love her more than anything else

Zach Dempsey #3

Request: Request: Can you make and imagine which Zach is depressed after Hannah’s death (being a reason of her death) and all these secret stuff, reader is taking care of him like a little baby and make him happy as always. Zach is so happy to have her in his life and saying this often. thanks xx

A/N: You guys are seriously crazy. Thank you so much for 325 follower already.
I love you! xx


These tapes.
These goddamn tapes.
I get why Hannah did what she did and how these tapes are part of it but still.
They cause nothing but trouble for everyone.

Especially now that Clay has them.
Everyone’s freaking out and I have no idea how long it will take until everything goes down.

And the fact that Zachary Shan-Yung Dempsey, the boy that I love more than anything in this world, was on tape seven on this tapes makes everything even harder.
As soon as he realized Hannah recorded these tapes he told me everything.
Starting with the night at Rosie’s after Marcus stood her up, over that Dollar Valentine thing, right up to the compliment bag and the letter.
Shortly after I found out about everyone else as well.
Justin. Alex. Jessica. Marcus. And most importantly: About Bryce.
It was a shock but it happened and being miserable over it wouldn’t help anyone.
So I accepted the fact and carried part of Zach’s guilt with me.

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“Are you wearing it right now?”
Kara nods,

“May I?”
Kara blushes but just nods again, being rendered speechless by her girlfriend in intimate moments like this as usual

Lena slowly puts her hand on Kara’s chest, she can feel her heart thumping under her fingers.

she goes to undo the first few buttons, Kara’s eyes are focused on Lena’s touch more than anything else,

when Lena sees the blue and red she stops, putting her hand on the S.

Kara stiffens and closes her eyes, because now Lena knows that she’s been lied to by the one person she thought she could trust

But she understands, her hand moves up from the woman’s chest to her chin to look at a pair of sad blue eyes,

“You were my hero even before I knew,”

Alana Finds Out: Zombies!

Another instalment of AFO in honour of Ladies of Hannibal week… in which Alana faces the possible end of the world… and some other unfortunate revelations.

(Also a small warning: there are mentions of offstage character deaths here. None of the major characters are affected, but be prepared in any case.)

Also on AO3.


“…the attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain.”

Alana stood watching the television she hadn’t even known Hannibal owned, transfixed by the impossibility of what she was seeing. On the screen, a news anchor, sweating through his shirt and a face-full of makeup, was giving details of what no one could any longer deny was the rise of the undead.

“Alana,” Hannibal had appeared behind her silently, his hand on her arm causing her to jump, “I think it is time to go.”

She turned to face him and froze. The man in front of her looked very much like Hannibal Lecter, except he was dressed in jeans, heavy boots and a leather jacket and appeared to have strapped the katana from his bedroom to his back.

“Hannibal, what…”

“The transport is outside, Alana, it is time for you to go.”

She looked up from his unfamiliar ensemble, taking in the firm set of his mouth, the sad look in his eyes. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“I have a friend out there who requires my help.”

Alana didn’t have to wonder. “You’re going to find Will. Even after what he did, what he accused you of?”

Hannibal nodded. “You know as well as I that Will is not guilty.”

In the face of the zombie apocalypse, Alana found it all too easy to accept the truth of this, as well as something else she now knew should have been obvious. “You’re in love with him.”

“Yes. I’m sorry if that upsets you but if there still exists a chance to keep him safe, I must take it.”

Alana considered getting upset for a moment but she had never seen her progression from Hannibal’s friend to his lover as anything more than a clutch for comfort by either of them. Not to mention, the presence of the armed transport outside, courtesy of Jack Crawford’s calling in of every favour he’d ever earned, rather shortened the timeframe for confrontations. Instead, she simply wrapped her arms around Hannibal, with the words, “Don’t be too reckless. Take care of him.” She drew back and met his eyes, “And be honest with him. No metaphors, no literary allusions, no exquisitely crafted obfuscations. Just tell him. I’m reasonably certain you’ll get the response you want.”

Hannibal’s eyes lit at this, in a way she’d never seen before. “You are?”

She shrugged, feeling surprisingly light-hearted in the face of the end of both her relationship and, potentially, the world. “The other reason I told him I couldn’t date him? When the pair of you aren’t trading elegant couplets on the subject of murder, you’re eye-banging like no one else can see you. It’s not subtle.”

It was this final sentence that meant, as she took her bags to the door, the last thing Alana saw of her former lover, was the unexpectedly beautiful sight of Hannibal Lecter blushing.


Three years later.

Alana would know those curls anywhere.

She was in Florida, helping a colleague to run a week of counselling sessions for traumatised survivors. Given that mostly everyone still alive in the US qualified as such, these events were always utter chaos, a barely controlled swell of emotion coupled with endless paperwork and administration. The chances that Alana would catch glimpse of a living, breathing Will Graham in any context were, she contemplated, microscopic. That she would, through the packed crowds of the conference centre, simply glance towards the refreshments table to see him struggling one-handed with a coffee pot seemed impossible to the point of absurdity.

And yet.

Alana excused herself from her colleagues and crossed the room, almost in a daze. Just before she could reach him, though, she realised with horror that the reason for Will’s struggle was the total absence of his left arm. His shoulder simply ended abruptly in a stump, covered with fabric neatly tailored to his altered form. Alana was used to such injuries – there had been far greater call for medics than psychiatrists during the last few years and Alana had found herself in field hospitals all across the country – but she couldn’t keep the words from leaving her lips.

“Oh, Will.”

He turned, clearly surprised to hear his name, still holding the pot in his remaining hand. She watched his eyes light with recognition as he set down the coffee and pulled her in for an embrace.

“Alana, you’re alive! I wasn’t sure, I… I don’t have the connections I had before.” He pulled back to look at her properly. “You’re ok? You’re safe, happy?”

“All of the above.” She felt a huge grin cross her face, the same reflected a second later on Will’s. It faded after a moment, though, as she glanced at the space where his arm should have been.

