some would say that his greatest strength is his mind but it's not

Glorious Gems of MP - The Gwalior Fort and Man Singh Palace

Most of what I remembered about the great city of Gwalior came from my 5th or 6th grade history textbook. And my memories were as foggy as the evening of the day I landed in MP.

Excited to be in Gwalior for the first time, I was just in time to catch the Light and Sound show at the Man Singh Palace also known as the Man Mandir Palace. And what a majestic show it was -   under the open sky, the palace lit up in wonderful colours, the history of the city rendered in the baritone of Amitabh Bachchan! It was nothing less than a grand theatre!  

Built in 8th century, the fort stands tall upon the Gopachal hill. The exact period of the fort’s construction is not clear, but historians say that it started in the 8th Century. According to the folklore, one day Suraj Sen who suffered from leprosy, found himself very thirsty atop the hill. Sant Gwalipa offered him sacred water from a pond, which cured him of the disease. Out of gratitude, Suraj Sen fortified the hilltop and named the citadel Gwalior to honour the saint.

Around the 15th century, the fort came under Man Singh Tomar, a king who was known as one of the greatest connoisseur of art and music. He transformed the fort into a grand architectural marvel that even Babur referred it as the “pearl amongst the fortresses of India”. After being captured by the Mughals, the fort was used as a jail. By the end of their reign, they had destroyed almost everything precious. Finally, in 18th Century, it flourished again in the hands of Maharaja Scindia.

Today, the monument is a huge fortress sprawling across an area of 3 square km surrounded by a concrete wall of sandstone. It comprises of six palaces, three temples, and several water tanks. One of its most famous temples is Teli-ka-Mandir built in the Dravidian style with an exquisite sculpted exterior. Another fascinating temple is the Saas-Bahu Temple, with two asymmetrical pillars. The other palaces are Jahangir Mahal, the Karan Palace, the Shah Jahan Mahal and the Gurjari Mahal, built by Man Singh for Mrignayani, his favourite wife. Gurjari Mahal currently is an archeological museum with an impressive collection, some of which dates back to 1st century AD.

Totally engrossed in the stories, I had walked down the lanes of history. I looked around to see the most beautiful view - a modern cityscape of Gwalior. The city was lit up!

Early next morning, I returned to witness the monument and relive all the stories I had heard the night before. We started off our visit with the Man Mandir palace or the Chit Mandir for the rich ceramic mosaics encrusting its facade. It was absolutely breathtaking made out of sandstone with stunning motifs on coloured tiles- everything speaking volumes about craftsmanship beyond time. My guide Puneet ji narrated many more wonderful tales that described the symbolism of the motifs as well as showed me the secret little telephonic tunnel the king used to converse with his queens.

The Diwan-e-aam and Diwan-e-khas music halls made for the queens to see performances while honouring the purdah system, have some exquisite grillwork. Lotus, which signifies Lord Brahma is a motif that keeps re-appearing across numerous places. 

The royal seal can also be seen in the main hall.

Raja Man Singh’s  bedroom has beautiful brackets which once held stunning mirror work like a Sheesh Mahal. Taking cue from this, I began reimagining the grandeur of the place.

I could also see the Gurjari Mahal situated below the palace, which was built as one of the conditions set by Mrignayani to marry Raja Man Singh. The other two conditions were that she should get water from her village river (which was the secret of her strength and beauty) at the new palace, and that she would fight each war alongside the King.

A leap into history, the Man Singh Palace has left me inspired in many many ways.

About the artist

Neethi Goldhawk is an independent illustrator and textile print designer who loves drawing all things dreamy, inspired by nature and life. She has illustrated for platforms like Redbull Amaphiko and Launchora. Her pen name (Goldhawk) was concocted in the crowded space of her mind full of absurd characters, who are but little children at heart. She is an avid Tumblr blogger and can be found here

By Neethi Goldhawk
Teru (& some TeruMob) meta

Warning: contains some fandom salt, oops.

