no i haven't had this in mind for years what are you even talking about

#teddy #auror #unresolved sexual tension

Prompts: @foxesandwands
Author: @queenofthyme

If you had told Harry Potter, back in his first year of Hogwarts, that he’d be sharing custody of a child with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Loudly. But here he was, fifteen years later, and one of Teddy Lupin’s two legal guardians.

When Harry had accepted Remus’s offer to be Teddy’s godfather, although in the thick of war, he still never considered he’d actually have to raise someone else’s child. Teddy’s grandmother, Andromeda, had taken care of Teddy originally, which Harry was glad of - a 17 year old did not a father make. Still, he made sure to visit often. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents.

Harry wasn’t surprised that Draco visited just as often. Andromeda was his aunt after all, making Teddy his first cousin once removed.

Harry didn’t make a fuss the first time they’d bumped into each other at Andromeda’s, even though the last time they’d seen each other had been at Hogwarts, in the middle of a war, on opposite sides. He trusted Andromeda, and if she, as fiercely protective as she was, trusted Draco around Teddy, that was enough for Harry to do the same. Although, he still watched closely, curious to understand Draco’s behaviour.

Years past and Andromeda grew weary. She had already raised one child, and she was far too old to be chasing after another. As godfather, Harry knew it was his responsibility to take over as Teddy’s guardian, and no longer a teenager, he felt like he was ready. But Draco had insisted that it was he who should become guardian, as a blood relative.

They had argued like they might have back in their Hogwarts days, with taunts and snide jabs, even a  few hexes, before Andromeda put a stop to it. “How do either of you expect to raise a child if you still act like children yourselves?” She had yelled at them both, her words striking home as always.

Shared custody was Andromeda’s idea, but they both agreed it would be the best option for Teddy. He had already grown attached to both of them, and they both loved Teddy as if he was their own. On that, they were in agreement, if nothing else.

These days, they saw a lot of each other. Teddy made sure of that. They hadn’t quite reconciled all their differences, but they were civil, even polite to each other. They had to be for Teddy. But there was such a coldness to their interactions sometimes, that Harry wondered if it would be better if they just went at it, like they really wanted to. Said what they were really thinking.

Like that time when Draco dropped Teddy off at Harry’s office in the middle of a work day because he had an appointment, and Harry said, “Of course, no problem Draco. Please take your time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “You couldn’t have given me some warning so I could plan my day around this, you inconsiderate prat?”

Or the time Draco had taken Teddy on holiday and returned a day later than expected, and Harry said, “That’s okay, Draco, I’m glad you’re both back. I’m sure Teddy had a great time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I thought you were both dead you selfish jerk, you never thought to owl ahead to let me know?”

Or last week when Draco had to reschedule their agreed custody routine because he had a date on Thursday night and Harry said, “Hope you have a lovely night,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I hope your date throws wine in your face and leaves you with the bill.”

It’s not like Teddy didn’t know what was going on. He was a perceptive kid. The whole situation was ridiculous.

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You ever really think about how Amethyst knew nothing about herself prior to Rose dying? Because I do.

Amethyst has learned more since Rose died and Steven was born than she did in the thousands of years prior she’s been with them. More than that- she’s respected more now than she was before Rose died. They don’t carry her like a ragdoll or chuck sticks to make her leave them be. She’s not just Amethyst the troublemaker anymore. She’s Amethyst the Crystal Gem. 

It took them thousands of years to get to this point. Thousands.

But it’s always been that way for the newbie, hasn’t it? Steven is just as out of the loop. Steven has been ignored and refused information as a staple of his entire life. It’s a battle to get the simplest tidbit out of Pearl and Garnet, and they hold all the answers.

I repeat: Pearl and Garnet know everything (in a metaphorical sense). Steven and Amethyst know next to nothing.

It’s Amethyst who first gives Steven a glimpse into the reality of Gems. It’s Amethyst who shows Steven the Kindergarten, explains to him how Gems (or, at the very least, Quartzes) are made. Amethyst gives him the keys because she’s always been forced to hotwire the car, and she doesn’t want him to have to feel that rejection like she has.

Because, outside of this, what does she know about her own history? She doesn’t. She’s been denied access. 

Would knowing she was defective hurt? Of course it would. It hurts her now. But knowing isn’t a bad thing. It’s given her understanding. Amethyst finally understands why she’s felt off from Pearl and Garnet and Rose her whole life- it’s not all in her head, it’s also in her gemetics

So many bits and pieces of her life must make sense now. Why she couldn’t beat Pearl when Rose probably could. Why she’s flung more easily by corruptions and gets hurt and poofs more easily (not more often- that’s her recklessness)- her body isn’t quite normal. It doesn’t operate under normal Gem rules.

Would knowing more about Rose’s history hurt? Of course. But it’s also key to his character. Steven’s grown up idolizing Rose. Steven honestly thinks the Gems want him to be like Rose. And, one time, maybe he even wanted to be a little like Rose.

They didn’t have to tell him about Pink Diamond. They didn’t have to tell him she started a war. All they really needed to do was talk openly about her, about her flaws as a person, but, again, he’s been refused access. Pearl and Garnet don’t want Steven to know Rose the Gem, even now. Pearl and Garnet want Steven to know Rose the Idea. And, honestly, we’re past that point now. We can’t go back to that now. But they won’t go forward, either.

That’s one of the major differences between Steven and Amethyst- Amethyst has given up trying. Amethyst takes what she knows, the little bits and bobs, sticks them together with theory glue and hotwires the car. Steven has gotten the keys handed to him, once, and still has part of them now- he has Amethyst, who doesn’t lie about Gem things anymore, she just Doesn’t Know- and he doesn’t want to hotwire the car. He wants the full set of keys. 

More than that; he’s willing to fight for the full set of keys. 

He argues when Pearl and Garnet try to shut him out. He turns away from Garnet when she asks him to stay Just Because (he still would’ve gone if she had told him about BD, of course, but he doesn’t know that then). Amethyst?

Amethyst backs off and watches the drama. She doesn’t believe for a second that it’ll get him anywhere. She’s given up. In her mind, it’s only a matter of time before Steven does too.

Does anyone ever think about the fact that after everything with Kate, maybe Derek goes to New York with the decision to never to be hurt that way by anyone again. Not the losing his family part, because how could he ever lose so much again, right? (Right? I’m not crying at all!) So he gets a part-time job as a grocery bagger or something, because he is young and most places won’t hire him halfway through the year. And he works after school to bring in a few bucks so that Laura’s eyes won’t be quite so pinched now that she has gotten her GED and began working to make ends meet for them in a very expensive city. After work, she then spends sometimes hours on the phone and emailing lawyers who are still trying to get all of the paperwork straight. So yeah, Derek  works to help Laura.

But then some lady at the store gives him that look. Like Kate. Her eyes are interested, and her grin is predatory, and he just knows she wants him. So he thinks to himself if he initiates it, maybe it won’t leave him feeling so wrong. So he does. And it becomes a thing. He flirts with anyone who shows him interest as he bags their groceries and “helps them to their car” even though they never need help.

From there maybe it just becomes a way of survival. As he gets older, it seems like more women want to sleep with him. He’s filling out, thanks to all of the runs he’s going on after work and thanks to the workouts he’s pushing his body through every morning. Because he has to be strong enough. He has to be bigger. He doesn’t want anyone to think they can hold him down or force him.

He learns how to play the game. One day he mentions something about that to a coworker (now working at a bar mixing drinks because someone had once told him he would make great money in tips) but his coworker didn’t think of sex as a game. Derek knew better. Maybe it wasn’t for some people, but he would never be able to trust someone in that way again, so he had to strike first before an opponent could.

One day a man at the bar looks at him just right, and Derek just thinks Oh. He’s never focused on men before, but he’s noticed them in passing. So he goes to the guy’s apartment after his shift and they sleep together. Derek pretends he’s done this before, even though he’s mostly relying on his sense of smell and hearing to tell if the guy is into different things he tries. And after that, Derek flirts with anyone he feels he has to.

So fast forward to Stiles. Stiles who is home from college after his second year has finished to make room for summer break. Stiles who means so much and is so good even when he’s an asshole. Stiles who leans in one day after a pack dinner, when he and Derek have finished cleaning up after everyone else has gone home. Stiles kisses him gently, at first, almost hesitantly. But when Derek doesn’t push him away, he presses in more firmly and suddenly Derek realizes where this is going to go. And it kind of makes him sad.

He lets Stiles slip his shirt off and push him back onto his bed. Stiles crawls on top of him and Derek begins pulling their hips together in a slow and sinuous way. But Stiles doesn’t react like any man Derek’s been with before–which really shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is. Yes, Stiles lets out a little moan, but it doesn’t break Stiles away from Derek’s mouth, where his tongue is doing things to Derek that he can’t explain. And his hands after trapping Derek’s face, but not like he’s trying to contain Derek, more like he’s holding something precious. His thumbs keep swiping across Derek’s eyebrows, like he’s memorizing their shape.

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John Mulaney Sentence Starters
  • : Here's how easy it was to get away with a bank robbery in the 30s: as long as you weren't still there when the police arrived, you had a 99% chance of getting away with it.
  • : It's 100% easier not to do things than to do them.
  • : I was once on the telephone with blockbuster.
  • : I think Emily Dickinson's a lesbian.
  • : Being president looks like the worst job in the world.
  • : Why do people shush animals? They've never spoken.
  • : Things don't exist until they exist.
  • : You have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair.
  • : You all have a relative who is an expert even though they really don't know what they're talking about.
  • : Sometimes babies will point at me, and I don't care for that shit at all.
  • : I definitely look like a toddler.
  • : You will die on August 7th, 2037.
  • : Everyone get out of the way! I just want to sit here and feed my birds.
  • : One feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet!
  • : Anyone who's seen my dick and met my parents needs to die.
  • : They haven't let their minds wander since Egypt.
  • : Adult life is already so goddamn weird!
  • : This is an on fire garbage can.
  • : I look like I was just sitting in a room in a chair eating saltines for like twenty-eight years.
  • : In terms of instant relief, canceling plans is like heroin.
  • : Would like an old turnip that we found in a cabinet?
  • : Quack quack!
  • : I'll keep all my emotions in here and one day I'll die.

anonymous asked:

Hey if you need a prompt to write I really like the idea of Lance with synesthesia. I find synesthesia reeeeeaaallly cool and it could make for some interesting stories. Also I live for langst and I've been going though your blog looking at your past stories and amazing cosplays like all day and you are like my new favorite person on tumblr. Hope that's not too creepy. ❤️


I had to do a lot of research on this so I hope I brought it justice. 

Slight Reference to Bullies 

Lance was around 6 when he realized that he didn’t see the world the same as everyone else. He saw things differently. He tasted things differently. He smelled things differently. 

Lance never talked about what he experienced until one day he told his mom that he didn’t like the word ‘Blue’ because it tasted weird. 

Lance didn’t quite understand why she laughed at him when he said that. Everyone can taste words right? 

Lance had never been more wrong in his life. 