Will caught her look and said, “It’s ok, it could’ve been so much worse. Should have been. I got bit,” Alana’s head snapped up and she stared at him. “I know. Thought I was done for sure. It was only because of the guy with me, he took my arm off the second after the thing got hold of me. Kept the infection from spreading. Another second…” he trailed off, eyes clouded for a second, then shrugged. “I figure, an arm’s not that much of a sacrifice. And other than that, I’m a hell of a lot healthier than I was pre-apocalypse.”

Alana took a moment to look him over. Will was right – where she had known a scruffy, twitchy, often sweaty mess of a man who concealed his looks behind stubble and poor eye contact, the man before her now was neat and clean, smartly groomed and dressed in simple but elegant clothes. He also looked healthy, well-fed and clear-skinned, with an ease in his posture that she had never seen before. More than anything, though, he was meeting her eyes without hesitation, the expression in them so warm and genuine she wondered how she had ever thought him capable of violence and murder.

She smiled, feeling a prickle of tears in her eyes and then laughed, blinking them away. “The end of the world clearly agrees with you.” Will barked out a laugh, the same one she remembered, and she reflected gladly that some things remained unchanged. Then, without warning, she blurted, “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Will.”

He cast his eyes away for a second but then looked back and shrugged. “It’s ok. I wouldn’t have believed me. It’s forgotten.”

“And… you’re a free man? They didn’t try to put you back in?”

“They made some perfunctory noises about it but, given my exemplary service to the nation in zombie massacring, as well as the fact that pretty much all the evidence against me was lost one way and another, they didn’t pursue it too hard. Apparently the going rate for freedom is a couple hundred undead and my total’s well above that, thus I am a fully certified member of the post-apocalyptic society.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I’m not letting you go anytime soon, Bloom,” Will told her, taking her hand and dragging her to a couch in the corner. They sat and he looked seriously at her. “Do you know what happened to the others? Crawford? Katz and her boys?” Alana noticed that he didn’t say anything about Hannibal and realised, the thought sinking like a stone within her, that if Hannibal wasn’t with Will, it was because he had died trying.

The tears returned to Alana’s eyes and Will’s expression dropped. She pulled herself together, took a deep breath and told him. “Zeller died early on. He was out on duty when the bodies at the crime scene…” she sniffled, “he went out fighting but he wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on. He wasn’t turned, they just… destroyed him. Price was distraught, of course, Beverly too. He’s still alive, got a partner and kids, named his son Brian. He says if the kid doesn’t develop a terrible sense of humour and a fascination with dead bodies he won’t have done his job right.” Will grinned weakly, his own eyes sparkling with tears.

Alana clutched tightly at his hand with both of hers. She had hoped never to tell this next part ever again. “Jack… Jack’s dead too. He…” Alana was openly crying now. “He made sure he got everybody to safety that he could. Then he… god, Will, he helped Bella to go. They were found in their bed together, there was a syringe next to her and a bullet in his head. He left a note, said that he was tired of fighting monsters and since Bella couldn’t follow him, he’d follow her.” Will pulled her tight against himself and they sobbed together.

Eventually, they quietened and Will leaned back, saying, “He was a great man. A gigantic, bull-headed bear of a great man. I’m glad they were together at the end.” He squeezed her hand and then a frown crossed his brow. “What about Beverly? Is she…”

“Don’t worry. Not all my stories are sad.” Alana took a deep breath and tried to shake off her grief. “Beverly Katz is alive, a decorated hero of the war on zombies and, other than losing an eye in combat, is both hale and hearty and every bit the snarky, badass bitch she ever was.”

The relief in Will’s eyes was dazzling. “Saved the best for last, huh? I bet she really pulls off the eye patch.”

“I think so,” Alana agreed, “it’s really the main reason I married her.”

Will’s stunned expression was a picture. “What?” he nearly squealed. “You and Katz?”

Alana held up her left hand to show off her wedding ring. “She’s pretty amazing. And stupidly hot when smiting the undead.”

Will grinned and launched himself at her for yet another hug. She felt him chuckle against her and say, “Remember when I kissed you?”

“I faintly recall.”

“Really barking up the wrong tree, huh?”

“My finding you attractive was never the problem, Graham.” She smacked him lightly on the head. “Though I must admit, I like the new look better than the flannel.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Will released her and held up his own hand, displaying a gold band. “Snap. Wrong hand, of course, but completely official.”

“You got married? To who? Is she here, can I meet her?”

Will grinned, looking pleased with himself. “I believe my darling spouse should be arriving soon. I’ll give you all the gory details when I can make the introductions.”

“You’d better.” Alana decided she had to ask, before Will’s wife appeared and the chance was lost. “Will, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but the last time I saw him, Hannibal was on his way to try to save you from Chilton’s hospital. He… he was in love with you, you know.” Will looked down. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t want to know that but… did he ever find you, did you ever see him again?”

From behind her, a familiar voice interjected, “Who else do you know could cut off a man’s arm and then convince him to marry them?”

Will’s grin could’ve lit the city. “Alana, I’d like you to meet my husband, Dr Hannibal Lecter.”

Alana turned to raise her eyes along all six-foot plus of her former mentor, finding herself unable to move. Hannibal seemed relatively unharmed, save for a wicked-looking scar that ran the length of one cheekbone. Seeing her shock, he grinned from ear to ear and Alana realised, as he leaned down for a hug, that she had never seen such an open expression on his face. Indeed, as Hannibal crossed to his husband, stealing a kiss before sitting behind him and pulling Will back against his chest, she realised how little resemblance this relaxed, loose-limbed, contented man bore to the one she had known before.

“She looks a little dazed, don’t you think darling?” Will asked teasingly.

“Positively stunned, dearest,” agreed Hannibal.

“So, I was right about the eye-banging,” Alana interjected, not wanting to let them win.

As Hannibal smirked behind him, Will exclaimed, “What the hell does that mean?”

After they’d finished laughing, they exchanged war stories for a couple of hours, Hannibal equally delighted to hear of Alana’s marriage and Alana entirely unsurprised it took less than two weeks after Hannibal had rescued Will from the BSHCI for their first kiss to occur.

Eventually, as the venue began closing for the night, Hannibal said, “Alana, we would love to have you for dinner.” Will seemed to choke a little as Hannibal clarified, “For you to come to our house to eat dinner.”

“You still cook, Hannibal?”