Fandom opinion from what I have gathered so far tends to either characterize Teru as this pure boy who has a crush on or lives for the attention of Mob and gets nervous and anxious over it like a shoujo heroine, OR this somewhat edgy yandere that fucks a girl every week and would probably choke and abuse Mob or something… and I fucking cringe.

Both are so wrong I don’t even know where to begin and I know both characterizations are passive aggressive wars between “antis” and “nasties” but lol, that’s something I am not coming within a 20 ft pole of and I can’t stand when ppl warp characterization to piss off the other parts of a fandom instead of reading carefully with canon… but I digress.

I think what’s jarring and easily misinterpreted is Teru’s change of behavior following his battle with Mob.

There was a great Tumblr post awhile back (which seems to have been deleted, argh) that hypothesized that Teru’s change in personality is an example of altruistic surrender.

Altruistic surrender refers to an ego-defence mechanism postulated by Anna Freud by which a person internalizes the values of another person and lives his or her life in accordance with those values.

I never took a psych class so I’m not going to delve into this further but this makes a lot of sense, since Teru’s previous identity and system of values took such a huge collapse that it’s impossible for him to formulate and rebuild it quickly, so he latches onto and internalizes Mob’s values, which does ultimately change him for the better and is a powerful driving force in him learning to reform his own personality, but does clash with his inherent personality traits to an extent.

Teru says during his battle with Mob that “people can’t change that easily” and that point is simultaneously right and wrong regarding himself. On the surface, it seems like he’s suddenly changed, but that’s because his entire world has been uprooted to the point he can’t return to it so he’s substituting believing in (and thus admiring) Mob until he figures himself out again.

However, for a person with stubborn pride like Teru, when that pride is shattered it doesn’t smooth out immediately, but impales the person on its pieces. You definitely see flashes of those gaping wounds post-defeat - an example being when he intimidates Ritsu, which I believe was both genuine advice and a way to vent frustration with his own former self.

In the manga, you see that Teru gets addicted to developing and refining his psychic power and learning multiple techniques. Sure, it’s probably because it’s useful if he and Mob ever have to fight a shady organization again (and they do), but on some level he’s still trying to surpass Mob in some way. He’s not demanding Mob acquiesce to his values like he did initially, but he’s trying to prove, perhaps both to Mob and himself that he’s an equal - since he can’t match Mob in overwhelming power reserves, he makes up for it in versatility. And from my point of view he seems to be always, on some subconscious level, trying to figure out why he wants to prove himself to Mob - as a friend? A rival? Maybe both? Why? Does he simply want peace of mind by proving that point? Or does he want to ‘repay’ Mob for ‘saving’ him? Shrugs, we can never know exactly but those are both possible.

It’s interesting that Teru’s catchphrase is “I am an ordinary person” and it seems like something he both accepts and fights at the same time. He accepts it in that he’s gotten through to his head that psychic powers don’t make him a better person inherently, they’re just another talent, etc. He fights it because he simply has too much ambition to sit quietly and not be outstanding in some way (“through effort, I have become an exception”).

Unlike Mob, he doesn’t easily accept being ‘nothing’ and having ‘no presence’ - he doesn’t quite have the strength of heart to embrace that ideal without looking back. But I do feel like this time the way he deals with it is healthier because he wants to stand out for genuine hard-earned achievement, not arbitrary factors he was born into.

Now, I’ll address the characterization in most TeruMob fics of Teru as the “nervous blushing shoujo heroine” and WHY I think people make that mistake a lot of times when writing fluff. Those writers aren’t 100% utterly WRONG in reading how Teru would act towards Mob in a romantic fanon context but they oversimplify his internal thought processes and fixate too much on the tropey outwards actions.

Teru has never had a real friend before Mob because his previous “friendships” were for status and ego boosts. Mob saw through that facade while everybody else bought into it.

There’s a lot that could give him anxiety re: forming his first friendship because it’s new and difficult and he’s learning as he goes along without being able to skip any steps, and also because Mob is particularly difficult to read as is. Teru and Mob, in the earlier stages of their friendship (outside of the necessary temporary alliance in the Claw infiltration arc) would probably be very awkward as both of them can easily be concerned with what could go wrong.

