she is so alive

remember when Aang was going to stand trial for a murder Kyoshi committed, and they found all this evidence that proved that Kyoshi couldn’t have done it, and it was all pretty solid that she shouldn’t have even been near the murder when it happened, and they were going to prove her and Aang’s innocence if they could just argue the defense, and then Kyoshi manifested during the trial and was like “nah, I killed that man” and peaced out, leaving Aang to get boiled alive just so she could take credit for it


to nat // @ayoshidae from your secret santa ♡

What she says: I’m fine

What she means: Selena Qunitanilla single handedly smashed the patriarchy of tenjano music by becoming the highest selling artist in a male dominated music genre, won a Grammy, started her own clothing line of Latin inspired designs and patterns, this woman was a trend setter in fashion, music, dance, and was the light of so many people’s lives and if she were still alive today she would be no doubt one of the most iconic singers/fashion designers of our era. In fact, she was so iconic during her lifetime, that the state of Texas continues to observe her birthday as “Selena Day”, her biopic staring Jennifer Lopez continues to play every year around that time, and there’s a Selena museum dedicated to her life, displaying her most iconic garments she wore during her many performances. She made her family proud, she made the Latino community proud, Chorpus Christi proud, shit she makes me, a non Latina African American proud, she is an icon. An ICON. ICONIC.

how mad are ppl gonna be now that they can’t make fun of taylor for anything she mentioned in that video because she already did it alksdfadsf i’m so fucking alive

You attend the funeral. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. And at times the fact of her absence will hit you like a blow to the chest, and you will weep. But this will happen less and less as time goes on. She is dead. You are alive. So live.
—  Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 6: Fables and Reflections

in which Bellamy and Clarke don’t want to leave each other


when ur gf is the queen of the wilds & dresses like an actual queen while u look like a hobo but thats ok bc holy shit queen gf what a time to be alive


∙ Jane Austen about Mary Queen of Scots in “A History of England: …by a partial, prejudiced and ignorant historian  

Oh! What must this bewitching princess (…), who was abandoned by her son, confined by her cousin, abused, reproached and vilified by all, what must not her noble mind have suffered when informed that Elizabeth had given orders for her death!  Yet she bore it with a most unshaken fortitude, firm in her mind; constant in her religion; and prepared herself to meet the cruel fate to which she was doomed with a magnanimity that would alone proceed from conscious innocence. And yet could you, reader, have believed it possible that some hardened zealous Protestants have even abused her for that steadfastness in the Catholic religion which reflected on her so much credit? But this is a striking proof of their narrow souls and prejudiced judgments who accuse her. She was executed in the Great Hall at Fotheringay Castle (sacred place!) on Wednesday the 8th of February 1586 – to the everlasting reproach of Elizabeth, her ministers, and of England in general. It may not be unnecessary, before I entirely conclude my account of this ill-fated queen, to observe that she had been accused of several crimes during the time of her reigning in Scotland, of which I now most seriously do assure my reader that she was entirely innocent; having never been guilty of anything more than imprudencies into which she was betrayed by the openness of her heart, her youth and her education.  

Feyre taught me that strength is something you find in the people around you and within yourself, that no one is irreparably broken.

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. I was a survivor, and I was strong. I would not be weak, or helpless again. I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

Kaltain taught me that just because others did not see you as one didn’t mean that you weren’t a wildfire, capable of altering the destiny of the world.

She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference. She had only one name now: Death, devourer of worlds.

Manon and the Thirteen taught me what true friendship and loyalty could accomplish, and that there is nothing more formidable than a group of strong women who weren’t afraid to let their true selves shine.

We are the Thirteen, from now until the Darkness claims us.

Elide taught me that it’s okay to be physically disabled, that your worth doesn’t depend on the status of your legs, that you can be strong and fierce and unbreakable not despite of it, like people like to say, but just because you are.

Because I am from Terrasen and believed my queen dead. And now she is alive, and fighting, so I will fight with her. So that no other girls will be taken from their homes and brought to Morath and forgotten.