Will snorted. “As if the end of the world could stop him.”

“Yes,” Alana continued, “but you always cooked meat and it’s so hard to come by now.”

“In fact, my darling husband has adjusted well to a vegetarian diet,” Will told her. “Claims a couple of years killing zombies kinda did for his bloodlust.” His eyes twinkled as he looked up at Hannibal, whose eyes crinkled in response. Clearly Alana was missing some inside joke but she chose not to pry.

“In any case,” Hannibal added, “cutting off a large part of the man you love,”

“With a katana,” Will added.

“…has the unfortunate side effect of making butchery somewhat less appealing.”

Alana began to laugh at that, with the two men joining soon after and it took a couple of minutes for them to compose themselves. Finally, she regained enough breath to say, “A vegetarian dinner cooked by Hannibal Lecter. I knew there was a reason I survived the zombie apocalypse.”

Title: And We All Fall Down, Chapter 4

Summary: Jyn and Cassian enjoy spending time together on the press tour for their movie.

Notes: Based on @operaticspacetrash‘s moodboard about a fake celebrity pr relationship.

AO3/1655 words (Chapters 1, 2, 3)

Jyn woke with Cassian pressed along side her, his forehead touching the base of her neck. By his even breathing, Jyn guessed he was still asleep.

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heres a callout post for myself

-has the same name as a cat on a 90s tv show (god who even does that)
-loves stan uris more than anything and needs to simmer down
-listened to earth angel too many times and now cant go a day without getting it stuck in their and everyone elses heads
-only growing my hair out because MILLIE grew her hair out (nothing at all to do w going into modelling)
-says theyre a lesbian but yet… loves buddy holly? wow u fake gay
-discourse is all boring and the same, too controversial, someone doxx them already

1. I know letting go may feel like hitting pavement but sometimes staying is like getting hit by a train you’ve seen coming for miles.
2. There are symphonies that are screaming it is going to get better. Listen to the music.
3. The most fight you’ll ever feel is from inside your heart.
4. Nostalgia is only good for telling you bedtime stories. Don’t let it tuck you in at night, don’t let it keep you warm.
5. Keep the moments that you wish could live on for a gazillion years close to your heart, never let them burn out.
6. You’ll find someone that’s not them. You’ll love again and it’ll be pure and significant in its own way.
7. They remember it all. They’ll see how much you impacted their lives much later.
8. You may hate high school, but it’s when it’s almost over that you get flashes of when you were young and passed notes with your first love in art class and had talks with teachers that really mattered and you’ll want it to slow down. Take it in, there’s good in everything.
9. Sometimes the one that was your perfect match will be the one to watch you burn.
10. What’s meant to be yours will always find its way home.
11. It’s okay to change without them. Remember that you are the main character of your story.
12. Music cures it all.
13. Telling the story of how I fell in love with you still warms me from the inside out. Teach me how to let go of you.
14. Falling out of love makes you feel like you’ll never want to do it again, but the feeling of your heart dropping when he tells you he’s wanted you all these years is worth the stab at the end.
15. You jump off the cliff hoping there won’t be daggers at the bottom, and when you’re young you think you know how much it’ll hurt. When it comes, you’ll realize you had no clue.
16. My biggest fear was not being with you. I’m becoming someone without you, and it doesn’t feel right.
17. The nicer you are, the more beautiful you become.
18. One day you’ll meet again, and it’ll be just as scary and beautiful as the first time.
19. You’ll find your person. You may not recognize them at first because they’re not as shiny as they are in the movies, but you’ll know by the calm they bring.
20. Thank God for him.
21. The boy who runs in my dreams isn’t as dishonest. He holds my hand whenever I need to feel less alone and I sit around his kitchen table and talk to his mother about poetry. She goes on to say something about how statistically people are more afraid of love than anything else and the things I don’t say- tell her all there is to know about me. That I’m afraid beyond measure of what love can do to a person. Because I spent the last two years loving someone who didn’t know anything other than tearing apart the sole purpose of my existence. The boy who runs beside me in my dreams convinces me that love isn’t always teeth and bite marks. In my dreams, my scars aren’t there because I never tasted a bitter love before. The boy in my dreams loves me enough to let me meet his mother and destroys the idea that love is what I came here to die for.
22. Maybe love stays, maybe love can’t. Maybe love shouldn’t.
23. I glance off in another direction, but I always glance back at you.
24. Things that are sweet like this attract the worst kind of hungry.
25. I don’t think you’ll ever realize you changed everything for me.
26. I found faith that summer. The lips told stories I fell asleep to, the hands promised to hold on. But bliss is temporary when you pull your hands away from your eyes, and summer only lasts 3 months.
27. Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice.
—  27 Things to take into 2017, roseyheartbeats 

Iris and Lillium’s designs for mine and @i-read-good-books   Android AU collab!! (VERY NieR:Automata inspired by my (very annoying) requests.  hahaha ) 

Text by her:

—————————————————————————————————–

“from dusk til dawn

getting to know each other”


CLICK READ MORE FOR THE PV

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They’ve come back from a case, Rosie long-asleep in the upstairs bedroom where there’s just enough room for her cot and John’s bed, and Sherlock is ranting.

Stupid,” he spits out, pacing to and fro in the living room, his hands in his hair. “Why was she so stupid? Why kill them in the first place, when she knows she’s the best suspect?”

“Well, she loved him,” John offers, even though he knows Sherlock doesn’t really want his opinion.

Sherlock scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps, not even looking at John. “She didn’t love him.”

“What?” John sits up from where he’s been lazing on his chair. “Of course she did. Listen, I know you like to dismiss ‘sentiment,’ Sherlock, but love makes people do crazy things, so-”

“That,” Sherlock says and his voice is flat and angry at the same time, “was not love. That was possession, that was ownership, it may even have been jealousy, but it was definitely not love.” He infuses the word with such contempt that it makes John flinch, but Sherlock is moving again, glaring at the world as though it had personally offended him. “If she loved him, she’d have let him go. She’d have done everything in her power to make sure that he was happy, even if that meant he was with someone else. She’d have killed - she’d have died herself - if it meant that he would have one millimetre more happiness in his life than otherwise. She would have protected his lover with her life, she’d have done absolutely anything in her power to give him anything he wanted. Instead, she killed them both in a fit of jealous rage, because she never really loved him, she loved owning him. Like a favourite pair of shoes, or a pretty picture.”

