no greater honor

Room For Dessert 01

Description: A boring company dinner gets a little bit spicy when you notice the tension between you and your table’s waiter.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 8.1k

Index: 01, 02, 02.5

A/N: Filth. Straight filth. That’s what this is. Jungkook’s graduation photos pretty much ruined me, especially when I saw the one of him taking their order and just looking so good and UGH. This is the result. Sin. Filth. Porn put to words. Enjoy. Please try not to die. 

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anonymous asked:

I was really struck by something I read in one of your earlier replies to an ask, which was "we’ll never know what Rachel would have done after the war ended", and I wondered if perhaps you may actually have some thought about what might have happened if she did? How WOULD Rachel, who thrived in war, adapt to the mundane life after?


After a while Rachel’s aunt and uncle get so used to her stopping by that they just make her a copy of their house key; it’s easier than answering the door all the time or leaving a window open for her, besides which they’re grateful because she’s there almost every day to bully Jake out of bed and into the world to go do something.  Most days it’s just attending Habitat for Humanity builds in the devastated areas downtown or visiting kids from the local hospital who idolize them both.  Rachel doesn’t mind dragging Jake out of his room at all, because while Tobias is good for taking random college classes or exploring new parts of the country with her, there are still plenty of stupid things that she can only talk Jake into doing.  Together they surf during hurricanes, skydive without parachutes, swim to the bottom of the ocean as orcas and throw themselves off cliffs as birds of prey.  

Rachel doesn’t pretend to understand what he’s going through, because she quite simply can’t—if she even tries to think about what it would be like if it was Jordan or Sarah she’d had to kill during that last battle, she tends to lose the ability to breathe.  But while she can’t give him empathy she can give him this: the scream of wind rushing past their bodies as they hurl toward the ground at nearly a hundred miles an hour, the incomparable thrill of the ground approaching them faster than an oncoming train, the moment of simple euphoria during that millisecond decision to once again open one’s wings and tell death not today.  He doesn’t smile much, and never laughs, but that’s always been true to some extent.  She doesn’t concern herself with making him smile, but with forcing him to gasp for air in his refusal to give up on life, to morph when not doing so would mean drowning in the cold Pacific, to swerve a second away from spattering on the ground.  Because she’s the only one who understands the power of those moments to make them forget everything in the world except the heady rush of being so goddamn alive they can barely even stand it.


It’s strange, really, how tough and showy they can be around each other most of the time… and how vulnerable they can become when no one else is around.  Rachel’s pretty sure she’s the only one who ever saw Marco cry after they all watched Eva’s body tumble hundreds of yards to its apparent death, and she knows for certain that she’s the only one to whom he says “it’s like we never really got her back at all,” the day his parents announce their divorce.  In public Rachel and Marco become even more themselves, one-upping each other to see who can come out with the most embarrassing story in round after round of interviews and bantering at lightning speed as live studio audiences laugh and cheer.  Rachel gives a hysterical, exaggerated account of Marco’s failed attempt at gatecrashing William Roger Tennant’s award banquet; Marco comes back with a heroic narrative of how his llama-self saved an entire television studio from the crocodile Rachel conveniently forgot to mention she had puked out backstage.  When talking about the time Helmacrons invaded Marco’s nose, they each manage to make the whole mess entirely into the other one’s fault.  

In private, they sit on the back porch of Marco’s primary house once a week and work their way through a bottle of triple sec they’re definitely too young to own.  It’s during those long evenings as the sun sets over the Newport Beach mansions that they air the things to each other they’ve never told a living soul before.  Marco talks about the hard bright-edged joy of watching 17,000 yeerks sucked into space and only being able to imagine their screams.  Rachel confesses to having cried herself to sleep after she and Ax dropped David on that island.  They air their sickest thoughts, lance their most pus-rotted wounds, spew poison at each other because they know that they are both strong enough (hard enough, cold enough, ruthless enough) to take it and give back in turn.


Rachel’s honestly not sure how far Cassie would have gotten, politically, if not for her help.  Because that girl might have passion and conscience and common sense to spare, but Rachel’s not sure she’s met a more appearance-clueless person in her life.  The world of politics runs on fashion and makeup, though, especially if one happens to be a woman, and any time Cassie’s about to go tell the United Nations why they need to update the Universal Declaration of Human Rights today to include the hork-bajir and taxxons, or to scold Congress into giving the ex-hosts war reparations and not murder charges, Rachel is there in the background helping.  She shows Cassie the power of stalking into a room in a pair of towering heels, the ways to make a string of pearls or a Chanel handbag into a weapon of power.  Cassie laughs incredulously every time Rachel shows up at her house with a literal truckload of perfectly-tailored business suits and evening gowns, but over time she starts to understand just how much her reputation for being as elegant as she is fierce can work in her favor.  