Mor taught me that it’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to suffer, to be in pain. It’s okay to have been broken down and beaten, but that darkness is not the end. Your life and your destiny are in your hands, and no one else’s.

Don’t let the hard days win.

And Aelin….Aelin’s journey -especially in Heir of Fire- taught me that you can walk through fire and come out a little charred, but no matter how dark it gets there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. She gave me hope that it can and does get better; you just have to keep holding on, keep living and fighting another day.

I will not be afraid.

I could go on and on. These characters have taught me so much. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them, for Aelin’s battle with depression and Feyre’s journey in learning to value and love herself and Mor’s wisdom and confidence. Every single one of these women -Lysandra, Nesryn, Yrene, Amren even - teaches a lesson. That women are strong. We are vulnerable. We are fierce. We have trouble loving ourselves. We cry, we love, we mess up.

Does Sarah’s writing have flaws? Hell yes. But these messages exist, and they shouldn’t be discounted.

Scavenger Hunt

Stiles/Derek, T, 2500 words, Meet Cute AU

Written for the following prompt:

“i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles calls out as he wrestles his roll bag over their entry mat.

“That’s still not funny,” Scott says, without looking up from his textbook.

“Once again, we disagree.”

Scott snorts. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” he says, plopping down right in the middle of the living room to start unpacking. “Typical conference. Some sessions were actually interesting, most were boring as shit.”

Scott hums, already absorbed again in his reading. Stiles reaches for the zipper on his suitcase but then freezes—this is definitely the same brand as his suitcase, but he doesn’t remember this extra zippered pocket on the top.

“Oh, shit.”


Stiles grimaces. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t my suitcase. Goddamn it.”

Scott finally looks up, frowning. “Shit, really? How’d you manage that?”

“It was a redeye,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. “I was exhausted, in fucking LaGuardia, and I was just trying to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.”

“Is there a name on it? Are you sure it’s not yours?”

“Pretty sure,” Stiles says, feeling around the sides for the pocket. He sighs when he pulls out the little card and sees that it’s blank. “Motherfucker. This is definitely not my suitcase because I’m actually smart enough to put my name on it.”

“Sorry, man,” Scott says sympathetically as Stiles falls back on the rug with an anguished groan.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Open it,” Scott suggests. “Maybe there’s something with their name on it.”

Stiles fiddles with the zipper. He’s nosy as hell, in general, and normally he’d be jumping at the chance to rifle through someone else’s personal belongings. But… 

“What if there’s like, dead bodies in there or something?” he asks, and Scott just stares at him for a second. Stiles rolls his eyes—that’s a perfectly valid concern. Or maybe he watches too many police procedurals, whatever. “Okay, fine.”

Stiles holds his breath as he slowly unzips the suitcase, but nothing happens when he lets the top part flop back onto their crappy, threadbare rug. There’s a Dodgers hat on top, and Stiles grimaces. “Well, they have shitty taste in baseball teams.”

He sets the hat carefully aside and keeps digging. The person is neat, whoever they are, because everything is folded, and all the dirty clothes are even all contained in their own zippered bag. At first glance, there’s nothing too out of the ordinary—phone charger, American Gods, Calvin Klein briefs. Fancy, he thinks. There’s a monogrammed leather toiletry bag (DSH, he commits those initials to memory), and he pokes through it.

“I’m gonna make an educated guess that it’s a guy.”

“Why’s that?” Scott says, finally looking somewhat interested in this mystery.

Stiles holds up an electric razor. “And that he’s maybe not totally straight,” he says, brandishing a little bottle of lube that’s about three-quarters full.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Lots of people use lube.”

“Yeah, but do you travel with it?” Stiles counters, and Scott sighs.

“No,” he admits. “Did you find anything with his actual name on it?”

“Not yet,” Stiles says absently. He continues to rifle through the bag until he’s pretty sure he has his plan of attack. “Okay. I’m gonna find out who it is,” he says with a determined nod, and Scott frowns.