John is still trying to absorb that rant when Sherlock crosses the room and slams his bedroom door behind him.

John sits in silence for a few moments before heading to bed.

He wakes up an hour later and John Watson has never actually experienced an epiphany before, never experienced that moment Sherlock is always chasing where all the pieces come together and your brain dissolves into fireworks and you know everything but he’s pretty sure that he just had one.

Before he can even think, he’s downstairs, pushing open Sherlock’s door and standing there like a fool.

Sherlock sits up, sleep-mussed and soft, and says “John, what’s wrong? Is it Watson?”

John licks his lips and tries to speak and…nothing.

Tries again.

“You…you love me,” he manages, and it’s a bare whisper, all he can force past the weight in his chest, of ten years of unsaid words. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock is looking at him with horror in his eyes.

“I-I” Sherlock says, and John interrupts him.

“Please say I’m wrong, Sherlock, please say I’m wrong,” and he’s speaking quickly now, tears running down his face unchecked, and his leg gives out and he finds himself on his knees by Sherlock’s bed, a ragged penitent in old pyjamas, prostrating himself before a saint. “Please say I haven’t been wrong all this time, haven’t wasted all these years, please, Sherlock, please…”

He hides his face in Sherlock’s bed, so that he can’t see Sherlock’s eyes, his beloved face creased in confusion.

“John?” Sherlock asks. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

But John is sobbing too hard to answer, great heaving sobs, and Sherlock puts a hand on the back of his neck that burns like a brand because of course Sherlock would try to comfort him, even though he doesn’t understand what John is on about, even though John has hurt him so terribly so many times.

“I love you,” John gasps into the bed. Sherlock’s hand stills for a moment and then, cautiously, resumes its smooth comforting stroking.

“John, you’re upset,” he begins, but John cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Years, Sherlock, years,” he gasps. It’s becoming easier to speak, the weight on his chest becoming less with every word. “I’ve loved you for years. Since Angelo’s that first night, I think, since the cabbie, since the first time I saw you sleep-soft in morning light. I loved you in Dartmoor and I loved you at the pool - God, how I loved you in that moment, I would have fallen to my knees and worshipped at your feet for the rest of my life and I would have been content. I loved you on the roof of Bart’s and on the pavement a moment later. I loved you every moment of every day you were gone, and I loved you every time I stood in front of your grave and begged you for one more miracle, and I loved you when I punched your face because it was that or kiss you, and I loved you when you were bleeding out in Magnussen’s office. I loved you on Magnussen’s porch and I loved you on the tarmac, and I loved you in the morgue and in the hospital and in the prison and the well and I’ve loved you every moment since the day I met you, I love you I love you I love you.”

He doesn’t stop so much as run out of breath, chanting those three words - three words he’d never thought he’d be able to say - like prayer, John is a monk and this is his religion now, this is his faith, this only thing he knows for sure.

“John,” Sherlock breathes. “Why didn’t you…”

“I thought,” and John is trying to think of a way to say this right, a way to really explain, “I thought that you didn’t…I didn’t think you didn’t love me, but I thought you wanted me as a friend, just a friend, and so I tried to be the best friend anyone could ever have, but obviously I’m pretty shit at it, but I tried and I hid it, and hid it, and I married Mary because I thought…I thought I’d break apart from missing you and later I thought I’d die from wanting you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you but I was losing you anyway, but the surest way to lose you was to tell you, you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t want the same things, and that’s the best way to kill a friendship, and if friendship was all I could-”

And John shuts up, because Sherlock has slithered out of his bed and fallen to his knees in front of John, and stopped his panicked babbling with his mouth.

When Sherlock finally pulls back, John stares at him, shocked into silence.

“So many years,” Sherlock says, stroking a thumb over John’s lips. “We could have had so many years, John. If only we hadn’t been…”

“Afraid,” John supplies. Sherlock nods, and he’s so close that his nose rubs against John’s when he does, and it’s unbearably intimate. “We could…” And John has to stop for a moment to breathe, to lick his lips and gather his courage in his hands. “We could still have years,” he says. “If I’m not too late. If you still-”

And Sherlock doesn’t say anything with words, but when he kisses John, he writes eloquent poetry in this new language they are building together.

Yes, he says as he licks into John’s mouth

I want, he says, as he sucks a bruise into John’s neck.

I still, he whispers into the curve of John’s ear. I still love you. I will always love you.

At the end of tonight’s Flash episode Kara tells Mon-El not to lie to her again, and even in an episode where she gets stuck in another world without her abilities, it was this warning, more than anything else, that truly rendered her powerless. 

How many times can Kara ask Mon-El to do something, can she tell him that there will be consequences if he does not, and have that still mean something? It has happened over and over again without any repercussions that go beyond Mon-El feeling bad about himself for a few hours. So when it happened in this episode it was laughable, but in a sick, twisted way because no one with any sense could actually see any real humor in it. 

The message was about love? No, the message was that Kara isn’t worth not being lied to. It was that women aren’t worth being respected. It was that the only way for a woman in an abusive relationship to heal and be happy is to forgive her abuser because said abuser loves her and she’s never going to get that from someone else.

So congratulations, Supergirl writers. You have made Supergirlthe Girl of Steel, the woman who saved the entire world, the hero of your own showpowerless in a way that far exceeds anything that kryptonite or a solar flare could ever accomplish. 

When Hera Calls Kanan 'Love'

I’ve honestly been a little surprised this week by the wide variety of reactions to Hera calling Kanan ‘Love’ in the Rebels season three finale.

This is my take:

Kanan and Hera’s canon relationship status is established from their very first scene together in the pilot, in which Hera calls Kanan—you guessed it, 'Love.’

Hera continues to call Kanan 'Love’ or 'Dear’ repeatedly throughout the first season of the show as our heroes fight the Empire around their home base of Lothal and beyond. But then the season ends and so do the terms of endearment, vanishing entirely from her lips until we reach “Zero Hour.” (And we all collectively groaned “Whhhyyyyyyy????”)