Mob is bad at reading the atmosphere, and Teru is not the greatest at genuine communication without putting up a front, so you can imagine how that goes.

Now if we’re going the route of implying Teru having romantic feelings for Mob, that complicates things further. Teru’s dated girls for show but when it comes to somebody he genuinely likes… given the way he’s handled facing his own emotional problems thus far I’m inclined to think he’d be in denial. While Mob’s clinical, pathological compartmentalization of his emotions made him a literal time bomb of sorts, Teru is more of the “self-aware but actively avoiding” type is my interpretation. And frankly speaking, there’s a lot that could go wrong should he get into a relationship with somebody he has genuine feelings for because he has too much to unpack about himself. His admiration of Mob in general would prompt him to also keep those feelings under wraps because the friendship is already an intricate maze to navigate.

Again, everything I’ve just explained is probably where TeruMob fic writers are coming from but they tend to gloss over or skip depicting these parts and thus end up with a hollow shell of what could have been. Also, for anime-only watchers, it’s easy to not get a good grasp on Teru (because you miss out on his technique-developing obsession and what that implies) I feel.


Pictures taken from: @mars-avenue (found on twitter by @purplejellybean)

Translation by @dreaminginmars

          The actor, musician, director and producer, Oscar winner, and frontman/singer of the band Thirty Seconds to Mars is very clear in what he wants and what he doesn’t want. He has demonstrated this amongst his multifaceted career where he has made possible all that he has proposed, now that the word ‘impossible’ has never, and probably will never, exist for him. This is the second time I interview him. Our first encounter took place in London for the launch of the fragrance Gucci Guilty Absolute last year. This new interview takes place in his house in Los Angeles, in which Jared is found in absolute privacy. It’s a sunny morning full of expectations because he will star on the cover of Vogue Hombre, photographed by the lens of his inseparable and loyal friend, the celebrity photographer Terry Richardson. In an instance, Jared appears in one of the multiple rooms of his house wearing only a robe. It’s impossible not to be captivated by his gaze and the attractive color of his eyes, that to a certain point seem to be enchanting. In Hollywood, Leto is considered one of the biggest stars since he has the ability to be an actor with a chameleon complex, how he has demonstrated it in multiple films by grand directors such as Darren Aronofsky, Jean-Marc Valeé, and David Ayer. Jared says hello to us with a smile and he starts to take a look at the diverse wardrobe prepared for him through the works of Alessandro Michele, creative director of Gucci, who in diverse occasions has become known for revolving his aesthetics around irreverence and retro chic which sets apart the era for the Italian firm. Leto, in his part, has not been the only one captivated by Michele’s designs, but also by the entire world of this individual talent, now that there is no one better than him to interpret the right Gucci spirit needed for this cover shoot.

          The photo session started with a group by the name of Original Sin of INXS, who set out an schedule that allowed Jared to project energy and dynamics in every take. The pairing between Leto and Richardson is a fusion that happens in an inexplicable manner that only they can decipher and on top of that, these “wild men” (Garçon sauvage) add their favorite melodies to accompany the shoot. The clicking of the shutter stops and Jared appears minutes afterwards on the set, dazzling all of those in the studio with him. He has on a three piece tuxedo accompanied by socks and slippers and they confirm that only people like him like to mix styles with the end result of the look being less lavish. At the end, Jared goes to one of the adjacent rooms, where he was waiting for me, seated and surrounded by jewels that capture his impulse and essence. I congratulated him for how he did in the photoshoot and he casually comments that just this morning, right before we met with each other, he had an accident while rock climbing and that caused a lesion in his back. The sport is one of his greatest passions. “Go scale [a mountain], spend some time surrounded by nature because it soothes the soul and it makes you feel stronger in all ways: mentally, emotionally, and physically,” [he] asserts. After seeing him in the [photo] session, I would have never imagined what happened prior to that,  what testifies to his professionalism is that in no moment during the shoot did he mention he suffered through an accident. That attitude demonstrates more about his character than words can ever say and what I can confirm is that he is a man dedicated to his work and he is respectful to all those that surround him. I was curious as to what his favorite look was this session, and he replied: “The tuxedo, without a doubt.” It’s clear that it was the most captivating attire he wore in the pictures. “Other details that fascinated me was how Terry decided to use a grey background, and that tone resulted in the smooth mixing of all the colors.” 