“How? This is New York City! There are literally millions of dudes here.”

“It’ll be like a real-life scavenger hunt,” Stiles says dreamily, ignoring Scott as he carefully lays his three chosen items out on the coffee table. “This is awesome.”

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What If Rowan Dies

I don’t want to think about it, but let’s.

What if when Aelin tries to forge the Lock, her magic drains, but then her magic tries to find more.

And it finds Rowan.

And Rowan doesn’t try to stop Aelin.

Because he loves her, and Terrasen needs her.

Because she needs to live.

Because he’s been alive for so long, and done so many bad things, maybe this will be repentance.

So he has no qualms about dying.

And it doesn’t hurt when the burn out comes, all he sees when he dies is Aelin’s fire. Her beautiful fire.

Aelin feels the second when Rowan dies, and it’s enough to make her flood Erawan with enough magic to kill him. Something that she shouldnt have been able to do.

But then she’s sobbing over Rowan, screaming, bellowing at the sky, because she needs her mate. Her mate.

And then people are around her. Maybe they’re her court, maybe they’re the Valg, she doesn’t care.

Rowan was dead, and there wasn’t anything she could do.

She lays her head on his chest and wishes for death.

Then Aedion sees her, and a part of him does at how hard she’s sobbing.

And he tries to touch her, but then she’s screaming, “It was supposed to be ME!”

So Aedion watches his queen clutch his dead king, and breaks.

And Aelin doesn’t have any tears left when they pull her away, and all she can do is breathe.

Because Rowan would want her to live.

squint at where you’re from

oops sometimes you gotta

spoilers for 413, bellamy/clarke, 1600 words, gen. AO3!

Even though it’s not really the same as coming down in the first time, Bellamy still has this strange sense of deja vu as he looks at the door. The ship is smaller, he has fewer people with him, he feels both more and less sure of what he’ll find. They tried to hit the only spot of green they could see, but the controls are a mess, so he’s not sure they got to it. The whole fucking ship is a mess, built out of whatever scrap they could salvage. Even with six years to perfect it, the thing is still held together with spit and prayer, according to Raven.

But it got them to the ground. They’re back.

“Just open the fucking door!” says Raven, and Bellamy lets out a long breath and finally hits the release.

He knows what he’s hoping for: clean air, plants, blue sky. And he gets all of those.

He just also gets a girl, maybe ten or eleven, with brown hair in braids, pointing a gun at him. Which is honestly fairly encouraging; someone survived, and they have firearms. So she probably came out of the bunker.

He puts his hands up on reflex.

“Hey, uh–we come in peace,” he tries, and then says it again in Trig, for good measure. He doesn’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be from another clan; there are plenty of them he doesn’t know. Or–his heart trips on the thought–she could be a nightblood. She could have survived because of that, and if she survived–

The girl pulls her gun back and looks at him critically. “Are you Bellamy Blake?”

He blinks a few times. “Um, yeah. I’m Bellamy Blake.”


She sounds skeptical, which doesn’t make any fucking sense. She’s the one who brought it up. There’s no reason for her not to believe him.

“Yeah, really. Did you come out of the bunker? Is my sister with you? Octavia?”

You’re Bellamy?” she says, like she didn’t hear him. She’s making a face like something smells odd. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Taller?” he asks.

Raven pokes her head out. “It’s been five minutes and you’re already being held at gunpoint? You sure have a way with people, Bellamy.”

“Look, we don’t want to hurt you,” he tells the girl. “Just–”

“I know,” she says. “You just want to see Clarke.”

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Pregame Personality AU (NDRV3) part 2

Part 1, Part 3

Hey hey ! Here’s finally the part 2 for my Pregame Personality AU ! It’ll be about the murders, the victims and their killer. It’s only going to be about that for the moment, so it only resumes the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th chapters. Here we go !

(WARNING !! : Major spoilers from NDRV3)

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