Rachel, in turn, starts to put out patents for the kind of clothes Cassie would love: comfortable and practical items that can be worn for years without needing replacement.  Rachel figures that if she’s an international trendsetter already (and she is: her line of perfume makes millions every year, while black leotards are debuting on Paris runways) then she might as well have her best friend and the world of high fashion meet in the middle.  Of course Rachel doesn’t explicitly mention that her patent-leather pumps with arch support and heel padding are inspired by the experience of trying on Cassie’s Timberlands, or that her choice of size-16 models for all her advertisements comes from making dresses that would fit Cassie and sizing up or down from there.  But what’s most amazing to her is that the other dressmakers and shoe lines start to emulate her choices, emphasizing the comfort and sturdiness of everything they make even as they tout it as “cutting edge.”  If Rachel has dragged Cassie into being a fashion icon, then it turns out Cassie might just have dragged Rachel into being a social justice warrior along the way.


Ax seems somewhat dumbfounded when Rachel explains that there’s an Earth tradition that any ship’s captain can perform a marriage ceremony, and that even if there’s no law on the books about this particular power she wants him to do it anyway.  She’s not sure herself how her and Tobias’s small private ceremony (at least, that was the intention) has grown so much, but even she has to admit that somewhere between the 230-person guest list, the custom chuppah to be hand-embroidered by a team of local artists, the five-tier cake imported from a German bakery, and the dress which is personally designed by Alexander McQueen, things might have gotten slightly out of hand.  Ax takes the duties very seriously, practicing the strange mouth sounds he has to recite more than once in advance and promising solemnly that he will not eat any of the cake until Rachel and Tobias have had the chance to cut it.  

He serves as their best man as well (probably breaking with tradition, not that they care) and the speech he makes afterward is surprisingly heartfelt.  «There has been no greater honor in my life than to fight by your side,» he tells them, «and I owe you both my life many times over.  I owe you more than that, of course, for you have made this strange planet my home when I came to you lost and alone.  I am not sure what humans traditionally wish for each other with a bond such as this, so I will wish you this much: may your lives be long, may your battles be easily won, may you be loved and feared in equal measure, and may your chili always be perfectly seasoned.» 


It’s not like they get jobs, or hold down formal obligations, or do anything more structured than attend occasional classes at UCSB or consult with the fashion agency that sends Rachel freelance checks.  So there’s really no reason they can’t continue their odd lifestyle, only in the same form at the same time for two hours at most.  At least, that’s how it is for the first several years… and then one day Rachel comes out of the bathroom, a tiny white stick in her hand, and they both realize their lives are never going to be the same again.  Tobias is terrified, of course: he’s been abandoned (voluntarily or not) by two parents, four guardians, and countless authority figures, and he’s got no reason to believe he’ll be any different.  But he knows what the first step will be in committing to raising this baby for real.  And so he morphs human for the very last time.  

In the years that follow, after their daughter eventually gets a little brother as well, Rachel and Tobias become more boring than they ever could have hoped for.  Rachel starts working full-time as a fashion designer, while Tobias finishes an advanced degree in graphic design and gets a job with the marketing branch of the same company.  They go to PTA meetings and teach their daughter softball, buy a sedan with good gas mileage and a two-story house in Mendocino County where the reporters can’t find them.  They still get restless sometimes, leaving the kids with Loren or Sarah for a week or two at a time to go white-water rafting on the Colorado River or to climb mountains in Tanzania, but they always miss the kids enough to come home before long.  They donate thousands of dollars to end world hunger every year, and they fundraise millions more.  Someday they’ll retire.  Someday after that they’ll die.  For now, however, they’re alive, and that’s enough.  

Why Do We Pray?
  • Why do we pray because it’s proof that we are Christians. Christians are in a relationship with God and in a relationship you talk to your spouse right? You don’t talk to them when something bad happens or when you need something, no you try to get every change you get to talk to them.
  • Why do we pray because we are insufficient in ourselves.  We can’t do things without Him and it’s not just the hard things, it’s the daily routines that we need Him to show up in.. If we don’t consistently fall on our face in prayer, then we shouldn’t be surprised when we consistently fall on our face in sin. It’s only on the power of God that we can overcome sin. We can’t overcome it by ourselves. God doesn’t need us but we need Him.
  • Why do we pray because Jesus tells us to. Luke 18:1 Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.
  • Why do we pray because it keeps us humble before God. Prayer reminds us that we are not in control, but God is, so pray is keeping us from pride.. If you thought you could do it all by ourselves then you probably wouldn’t pray.
  • Why do we pray because It’s a great privilege to come before God Almighty. Can you think of any greater honor than to have an audience with the One who rules over ALL creation? We have been invited to talk with the one who put the stars in place. We are invited to sit down with the One who knows all things. We have greatest privilege of it all.

Warrior Culture: Samurai

“Go to the battlefield firmly confident of victory, and you will come home with no wounds whatever. Engage in combat fully determined to die and you will be alive; wish to survive in the battle and you will surely meet death.”  - Uesugi Kenshin

Warrior Poets of the far east the Samurai lived by the 7 tenants of Bushido, Integrity, respect, courage, honor, compassion, honesty, and loyalty. These tenants guided Samurai conduct in all aspects of their lives, helping these warriors to live peacefully, and helpfully within their communities. For the Samurai, there was no greater honor than to die in the service to the Emperor and the greater good. Bushido led the Samurai to view their lives as expendable, a currency to be spent against the enemies of their communities.