This is where I think it gets interesting and says so much about Hera’s character. The real key, to me, is what happens at the end of season 1: the Ghost crew joins the Phoenix Squadron/greater rebellion—a move which was, first and foremost, Hera’s idea. And she quickly becomes a ranking member of the military group.

Suddenly, they are no longer just the space family roaming about solo anymore, they are part of something larger, and their missions, rather than being personal, are now professional, even when they are not with the rest of the fleet. Since before A New Dawn, Hera has been, is, and always will be devoted to and driven by her larger goals in life, and she quickly embraces the professionalism of her new role.

Thus, because we nearly always see Kanan and Hera in the company of others and on a mission, 'dear’ and 'love’ vanish from her public vocabulary. If you happened to work with your significant other (especially in a highly structured or professional environment), you wouldn’t call them 'babe’, hubby’, 'wifey’, etc. at work either.

Over the course of the next two seasons, Hera’s professionalism continues; she grows as a leader and her sense of command expands, until we reach the crisis of “Zero Hour.” The imperial bombardment rains down on Chopper Base, and we watch Hera’s expression shift from confidence/hope to a visceral fear/terror. Before the bombardment, she tells Kanan “You need to get back to base immediately"—a command, an order, properly phrased and neutral. But afterwards (and in front of General Dodonna, no less) that shifts to: "Now please, come home, Love.”

Originally posted by old-type-40

In the face of their mutual near death experiences, Hera drops her professional guard and for a single moment, they are just them. She’s Hera, and Kanan’s the man she loves, whose safety matters more than anything else in the galaxy. The moment is both minuscule and enormous. It’s just one slip, but it reassures us—it tells us that no matter where they go, what they do, or who they work with, Kanan and Hera are still Kanan and Hera.

Their private life may be private, but they are still as in love and devoted as ever. And this is beautiful to me.

I also want to note that her admission isn’t a weakness, in any way. Just a little while later, when Thrawn threatens Kanan to try to get Hera to surrender (certainly inferring the nature of their relationship himself), she stands as strong as ever.

Tough as durasteel and always in love with her Jedi, that’s my girl.

The Ouroboros

I’ve been pondering what Feyre saw in the Ouroboros Mirror. What parts of herself did the Mirror drag up from the darkest depths of her soul and make her face? What was Feyre forced to come to terms with in order to save Prythian, her friends, her family, and court? What did she learn to love? And what does the beast have to do with anything? 

I think Feyre had more to come to terms with than anyone else in Prythian. Yet she overcame it. She decided not to let her own soul destroy her. 

I believe she had to watch her younger self wring the neck of a tiny rabbit as it screamed in pain—her first kill. Feyre watched from the snow-shrouded trees as an ash arrow imbedded itself in the side of large wolf, an unprovoked shot of pure hatred. The Ouroboros would have shown in graphic detail everything that occurred UtM—the dancing and drinking that made her feel filthy, the unsolved riddled that made her relive her shortcomings, and the unbearable murder of two innocent fae. The families of those two innocent souls as they raged and mourned and crumpled in weary misery. They had come so close to freedom, but the price to pay had been their loved one. Feyre had taken it from them. 

The Mirror would have swirled with images and flashes of Tamlin, Lucien, Elain, Nesta…all those Feyre felt she had betrayed or let down in some way, whether it was deserved or not. Her conversations with Ianthe as she ignorantly shared every detail about her human family and their estate, then the moment her sisters stumbled through the door in Hybern, and were shoved into the Cauldron, Made into the very thing they hate. And somehow, after all this and so so much more, Feyre came to acceptance. But I think, more than all the ways she hurt those around her, or they hurt her in turn, all the blood and vomit and nightmares…more than any of that, Feyre had to learn to love the beast that stared back

I was not alone.

Crawling down the snow-kissed wall, a massive beast of claws and scales and fur and shredding teeth inched toward the floor. Toward me.

Its enormous paws were near-silent on the floor, the fur on them a blend of black and gold. Not a beast designed to hunt in these mountains. Certainly not with the ridge of dark scales down its back. And the large, shining eyes—.

I didn’t have time to remark on those blue-grey eyes as the beast pounced. 

Where I had been standing … the beast now sat, scaled tail idly swishing through the snow.

Watching me.

Not—not watching.

Gazing back at me. My reflection.

Of what lurked beneath my skin.

My knife clattered to the stones and snow. And I looked into the mirror. (pg. 605-6) 

“What did you see?”

“Myself. I saw myself.” (pg. 617-18) 

Maas gives us a short, but very revealing description of the beast—Feyre’s beast

The significance of gold and black fur? Throughout ACOTAR and MAF, Feyre religiously rejected any power that related to Tamlin, namely the ability to shift into animal form. She feared the claws that poked against her skin. She hated them. Until she realized they weren’t Tamlin’s claws, they were her own. They were talons. And if she could make talons, she could make wings. Feyre’s beast form having a mixture of black and golden fur signifies that Tamlin is a part of her, and always will be. She once loved him, so much so that she killed for him, died for him. A love like that leaves a permanent imprint on a soul, even if the love itself doesn’t last forever. Feyre had to learn to love the part of her soul that had been touched and permanently changed by Tamlin. 

The scales could signify several things. Of course Summer comes to mind. Feyre obviously has an affinity for the Summer magic that flows through her veins. It came easily to her—more easily than any other High Lord’s power. The scales might represent the bond formed between Tarquin and Feyre while she visited Summer. Regardless of the blood rubies, now rescinded, the High Lord of Summer and High Lady of Night shared a unique understanding of one another, and a common passion to spread equality between the High Fae and lesser faeries (and even humans) to all courts and territories. 

The scales might also be equivalent to the thorns Feyre feels she has and once used to describe herself to Tamlin—the spiny ridge running down the beasts’ back and tail representing her prickly side. This is an annoying feature most of us have, and a part we all hate, but must accept responsibility for. 