After a few months of being picked on by his siblings and the laughing stock of his parents he was finally diagnosed. Synesthesia.

It wasn’t anything bad, just made him very different from other people. 

Lance didn’t mind, he simply started to learn what made him uncomfortable. 

The words Blue and Pineapple were a no go for him. It made his mouth feel weird and he was always had an awful taste in his mouth when he said them. 

The number 17 was always yellow. 14 was purple and 349 was vibrant pink. Lance didn’t mind the colors and numbers that much, only when the colors were with there right number. It would always make him slightly uncomfortable when he saw 17 in pink or 14 in green. It just wasn’t normal to him. 

The sensations that moved over his skin likes waves, were the worst. Everytime Lance smelled broccoli or raw meat his skin crawled. He couldn’t get it to stop until he was away from the smell. 


Lance grew used to bullies throughout his years in school. It didn’t take long for people to notice what made Lance uncomfortable. Once they did, they would use it against him. 

They would write numbers in the wrong color, they would trick Lance into saying blue, they would eat broccoli right next to him. 

Lance couldn’t escape it. Not even at the Garrison. 

Lance thanked every God under the sun that he got a understanding roommate, a boy named Hunk. Hunk was very supportive of him and tried to make Lance’s days as easy as possible. No broccoli or raw meat, no horrible words, no wrong color numbers. 


When Lance joined Voltron, he was faced with 5 new people that knew nothing of his situation. 

Lucky Lance never had to look at numbers but sometimes the food goo would smell a little too close to broccoli. Those meals were always the hardest for Lance, he couldn’t exactly get up and leave the table. 

Even when Lance was on Earth his mother would serve broccoli and tell Lance to suck it up when he started to shift in his seat and rub his arms. 

Of course Lance had to pilot the Blue lion, and he had to say the word ‘Blue’ more than he ever wanted. 


Lance eventually started to use his  synesthesia to his and the entire team’s advantage. He was able to remember certain passcodes due to the colors that he familiarized with certain numbers. He never knew the code perfectly but he would see pink in his head and know the number. 

Lance was also more creativity than his team so he found himself helping Pidge and Hunk come up with new machines. 


He still hadn’t opened up to his team (excluding Hunk) because of his fear of how they would treat him. However after living with the team for a few months he didn’t care what they thought or how they reacted. 

Lance entered the bridge where everyone was standing, Lance filled his lungs with oxygen and spoke loud and clear. “I have something to tell you all.” 

Sorry it took so long! 

I can see why you’re interested in this topic! Once I started to research I couldn’t stop <3 

I hope you like it!

Thank you <333

Also I’m happy that you like my blog! 

Just Smile at Me

Pairing: Keith/Lance (klance)

Rating: General

Word Count: 3,934

Description:  Keith didn’t like Lance’s fake smile, that one he did whenever he would flirt with Allura or any other breathing being. Keith liked Lance’s real smile, the one he used when talking to his friends. Lance never smiled at Keith like that. And that’s all Keith really wanted; for Lance to smile at him.

On Ao3

Keith didn’t want to call it pining, because it honestly wasn’t. He didn’t sit around fantasizing about Lance dramatically confessing his love before they went off to make out in a broom cupboard. But he certainly had a fixation on the blue pilot and it was bugging him to his core, the worst part being that he couldn’t differentiate whether the obsession or the lack of reciprocation was what irked him so much.

Luckily, the befuddled state of his brain didn’t appear to seep into overt blatancy seeing as Lance hadn’t tuned in on it. And Keith was certain that if Lance had, he’d never shut up about it. The last thing his teammate needed was a boost to his ego and something to hold over Keith’s head. God, his stomach twisted uncomfortably just at the thought of it.

But even the -quite frankly terrifying- prospect of Lance learning of Keith’s little bout of mania wasn’t enough to deter him from staring incredulously at Lance as he danced around Allura in some spectacularly horrifying courting ritual that had Keith wanting to rip his hair out in both secondhand embarrassment and irritation.

Keith’s cheek was squished against the palm of his hand as his elbow rested on the counter, his glare leaving palpable trails of aimless animosity drifting through the air. He hated when Lance did this show of bravado. It was one thing to hit on every sentient being of an appropriate age, it was another for him to relentlessly flirt with Allura while looking pained from doing so.

“That’s not his real smile.” Keith muttered to himself, ever familiar with the many ins-and-outs of Lance’s facial expressions from the obscene amount of time he spent staring at that stupidly attractive face. If Keith didn’t know any better, he’d think the only thing holding Lance back from actually winning over everyone he flirted with was his obnoxious pick-up lines. And yet even that ridiculous aspect of Lance’s personality still managed to elicit something in Keith’s gut that he really didn’t want to reflect on.

But with all of Keith’s staring and unadmitted swooning, he still found that smile to be annoying as all hell. Because it wasn’t a real smile, it was that smile carefully crafted and put into place when Lance was doing something either because he thought it was expected of him, or because he needed to boast his fabricated over-the-top ego to hide his bruised self-esteem.

I know his real smile and that isn’t it.” Keith whispered under his breath as he watched Lance bounce out of the room after Allura, who was wearing an awfully tight smile as she let Lance ramble on.

“You know, I can hear you mumbling darkly over there but none of it’s registering. If you’re trying to start a conversation, Batman, I suggest upping the volume so us humans can actually hear what you’re saying.” Pidge said without even looking up from whatever contraption they were working in their lap. It was still a wonder to Keith how Pidge managed to curl up in a barstool as if it were an armchair.

“Sorry.” Keith grumbled, straightening up in his seat. “I just hate when Lance does that thing.

“Oh yeah, the thing, of course.” Keith could practically hear the eye-roll in Pidge’s voice as they ignored the little shower of sparks that erupted from the cube they were fiddling with. “Keith, I am all for appreciating the mystery of the Guessing Game but I don’t think it suits casual conversation outside of your preschool classroom.”

Keith groaned as he shoved his face into his hands, his theatricality not lost to himself but he found no part of him wanting to reel it in. “I’m talking about when he does that smile, where it doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s just for show and is so fake that it puts the moon landing to shame.”

“Wait, what?” Pidge snorted, actually swiveling in their chair to face Keith. “You don’t believe in the moon landing? Dude, we’re in space-

“My point,” Keith barreled on harshly, “is that this smile is dumb and I’ve seen his real one and it’s ten times better.”

Pidge made an exasperated sound, as if they couldn’t believe they were having a discussion about the many facets of Lance’s smile. “Not that this conversation isn’t absolutely riveting, but have you considered talking to Lance about this? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you droning on about his mouth for a few hours; it would probably do you both some good.”

“No, no, I’m just…ranting I guess. I just- I don’t understand why he does it? He smiles genuinely at you and Hunk, even Shiro and Allura if he isn’t trying to initiate a mating ritual with her.” Keith sighed, folding his arms onto the counter, letting his head drop onto them, looking akin to someone who ordered their sixth shot with only three dollars left in their bank account. “He never smiles at me like that.”

Pidge seemed unamused at this notion, taking to jabbing their screwdriver into the metal cube in almost sporadic motions, an annoyed sound getting caught in their throat. Keith didn’t know if it was directed at him or the apparently stubborn machine. He hoped it was the latter. “He smiles at you all the time, what are you even talking about?”

“I mean, yeah, he smiles at me sometimes but not that smile, the one where your cheeks get sore just from looking at it.” Keith explained forlornly, feeling that he should be in a Jane Austen novel instead of whatever cruel Shakespearean play that his life was basing itself off of. Perhaps equating the lack of a smile to that of the tragic writings of Shakespeare such as Romeo and Juliet may have been on the dramatic side but Keith truly felt that his distress could be woven into a beautifully disastrous sonnet.

“Dude, you’re pining hardcore. Trust me, Lance looks at you with just as much dopiness as you do him, but when you’re not looking because he can apparently strategize better than you.” Pidge said, amused as they took the screwdriver by its head and started lightly thwacking the side of the cube with the handle.

Keith shot up in his chair, looking scandalized at the accusation that he was pining over Lance. He tried to hide the blush crawling over his face at the image of Lance staring at him when his back was turned and- shit, maybe he was pining.

Keith was determined to see Lance’s smile. He’d mulled it over, trying to grasp the rather preposterous idea that Lance would ever show affection toward him and came to the single conclusion that he could not let Lance win. If he was smiling at Keith behind his back, well, that clearly meant that he was trying to hide his admiration for the red paladin and that just wasn’t going to cut it. Keith wanted to see Lance genuinely smile at him.

“I’m gonna do it.” Keith said determinedly from his spot on the couch.

“Listen, dude, if this is about you finally swiping your V card, we really don’t-“ Pidge was cut off by Hunk’s hand covering their mouth accompanied by a horrified gasp.

“You’re fourteen,” Hunk whispered in alarm, “who corrupted your innocent mind?”

Pidge forced his hand off of their mouth, almost knocking over the chess pieces they were using. “Lance, but unintentionally. And this isn’t about me; this is about Cryptid Number One over here trying to suckle curious prodding out of us.”

“I’m not trying to suckle anything.” Keith spat defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. He was painfully aware of the plentiful amount of similarities between him and a petulant child but he was choosing to ignore them.

“Except for Lance’s-“

“Lance’s what? My awesome flip I did yesterday in training?” Lance appeared in the doorway and it was like seeing the devil himself rise from Hell just to torment Keith and all he could do was hide behind his overgrown mullet and hope his strife didn’t manifest in crimson waves on his skin.

Lance didn’t seem to notice, however, as he sat down way too close to Keith, their knees practically touching. Keith squished against the armrest, trying in vain to create some distance between them but, unfortunately, Lance was inclined toward manspreading.

“Nothing.” Keith bit out, practically folding in on himself. Right, really inconspicuous.

“Come on, guys! You know you don’t have to hide your love of me from me! I am my number one fan, after all.” Lance’s arms found their way over the back of the couch, his fingers just brushing the back of Keith’s hair. It was like a feather had just been dusted over the nape of his neck, sending goosebumps down his back.

“We were just-“ Pidge started and grunted angrily from being interrupted once again as Hunk pulled them up by their arm.

“-Leaving.” Hunk finished with a heavy sigh, clearly resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to control Pidge from saying anything that would haunt more than one of them for years to come.

Keith was glad that Pidge was being mercilessly dragged away but he really, really didn’t want to be left alone with Lance. Usually he was a fly by the seat of his pants kind of guy but Lance managed to make him doubt every move he made. No, in order to get Lance to smile at him without revealing his insanely obvious feelings for him, he’d need a plan.

“I’m a good liar, right? Like, I’m good at keeping secrets?” Keith wiped the hair sticking to his forehead away before using a washcloth to dry the sweat.

Shiro chuckled, that big brother chuckle. He used it whenever he was amusing a kid, or in this case, Keith. He was a little offended by that, but he pushed that aside, hoping to get an earnest answer from Shiro.