“If a man does not investigate into the matter of Bushido daily, it will be difficult for him to die a brave and manly death. Thus it is essential to engrave this business of the warrior into one’s mind well.”            -Asakura Yoshikage

Ideally living a selfless life of service, and dying with honor, understanding that Death comes for us all, and all that’s left is to meet it with dignity. They understood that war was brutal and uncompromising, and were taught to ignore losses and to focus only on victory and honorable death while in battle. Allowing them to make epic last stands and to defeat enemy armies several time their size. These warriors were the embodiment of duty, and discipline, often committing ritual suicide for failing in their duties, or displeasing their master. It is important to note that for this society, the ritual suicide sepiku was considered an honorable death, owning one’s mistakes and atoning for them with a life. When a warrior dishonored his family or clan he could be denied the honorable death of Sepeku as another punishment.

These pragmatic warriors recognized the need for education and art as well as physical and martial training, and during times of peace they devoted much time to these pursuits. Understanding that the mind and spirit are as much a part of improving the warrior as the body. Embodying the western saying “The pen is mightier than the sword,” agreeing that the brain and its enrichment are of paramount importance to a Warrior Culture. Paralleling the pen and the sword. Due to this focus on the arts and education during this time Japan flourished, and literacy rose to beyond the levels of Europe during the same time period.

A culture is only as strong as those who defend it, and Feudal Japan was a strong and disciplined culture.  

anonymous asked:

hi there! I REALLY love your character and your artwork and would love to RP bu t... I'm way too fucking shy and I think you're really awesome ; w; have a good day!! ; //w//;

“…oh….how very cruel of you….-”

“Making my heart flutter like this…only to leave me no clue as to who you might be…-”

*Vaega releases a series of sounds, starting off as what sounds like a love struck sigh, before escalating into restless whimpers, and ultimately, cries of adoration as he flings himself upon the anon’s unsuspecting and meek form*

“Oh, My SWEET ANON! I cant stand this INSUFFERABLE distance between us…RETURN to me at ONCE! Find the courage to rend my heart from mine own chest and take it as your own! MY ACHING BODY AWAITS YOU, READY TO BE RAVISHED LIKE A BASKET OF FRESHLY COOKED AND SEASONED POPOTOS!!!!”

((Lets be real for a second though, popotos aside. There is literally no greater honor on tumblr for an ask artist like me…for someone to tell me that they think my character is great and that they like my art and would actually consider rping with me? I screamed for a whole five minutes just looking at your message. Thank you anon, and I sincerely hope, from the bottom of my disgusting and shriveled little perverted heart… that some day you might find yourself in the position to send me your feelings again….but with your beautiful and precious name attached.))

Title: Together With You, We’ll Relearn the World 

Pairing: sidlink

Rating: Everyone 

Tags: fluff, sweet, a little bit of sad but not a lot 

A/N: Thank you for the request! This was so super cute and I had SO much fun writing it! Hope you like it! 

Also posted on my AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there! Prompt requests are still open so send ‘em my way if you got ‘em! Comments, reblogs and kudos are much appreciated, thanks! 

Not smiling was proving to be harder than he had originally thought.

Climbing up the steep, grassy incline, the ground slippery underneath his feet, heading towards the small camp they had set up at the base of the hill, Sidon tried to focus on anything other than the small Hylian on his back. This was proving to be a challenge as the slightest glance to his right allowed him a full view of his little Hylian’s face, which just strengthened the urge to beam idiotically.

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b e a t r i x   o f   j a u n t   j o l i e

dedicated to @baetrixv

Feisty Little Hobbit

Overall Summary: You are Bilbo’s little sister but the exact opposite

Chapter Summary: After the incident with the stone giants, you try to convince Bilbo to stay.

A/n: I have decided that I wanted to elaborate more on Bilbo’s relationship with his little sister so more chapters will be kind of focused on that as well. 

Previous Chapter: Chapter 6

Next Chapter: Chapter 8

You were currently regretting ever joining this company. If you knew that you were going to be stuck on a five feet wide trail that drops down to a certain death while stone giants duked it out, you would’ve declined the trip. Your heart stops as one of the giants carrying Bilbo crashes into the cliff face.

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The Forgotten King

-This is kind of like a fic, but not exactly written with the intention to be one, but please still read and enjoy! This is written with Jeremy as the main character, but has very light Joelay elements- 

-To summarize this plot, There are five immortal kings, but Jeremy, a scholar in the domain of King Ryan, finds ancient texts that talk about a sixth king – The king of Thorns. He sets off on a quest to find more information, if not the king himself (because after all, how do you kill an immortal?) and in the process ends up becoming the new sixth king himself-


The five immortal kings ruled all of the land. Powerful beings that could crush the world in two, yet looked just like another person. The only thing that gave them away was the thrones they sat on and the look in their eyes that had seen the centuries. Despite their strength, they do not consider themselves gods. 

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The Family (Jumin x MC)

20s! AU/ Mafia! AU: Shortly after proposing, Jumin introduces you to his family.