But perhaps the mostly likely possibility is that the scales and ridges represent Feyre’s armor (Illyrian armor is scaled). We know it to be thick. In ACOMAF, Rhysand worked for months to attempt to delve through the layers and layers of Feyre’s armor in the form of depression, anger, bitterness, and solitude. It is likely that Feyre had to learn to love that armor, even if she wished it had been stronger, or less harmful to those around her, the way it hurt Rhys after the Court of Nightmares scene in ACOMAF, and Mor at the camp in ACOWAR. While gazing at herself in the Mirror, Feyre had to learn to bear her armor proudly and honorably, to use it to strategically protect herself, and not harm or keep out those who love her, fight for her. 

The massive, flesh-shredding teeth—Feyre’s ability and willingness to kill and murder. Whether for food to avoid starvation, killing for no other reason than pure, undiluted hatred, or the murder of innocents to save the one she loved, Feyre has a lot of blood on her hands. And as we learned through her nightmares and admittance to Cassian…Feyre feels that blood should be her own. She has fangs, and she’s used them—over and over again. Feyre suffered soul-deep from the pain she felt she brought upon others. But when the Mirror showed her those glistening teeth and impressive maw, Feyre had to accept that pain and torment—and then turn it against her enemies. Not fangs to harm the innocent, but rather to protect them, to fight for them. To fight against Hybern and the injustices of the world. To protect her sisters and those like them. To care for the weak and weary and afraid. 

I have been struck each time I’ve read these scenes—on a personal level. To think about facing my own beast…what would it look like? How would I react as it sat and laid my very soul bare? Could I even look into my own eyes as they gazed back in judgement? Could I learn to love every part of myself as Feyre did? Would I be able to face my inner most demons? Honestly, I don’t know. But I think we could all benefit from pondering this passage a bit more.

Penny for your thoughts.

Truth: Arrow 5x20 Review (Underneath)

Arrow isn’t a perfect television show. To be fair, I don’t know one that is, but I never needed Arrow to be perfect.  All I need from Arrow is a good story.  My frustrations with Oliver and Felicity’s break up, and the Baby Mama storyline, aren’t a secret. I found their break up to be wildly problematic on multiple levels. However, the one caveat I always held to was if Arrow can piece together some interesting character growth for Oliver and Felicity it would go a long way of easing my ruffled feathers. We’ve been dealing with the ramifications of Oliver’s lie about William since 4x08. That’s 35 episodes. We’ve waited a long time for Oliver and Felicity’s individual arcs to come to fruition.

The wait was worth it. At least for me.

Our perceptions of “good story” vary as widely as our perceptions of “perfect” but “Underneath” is a good story for me.  It’s almost perfect. 35 episodes. This road was long. It was hard but, in the end, I feel like I understand. It connects all the dots that need to be connected (and some I didn’t expect) while delivering some real character development that feels earned.

In the midst of the crazy world of arrows, masks, Mirakuru soldiers, 15 different canaries and Barry Allen resides the relationships between Oliver and Felicity

and Original Team Arrow. 

These characters, and the love they have for one another, is the sanity in all the madness. It’s the real in the fiction. Oliver, Felicity and Diggle are the beating heart of Arrow for a reason. The love we have for these characters is the reason we watch and “Underneath” returns Arrow to center. It focuses on the love stories that made us fall in love with the show. In particularly, it brings Oliver and Felicity’s individual arcs to fruition and FINALLY merges their roads into one again.

Trust. Honesty. Forgiveness. Compassion. Humility. These aren’t always popular concepts in our society, but they are the building blocks to any relationship. You lose one, the whole house can come down on you. Love feels like it has its own inertia, like it chooses you and not the other way around. And maybe that’s true. Maybe we can’t choose who we love.  However, we can choose how we love.

If you are either Team Felicity or Team Oliver in the break-up- Baby-Mama-drama then there’s probably things about “Underneath” you didn’t like. As for me, I believe there are things both Oliver and Felicity need to learn from the breakup and “Underneath” addresses those things. But more than anything, I am ready for Arrow to rebuild what they broke. I am ready for Arrow to fix it. Are you?

Buckle up. This is, by far, my longest review. We’re going all the way back to the pilot and discuss about five different episodes. This took me about 22 hours to write. No need to comment on how long it is. I am well are.

Let’s dig in…

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You Don’t Have to be Superman

(Put a read more in cause it got kinda really long oops)

  • Ladybug and Chat Noir are together
    • Like together together
    • Very much together
    • And everyone knows it
  • They don’t know each other’s identities because it’s not safe, not with Hawkmoth still out there
    • When they defeat him, that’s when they’ll tell each other, they promise
  • They defeat Hawkmoth when they’re twenty three and Gabriel Agreste goes to prison
  • Their Miraculouses are running down, or Adrien needs a minute to himself, or something, but the point is, they split up and are going to meet up that night and reveal themselves
  • Marinette doesn’t count on Tikki and the earrings disappearing as soon as she transforms
    • It’s awful, but she and Chat are in this together and they’ve got a hotel room booked so she’ll just meet him there
  • Adrien doesn’t count on there being a lot of paper work when it turns out your father is a supervillain
    • There’s a lot
    • Nathalie is handling it mostly but they still need his signatures and no one is letting him out of their sight
  • Marinette goes to the hotel room and waits for Chat to arrive
    • He doesn’t
  • Adrien glances at the clock every few seconds, trying to pull himself away from the mess of his life for long enough to get to Ladybug
    • He can’t