          As if we had called for him, Terry Richardson came into the room in that moment and joined the conversation. All three of us found ourselves together and Jared joked about how I was lucky to be accompanied by two great talents in only one interview. We continued our conversation and Leto pointed out that each picture is special when you look at it from Richardson’s point of view. “I brought out people’s souls, without hiding their true selves, its all about the artist without manipulation, simply their energy shining through,” [he] expresses. Not taking life so seriously and without prejudice is his philosophy and they confirm that when they’re both together they share their experiences in a very natural way. “Terry and I spoke a few times before the session and we discussed ideas of what we wanted to project in this cover, it was a fusion of timeless elegance,” [he] reveals. “Without a doubt its one of the best shoots in which I have participated in. Every look demonstrates a part of my personality and it was really liberating to express myself one hundred percent,” [he] adds. Terry says goodbye and Jared and I start closing in little by little on the things that are most important to him and those that he doesn’t approve of. “I hate cruelty and when someone tries to degrade other people’s work,” [he] exclaims. Something that is clear when you speak to him face to face. “Being humble is part of my day to day since life has given me many lessons in different forms and stages that have led me to where I am today,” [he] states. One of the things that he was the most emotional to talk about was his new album and the tour he has prepared with Thirty Seconds to Mars, in which he has worked on for two years. “Mexico City is a key point for me, like Guadalajara and Monterrey,” [he] mentions. Destinations in Latin America are big protagonists in this comeback to performing on stage. The Mexican public transmits their energy and strength for life,” [he] assures. At the end of the interview, I am convinced that for Jared the big things are actually simplified to freeing your mind and being open to all possibilities.

MONSTA X Bodyguard Minhyuk ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’

anon asked: Love your writing and I’m a big fan! I would love to request an expansion on Monsta x Minhyuk as your bodyguard. Pretty please with a cherry on top. I’m honestly addicted to your writing.

A/N: Hee hee! You’re so sweet, thank you! I really hope you like this. <3 WARNING: Mild Violence

This is an expansion of a reaction I wrote here.


Minhyuk was leaning against you again, practically molding himself into your side. Honestly the man had no concept of personal space.

“C’mon,” he whined taking your arm and wrapping it around his shoulders. “There’s no one here.”

“I know, but I have work to do.” Your voice held mild reproach but let him stay nonetheless.

“How often do we get to be alone when it’s not in your quarters?” Turning his head he began placing small kisses up your neck.

“Minhyuk! Someone could come in any second.”

Reaching your lips he gave you lingering kiss. Not too deep, but savoring the moment, then he pulled away. “Sorry I can’t help it. It’s hard to be with you all day and not touch you.”

You understood. As your guard Minhyuk was constantly at your side but the two of you had to maintain a professional working relationship. It wasn’t like there weren’t rumors about what was going on, the staff was so small it was impossible to stop them from spreading. But suspecting and seeing were two different things. So during the day one of you might tease with a glance or a touch but for the most part behaved. Which was why when night came it felt like the two of you were starving for each other.

Keep reading

Best Mom

**A request that took too long to write:) “Why did we have to have kids?”**

You swear it was days like these that made you want to scream. Or cry. Or do anything but put up with two antsy and complaining toddlers and wait for your husband to return from his late work night. The mile long list of to-do’s didn’t help either. You had barely started the laundry when the oven beeped obnoxiously, and your youngest little one, who was only 2, decided to stick things in electrical outlets. So one scolding and rush-to-turn-off-the-pot-to-keep-the-food-from-being-ruined type of sprint away later, you were back hastily trying to get at least one productive thing done today. 