Word Count: 1387

Okay, so this is basically the in-between prompt that’s an introduction to Mafia and an end to 20s. However, I’d be more than happy to do 20s! AU prompts later on! Also, I got Peeps and I’m really happy

20s! AU Prompts:

1 2 3 4 5


“Are you ready darling?” Jumin asked, chuckling as you fiddled with your clothes, constantly readjusting or fixing something. “I’ve told plenty about them to you, they already adore you.” 

“I-I can’t help it!” You exclaimed as you made your way to the door. “Isn’t this stressful for everyone?” 

You glanced down, noticing the ring upon your finger, softening as a smile painted your expression. 

He had proposed to you with love laced words and a gentle tone. 

When he knelt down you swore the world had stopped. 

“I absolutely cannot imagine anyone so precious in my life,  nor do I want to.” He had chuckled, trying to hide the nervousness engraved in every movement. “My heart and soul utterly belong to you darling, and it’d give me no greater honor than to stay by your side…” 

He had taken a deep breath, slipping out the small box that left your heart near eruption. 

“Will you marry me?” 

You didn’t even need to think before you jumped in his arms, peppering his face in kisses.

It had been a yes the moment you had met. 

You had noticed the way his eyes glistened with a sort of shine as though he was near tears, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

It had lit up your days unlike anything else before. 

And just knowing you’d be with him, left a warmth in your chest as though you’d been immersed in sunlight.


The deep silvery voice caught you off guard, snatching your head up to reveal an older man.

It was his father.

“Good evening.” 

He had given Mr. Han a gentle nod, returning the quick hug from him. 

Then he noticed you. 

“You must be MC…” He let out a delighted bit of laughter, pulling you into a friendly hug. “I’m delighted to meet you! I’m so happy my son has finally found someone who makes him as happy as you do.” 

“Oh! Thank you!” You beamed as he lead you both inside. “He makes me very happy too.” 

Jumin gave you a small grin in return but not before Mr. Han tipped his head towards his son, murmuring in his ear. 

He shook his head. 

“You haven’t?” Mr. Han had huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “One way or another you know.” 


You turned to Mr. Han, eyebrows raising. 

“The rest of our family is in the parlor but I should mention that our family is greatly made up of…close friends and associates. The business is very close knit.” 

“Oh, I’m sure!” 

“Yes well, it works a bit differently than most family businesses.” 

“What do you mean?”

Mr. Han opened the door, glancing to your fiance, his body tense and awkward. “Jumin will explain it as he should’ve before.” 

The parlor was revealed, small groups of people scattered about. 

“In the meantime, meet the family!” 

Several rushed towards you, that including a woman in a darkened dress, reaching out an open hand with a small smirk. “Hello, I’m Jahee Kang. I’m your fiance’s secretary. He’s talked quite a bit about you.” 

“O-Oh really?” You returned the gesture. “T-That’s very sweet!” 

“You think so?” He wound an arm around your waist, lightly kissing your temple. “I’m very glad.” 

“Well of course-” 

“Hey, this is the lucky lady?” A cheery voice bounced, red hair hovering over his eyes. “Well…considering who you’re stuck with I don’t know. But you get a cat out of it!” 

“This is Luciel, but he also likes to go by 707. He’s…energetic.” 

“Did you miss me?”


“I don’t believe any of us did,” Jahee remarked. 

“JJ you’re breaking my heart!” 

“I’m sorry for them,” A man with silver hair approached you, deep red eyes staring towards you as he introduced himself. “I’m Zen. Sorry, you’re stuck with ‘Trust Fund’.” 

“Sorry? What for-” 

Before he could respond, two others appeared before you with a content and light feeling surrounding them.

“Hello MC, I’m V.” He shook your hand, his lips tugging upwards as his eyes were muddled by heavy glasses. “I’ve known Jumin since we were children, I never thought someone would bring winter to spring.” 

“He’s mentioned you many times, you seem lovely.”

“I’m honored.” He set a shoulder upon a smaller boy, bright blonde hair sweeping over his forehead as he glared. “This is Yoosung.” 

“I don’t need you t-to introduce me.” He huffed, trying to beam to you. “I am Yoosung though, It’s nice to meet you, you seem great!” 

“Aw thank you! You’re very sweet Yoosung.” 

He lit up. “R-Really?” 

“Yes of course.” 

“Alright, alright, give them a break. Jumin has something he needs to discuss with them after all.” 

Mr. Han eyed his son carefully before guiding the others away, hushed whispers trailing amongst them. 

“What’re they talking about?” You asked, giving an awkward expression. “Is something wrong.” 

Jumin ran his fingers through his hair, taking your hand and squeezing it affectionately. “It’s not that darling, it’s just…there’s something I haven’t told you.” 

“Oh, is it bad?” 

“It depends on your definition of such a thing.” He let out a shaky breath, shoulders dropping. “Love, do you remember how we met back in the speakeasy all that time ago?” 

“Of course! How could I forget?” 

He laughed weakly, sitting you down on the sofa, the two of you sinking into the cushions. 

“Well, as you already know…my family owned that speakeasy, we owned numerous.” He continued, staring at the ground. “Meaning, we have connections in the mafia…” 


A lump had crawled into your throat, thoughts rampant within your head.