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You see this face? This is the face of a boy in the most beautiful state of disbelief to ever exist. Stiles stilinski has loved Lydia Martin for years–since the third grade–and has always seen her for who she really is. He listened to her when no one else heard. He paid attention to her when no one else did. He remembered everything she ever tried to hide. He knew how smart she was despite how hard she tried to hide it, and he only loved her more because of it. He never underestimated her. He never sidelined her or blew her off or thought of her as anything less than important. He complimented her. He treated her as an equal. He did anything and everything for her. He risked his life to save hers. But, above all of this, more important than any of this, he LOVED her. He loved her before anything supernatural tested the limits of their emotions. He loved her before they had to fight for their lives and the lives of others. He loved her when he was just a boy and she was just a girl. He loved Lydia Martin like no one else has, and when he knew he was going to be completely erased from existence, he wanted to let her know that. After years of confiding only in his best friend about his feelings, after years of everyone but Lydia knowing about his feelings, after years of silence, Stiles tells Lydia to remember in any way that she can that he loves her. So, when his friends have saved him, when the love of his life made everyone they know remember who he is to bring him back, he finally gets to hear from Lydia. He never–not once–acted like he needed Lydia to admit anything to him. He never pushed her or pressured her or nagged her or coerced her to love him just because he loved her. He simply loved her, but he didn’t realize how, all this time, that was what was needed most. This is the face of a sarcastic and cocky boy with a heart so big that it stores not only unconditinal love but also immense darkness finally having all the love he gave given back. This is the face of a boy who can’t believe that the love of his life–the girl he’s always loved–loves him back. This is the face of a boy who’s heart is skipping beat after beat because he can not believe that Lydia Martin has come to love him. This is Stiles Stilinski learning that he is loved. This is Stiles Stilinski in heartachingly beautiful disbelief because he loves the same girl that loves him. gif source: @obriens

I’ve Always Been Home

I Have Loved You Since One Shots: I’ve Always Been Home (Part 1 of 2)

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*if you’d like to listen to some tunes during this, i would just recommend the wreck of our hearts by sleeping wolf.. over and over again!!*

There was a pounding ache in your head. It felt like a million pieces of your brain shattering to the ground, falling apart into almost nothing. Your throat felt dry and with the little strength within you, you swallowed the dry spit in your mouth.

Your vision was blurred and your memories felt cluttered – one here and another there. The lights were bright in the room, too bright. The ceiling was staring straight down at you. There were all these wires tangled around you, you felt paralyzed.

What happened?

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So, I was watching Star Vs. The Forces Evil episode Into The Wand and something caught my attention. Lil’ Chauncey, Moon’s war pig-goat pet thing, was in Star’s memories. She remembers him.

 She knows Chauncey died in battle but no specifics on which battle or when. Then we get to The Grandma Room and we see Moon’s tapestry and her poem which I sum it up as: Toffee dun goofed. Toffee is clearly terrified and there have been lots of theories as to why this happened. Most of which tend to be shippy or something else.

But look at Moon’s face. Look at that rage, that pure open hatred. What did he do? What could warrant such open hostility from someone we’ve seen as being so cool and reserved? Then is hit me: Star was alive when this event went down. Because Chauncey died in battle, shown here in this tapestry and Moon is clearly an adult and Star remembers Chauncey. Then I remembered how the royal guards used to babysit Star. Why? Where were the nannies? The caretakers? The royal nurses? They taught her how to fight, how to use a sword and weapons, how to kill an enemy with her bare hands before she ever hit puberty. Why would Queen Butterfly, Mrs. Prim and Proper, allow her only daughter to be cared for and basically raised by guards

Because she felt it was necessary to better protect her young daughter. I’m willing to bet this is Moon unleashing some serious mama bear rage against someone who threatened her very young child. Star was old enough to remember Lil’Chauncey, but perhaps not the attempt on her life or whatever it was Toffee was planning on doing to the royal family. Maybe it was a betrayal on his part since there are so many hints and theories revolving around the two.

(Just as a side note, I am very aware of the Moon/Toffee ship and while I do think it is kind of out there, I also kind of like it too. Unless it ends up being like the Luke/Leia thing like one new major theory proposes. In which case, NOPE.)

I also thought it was strange that Moon and River decided to send their daughter to Earth to better control her powers….without any other supervision except for Glossyrick who they and we all know probably isn’t the best person to be keeping a rein in on Star. It probably had something to do with keeping her from setting the whole kingdom ablaze in glitter and flaming rainbows, but I also feel there was something else to it. While there are no mentions of Toffee after Storm The Castle, Moon is clearly afraid. 

I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing River.

Also, for all of Moon’s faults, she loves her daughter more than anything. Star’s safety is paramount to Moon and even the cleaving of her family’s ancestral wand is no where near as important to her as Star’s safety. 

Oh, I’m always mad. But I’m happy that your safe.

I love this theory because it explains so much: why Moon acts distant but at the same time is a constant presence in her daughter’s life. Moon maybe trying to do what she can to protect her only child while also living up to the very high and difficult position of being a Queen of an entire…planet? Like, she’s trying her best to be a good parent and Queen even if she doesn’t go about it in a way that Star can respond to.

Also, don’t tell me we aren’t going to learn something new on Monday about Moon. Look at this image I found for Page Turner’s preview. She just looks so tired and so sad. This is a woman whose seen some shit, done some things she’s regretted and probably has a lot of dangerous enemies.

All to protect her only child. At least, that’s my theory until canon will most likely disprove it.


EDIT: OK, so…I am both awed by and grateful for all the likes and re-blogs this post has gotten so BIG THANKS TO EVERYONE! XD

           Also, after watching the last few episodes of the season I feel like this sort of at least helps support my theory. There is no proof – yet – I hope – but give what we’ve seen it makes me happy. Moon clearly is worried about Star. She wants her training to progress farther and quicker, there is urgency in her voice and it’s clear that she’s scared. Also, all the magic in the universe is disappearing? Makes me wonder just WHAT that wand even is, or at least what makes it so special if Ludo having half of it means it has negative effects on a universal scale.

           Also? Toffee’s picture comes up on the screen with the corn and everything? Like, Moon, pay the frick attention!        

           Another thing is that while Glossyrick claims to be doing his job to train Star to be a good Queen I still don’t feel…like he’s a good teacher. He plays the vague-advice thing way too much but then he kind of just lets Star do whatever she wants to anyway so…I don’t know if this is the most effective way to train Star since she is still just a young kid and has a hard-enough time paying attention. I don’t know if there is something to it but I don’t like how cavalier he is about things. The final few episodes’ kind of bugged me. Like, dude, this is her child’s future were talking about. She has every right to stick her nose in thank you very much.

           But Moon’s fears and the lesson she learns in this episode tug at the heart strings. This woman has to accept that her young daughter is growing up fast, into a universe that is facing some serious peril and Star will undoubtedly have to fight soon enough. Moon is afraid, the fear is palpable and she wants to make certain that nothing can go wrong. She probably does have some suspicions of what’s causing it but she can’t be certain. Also, Eclipsa? Heck yeah is she going to be important given how frequently she’s been name dropped.