“I don’t know, Keith. You’re a skilled fighter and you’re very headstrong.” Shiro dabbed the back of his neck with his own washcloth, intently avoiding Keith’s eyes. Great, now he was listing Keith’s positive attributes to soften the blow. “You don’t really need to be cunning; you’re a paladin not a spy.”

Keith sat on the bench, defeated. “I’m not talking about being a paladin.”

Shiro nodded his head in understanding, taking a seat next to Keith. “Is this about Lance?”

God. Well, that answered Keith’s question.

Keith just sighed, slinking further down the wall he was resting against. Insecurity really didn’t suit him but it seemed to be sprouting from him like daisies.

“Lance is…he’s very perceptive.” Shiro said, wringing his hands in his lap. Something told Keith that this really wasn’t his area of expertise but the guy felt such a moral obligation to hold everyone on the team up that he was willing to give it a shot. “But I don’t think he knows. I think there’s something about you that clouds his judgement sometimes.”

Shiro smiled down at him, slapping a hand on his shoulder as a gesture of solidarity. Keith didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, that he clouds Lance’s judgement, but he couldn’t dwell on the thought or his mind and heart might start racing like it was the Olympics. Better to change the subject and get his blood pumping in another way.

Shiro seemed to sense this, standing up and offering a hand to a slouched Keith. “Let’s just get back to sparring, huh?”


Something about this felt like cruel irony. Like a cosmic force was fucking with Keith and that this was righteous retribution for all those impulsive and stupid things he’d done before. Because what else could possibly explain Lance pinning Keith during training? As if anything like that could ever occur in this reality. Or maybe it could, because apparently it did, and the embarrassment of being beaten was soon going to be overshadowed by Keith’s attraction showing itself in a very obvious form.

Keith wasn’t sure if Shiro was on his side or not, after all, the guy had paired him and Lance up for practice but he was also the one that saved Keith, telling them to get back up and restart.

This, of course, didn’t come without a get it together, Keith. You have to stay focused. Which, in all fairness Keith deserved. He knew that he didn’t really have his head in the game. It was almost as if Lance could sense it, that something was off. He’d grinned a malicious, devastating smile, one born from the cockiness of knowing you’d overpower your prey. And, well, maybe Keith could’ve avoided the tackle and actually done something with Lance’s telegraphing but instead he got caught up on that damn smile.

And then he was pinned against the cold floor, oddly turned on, entirely horrified, absolutely embarrassed, and frankly, rather pissed.

He pushed himself up from the floor, brushing himself off and pointedly ignoring the smug face Lance was making. He could feel the others’ eyes on him, Shiro’s especially piercing. He glanced over at them; Shiro had his arms folded over his chest, his eyebrows low over his eyes. He was watching Keith, and Keith knew that he could see the irritation wafting off him like smoke. Who was he irritated with? Who knows, anyone, everyone? It didn’t matter. He just needed to win, not for his ego but to convince some part of himself that he wasn’t so entranced with Lance as to actually get his ass handed to him.

They started again, circling each other, like a dance, Keith thought to himself before refocusing on his stance. He watched Lance carefully, all his languid movements, the determination in his eyes and the way his lips pursed slightly in concentration, twitching like they were also amused. Shit. Right. Focus on what Lance is doing, not what he looks like.

Suddenly Lance lunged and Keith…Keith wouldn’t say he wasn’t prepared because he was, it’s just that he may have been a little too prepared and a little too out of it to rein things in. Lance stumbled backwards, hands clutching his face as his eyes grew in horror.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“Oh shit,” Keith gasped, rushing over to Lance. But there wasn’t anything he could do but raise his hands to Lance’s face like he wanted to do something but could only hover awkwardly. “Lance, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what- I just-“

“Is it bad?” Lance slowly removed his hands from his face, revealing a very bloodied nose and jaw. Keith had seen a lot in his time, just like the others, so he managed not to flinch at the sight, but something must have given him away because Lance whimpered like a kicked puppy. Or a punched puppy, Keith supposed.

“Keith, go get an icepack.” Shiro said, quickly coming over to assess the damage. Shiro gently took Lance’s chin in his fingertips, tilting his head back slightly to get a better look. Keith knew there was nothing to be jealous of, but he still felt it spike in his gut. He had hurt Lance, genuinely, physically hurt him and now Shiro was cleaning up his mess and being Lance’s hero. Not that Keith wanted to be anyone’s hero, but it was still hard to look at, so he turned away and left to get an icepack.

When he returned, Lance was significantly less bloody. They’d managed to fix him up a bit, cleaning his face with a cloth and stopping the bleeding. Now it just looked like a bruised mess.

“Here.” Keith said as he handed over the cool compress. Lance took it and carefully applied it to his nose. “I’m really sorry, man.”

Lance shrugged, “it’s okay, my face is still as handsome as ever. No real damage done.”

Keith rolled his eyes but smiled. He was relieved that Lance wasn’t mad. He didn’t really expect him to be, in a complicated way, Lance just wasn’t really like that.

“I got distracted and reacted instinctively. It was stupid.” Keith sat down next to Lance. They were sitting closely again but Keith didn’t try to move away.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Heh, tried to take advantage of it, but-“ Lance gestured to his mess of a face. He leaned his head back against the wall. “You okay, dude? You looked kind of far away that whole time. Don’t usually see that with you.”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “I’m just…it’s hard to explain. I am really sorry, though, seriously.”

“I know.” Lance said, moving his eyes from the ceiling to Keith.

“Keith, can I talk to you for a minute?” Shiro called from across the arena.

“Shit.” Keith muttered, pushing himself up from the ground. Here it comes; the Shiro lecture. Except this one would be ten times worse because it would undoubtedly involve Shiro talking about Keith’s feelings for Lance.

“Don’t worry; he won’t be too hard on you. You’re his favorite.”

Keith flipped Lance off behind his back, making his way over to Shiro. He could feel Lance staring at him as he walked across the room, the hairs on his neck standing up from the scrutiny. Keith glanced over his shoulder but Lance was already looking away.

He’d been smiling at Keith, he knew it in his gut, but he’d missed it. Of course.

“So, did Shiro totally chew you out?” Lance stood in Keith’s bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. The swelling in his nose had gone down, but he now had some bruising under his eyes. Coran had managed to splint it to make sure it didn’t heal crooked. In short, Lance looked worse for wear.

Shiro had chewed him out, but in that concerned way parents usually did when they knew something else was going on. I know it can be hard liking someone, especially in your teens. He had said. It all felt worse with the way Shiro looked down at him from his taller height, eyebrows pinched in worry. But you have to be careful. Someone could get hurt, this time it was just in training and Lance is fine, but when we’re out there in our lions, it can be life and death. We can’t afford to lose an ounce of concentration.

Keith had reassured him that such a thing would never happen during an actual battle. Sure, Keith was a little out of it during 1v1 sparring with Lance, but that was a totally different situation. Shiro had only nodded his head.

“I survived, at least.” Keith answered. He didn’t like looking directly at Lance’s face, it made him feel guilty. “You know you could just get in a healing pod for an hour or two.”

Lance shrugged, taking that as his invitation to fully come into the room. “Feels kind of ridiculous to get into a pod for a broken nose.”

“Have you looked in the mirror? I don’t think anyone would find it ridiculous. That shit looks like it hurts.” Another pang of guilt as he said it but he swallowed it down.

Lance laughed, trying not to move his face too much. “I’ve been trying to avoid all reflective surfaces in fear of having a panic attack over my compromised beauty.”

Lance seemed to be moving closer, slowly, until he finally sat down next to Keith on his bed. Keith’s heart started pounding in his chest. He felt like a cartoon character and soon it would actually burst. Dying from a crush was too comical and too poetic for Keith, so he tried to calm himself, even as Lance looked straight at him.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty, it’s training, it happens.” Keith didn’t say how it hadn’t happened to the others, or how it was all caused by him being too obsessed with Lance’s mouth, apparently. Instead he just nodded. “And I know there’s…something going on with you and I’m not really the best person to come to but you always have the option. Just so you know. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at giving advice.”

Keith snorted. “Really, by whom?”

Lance looked away, tilting his head. “You know, people. In general. I was very loved at the Garrison, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ladies were lining up.” Keith deadpanned.

“The boys, too.” Lance smirked his annoying smirk and it sent heat down to Keith’s toes.

“Right.” He muttered under his breath, less of a response to Lance and more of him trying to keep his head clear. He kept his eyes focused on his lap, he couldn’t meet Lance’s gaze, not after that.

“See, like that! You’re all blushy and abashed. You’re not usually like that. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute but it’s just out of the ordinary for you.”

Keith couldn’t help but look at him now. His face felt like fire and obviously Lance could see it and that just made it worse and god- Lance had just called him cute. What the fuck, he couldn’t just say that. And, wow, Lance was smiling at him. That smile, the one Keith had been thinking about an inane amount and it was just as blinding as it was when he looked at the others.

But it almost hurt this time, the intensity of it being directed at Keith was almost too much. He wanted to look away but he was utterly enthralled by it- by Lance.

“You’re smiling at me.” It came out a quiet whisper, escaping his lips not of his own volition. It was painful, the way his whole body was thrumming with energy, like someone had just plugged him into a socket.

“Well, yeah.” If Keith wasn’t mistaken, Lance’s cheeks were red too. That certainly didn’t help the situation.

“But you- you never smile at me like that.” Keith almost felt indignant. This wasn’t some blasé thing, this was huge! This was a milestone but Lance was acting like it was just…What? Some normal thing?

Lance scoffed, but his smile stayed intact, only his face was closer now. It felt like they were gravitating toward each other, like the universe was pulling them together. “I smile at you all the time.”

“Yeah but not like that-not like this.” Keith said, his breathing short.

“Maybe because this is different.”

Keith breathed a startled oh, before Lance was leaning in and kissing him so, so gently. Keith wasn’t entirely sure their lips were even touching, it was so light. Lance had his head turned carefully, as to not hit his nose, but Keith stayed utterly still, rigid as a pole. Then he melted, the blood flowing through his veins turned to fire and ice. He could feel every beat of his heart pumping through him.

Lance moved back and it immediately felt like a part of Keith was missing, he wanted to pull him in and become whole again. But he didn’t. They sat there, looking at each other.

Keith had thought he’d need a plan for this, to get Lance to smile at him like he was now. But he didn’t. He didn’t need anything, because this was how Lance felt and it was so much better than any scheme could’ve turned out.

Lance took Keith’s hand in his own. “I’m glad you broke my nose.”

Keith didn’t know how to respond, so he laughed, because it felt right. And then Lance was laughing too.

So umm I barely edited this and it’s a mess but hopefully it’s an enjoyable one. Feedback, as usual, is very much appreciated!

anonymous asked:

i'm sorry it why do you ship junkrat with mei?? if you haven't noticed or actually played overwatch, you'd know that mei hates junkrat, they despise each other and they're total opposites. and no, opposites don't always attract.

Ladies and Gentleman, we have a first!

In the two or so years I’ve had this blog, I’ve never had an antagonistic anon before. Then again, I only ever started branching out into non-Soul Eater things in September, so maybe this is just what happens when you start to create content for bigger fandoms? 