“Yes, and even more so than that…my family’s business is rooted within the mafia. That’s how even after shortly immigrating to America, we were able to so quickly accumulate all the wealth.” 

 “Do you still um…w-work with it?” 

He looked terrified to tell you.

Yet he still nodded, clamping a clammy hand over his mouth. “Yes, in fact, when my father referred to our family he meant those closest to us within our ‘business’. Most of them are involved due to connections with V aside from Jahee. We mainly handle illegal dealings of international exports, and…narcotics.” 

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but…I can’t help but a-admit I was afraid of your reaction. I-I can’t blame you if you’re repulsed but…e-even if it sounds pathetic…please don’t leave-”

“Hush,” You cupped his face with your hands, turning his gaze to you. “I’m not going anywhere. I would never dream of it. I love you, and I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to hurt you.”  

He gawked at you with awe before leaning his forehead against your own, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

He pulled you close, holding you as though you were merely a fading dream he refused to lose.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” 

“Of course, but…we’re in this together okay?” 

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.” 

As you began to soak in the reality of the situation, only calmed by Jumin’s comforting words, Mr. Han interrupted. 

“I assume you’ve told them?”

“…Yes, I have.” 

“And you’re okay with this?” He glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes. “You’re absolute in your decision.” 

Jumin’s grip on you tightened, furrowing his brow. 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

He reached out a hand, giving a toothy burst of laughter as he shook your hand. 

“Then welcome to the family!” 

And as he leaned back in his excitement, you noticed the pistol sitting in a holster.

And you knew, your world had irreversibly shifted. 

top 5 skyrim characters

1. paarthurnax
2. farengar
3. urag gro-shub
4. mia'q the liar
5. yarl balgruuf the greater

Honorable mentions:
6. little old farmer lady who tried to fight a dragon with a knife. she died a valiant death, sovngarde awaits her
7. those npcs that will fight by your side and die for you, but only after you beat them in a fistfight


T’Tony fic in which Tony is under the impression T’challa hates him, and T’challa is under the impression that they’ve been dating for a month. 

“Why on earth are you crying?” Rhodey asks when he finds Tony attempting to tie his tie through bleary eyes. Tony punches his shoulder, careful not to make the man lose his balance in the process.

“I am not crying. I was just thinking about T’challa. He’s just so damn pretty dude, like have you seen him? He’s so damn pretty.” Tony explains, wrangling his tie into submission under Rhodey’s unimpressed gaze.

“Which explains the tears how?” Rhodey asks, thinning his lips slightly when Tony opens his mouth fully prepared to bullshit his way out of the room.

“What like nobody ever cries staring at beautiful art?” Tony defends, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to slip around Rhodey. “Even if he hates me I can still look.” Tony shoots back, accidently showing his hand. Rhodey’s eyes widen in realization and Tony barely stops himself from backpeddling.

“Two things Tones. One, comparing a person to art is a little offensive. Just Saying. Like King T’challa is a person he’s not just there for your viewing pleasure.” Rhodey starts, and Tony blushes sheepish at the gentle scolding. “Two, he doesn’t hate you, why would you think that?”

“I have a list!” Tony defends, choosing to ignore the valid point that his attempt at bullshit was mildly offensive to focus on the invalid point that T’challa doesn’t hate him. Because he does. Tony knows this for a fact.

“Of course, you do.” Rhodey mumbles, as Tony scrambles about for his Stark phone to apparently pull up a list.

“Okay well first, there’s the fact that he’s housing Cap and Squad. Like they have to be talking shit about me all the time, and if they’re friends with him he’s gonna hate me.” Tony explains, adamant. Rhodey shakes his head, and pats Tony’s shoulder comfortingly. “Then there’s the fact that they probably told him I’d try to buy his affection because he doesn’t trust me to pay for anything.” Tony scowls at the memory of their last meeting to talk about the accords. T’challa had absolutely refused to allow him to pick up the tab and it stung.

“Or maybe he has more money than you and can pay for his own stuff.” Rhodey mumbles, unimpressed by Tony’s logic.

“And, and, and, every time we meet for the Accords he always stares at me like I’m going to do something wrong Rhodey. I know they probably told him I was a backstabber.” Tony says, and his mind flashes back to Clint’s jab. “He doesn’t trust me.” Tony mutters, and Rhodey’s heart breaks for the ridiculous sad sack of a man in front of him.

“And here I thought I was staring at you because you’re so beautiful.” T’challa purrs from the door. The door which Rhodey would have been able to see that bastard. Tony shoots his friend a betrayed look. Rhodey looks away and whistles innocently rocking forward in the braces. “After all, why wouldn’t I focus on my date?” T’challa asks before Tony can decide whether or not to tackle Rhodey.

“Date?” Tony absolutely does not squeak, he is manly and he asks the question with dignity thank you very much Rhodey.

“Well of course, we’ve been dating for a month now, today’s our anniversary.” T’challa explains, and Tony’s jaw drops. They were dating? This whole time? He thought T’challa just wanted to meet about the accords.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t get you a gift.” Tony blurts, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. T’challa laughs beautifully, and Tony’s stomach drops out at the sight.