 "Mom is the food ready?“ 

“Mummy my leg hurts.“ 

"Momma brotha’ won’ gimme the remote back." 

 It was all getting too much. Too much to the point were the food had to be turned off. Where you had to put down the scarce piece of clothing you actually folded. Where you had to sit on the bathroom toilet, shake you head in your hands, and wish that the tears that burned behind your eyes were tears of strength and not ones of angst. You doubted it though. Days like these didn’t leave much room for happy crying. They didn’t leave much room for anything actually.

You remember who you were when you first met Harry, strong and fearless. You remember the young love and freedom he brought in your life. It would never be the same again, and you knew it was sealed. The family you two had raised was one of your greatest accomplishments. But the torturous hole of hopelessness that had seeped its way into your heart left you feeling hollow. Leaving you aching for that woman, praying that you had at least half the strength of her left within you to continue on.

You tensed when you heard the soft click of the door into the apartment, hoping that he would just fade and he’d leave you be. It would be torture for him to see you like this, disheveled and messy and nothing like the mother you wanted to be for his beautiful children. A wrenching knot had seeped its way into your stomach and the feeling made you sick. 

When you thought about it, you hadn’t even eaten all day, nor had you brushed your hair or got dressed. You didn’t feel like dealing with Harry’s little scolding right now. 

 "M'home love!” The sounds echoes through the hallway, bouncing off the locked bathroom door that shields you. 

 "Hey princesses! Love yeh two!“ You heard Harry say, already imaging the warm hug he’d give to them. 

"Where’s your mumma?" 

 When the little rascals grew somber, Harry knew something had happened. 

The youngsters were always eager and joyous to share their day to the dad, standing proudly while their mom smiled and giggled along with the tale. They were always here to chatter to him about what mom had said or down or made. But they had seen the way their mom had frantically bounced up the stairs. They knew that something was bugging their mom. Harry leaned down and whirled a brow at the eldest. When she pointed a shaky finger upwards to the second floor bathroom, it was nothing more than a glance around to see what you left behind. 

 He huffed and looked at the half-cooked misery on the stove, not bothering to clean anything up while he looked for his wife. "Help mumma out and clean up those clothes fo’ me you two!” He called down while climbing. 

 "Love? Yeh alright?“ His voice sounded like sweet molasses through your ears. A soothing wave to crash your dreary senses after a day of hurricanes.

 "No.” Honesty was the only thing you could muster at the moment. 

 "Can I come in?“ When he didn’t hear a protest, soft knuckles pushed open the door lightly, making sure not to create a noise when he closed it behind him. 

 You had moved to the floor, sinking into a slouch against the cold wall is some search for silence. He didn’t mind it though. When he took his seat on the floor across from you, the chill of the room wasn’t as sad as the faded look you gave him through thick lashes. 

 Harry pulled your knees forward with his hands, bringing you on his lap and legs hanging on either side of him. Two large hands kept you centered and stable as you rested you head on his chest. 

It was everything, the way his warmth melted into your body and placed a spell on your drowsiness. Feeling him hold you brought slight relief to the slow and steady tears that stained your cheek.

 "Why did we have to have kids?” You mumbled.

“Because your the best mum ever. Yeh strong an’ kind an’ put up with everything.” Harry rubs small circles on your back, enjoying the way you conformed and relaxed at the sound of his voice. Your fears were getting the best of you, eating you alive and not bothering to hide form the man that cradled you now.

 "Love you.“ You whisper against his warm body and soft shirt. It was a silent thanks, for making you feel loved. He always knew you were going to be a spectacular mother. He saw it in your eyes whenever a kid passed by or when you pet an animal. 