First things first: If you don’t like the content I post, I suggest that you either unfollow my blog or use blacklist to block the tags for content you don’t like. Your Tumblr experience is curated by you. I’ll tag my content to help you blacklist topics you wish to avoid, but it’s ultimately up to each user to take the necessary steps to tailor their dashboard.

Secondly, in sending me a rude ask, you have given me an excuse to talk about a favorite ship of mine. So buckle up, we’ve got a long post incoming!

Why ship Junkrat and Mei? Why ship any two characters?

Take a gander at this post by @chaoticlivi. It’s a pretty exhaustive list of reasons people get invested in the relationship between any two characters. They span from aesthetic and visual tastes (these two look great together!) to more in depth, thematic ones (their relationship embodies a theme I care about). Basically, there are many many reasons to love a ship, and canon rarely has much to do with it.  

In general, canon is a box of scraps. This is especially true for Overwatch, which despite its exhaustive lore leaves many holes in character stories and relationships. Nothing in the game itself (which I do play often, btw) is ‘canon.’ The voicelines you hear haven’t actually happened. They are meant to give us insight into the characters, their histories, and their relationships, but you can’t quote them as something Mei or Junkrat have actually said.  

In-game content is also in flux. As more shorts and comics come out, as the actual Overwatch lore grows, the game evolves too. It’s possible what’s canon within the game now will change later on. 

What I’m saying is, you can point at two voicelines and wave around words like ‘hate’ until you are blue in the face, but that won’t 1) make it canon that Junkrat and Mei will be at odds forever or 2) make me any less likely to ship them.

Now that I’ve got the “shipping doesn’t need a canon basis and Overwatch shipping is a crapshoot built on nearly nothing anyway” part done, I can actually talk about Mei and Junkrat.

Keep reading

“I can’t stay away.” [Part 1] [Nesta x Cassian]

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE i hope you all like it!!! this is my first nessian fic, and it’s mainly from Cassian’s POV. let me know if you can’t wait for the next parts! and i’d LOVE to hear your thoughts, seriously they give me life and inspiration! also THANK YOU SO MUCH to Bianca aka @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks for reading the early draft of this for me and offering awesome advice and constructive criticism, this piece would not be what it is right now without her!!!

NOTE: MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! I also recommend reading Wings and Embers if you enjoy Nessian fics, the Target-exclusive chapter in ACOMAF!
FST: Moth’s Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit
Word Count: 2280

[ teaser ] [ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3 ] [ part 4 ]
Read it on: [ ] [ archive of our own

“Dear friend as you know, 
Your flowers are withering, 
Your mother’s gone missing, 
Your leaves have drifted away.

But the clouds are clearing up
And I’ve come reveling
Burning incandescently
Like a bastard on the burning sea”

Moth’s Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit


It had been a week and a half since Hybern’s War ended, and Cassian wondered if perhaps he should write Nesta a letter.

What would he even say? Dear Nesta… I’m sorry about your father, but maybe training with me will help? Oh, and by the way, thanks for throwing your body over mine when the gods-damned King of Hybern tried to kill us both…?

Yeah, right. Cassian shook his head in irritation, his dark hair falling across his face. He frowned into the heavy, crystal tumbler he held, half-full of whiskey. What was it about words that made them so hard to grasp when he needed them the most?

During the first few days after the war ended, Cassian had gone to visit the Illyrian families of fallen warriors to mourn and pay his respects.

But afterwards, he returned to Velaris where he watched Nesta dutifully attend meals and push food around on her plate, barely speaking to anyone save for Feyre and Elain. Nesta just sat there with a cool, blank expression on her face, sitting and watching everyone.

Breakfast this morning was no different. Even though Elain had arranged freshly cut lilies and chrysanthemums in a slim, patterned vase, Cassian felt like he was watching the flowers wither in front of him.

Since the war ended, Nesta had holed herself up in her room nearly every day. Occasionally, she would have Feyre or Azriel fly her up to the House of Wind so she could sit in her favorite armchair at the library to read, preferring to be alone and undisturbed.

Cassian had been relying on Rhysand and Azriel as well, as his wings were out of commission after the war. But after a few days of rest and applying healing salve, his wings had healed enough for him to fly up to the House of Wind.

He hesitantly circled above, unsure of whether to go in and talk to Nesta or not. Imagined conversations started and trailed off in his mind as he warred internally.

During the few times he had mustered the courage to confront her, his usual verbal prods and cheeky remarks barely provoked a reaction from her, nothing like the barbed responses she usually volleyed back.

So he stayed away for a few more days, trying to give her space even though it deeply concerned him that she seemed to be slowly wasting away before his eyes.

Even her sisters looked worried, often swapping anxious glances. He once overheard them murmuring about whether Nesta might snap, whether the death of their father was just too much for her after all she had been through.

Elain was also mourning their father’s death, but the Spring Court fox, Lucien Vanserra, had stuck around to comfort her. He had met Mr. Archeron while on his mission to find the firebird queen, and however brief their time together was, hearing Lucien speak about her father seemed to bring Elain some comfort.

And Azriel often visited Elain while she was tending her gardens, which improved her mood significantly. Lucien seemed resigned to their budding friendship.

Feyre had the Morrigan and her mate Rhysand for support, but even so… The three sisters were now orphaned, since their mother passed away long ago…

Standing on the balcony at the House of Wind, Cassian stared at the glowing lights of the city and ruminated on how much the situation had changed in just a few weeks. How before the culmination of the war, Elain had been the one who was in shock, who needed her soul soothed. How Azriel had been the one to hear and see what she needed, and Azriel had even given her Truth-teller, which saved both his and Nesta’s damn necks…

Thinking about the Shadowsinger, Cassian had no choice but to begrudgingly acknowledge his brother Azriel seemed to have a knack with the Archeron women. Probably had to do with the fact that the dark-haired Illyrian was not only tall and handsome, but also mysterious with his shadows and all.

Cassian snorted and flexed his left fingers. I’m going to pummel him into the dirt next time we spar.

He wondered whether Azriel might have better luck talking to Nesta, but the thought sent both a jolt of jealousy and annoyance through his mind.

No. She's mine, he growled to himself, instinctively, the mating bond ringing in his head. Mine to take care of…

But then he shook his head violently, as if trying to fling the thoughts from his mind. No, not yet… Not yet. Maybe not ever, with how things are going. She doesn’t even want to see me, let alone talk to me…

He wished that Nesta responded to his customary humor, how he dealt with serious situations. Idly, Cassian wondered how mad she’d be if he just left her a note that said, “Dear Nes, Can I touch your butt? Love, Cass,” but he shook his head and tried to wipe the smirk off his face before someone asked him what he was laughing about. Perhaps one day, she would be more open and less… guarded around him.

“Why do you have that smarmy smirk on your face?” Mor breezed onto the balcony wearing one of her typical Night Court dresses, a long, pale yellow dress with geometric cutouts that put her golden-brown skin on display.

Cassian hid his irritation; Mor had a penchant for catching him off-guard. Instead, he replaced the remnants of his smirk with a lazy grin as he beheld her swishing towards him.

So different from the classic gowns Nesta usually wears, Cassian mused… Glancing down at his glass of whiskey, he took another swig for still thinking of Nesta.

Mor surveyed him as she awaited his answer, taking in his dark leathers and the swords strapped to his back. Typical Illyrian attire.

“Nothing,” he replied smoothly, “Just glad to be alive, that’s all.”

Mor arched her perfect eyebrows, her red lips pursed reproachfully. “Me too. You were really cutting it close this time, you know, Cassian?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, although he could see in her eyes that she was relieved he was safe. And whole.

He nodded and turned to face the shining city, placing his scarred hands on the white balustrade. Mor’s heels clicked as she stepped next to him, her wine glass clinking against the plaster as she stared up into the night sky.

They stood outside the House of Winds, enjoying the cool breeze and the smattering of stars glimmering overhead in the cloudless sky.

The silence was companionable at first, but gradually, Cassian felt a tension creep up, a slight unease emanating from Mor. She was staring down into the depths of her wine glass, as if she could simply divine the answers she sought if she squinted at the dregs of red wine hard enough.

Finally, she spoke, hesitantly. “Cassian… go to her,” she said softly, “She needs you. And… you need her.”

He didn’t have to ask to know she was talking about Nesta.

Cassian gripped the crystal tumbler tighter, swirling the last few mouthfuls of whiskey that skimmed the bottom of the glass. “She… needs space. And time.” He didn’t know how many times he had repeated the words to himself. He downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass.

Mor snorted delicately, but the tone in her voice was… honest, resigned. “Listen to yourself. Just look at me, look how much time I’ve had. Years. Centuries. And it’s never gotten me anywhere.” She spoke candidly, and her demeanor was casual… but still, Cassian had known her long enough to see through the pretense, to see that she was anticipating his response.

He stilled and really looked at Mor then, his hazel eyes meeting her brown ones. An emotion he couldn’t quite place stirred beneath the cool mask on her face.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed slightly. Just as he suspected, something was different about her… Not bad, just different.

She broke the gaze first, turning to face the city and the skyline again. Blowing stray blonde strands from her face, the swirling emotion finally revealed itself; she looked chagrined. “Feyre and I… we exchanged… words during the battle… I was furious that she went off to chase the Suriel on her own, that she nudged me towards the battlefield, and as High Lady, she didn’t trust me enough to tell me her plans…” She took a deep breath and let it out noisily.

Mor turned to face him, her face illuminated by the moonlight, her brown eyes bright and defiant. Swirling with strength and… conviction. And some fear, beneath it all.

“Cassian… I prefer women.” She blew out a breath, her golden cheeks slightly flushing with color. “I haven't… admitted it or embraced it, even though I know how I feel won’t change. But… my family, Hewn City…”

Mor’s eyes squeezed shut as her face twisted and her body tensed. “What Rhys did… He let them into Velaris. Our home. My home…” She paused. “My sanctuary.”

Her eyes finally opened and found his, and they were full of a deep, ancient sadness. Cassian didn’t know what to say, so he just watched her, her chest heaving…

“We’ll find a way through it. Together. We won’t let them touch you.” Cassian turned to face her.

Mor’s eyes were full of agony, but then they shuttered. “They don’t deserve this place,” she said softly, miserably.

Cassian moved to put a head on her shoulder. “I know,” he said. “They don’t. But remember what Amren said before… she may have given up the essence of her past being, but she’s still High Fae, and I have no doubt she’ll still be able to keep the order and peace in this city.” Mor nodded, although tears still threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes.

They both looked out at the city again. Cassian blew out a breath. “And who knows, maybe this place will change them.”

Mor shot him an incredulous look. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

Cassian answered with a feral grin. “Well, the alternative is death. If they can’t behave, we’ll just spike their heads to the front gate and make an example of them.”

Mor cracked a small smile at that, although her bottom lip wobbled.

“So… you prefer women, then? Is that why you spent all that time at Rita’s?” Cassian probed.