           Things are getting serious in the universe of the show, Moon is afraid and she’s know that Star is going to end up in the middle of it. For a woman who already has so many huge responsibilities on her shoulders and yet she probably feels powerless to protect her only child.

           Gah! The feels!

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Flutterflies

Summary: In which Draco becomes friends with the golden trio in first year and seven years later he’s hopelessly in love with Harry.

Word Count: 14.6k

Includes: smut yo

you can also read on ao3

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Jealous (Jughead x Reader)

Prompt: hey darling! im in love with your imagines! is it possible to request a jughead x reader where the reader and jug are dating and jughead spends WAY too much time with betty (maybe bc of the blue&gold ?) the reader is jealous but jug is just amused by it? like he does the whole “awwww! is someone jealous?” kind of teasing? lol idk if that made any sense but if you figure out a way to write it that would be amazing! thank youuu

A/N: I took my time with this one and changed it a bit! I hope you like it. Requests are welcome!

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Jealous (Jughead x Reader)

You had a bag from Pop’s that you managed to go get for you and your boyfriend. Jughead’s been staying in the Blue and Gold room during lunch lately and you haven’t really spent any time together this week so you wanted to treat him to some burgers.

Stopping to see the door closed, you peaked in the little window to see Jug and Betty standing close with their backs turned towards you.

You reach to open the door and call for Jug when Betty leans her head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her. Your heart stops.

Jug never wraps his arm around you. Hell, He hates any PDA. Feeling a little upset, you turn and go find one of your other friends. Maybe Veronica would want some burgers.

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Whatever you do, don’t imagine Harry on his wedding day.

…okay fuck that. Let me paint the picture for you.

They’re all getting ready for the big day. James in the background mentally going over his speech. He got ordained so he could hold the ceremony and even though he loves a joke, he takes this task very seriously.

Jeff is hanging around somewhere, too, but he’s on the phone again, probably checking in on Glenne for the tenth time in the last half hour (which means actually checking in on Harry’s bride because he came to care about her almost as much as he did for Harry which was a whole fucking lot).

The other groomsmen were also milling about in the small room, straightening out collars and suit jackets, tying shoes and checking their hair in the mirror.

Harry feels himself gradually getting more nervous and this stupid fucking tie just… won’t… do what it’s supposed to.

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Two can play at this game

April Fools’ Day… the Snowbaz possibilities are endless. Also: @snowbaz-feda looks great and everyone should go check it out


March 31.

BAZ:

‘What did you do to him?’

Snow’s girlfriend has followed me out of the dining hall, her hands on her hips and her pretty eyes glaring.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say, arching one eyebrow, and it’s true; I have no fucking clue what she’s on about, except that it’s about Snow. Everything is about Snow.

‘So this isn’t your doing?’ Her eyes are still squinted suspiciously.

‘Sadly, I can’t take credit for whatever has befallen Snow, but I’d love to hear about it.’ I pretend that I’m not worried. I tell myself that I’m glad if he’s hurt.

She huffs. ‘Just stay away from him, Baz.’

‘That’s going to be difficult, given that we share a room,’ I drawl. I suppose it’s no use telling her that I can never get far enough away from him. (I can never get close enough, either.)

‘I’m serious. I know you’re enemies and all, but that’s just politics. If you break his heart I swear Penelope will curse you so hard you’ll still be screaming from across the Veil. Hell, I’ll even do it myself.’ She’s practically spitting fire at this point.

‘Wellbelove, what the fuck are you on about?’

She sighs and crosses her arms. ‘Simon broke up with me.’

I try to squash down the hopeful feeling in my chest. It’s not like this is going to do me any good. (Anything is possible). (No, not this.)

‘My condolences,’ I say drily. ‘Or perhaps I should deliver them to Snow.’

‘He broke up with me because of you,’ she snaps. ‘Because of his feelings for you.’

‘Excuse me?’ I try not to let it show on my face. How fast my heart is beating. How much I want this to be true.

‘Just don’t use this to hurt him,’ she insists. ‘That would be low, even for you. Just leave him alone.’

‘Sorry, I’m still stuck on the part where you said Snow has feelings for me?’ My voice sounds too high.

‘Yeah, well, so am I,’ Wellbelove mutters. ‘I mean it, Baz. Don’t hurt him.’

‘What makes you think I can?’ Either Wellbelove is mistaken, or I must be hallucinating. Snow can’t have feelings for me. Snow hates me. He thinks I’m every kind of evil he’s ever known.

‘Because he told me,’ she says. ‘He says he’s in love with you, and I sure hope for his sake that it’s not true. I know you don’t think I’m much of a threat but I promise you, if you hurt someone I care about, I’ll fucking end you.’

‘Right,’ I say. I’m not scared of Wellbelove, but the way she’s looking at me right now, maybe I judged her too quickly. I want to tell her that she doesn’t need to worry, because I’m so in love with Simon Snow that even on good days I think it’s going to kill me, and all of this sounds way too good to be true.

‘I mean it,’ she says, and turns to walk away.

‘Noted,’ I manage to choke out, and now that her back is turned, I let the mask fall. I’m standing rooted to the spot staring after her with what must be a completely shell-shocked look on my face and – Aleister fucking Crowley.

Simon Snow can’t be in love with me. It’s impossible. It’s brilliant.

I look back through the door to the dining hall, and I see Wellbelove walk back to her table, and I realise Snow has been watching for her to come back.

Wait. There’s something I’m missing.

Why would she tell me that Snow has feelings for me, if she thinks I’m going to use it to hurt him?

And then I remember. Today is the last day of March. And that means tomorrow…

I draw in a sharp breath. It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. Fuck him. I fucking believed her, even if it was just for a minute. Fuck him for doing this to me. I want to march in there and drag him out of his chair and beat the living daylights out of him (I don’t. I don’t want to hurt him). I want to break down and cry, right here in front of the entire school. Natasha Pitch’s son, the vampire, a heartbroken, sobbing mess.

Alright. Fine, Snow. Fucking fine.

Two can play at this game.


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