply relate to Emma, and understand her on this intensely organic level. And the one who has this deep sense of loathing that makes her think she’s not good enough, that she won’t ever be enough, and she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, while the Pirate in a way WASHES himself off of anything he didn’t even regret–by Emma’s ‘love’, she’s the prize and salvation he feels entitled to?

Now, WE see this difference clearly. But they do not see anything past his good looks. And no, he will NEVER be good enough for Emma Swan, no matter how much they lobotomize her–to fit their weird idea of ‘romantic’ love (written of course from the male POV, which explains the pervasive misogyny because again–entitlement) and no matter how much they straightwash and BFF-degay her ‘friendship’ with Regina. The two can’t EVER compare, the same way Regina’s and Hook’s and paths to redeem themselves and atone for everything–can’t. Because the latter does not exist, at all. And that is why no argumentation with the ‘whiney’ anti-Regina zealots can ever work. They need to hate her, they need to rip her apart–to make him seem better, they are desperate for Regina to be unfitting as Emma Swan’s equal partner . As a friend and support, platonically, or godforbid romantically– as their son’s other mother, and an accepted and acknowledged member of their family.

But, hey…

It’s a ridiculously epic fail, yes. :)