“Yeah, Rita's… and after all that’s happened, that’s why… all this time, with Az…” Her eyes shuttered as if she were in pain, as if she couldn’t bring herself to think about how she had hurt Azriel throughout the years, the centuries.

Cassian just stared at her, unblinking for a moment, before cocking his head, weighing his response.

She was right; it didn’t matter to him which gender Mor preferred. All he wanted was for… for Mor to be happy. And Az too, although he’d always been slightly jealous of his friend’s fixation with the Morrigan.

And… Cassian had suspected that something was different with Mor, although he had always shoved the thoughts from his mind, thinking that the right to do was to let the Morrigan sort out her own truths. Like the rest of the Inner Circle had, for centuries.

But after so many years of coming between her and Azriel, he knew something wasn’t quite right, that they weren’t meant to be tied together because the mating bond should have snapped into place within five centuries…

“Cassian,” Mor’s voice was low and commanding, snapping Cassian from his thoughts, “Go to her. Don’t talk to her like you talk to me. Don’t treat her like you treat me, because she’s not like us. She’s not one of us.”

Cassian just stared and stared at her then, while thoughts and images of Nesta flooded through his mind, unspoken conversations starting and ending as he agonized over what to say.

But he finally nodded, and unfurled his wings. His eyes met hers, and Mor looked… sorrowful, but contemplative. More… at peace with herself than Cassian had seen before.

“You know it doesn’t matter to me, who you love, who you prefer… As long as you’re happy. Have you told Rhys?” he asked softly. Mor’s brown eyes trailed the edges of his repaired wings.

She nodded, looking somewhat guiltily. “Yeah, I told him before you… But that’s because he and Feyre are mated.” She made a long-suffering face and Cassian laughed. “She said she wouldn’t tell him, but that stupid bat would’ve somehow found out anyway, and I wanted him to hear it from me.”

“We’ll protect you from your family, no matter what. But, you need to tell Az,” he told her firmly. “Yourself.”

Mor lifted her chin but looked unhappy. “I know. Will it… change things? Between us all?”

Cassian scanned her eyes and shrugged. One side of his mouth quirked up. “I mean, it won’t change what’s happened already… but maybe it will bring you both peace. Truth sets us free, and all that, remember?”

Smiling crookedly, he flicked her nose with his finger and then launched himself into the clear, night sky before Mor could do anything more than cry out in retaliation. He smirked to himself, catching an updraft with his widespread wings, steering himself towards Rhys and Feyre’s townhouse.

Towards Nesta.

Ever since the War, the bond had felt more real to him, more tangible, and he unconsciously brushed it…

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta… even the winds and skies knew her; they carried her name and whispered it in his ear as he soared in her direction, following the tug from his heart.

anonymous asked:

Idk man like I get that Luke was pissed with the gods and had every right to be angry in which made him the perfect person to become and be Kronos but like are we also going to ignore how shitty he was for like making Percy beleive he had a friend or someone to look up to, be betrayed, turned his back on Annabeth when he promised her that they'd always be a family (and spent like his last literal moment of life asking if she loved him) luke was a shitty person just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anon, you have no idea how enraged you have made me over the past few hours. I’m going to let you know I’m pissed, I’m not going to hide it, why would I? You need to know just how angry I am, because that has literally driven me to writing this answer. Before I start with the topic of Luke Castellan in general, let’s get a few things out of the way. The first thing, is going to be debunking this absolutely horrid and stereotypical ask you sent me in the first place.

  • There’s no need in telling me Luke was an absolute imbecile when it came to his judgment skills, we all know he absolutely failed that test.
  • Not once on this blog have I ever said in my life, that what Luke did to Annabeth wasn’t shitty. It was so horrible, Luke and Annabeth’s relationship was manipulative. He knew she looked up to him and he used it against her and that’s not okay. But just because he was manipulating her, does not automatically rule out the fact that he couldn’t have been being manipulated himself.
  • PSA: Because I know I’m going to have to repeat myself, I’m not excusing his behavior. I’m looking at the bigger picture.
  • Lastly, saying Luke was a shitty person because he made Percy believe he was his friend, is a weak argument and wouldn’t make it very far in an actual debate on the grounds that: Percy knew Luke a total of like what, a week? Luke, more likely than not, knew Percy was the target from the very start and treated him like a friend on purpose. He was being manipulative for who? Oh, I think we all know that. And Percy was not nearly as blinded as Annabeth this early on. He got pissed off the second he figured out it was Luke and he stayed pissed off. Percy was fully aware of what Luke was doing and he wasn’t even a quarter as affected by Luke’s betrayal than Annabeth was.
  • And that last thing, about the love thing? I’m going to get to that at the very end when we get into Luke’s character, but feel free to scroll all the way down right now.

Right now though, we’re not going to talk about Luke right away, because we all know Luke! He was a spectacularly written character! We know him very well, but do you know someone that no one seems to pay attention to? The very cannibalistic, titan lord that was canonically labeled “The Wicked One” in this series.

(I’m putting this under a read more because it’s just that long, but my read more’s on asks haven’t been working lately, so I’m really sorry if you all get stuck with this long post on your dashboards.)

Keep reading


Summary: Bruce gets caught talking to himself by a curious Dick Grayson



Bruce Wayne had learned to ignore many things in the few years since he’d become Batman. Initial irrigations had even turned to comforting reminders. The chill of the cave was a welcome shock that helped his brain transition from Bruce to vigilante. The long drive from the manor to Gotham proper had turned into a time to plan instead of wasted minutes. And the bats. Chattering. Flapping. Swooping when he was least expecting them. They’d become a welcome presence alongside him. Their noise the background to his work. Their rare visible presence a constant reminder of vigilance.

He had never considered them as companions to speak to. They were only bats, after all.

They had never answered his muttered musings to himself or offered up answers to questions not sent their way. His hushed tone had grown over time to conversational, as he worked out plans, walked mentally through crime scenes, and picked apart toxins. They were much like walls in the way that they soaked up his words and kept them tightly as their own.

He was sure that things would have gone along that way for years longer if a small, ever-curious boy had not entered his life. Dick was always asking questions. Most of which Bruce had ready answers for. Their subjects those that (most of the time) were enriching to his young ward’s mind.

It had been years since Bruce had to curtail his habits to anyone other than Alfred. He’d developed a public persona with strict rules and guidelines for when he was at Wayne Enterprises or public events, and the hours he put in as Batman were done as a man far removed from the man he was in the sun. His home self, the man who was neither smile nor mask was free of those restrictions. Free to frown, and rub his forehead, to be frustrated or pleasantly amused by the misplacing of his favorite book, and yes he was free to talk to himself.

“If I clip that wire, and solder it here the whole thing will run a lot faster.” He said, his hands already angling the wire clipper towards the blue line. “Then if I just–”

“Hey B. Who’re ya talking to?”

Keep reading

Playing Pretend

Yoongi slowly walked toward the small house snuck in between bigger buildings at the end of the street. He needed to do this, it had been weeks since he’d last talked to his mother and he was sure she was getting antsy, if the the 121 missed calls and 53 voice messages meant anything. This was just how his life was and he needed to suck it up. Cause Yoongi had learned early on that pity and sadness only equated weakness. When he arrived at the door, he saw it was just as beaten down as the last time he’d seen it, the paint chipped so bad that it looked like an animal had attacked it. He sighed and rang the doorbell, adjusting the one cheap tie he had bought years ago for occasions like this. His suit was two sizes too big and his dress shirt still had a stain from his last visit (hopefully his mother wouldn’t be able to tell). I mean Yoongi wasn’t poor, far from that, his “extracurricular activities” paid well. But Yoongi also believed in not using money where it wasn’t needed. The money it would take to buy a better suit, he could just give to his mom. Combing his hair with his fingers one last time, Yoongi took in a deep breath and pasted on a fake smile. The door creaked open and before him stood his small, stocky mom. Frown lines more prominent, hair grayer, but smile just as bright as ever. Yoongi loved his mother (She was the only family that was worth shit anyway). And he knew what it would do to her to know how he actually survived. So a couple times a year he would dress up in his “office worker” costume and play pretend. He didn’t want to be a bigger disappoint than he already was. Right when she saw him, Yoongi was pulled into a bone crushing hug that smelled of cinnamon and old memories.

“Momf I canth brefthe” Yoongi muffled as his moms relentless hold tightened.

“That’s what you get for making me worried for days. Come back sooner. Have you no respect for your mother. I wait and wait and you never call or com-”

“Alright, alright sorry, I know I suck, I should come more often, but um… work gets very stressful mom.” Yoongi said cutting her off and finally pulling out of the hug. As soon as he mentioned work, his mothers face fell into a sympathetic and worrisome state.

“They’re not overworking you are they. If they are Yoongi say something, they can’t treat you however they want you know” His mother stated defiantly. Worked up on Yoongi’s behalf. She led him into the house and walked straight to the kitchen. If Yoongi knew his mother, he knew there was a feast waiting for him.

“I know mom. Thanks” he sighed sitting down at the table with copious amounts of food on it. “How do you always out do your self. Mom I’m not starving. I don’t send you money just so you can make me dinner that could feed an army.”

“Just say thank you and eat the food. If I don’t spend money on my boy then who else would I spend it on.” She asked, incredulous. She sat down beside him and started placing food on his spoon and plate. “I only need to see you happy to be happy.” Yoongi’s mom was a sap, and she knew just the words to melt his heart. Had it been anyone else, Yoongi would’ve scoffed and degraded their entire existence, but to his mother he could only smile and shove his face. He knew the routine by now, after stuffing himself with food until he weighed about 20 lbs heavier, Yoongi would be asked a series of questions regarding his personal life, then he would mention his workload and his mom would pack him the food he wasn’t able to finish (which could honestly last him a month) and he’d be on his way. The process took about 3hrs. It was simple and always the same. Except this time Jimin had called him nearing the end of the personal questionnaire portion of the evening and his mother had seen the contact info before he quickly hung up. Now he could’ve made any excuse to who Jimin was, If the idiot thug wasnt as possessive as he was, and hadn’t changed his name in Yoongi’s phone from “Rich Asshat” to “❤️Jiminie❤️”. I mean yeah he’d done it months ago, which gave Yoongi plenty of time to change it back, but Yoongi’s excuse of always being too busy remained strong. (Also there was the fact that his name was saved as “Suga😍👌🏾👅” in Jimins phone and he secretly loved the personal feeling it gave off, but you’d catch him dead before he admitted that). So instead of 3hrs it took 4 and a half, as he kept repeating that Jimin wasnt anything serious but rather just a casual relationship. And the hearts around his name were a joke, but his mother wasn’t truly convinced. So he now had to bring Jimin to dinner next time he came, and it had to be before the month ended, or he’d “see his mother’s wrath”. Yoongi grumbled and pouted the rest of the night and huffed an annoyed sigh as he grabbed the bags of food and gave his mother a kiss on the check as he left her home.

“I’m excited to see him.” She smiled, and then narrowed her eyes and continued, “and if I don’t then you won’t have a mother either.” Dramatic was her middle name.