“That’s okay love, seeing as how you didn’t know we were dating I won’t hold it against you.” T’challa assures. Tony is weirdly relieved at the assurance that he hasn’t managed to ruin the relationship he didn’t know he was in. “I did however get you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Tony replies, blushing when T’challa strides forward to kiss his cheek and pushes a small bundle of black fur into Tony’s arms. Which Tony definitely noticed prior to that moment. He just didn’t think it was important okay. The cat king carried a cat it wasn’t that weird, and it’s not like Tony was distracted by the fact that he was dating a king or anything.

“Of course, I did, as King, if I want to court you properly I have to provide you with gifts, and there is no greater honor than that which a cat can give.” T’challa informs Tony, who is stroking the little ball of fur with a shocked look on his face. The cat purrs. “She likes you.” Rhodey quietly exits the rooms, leaving them to their moment.

“Does she have a name, or do I get to name her?” Tony asks, rubbing the kitten’s ears gently. The kitten paws at his tie, and Tony pulls it loose so she can better play with it.

“She’s yours to name love.” T’challa assures him. Tony blushes bright red, and T’challa leans in bold in the face of Tony being adorable, and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. The kitten makes a swipe for his tie and Tony turns an even brighter red.

“Pantera.” Tony whispers. “It’s Italian for panther, to remind me of both you and my madre.” Tony explains, turning towards T’challa with a soft smile on his face.

“A beautiful name.” T’challa replies, and Tony leans up onto his toes, kitten held gently in his arms, and presses a kiss to T’challa’s lips.

cupnoodle-queen  asked:

I went lookin' fer smut and I found some NSFW headcanons, then I saw you rebageled Focus and I learned you are literally TAG GOALS, THEN YOU FOLLOWED ME AND I RECALL SAYING I PEED A LITTLE CAUSE I WAS SO EXCITED AND STILL AM OMG YOU BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED CREATURE 😍😍😍😍


I’m basically in awe that you even noticed me tbh, LOL You one of those big blogs that puts out quality everything (from smut to drama and romance) and LITERALLY A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS

So really idk why you gonna be excited over my lil thot ass over here in my thot corner, LMFAO

But I’m totally blessed that you did. Cause you’re great. AND FOCUS STILL FUCKS ME UP TO THIS DAAAYYYYYY LAWWWDDD HAV MERCYYYY

ashaqueens  asked:

Hi! I'm reading about Jeyne Arryn (and ladies regents overall) and since it doesn't say, I wondered if you have any thoughts on who she might have married? Is there any difference in women marrying lords and men marrying ladies, i.e. a daughter of a vassal house is often gladly given to the ruling lord bc of status and the honor, but since any children of a ruling lady would be her surname instead of the husband's, do you think ppl might rather marry another and keep their own name?

I don’t think Jeyne Arryn married anyone. You don’t get a title like Maiden of the Vale (cf Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen) if you’re married with kids. After she died, the rulership of the Vale probably passed to a sibling or cousin. The general history of House Arryn makes me suspect this has happened several times. (Besides the situation with Sweetrobin and Harry Hardyng, there’s also the time when Lord Ronnel and his family were murdered by his younger brother Jonos who was then executed by Maegor, and the rulership passed to their cousin Hubert.)

Regarding a man marrying a ruling lady and not having the default right to give his name to his children (as long as I’m cf’ing British royals, see Prince Philip’s complaint)… well, it’s a tradeoff. He may not have that visible legacy, but he typically is his lady wife’s chief adviser (and often administrator of her lands and leader of her soldiers), and that kind of influence and power is not a benefit to be overlooked. For example, Drazenko Rogare was married to the Dornish ruling Princess Aliandra Martell, and the Rogare banking family had great influence in Westeros at the time. (Also because his niece, Larra, was married to Prince Viserys Targaryen, the future King Viserys II.) Plus, a father’s influence on his children is usually very strong, so the opportunity to raise the future heir is another benefit – men who marry their daughters to a ruling lord can only hope he will give favor to his father-in-law, but it’s pretty much a given that a ruling lord (or lady) will honor and favor his father, even if they don’t share the same surname. Furthermore, if by some accident the lady should die while her children are underage, it’s an almost certainty that her husband-consort would be appointed regent for the new young lord (or lady).

Marrying an heiress or ruling lady is also an opportunity for rogues, the kind of man who’d look at the above benefits as the real reason for and true profit of the marriage. (Which is why such a woman needs to be very careful who she selects as her husband, if she can.) Prince Daemon Targaryen, even though he deeply disliked his wife Lady Rhea Royce (who he called “my bronze bitch”) and spent as little time in the Vale as possible, still tried to claim her lands and incomes after her death. (He failed, Runestone passed to Rhea’s nephew, and Lady Jeyne Arryn told Daemon to get the hell out of the Vale.) Bronn married Lollys Stokeworth, who was not even her mother’s heir, with the intent of displacing her childless elder sister; and after his and Cersei’s (inept) machinations, both Lady Tanda and Falyse were dead, and while Lollys is now technically Lady Stokeworth, as she is mentally disabled Bronn is calling himself Lord Stokeworth. (His hired army in Stokeworth castle also helps there.) Also since Bronn was lowborn, the opportunity for his future children to be named Stokeworth is actually something he’d prefer to his own lack of a surname. And then there’s Hyle Hunt, who boldfacedly tells Brienne that Tarth is what he wants, in exchange for giving her the sex and children he thinks she wants. Not to mention Tywin’s plans for Tyrion and Sansa, or Tyrek and little Lady Ermesande Hayford, although that’s less of a “rogue” and more of a “malicious bastard manipulating tyrant” kind of thing. (Tywin would probably insist that the children be named Lannister, anyway.)