“Yeah yeah” he waved as he left her behind. Playing pretend for his mother was a habit by now. And he sometimes believed she played along. How else would the warm scene of a broken down family, which consisted of a alcoholic, weak mother and her prostitue son making ends just barely meet make sense. Playing pretend was all the two had left, and they took their roles seriously. Cause when Yoongi left the cabinet under the sink would open and wouldn’t close the day before Yoongi next came. Their fucked up lives took breaks for only 3hrs a couple of times a year. Maybe that’s why when Yoongi was far away, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first name on his missed calls list.

“I don’ like it when ya keep me waitin darlin” the voice slurred as Jimin picked up the call.

“I was busy. With my mom. I told you. Why’d you call” he replied short and straight.

“Cuss I missd’ ma baby, and wanted ta play” Jimin continued, voice filled with flirtations. Yoongi fought back a smile, and kept his voice emotionless, he was prostitute, that owed Jimin a shit ton, nothing more and nothing less.

“On my way. But I need to talk to you about something. A favor.” Yoongi said, fully aware of the teasing that would follow.

“Anotha one, ya really like usin’ me don’ ya. Guess we'r jus gonna have ta add it ta ya list. What does ma darlin need.” Jimin asked amused. Yoongi sighed, this would probably equal a 2 weeks worth of fucking, but it really didn’t matter, he basically owed Jimin for life. And he wasn’t really complaining about it either.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” Yoongi replied, “it’s not that big of a deal compared to what I’ve asked of you before”

“At this point it don’ matta darlin, I’m doin errythin for ya. An I don’ mind” Jimin answered with the same amused and flirtatious voice that now somehow seemed reserved for Yoongi. “Can’ wait ta feel ya baby” he added his voice dipping low. Yoongi hid the arousal from his voice as he just hummed back and then proceeded to end the call. He knew was fucked, but hey at least he was also getting fucked.

For @ask-gangtan (I’m obsessed)

BVB Feiertagsmagazin w/ Erik Durm - English translation
  • Nobby: Here he is! I'm very happy you've found your way to me once again, Erik. So far you haven't won a "Goal or No Goal" game against me, that's why I'm especially happy you're here today and I hope it stays that way. Are you confident?
  • Erik: Yeah, it didn't work out the last two times but I think it's finally time that I kick your ass.
  • Nobby: I'm excited! (laughs) Have you analysed the match against Benfica, yet?
  • Erik: Yeah, we talked about it in the hotel. Obviously, we were all sad about the result. I think our approach and way of playing was very good. I think Benfica only had one shot on goal, that one header, and otherwise we didn't give them any chances. Still sucks to lose 1:0 but we're confident that we'll be able to turn things around at home in front of our fans and proceed to the quarter finals.
  • Nobby: Have you ever experienced such a match? Being so dominant?
  • Erik: I don't think so, I mean I've only been here for 3 1/2 - 4 years and I haven't experienced something like it in that way. We were clearly the dominant team, we created many chances, even top-class ones, but yeah, sometimes the ball just doesn't want to get in. Sometimes there are matches like that. Nevertheless we have created a lot of chances, which was very important for us, for the team, and like I said we'll turn things around at home.
  • Nobby: You played badly in Darmstadt and lost, you played excellently in Lisbon and lost. Which face will we see on Saturday?
  • Erik: Well, I hope the one we showed in Lisbon only this time we of course want to get 3 points, we want to win. It's important for us to continue our home run and yeah, we feel good. Of course Darmstadt was a slip-up. Unfortunately, sometimes there are such games where nothing works out and the opponents surpass themselves and that was the case in Darmstadt. But it's still our own fault as well. But I think in Lisbon we showed a reaction and I think we'll be at the top of our game against Wolfsburg. We had 4 days to take a break and...
  • Nobby: And the spirit/mood/morale is good?
  • Erik: Well, yeah after Darmstadt we all were dejected, Lisbon as well, but looking at how we played I think we can look forward to Saturday with confidence.
  • Nobby: That's what you have to keep in mind and if you play like that on Saturday we won't lose.
  • Erik: Definitely!
  • Nobby: You're up against Wolfsburg. You usually say you don't look at how the opponent is doing. But we should and have to do that: they have won 2 of their last 4 games and lost the other 2. How do you rate/judge the team at the moment?
  • Erik: It's difficult to say something about Wolfsburg. They definitely have improved during the second half of the season, they have played good games, sometimes it's a bit of a surprise/lucky bag but to be honest, I haven't watched a lot of Wolfsburg matches. I'd rather focus on our team so I think if we follow through like we want to and if we play like on Tuesday against Lisbon we will win and we don't have to talk a lot about the others, just about us and then things will work out.
  • Nobby: Erik, you're free of injuries, you're a regular in the starting XI. Apart from the two losses how much do you enjoy your current situation?
  • Erik: Of course I enjoy it a lot. It's important for every player to be free of injuries and get playing time. I get that at the moment so I'm very happy but as I said my health is currently still my main focus.
  • Nobby: (touches Erik's knee) Is everything alright?
  • Erik: Yes, everything's ok. (both laugh) And yeah our manager is satisfied with our current performance as well and of course I'm always very self-critical. Especially after Darmstadt I was very self-critical and wasn't satisfied with myself but nevertheless I'm fit, I'm healthy and I'm happy about every minute I get.
  • Nobby: Currently, you're playing in midfield as a winger. You played the same position in the U23. Do you feel comfortable there?
  • Erik: Well, the midfield postion is mainly an offensive part, I'm still also playing in the back five in the defense. We always shift around a bit which works pretty well. Obviously, Schmelle and I always have to run a lot but I think we both know how to do that. That's why this position fits us well and yeah, being involved at the front is always fun...
  • Nobby: You were a striker originally, weren't you?
  • Erik: I was originally playing as a 9 so not that much on the wings but-
  • Nobby: You know how to score goals
  • Erik: One can hardly imagine, yeah. (both laugh) I had some inhibitions when I played for the Dortmund amateurs, didn't quite work out with scoring but after that I've become a defender pretty quickly, thanks to Kloppo, but it's still a lot of fun to be able to make a difference in the offense.
  • Nobby: The Süd will be empty. That will be a weird picture for all of us, for you as well?
  • Erik: Yes definitely! I mean, the atmosphere here in our stadium is always awesome. The süd being behind us is quite impressive. Especially when we play at home they encourage us and spur us on immensely. Yeah... it's such a shame that the Süd won't be there on Saturday.
  • Nobby: When you score a goal you'll still celebrate toward the Süd...
  • Erik: Yes! (both laugh) Yeah, if I score a goal, which for me doesn't happen that often, I'll still celebrate of course.

anonymous asked:

Could you write an imagine about the reader and Josh's wedding? I haven't really come across wedding imagines, only proposal ones. :/ Oh also, could Tyler and Jenna be the best man and maid of honor?


“You did it up all wrong,” Michael sighs with a little chuckle, gesturing at Josh’s tie from a spot behind him in the mirror. “Look Ty, he did it backwards. He’s nervous.”  

“It’s hard in the mirror.  Just tie it for me then,” says Josh, rolling his eyes as Michael bats his hands away and begins to loop his tie properly.

Behind them, Tyler paces dramatically with a notecard in his hand.  “You’re not allowed to be nervous,” he says, motioning towards Josh.  “I’m nervous enough for the both of us!  To be, or not to be,” he continues, outstretching his arm theatrically, and placing it on his forehead for effect, “that was not the question that Josh Dun asked Y/F/N on one fateful night almost a year ago.  My name is Tyler Joseph, and I’ll be your tour guide through this emotional rollercoaster–”

“Emotional rollercoaster?” Michael laughs.

“We’ll laugh, we’ll hope, we’ll cry.”

“Um,” says Josh, eyeing Tyler warily in the mirror as Michael laughs helplessly, “I’d like to think you’re just messing around… but you’re just messing around, right?”

Tyler opens his eyes wide, looking appalled.  “Absolutely not!  You made a choice, the right choice I might add, asking me to make the big speech.  It’s my moment, Josh. Everyone will be talking about it for years.”

Michael laughs even harder, patting Josh on the chest once his tie is done right, “There you go. Like a real gentleman. Don’t worry about Tyler,” he adds in a whisper. “I’ll keep him in line, I always do. ”

Tyler throws them both a dark look, one hand over his heart, before continuing, “Now what… What is real love? Come with me now on a journey and I’ll tell you.  Together, we’ll delve into the love story between two young heart throbs. Charming, sometimes incredibly tragic, but always pure and true.  Our tale begins on the eighteenth of June, 1988. Josh Dun was a summer baby emerging on a cool brisk evening–“

“You’ve only got like three minutes to talk,” Josh tells him, just in case he was unaware of the time limit on his speech. Just then, Jordan pops his head in.

“Practicing our speeches?” He looks at Josh and raises his eyebrows with an assuring thumbs up.  “Looking good, bro.”

“You’re just in time,” Tyler says, pointing at Jordan, “I was thinking you could act out my speech, like performance art.”

“No plays at my wedding!” Josh says, but he’s laughing too.  

Just saying the word ‘wedding’ aloud makes Josh’s heart leap a little.  He starts thinking of how Y/N probably looks right now.  She had fussed around nervously all morning, organizing and re-organizing things around the house, cleaning things that were already clean. The same way she always was when she got anxious.  Josh finally hugged her from behind and said, firmly, “Stop.”  

She had rolled her eyes but allowed Josh to tug her down onto the couch, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug.  “It’s going to be perfect,” He had said.  

Josh then stands up from the chair, smoothing his hair down over his ear where it’s come undone.

“C’mon Michael,” says Jordan, still lingering at the door, “Your wife sent me in here to get you, she wants to get some pictures beforehand.”

“Duty calls,” Michael says, smiling lightly at Tyler and Josh before following Jordan out the door.

Once they’re gone, Tyler grins at Josh.  

“You ready for this?” he asks. Josh gives a little shrug. After month building up to this day, it almost feels like a dream – the hum of people collecting in the church, his shiny new shoes, the look in Y/N’s eyes earlier when she’d said in awe, “Next time I see you, I’ll marry you,” which Josh can’t stop replaying in his mind.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.  Any last words of advice?”

“Yes,” says Tyler seriously.  “Four, actually.”  Tyler says the words slowly and clearly, “Don’t – mess – it – up.”  

“Like don’t stutter when I’m reading my vows?  Or like, don’t be a horrible husband and drive Y/N away?”

“Both,” says Tyler, his face breaking out into a grin.  “See?  That’s why I’m so helpful.

“Ah,” says Josh, smiling.  “I see.  You’re the master. Thanks, Ty.” He meets his eyes, which are soft and fond.

“You deserve it, Josh,” he says. “All of this. I’m so happy for you.”

“Aw,” Josh teases, trying to conceal the lump in his throat, “are you going to cry?”

“I might,” says Tyler.  “Your bride certainly will.  She was already looking a bit teary when I left her earlier. We’ve actually all taken bets on how long it’ll take her to start bawling.”  