At any rate, the (hopefully) better sort of man who marries a ruling lady is probably not any kind of heir. He’s a second son, or a third, with little or no chance at his parent’s seat. What does it matter if your children have your name, when they’ll never have an opportunity to inherit your family’s lands or live in your family’s castle? Oftentimes he’s marrying up, too, to greater status and honor than his own – like when a ruling Princess of Dorne marries one of her bannermen; or like when the landed knight Ser Eustace Osgrey married Lady Rohanne Webber, whose lands included much of what House Osgrey had lost over the years (including her castle). (Though we don’t know if Eustace and Rohanne had any kids before she was widowed (again) and married Gerold Lannister, or if they did, what they were named. There are no known Osgreys in current-times Westeros, mind you, and only one Webber, who’s with a mercenary group of exiles.) Also, a ruling lady may sometimes marry a cousin, who shares her name but is not in the direct line of succession, as a way of binding together branches of the family and preventing challenges to her inheritance. Though in that case her husband may rule straight up, without her (the situation of Serena and Sansa Stark, most likely), or with her until his death (the probable situation of Lady Shella Whent, whose father and grandfather were Lords of Harrenhal, and yet her husband Walter Whent was the named lord during the great tourney there).

Nevertheless. It is interesting that of almost all the ruling ladies we know, when they have husbands they’re barely mentioned if at all. Oberyn Martell speaks of his trip to Casterly Rock with his mother the Princess of Dorne and “her consort”, not his father. Arys Oakheart thinks of his mother Lady Arwyn in re “the women are the strong ones”, but never once thinks of his father. We know nothing about the (deceased) husbands of the elderly ruling ladies Tanda Stokeworth, Mary Mertyns, and Anya Waynwood. The Dornish ruling ladies Delonne Allyrion, Larra Blackmont, and Nymella Toland have children, but no named or appearing consorts. And of course Maege Mormont “beds with a bear”, as does her heir Alysane. It’s an intriguing reversal of the usual situation of unnamed wives in the rest of Westeros… although I think it would be more interesting to meet one of these consorts and see what he thinks about his life, and his wife.

Well, maybe we’ll get a chance to find out in the next two books or so. (Though at this rate, I doubt it, alas.) Anyway, hope that helps!

Coronation (Maxwell x MC)

So, @canknot asked me if I was going to continue the TRR series I started on my old blog, @ashtonlaurent.  I had sort of given up on writing a chapter 5 since so much has changed in TRR since then, but I figured that I might as well end out the series! 

Summary: Established in Washington DC, Maxwell and Kennedy (MC) watch Liam’s coronation and the ball on television.

Rating: T for smoochies and champagne bottle throwing.

Originally posted by butteryplanet

“It’s on!  It’s on!”

Maxwell shouted as he pressed the few buttons on the computer and glanced to the wall in front of the couch.  Instantly, the live stream from the Cordonian Broadcasting Corporation appeared on the 85 inch TV hanging on the living room wall in the Ambassador’s residence.

“I’m coming,” Kennedy said, holding the bottle of wine with one hand and two glasses in the other.  

It was only noon in Washington DC, but it was seven in Cordonia and she couldn’t think of a better excuse to day drink than watch Liam become king.  She settled into the couch beside Maxwell, pouring two glasses of sparkling wine. She handed one to him and then curled up beside him, snuggling under the arm he threw over her shoulders.  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she smiled, reaching out to stroke small hearts on his thigh.

Together, they watched the coronation ceremony, laughing and pointing out everyone that they recognized.  Liam looked predictably stoic as he walked down the aisle and was crowned, while the now former king and queen sat on the first row, the barest hint of smiles on their faces.  Bertrand sat a few rows back, his face a little paler than usual and his frown a little more pronounced.

“Has he returned your calls yet?” Kennedy asked Maxwell.  When he shook his head, she sighed and took a sip of her wine.  “Give him time.  It can’t be all bad to have the ambassador for a younger brother.  He’ll come around.”

They watched the procession from the church back to the palace, refilling their glasses and snacking on a large bowl of popcorn that their butler brought to them.

“I gotta’ say,” Maxwell said as he took a handful of popcorn.  “Having a staff to wait on you full time is the best part of this job.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes.  “Not living here with me?”

Grinning, he bent over and kissed her passionately, the sensation racing down to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between.  When he pulled away a moment later, his grin was mischevious but honest.  “No… living with you is the best part of my life.”

“Charmer,” she said, smiling as he pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

The program cut to commercial, and when it returned, the cameras were broadcasting from inside the ballroom where Liam would announce which woman he had chosen for his wife.

“Who do you think is getting the final rose?” Maxwell asked in a gossipy, girly voice.

“Shh!” Riley said, sitting up and moving to the edge of the couch.

The ballroom erupted in applause as Liam walked up to the podium. He waved politely the crowd until they quieted and the only sound left was the sound of clinking glasses or occasional cough.  “My fellow countrymen,” Liam said, barely looking down at his notes.  “To become your king is an honor I never expected nor dreamt of.  But now that I am, I can imagine no greater honor.”

“Fifty bucks on Madeline,” Maxwell muttered.

“You’re on,” Riley giggled, picking up a few pieces of popcorn and tossing them at him.  He caught them in his mouth with a smile.

She turned back to the TV.  She didn’t know if it was the wine making her feel so nostalgic and reflective, but she was suddenly overcome with pride and happiness.  Liam was one of the best things that had happened to her, not only because he had shown her what she was capable of, but because he’d helped her find the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.  He deserved nothing but the best out of life, and she hoped that this day was the start of a beautiful, wonderful life for him.

Liam continued.  “This social season has given me much to think about.  In a short time, I’ve had to learn how to adapt to my new role, how to do what is best for Cordonia, and how to overcome obstacles and disappointments that come my way.

“During this social season, I met several remarkable women, all of whom were from different walks of life with different viewpoints and different ideas of how to rule this country by my side.  In truth, all of these women would be excellent partners and rulers.”

He paused, looking up.  His eyes caught the camera, and for a moment, Kennedy almost imagined he was looking at her.  But a second later, he was looking back at the crowd.  “As you know, Cordonian law dictates that in an engagement season, a royal prince must select his bride from the women presented at court.”

He stopped, not bothering to look down at his notes as a slow smile appeared on his face.  “However, Cordonian law makes no such rules and regulations regarding the King’s choosing of a wife.”

A murmur went up from the ballroom.  Kennedy reached up and pressed a hand to her chest as her heart began to beat wildly and beside her, Maxwell’s eyes widened.

“He’s not—“

“What is he—“

“As I am now King of Cordonia, and not a royal prince, I am under no obligation to choose a wife from the women presented to me this social season.”

Someone in the back of ballroom shouted and people began to look around wildly, their attention torn between the shouting in the back and the king at the podium.  The camera cut to the former king and queen, who had gone pale and were quietly whispering to one another.

Liam’s smile broadened.  “Therefore, as my first act as King, it is my pleasure to announce to you, and to the rest of my beautiful country, that I will not marry this year. Cordonia deserves a queen who cares more for the people than for the crown, who cares more for people than politics, and who comes to this life of her own accord instead of being forced to compete.”

Someone at Madeline’s table fainted and someone at Olivia’s stood, throwing a bottle towards a different table half way across the ballroom.  As the bottle crashed into someone’s head and someone else screamed, the screen went black.  A second later, a CBC logo appeared on the screen along with “We’ll be right back!” crawling across the bottom of the screen.  

The landline next to the couch began to ring, as did both of their cell phones.

Maxwell picked his up and glanced at the incoming number, grimacing before he picked it up between two fingers like a dangerous animal and dropped it behind the couch cushions where it buzzed continuously.  “What in the hell was that?” he asked.  “Is he trying to start a revolution?”

“No,” Kennedy said, laughing as she leaned over, pressing a kiss to her love’s still shocked face.  “He’s doing what he was born to do… rule.“

To live as gently as I can;
To be, no matter where, a man;
To take what comes of good or ill
And cling to faith and honor still;
To do my best, and let that stand
The record of my brain and hand;
And then, should failure come to me,
Still work and hope for victory.

To have no secret place wherein
I stoop unseen to shame or sin;
To be the same when I’m alone
As when my every deed is known;
To live undaunted, unafraid
Of any step that I have made;
To be without pretense or sham
Exactly what men think I am.

To leave some simple mark behind
To keep my having lived in mind;
If enmity to aught I show,
To be an honest, generous foe,
To play my little part, nor whine
That greater honors are not mine.
This, I believe, is all I need
For my philosophy and creed.

Unfortunately, we see these principles violated in modern life. Women have invaded the man’s world. We have a generation of working mothers, competing with men for greater achievement, the more honored positions, or a bigger paycheck.

At home it is almost as bad. The woman takes control and tries to run things her way. Disappearing is the trusting wife who looked to her husband for strong guidance, a solid arm to lean on. The masculine arm may be there, but she is not leaning on it. She does many of the masculine chores herself. The independence of women is making masculine care and protection unnecessary, and this is a loss to both of them.

As the man is deprived of his masculine function he feels less needed and therefore less masculine. As the woman assumes masculine burdens she takes on male characteristics, to fit the job. This means a loss of femininity, a loss of gentleness. The male responsibility adds strain to her life, more tension and worry. This results in a loss of serenity, a quality very valuable if she is to succeed in the home. And when she spends her time and energy doing the man’s work, she neglects important functions in her own role. This results in losses to the entire family.

—  Helen Andelin, “Fascinating Womanhood,” pg. 103