“What?” Josh exclaims indignantly. “Nobody told me that! Come on, I want in.”

“Sorry, but Jenna said it’s not nice to bet on your own wife’s wedding day tears.”  

“But I’d have the best chance at winning!”  

“Nope, not allowed,” says Tyler. “Although I’ll tell you my guess – she won’t last thirty seconds after she sees you.  And it will continue for the rest of the evening.”

“That’s – that’s probably true,” Josh admits. “What did everyone else guess?”

“Jordan said she’d cry during vows,” says Tyler, ticking them off as he counted on his finger.  “Micheal bet same as me, when she sees you, and Mark thinks she’s already crying.”

“I think I’m with Mark on that one,” says Josh with a little laugh.

Just then Ashley pokes her head into the tent, hair piled elegantly on top of her head, gesturing at him.  Tyler gives her a charming smile, which she returns.

“Josh, are you almost ready?  Everyone’s waiting!”  

Josh nods as Ashley sighs and crosses the floor to hug him, straightening his tie.  

“You look great,” she whispers.

“Thanks,” Josh says, swallowing another lump that rises in his throat.  “Alright, let’s get moving. I can’t be late to my own wedding.”

As it turns out, they all lose the bet – Y/N holds it together fairly well, misty-eyed and fond, through most of the ceremony.  It’s Josh who gets teary eyed the moment he sees her turn the corner and start walking down the alter.  Her arm’s latched with her father’s and the minute her eyes meet his the lump in his throat is back, only this time with some tears as well.  

She’s beautiful, in the most elegant and true way.  Her hair is pulled back, complimented by a veil.  Her face breaks out into a huge smile of triumph when she sees Josh.  She clutches tightly onto the assortment of flowers in her hand and makes her way closer and closer.  

Josh let’s out a shaky laugh, trying to cover up how emotional he really is.  After a few moments of just staring, in complete and utter awe, he has to wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket.  

She reaches the front of the church, kissing her father on the cheek one last time before stepping up to the alter.  

Josh can’t help himself.  He’s smiling so wide, his insides bursting with love and affection and disbelief.  He was so lucky.  So so so lucky.  

The ceremony’s a blur.  Josh’s head is spinning and it all goes so fast.  Before he knows it, he’s saying his vows, the words falling off his tongue from memory. He’s clutching onto her hand so tight, squeezing out his anxiety from the event.

The phrase “you may now kiss the bride” barely leaves the lips of the priest before Josh’s mouth is on hers, pressing them together as close as he can.  

It’s after their first kiss that her fingers clutch tightly into Josh’s waist and she’s crying when she pulls back, smiling so hard her eyes are nearly closed.  Josh pulls her closer, holding onto her for dear life, his heart is so full he thinks it might explode.  

“We did it,” she breathes into his neck, a secret whisper just for Josh, even as everyone’s cheering and applauding from all sides. It’s almost too much – He sways against her, arms locked tight around her back.

“I knew we would,” he murmurs, kissing her on the cheek.

Tyler’s speech isn’t as bad as he’d promised – in fact, it’s incredibly touching.  Y/N, predictably, sniffles and giggles her way through the entire thing, much like the rest of the crowd.  

The day passes in a blur of relatives and champagne, Josh and Y/N slow dancing, Tyler and Jenna cozying up together.  Tyler wrapping Josh in a bear hug and muttering “I love you, man,” with tears in his eyes.  

Josh’s mom, who cried even more than Y/N, pulls her close and whispers, “I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve always been.” She hugs her with tears prickling in her own eyes, at a loss for words.  

It’s frantic, fast-paced and fun, a sensory overload. Josh barely gets time to eat a slice of his own wedding cake.  He’s not sure what he’s going to remember about the day, but he knows that it’ll be something with Y/N’s hand on his back, her eyes locked on his even from across the dance floor.  The feeling of her cheek pressed to his while they dance, just swaying together under the soft lights.

“Will you kiss me?” she asks Josh towards the end of the night, when they’re almost the last two left dancing.  Josh smiles down at her, cupping her face, eyes incredibly fond.


What went down in Origins (Pt 1)
  • Nooroo: many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing—
  • Hawkmoth: yeah skip to the end
  • Nooroo: —which is why attempting to use a Miraculous for evil purposes is a terrible idea.
  • Hawkmoth: imma use my Miraculous for evil purposes
  • Nooroo: :(
  • Nooroo: oh by the way are you Gabriel Agreste?
  • Hawkmoth: how do you not know the answer yet?
  • Nooroo: bc there are just enough convenient shadows to prevent me from seeing your face
  • Hawkmoth: no I mean because the answer to that was just revealed in an exclusive teaser at Seoul Comic-Con
  • Nooroo: WAIT WHAT
  • Nooroo: excuse me a minute while I go watch that
  • Hawkmoth: dark wings, rise!
  • Nooroo: noooooooo I wanted to see that teaser
  • Wayzz: hey Master Fu did you see the teaser?
  • Master Fu: we should be more concerned about the supervillain that just happened
  • Wayzz:
  • Wayzz: (don't click that link unless you want to get your face spoiled)
  • Master Fu: look it doesn't matter who Hawkmoth is, we just need to take him down
  • Wayzz: ok so he obv wants the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses, so let's release the Fox and Bee Miraculouses
  • Wayzz: that way he'll have no incentive to constantly create new akumatized villains, and the city will be safe
  • Master Fu: imma release the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses
  • Wayzz: why are you ignoring everything I just said
  • Master Fu: REASONS
  • Wayzz: that's not an answer
  • Wayzz: you can't be a mysterious old guy if you rap Eminem lyrics
  • Master Fu: omfg I thought we agreed to forget about that
  • Master Fu: anyways imma go find a hot mess and an angstmobile and make them both into superheroes
  • Master Fu: I have impeccable methods
  • Marinette: *wakes up*
  • Marinette: good morning Tikki! are you ready for a day of fighting villains and questionable romantic shenanigans?
  • Tikki: yeah so none of that's happened yet
  • Marinette: but I'm Ladybug...
  • Tikki: no not yet this is a prequel
  • Tikki: you haven't even met me yet
  • Marinette: but we just had a full season
  • Marinette: so this should have already happened
  • Marinette: ok fine I'll play along
  • Marinette: good morning Mom! time to go first day of school, I guess?
  • Sabine: but you've been going to school for months now
  • Marinette: no we're trying to do a prequel
  • Sabine: oh! then I mean...I hope Chloé isn't in your class this year.
  • Sabine: btw did you hear that Gabriel Agreste is—
  • Marinette: OMG NO SPOILERS
  • Marinette: *leaves the building*
  • Master Fu: hey you, help me cross the street
  • Marinette: ok cool
  • Master Fu: and imma eat some of your food
  • Marinette: you touch my food and imma wreck your face
  • Master Fu: you seem like a perfect pick to become Ladybug
  • Marinette: I already am Ladybug
  • Marinette: oh wait I mean, what are you talking about
  • Master Fu: *ollies outy*
  • Marinette: *goes to school*
  • Chloé: hey so I order you to sit over there
  • Marinette: we both know that's not going to happen
  • Chloé: why not
  • Marinette: bc Alya and I sit right here throughout Season 1
  • Chloé: oh never mind then
  • Marinette: oh btw Alya, nice to meet you I guess?
  • Alya: look I'm just glad to have one day where you're not fawning over Adrien bc you don't know who he is yet
  • Adrien: *tries and fails to be there*
  • Kim: hey Ivan f**k you
  • Ivan: oh no if only there were someone I could turn to for help dealing with this
  • Hawkmoth: HEY GUYS
  • Ivan: let's do this
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • Stoneheart: *punches through wall*
  • Ms. Bustier: you can't do that
  • Stoneheart: why not
  • Ms. Bustier: bc that's the fourth wall and it's already been broken for this entire post
  • Stoneheart: ok in that case imma break the third wall instead
  • Ms. Bustier: good idea
  • Ms. Bustier: wait no! don't break the school!
  • Stoneheart: too late
  • Roger: ok guys welcome to the akuma squad, now let's take this villain down
  • Stoneheart: why not let Ladybug handle it?
  • Roger: bc she doesn't exist yet
  • Stoneheart: oh right that makes things easier
  • Stoneheart: *throws a car at Roger*
  • Marinette: oh hey there's a strange box on my table
  • Marinette: I'll deal with that once the supervillain attack is over and I don't have more pressing things to worry about
  • Master Fu: this was not well thought out
  • *Tikki happens*
  • Marinette: about time, let's transform
  • Ladybug: *ollies outy and crashes into Chat Noir*
  • Chat Noir: who the f**k are you
  • Ladybug: I don't care, now let's go fight this villain
  • Ladybug and Chat Noir: *fight this villain*
  • *Stoneheart unhappens*
  • Ladybug: hey you know that butterfly I catch every time?
  • Chat Noir: yeah
  • Ladybug: imma not catch it
  • Chat Noir: ok I'm sure nothing will go wrong
  • Hawkmoth: you just gave me at-will access to Stoneheart happening
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • *about 10,000 happenings omitted*
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • *Stoneheart happens*
  • Marinette: this is bad and imma be sad

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm the one who sent in the original ask asking if you had read The Goldfinch. What I wanted to ask you next was have you heard the criticism/accusations of racism directed at the novel? If you haven't, whilst reading the book did you ever pick up any racist feelings in the book?

I read Donna Tartt for her prose, first and foremost. I think her style is absolutely exquisite, and amazingly controlled.

But frankly? I always pick up on casual racism and casual sexism hints in her books. Is it because she’s always writing with satire in mind? Is she so self-aware that she can spend 700 pages not breaking character and yet holding an uncomfortable mirror to her reader’s face and delusions? Or is it something so ingrained and so unconscious that she can graze these two themes time and time again without herself seeing what is toxic about her handling of them?

She’s made a very clever, very tentacular decision by refusing, always, to talk about her books. If they contain a mistake, we won’t know for sure if the fault in seeing it is ours, or hers for not being aware of it.

The Goldfinch is again, and that was the case with The Secret History and that was the case with The Little Friend, filled with white characters (protagonists), who progress on a fresco of a more or less multi-cultural background (there are some POC). These POC, however, are always underdeveloped, if not stereotyped, reduced to what they’re supposed to represent, the archetype that white people have imprinted upon them, the metaphor of their culture (or rather, the metaphor of how their culture is seen and broadcasted by white society). 

Not only that, but The Goldfinch, along with The Secret History—the pattern is there; Genette says that what you say once is yours, but what you say twice becomes a representation of yourself, a motif, a style, something that characterises you, that expresses something about you without your knowing; and if TSH was a satire of white, elitist academics, can we still consider it satire when it re-appears as an undercurrent twenty years later, in another story entirely, seemingly still an obsession, potentially a very serious one?—; anyway, yes, The Goldfinch sends a very clear message: the Golden Age of culture is gone, destroyed by mediocrity and diversity and meddling. What shines through is love for the past, love for a society that was simpler and for an art that was cleaner—a past that, incidentally, was even more racist than our present (or at least less challenged for its racism), and a classical art that is, in Theo’s mind, exclusively white. Not that he phrases it like that, but, you know. 

That’s what struck me at the time; and I know it’s easy to fall into that trap—for me at least, because I am white, raised in France, taught in schools that focused exclusively on whiteness and men (white male authors, painters, the history of white men, the discoveries of white men, the progress of white men through colonisation, the advantages of the spreading of our own European cultures in countries that “needed” white men’s help…). Maybe Theo is flawed and these very flaws are supposed to challenge our thoughts and make us challenge his reduced vision, his narrow ideas, to shed away our blinders. But maybe (can you tell I lean toward that one) the problem lies deeper. 

(Also, again, I’m white, I’ve been to very white schools, and am comfortably reading mostly older French and English literature, so I’m sure I’m not the best person to ask; my awareness is most likely lesser than a lot of readers. Challenging what I was taught is still a work in progress, and I always feel very inadequate when trying to tackle issues that aren’t mine to discuss first-hand).

anonymous asked:

Ben, we haven't heard much about your parents recently. What's going on at home?

I’m sitting at the dinner table across from these two remarkable individuals and they’re smiling and laughing and exchanging playful insults and for the first time in a long time it all feels normal and my heart screams out “I love you more than life itself!”

My mother’s face is lined with all her years of service to this galaxy and the galaxy is crap but she’s so beautiful and her sheer willpower is the only thing that’s keeping it together and

My father maintains an air of sophisticated coolness in spite of and all around his rugged roughness and he’s actually extremely awkward but you forget that when you look at him

And the way they look at each other and touch each other is love, is life, is magic—it’s what brought me here in the first place, that warm, mutual gaze and the promise held within

Mommy turns and catches me staring; she leans over and wraps me in a hug and kisses me on the forehead and it kriffing burns, it burns, I’m being scorched alive

“Do you need to talk about something after dinner?” she whispers in my ear and my heart threatens to explode because yes except I can’t

“No,” I tell her, “I’m fine—” But a tear forces its way out of my eye and lands on her arm and the wetness makes her hold me tighter

“Let’s talk,” she says, and brings me away—I glance back and see that Daddy looks concerned

I have nothing I can say to her so we just sit there quietly in her bedroom and more and more tears are breaking free of my soul while she holds me and strokes my hair and I realize just how tiny this woman is

Father too, he’s still bigger than me but I’m catching up and it’s amazing how much smaller he seems than when I was younger

And I hear the little voice at the back of my mind reminding me that I’m growing growing growing and that one day I will have grown far beyond the people who brought me into this galaxy; that one day I will be so big they won’t be able to do anything for me anymore except hold me back

So I hold Mother closer, knowing that I will not always be able to do so

“I’m going to miss you,” I tell her, and I feel her tiny frame soften with a sigh because this isn’t the first time—I’ve been so quiet lately, just haven’t felt like talking; so much going on inside of me and all around—and anytime they ask what’s wrong I just say I’m going to miss them

“Ben, you realize it’s not as if we’re going to disappear the instant you go off to Luke? You realize we won’t forget you when you’re gone?”

And I say nothing, because I just don’t feel like talking; there’s so much going on inside of me and all around

“I feel like there’s something more,” says Mommy. “Surely you aren’t this upset only because of Jedi training? There’s still so much time.”

“I can’t tell you,” I tell her—it kind of bursts out of me—I taste hatred and frustration on my lips, and in an instant I know I’ve hurt her, but that’s okay because that’s all I’ve been doing my entire life, just hurting everyone—

“Is there anyone you can tell?” she asks softly, and I despise her selflessness, I can’t stand that even though I’ve hurt her all she cares about is me, it doesn’t make any sense—

And I say, “No.”

Mommy looks at me with so much pain in her eyes, more pain than anyone could ever put into words, and those eyes would haunt my dreams if I had any

She kisses me

“If you ever change your mind, I’m here, and so is Daddy, and so is Uncle Luke, and so is Chewie, and so is anyone else you trust,” she says. “Or if you need to see a counselor again, please…just tell me”

She buries her face into my chest

This tiny woman

(Seventeen years ago I was in her womb)

And she says: “I don’t ever want my baby to feel like he’s alone”

Later that night I hear my parents arguing in hushed tones—Daddy says Mommy can’t send me away, that’s what’s bothering me, that’s why I’m so depressed—and Mommy says no, don’t you see, this is exactly why he needs to go—and meanwhile Leader is shaking his head, shaking his head as we listen to them bicker back and forth, back and forth, over me

I clasp Ren tight, but dread grips my chest, because Ren is only yarn and felt and stuffing—Leader is the only one that’s real

ready to fly

Summary: The Doctor’s been working on a secret project in his workshop for his and Rose’s second wedding anniversary. The TARDIS is in on the secret and the two of them can hardly wait until the appointed day to reveal the surprise.

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose

Rating: all ages || Word Count: 2694

AN: For @hanluvr who prompted this as part of my charity fic giveaway!! Thanks so much, darling!


“Rose?” The Doctor called, walking in the back door without looking up from the bit of machinery in his hands. “Have you seen the spanner? My favorite one? You know, the one with the blue handle and the-”

He cut off abruptly when the tool in question was thrust under his nose.

“This one?” Rose asked sweetly.

He looked up to grin at her. “Yup!”

He grabbed the spanner and stuck it in his back pocket before hooking his arm around Rose’s waist and pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“You’re going to get grease all over my work clothes,” Rose muttered against his lips, not bothering to pull away.

“Like you don’t get grease all over your work clothes at work,” he teased before kissing her once more and releasing her.

“S’not the point. Made it home without a stain today until now.”

The Doctor grinned at her as he rocked back on his heels, completely unrepentant.

Rose just rolled her eyes, the gesture doing nothing to hide the fond smile that stole over her face. “So, what are you working on out there?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the large shed in the back garden that was his workshop. “Oh, you know, this and that.”

“Is this or that your big surprise?” Rose asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“That would be telling.”

She sighed with all the drama she could muster. “Course it is.”

Keep reading

Do you understand now? Pt 2 (part 1 here)

“Do you understand now?” Kat whispered as she pulled away from Adena, her eyes a little hooded, lips a little swollen from the kiss.

Adena could feel Kat’s lips still on her and her pulse radiating through her entire being. She opened her mouth to say something, to process what Kat was telling and showing her, but nothing was coming out.  Instead she read Kat’s face: a mix of lost, confused, and exhilarated.  They were still standing so close to each other and suddenly Adena remembered that Kat had asked her a question.  “Do you understand?” No, she didn’t really understand. Maybe she didn’t want to.  Because this was what she had wanted but hadn’t let herself feel that it could be a possibility.  But here they were, inches apart.  

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anonymous asked:

i know you ship namo (nayeon + momo?) or just like it? but i'm kind of new to twice ships and i haven't seen much of namo so i was wondering if you could like describe their dynamic or why you like it or something ? thanks

*cracks knuckles* my time has come.

(Disclaimer, this isn’t about shipping, this is just my take on their dynamic and why I like it.)

Honestly, (in the kindest possible way) Momo’s a little slow - she attests to this herself, and moreover she’s extraordinarily innocent, and this is largely what defines her relationship with Nayeon.

Firstly, Momo is Nayeon’s #1 victim. No members of twice can be easily fooled by Im Nayeon, no one except Hirai Momo. (There’s an actual 4 minute video out there somewhere of Nayeon tapping Momo whilst she’s not looking and not getting caught, and Momo is utterly clueless. And let’s not forget the ice cream incident in TEPL). Whilst any other member would have probably kicked back at Nayeon’s antics by now, Momo hasn’t. I think it might’ve been Chaeyoung who once said that Momo gets teased a lot by the Twice members, she’s slow but she has a lot of humility, she takes everything on the chin and doesn’t mind being a victim if it makes the other members happy - and no one finds teasing funnier than Nayeon.

Nayeon’s a little clueless too, (the upside-down knife incident, believing her crisp packet was broken because she was holding it the wrong way up, going months using slow 3G on her phone because she forgot to switch on her data), but she’s mature in ways Momo isn’t. She’s over a year older than any of the other members, and has said before that she sees it as her responsibility to look after the youngest members - particularly Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, and I honestly believe she puts Momo in this category too, despite Momo being the third oldest. She doesn’t baby Momo like she does the maknaes, but Nayeon definitely coddles her, and whilst she’s the first to tease Momo, she’s also the first to protect her. Ever noticed how whenever Momo has an incident, (wardrobe malfunction, accident, etc.), Nayeon is the first by her side, (I can literally name five instances off the top of my head alone). This could be a coincidence, but, think back to a few weeks ago. Whilst rehearsing for TT on a poorly designed stage, Momo almost tumbled right off the side which surely would’ve left her with a bad injury had it not been for Nayeon’s quick intervention. A few days later, Nayeon revealed that she was able to get to Momo in time because she knew that Momo was close to the edge and that Momo “takes big steps” when she walks, and ran over to Momo because she thought her shout wouldn’t be heard over the music - Nayeon knew Momo would hurt herself BEFORE the girl even moved.

Furthermore, whilst she occasionally likes to faux-rebel under the influence of the likes of Jeongyeon, Momo’s naturally obedient, and I think Nayeon especially appreciates this within a group who love to ignore the authority of and mock their ‘eldest unnie’. Momo values Nayeon’s opinion higher than most, (remember when Nayeon off-handedly once said Momo would suit short hair and now Momo won’t stop talking about it), to the point where fans have taken to calling Momo “whipped” by Nayeon.

I like to compare Nayeon to Tinkerbell - she needs applause to live. In the nicest way, she’s a narcissist, she needs compliments and affirmations to survive. And what does Momo do best? (“I like you both ways” “You’re so pretty I didn’t even see the flowers”). Momo doesn’t compliment people selfishly - she doesn’t do it to receive compliments in turn, or to gain favour, it’s genuine, she probably doesn’t even really think before she says them, and that’s probably what makes her ‘flirting’ even more effective. And Nayeon adores it.

Their 'game’ is actually one of the similarities between them, next to Sana, NaMo are probably the second and third best flirts in Twice, (snake line ftw), and neither are strangers to skinship or affection. Whilst their attentions aren’t most frequently turned to each other, (like Sana to Dahyun), when they are, Nayeon and Momo have some of the best (gayest) moments in Twice history. (Remember in TEPL when Momo was giving Nayeon a massage and then just started backhugging her instead and they lay there cuddling? Iconic.) They also play really well together, I think parts of their personalities, particularly their senses of humour, are actually quite similar, (I’d vote them both Most Likely To adopt and raise a family of plushies). They both have fake maknae tendencies in different but equal rights.

Ultimately whilst they can both be slow and flirty, Nayeon’s mature and protective where Momo’s innocent and trusting, their similarities and differences compliment each other equally. That’s why I like them.

Also, one time they just skipped out on filming Twice TV3 to go on a beach date together. Just saying.