 "Love yeh too angel”

Hero: Chapter 1 (M)

Song for this chapter: The Answer - UNKLE + Trentemøller

Genre: Vampire!Chanyeol AU; suspense; thriller; eventual smut

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female)

Rating: M 

Warnings (this chapter): Graphic violence; blood; guns; kidnapping; blood/drug trafficking 

Word Count: 3,486

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11a | 11 b

Keep reading

Best Mom

You swear it was days like these that made you want to scream. Or cry. Or do anything but put up with two antsy and complaining toddlers and wait for your husband to return from his late work night. The mile long list of to-do’s didn’t help either. You had barely started the laundry when the oven beeped obnoxiously, and your youngest little one, who was only 2, decided to stick things in electrical outlets. So one scolding and rush-to-turn-off-the-pot-to-keep-the-food-from-being-ruined type of sprint away later, you were back hastily trying to get at least one productive thing done today.

“Mom is the food ready?“

“Mummy my leg hurts.“

"Momma brotha’ won’ gimme the remote back.”

It was all getting too much. Too much to the point were the food had to be turned off. Where you had to put down the scarce piece of clothing you actually folded. Where you had to sit on the bathroom toilet, shake you head in your hands, and wish that the tears that burned behind your eyes were tears of strength and not ones of angst. You doubted it though. Days like these didn’t leave much room for happy crying. They didn’t leave much room for anything actually.

You remember who you were when you first met Harry, strong and fearless. You remember the young love and freedom he brought in your life. It would never be the same again, and you knew it was sealed. The family you two had raised was one of your greatest accomplishments. But the torturous hole of hopelessness that had seeped its way into your heart left you feeling hollow. Leaving you aching for that woman, praying that you had at least half the strength of her left within you to continue on.

You tensed when you heard the soft click of the door into the apartment, hoping that he would just fade and he’d leave you be. It would be torture for him to see you like this, disheveled and messy and nothing like the mother you wanted to be for his beautiful children. A wrenching knot had seeped its way into your stomach and the feeling made you sick.

When you thought about it, you hadn’t even eaten all day, nor had you brushed your hair or got dressed. You didn’t feel like dealing with Harry’s little scolding right now.

“M'home love!” The sounds echoes through the hallway, bouncing off the locked bathroom door that shields you.

"Hey princesses! Love yeh two!“ You heard Harry say, already imaging the warm hug he’d give to them.

"Where’s your mumma?”

When the little rascals grew somber, Harry knew something had happened.

The youngsters were always eager and joyous to share their day to the dad, standing proudly while their mom smiled and giggled along with the tale. They were always here to chatter to him about what mom had said or down or made. But they had seen the way their mom had frantically bounced up the stairs. They knew that something was bugging their mom. Harry leaned down and whirled a brow at the eldest. When she pointed a shaky finger upwards to the second floor bathroom, it was nothing more than a glance around to see what you left behind.

He huffed and looked at the half-cooked misery on the stove, not bothering to clean anything up while he looked for his wife. “Help mumma out and clean up those clothes fo’ me you two!” He called down while climbing.

"Love? Yeh alright?“ His voice sounded like sweet molasses through your ears. A soothing wave to crash your dreary senses after a day of hurricanes.

"No.” Honesty was the only thing you could muster at the moment.

"Can I come in?“ When he didn’t hear a protest, soft knuckles pushed open the door lightly, making sure not to create a noise when he closed it behind him.

You had moved to the floor, sinking into a slouch against the cold wall is some search for silence. He didn’t mind it though. When he took his seat on the floor across from you, the chill of the room wasn’t as sad as the faded look you gave him through thick lashes.

Harry pulled your knees forward with his hands, bringing you on his lap and legs hanging on either side of him. Two large hands kept you centered and stable as you rested you head on his chest.

It was everything, the way his warmth melted into your body and placed a spell on your drowsiness. Feeling him hold you brought slight relief to the slow and steady tears that stained your cheek.

"Why did we have to have kids?” You mumbled.

“Because your the best mum ever. Yeh strong an’ kind an’ put up with everything.” Harry rubs small circles on your back, enjoying the way you conformed and relaxed at the sound of his voice. Your fears were getting the best of you, eating you alive and not bothering to hide form the man that cradled you now.

"Love you.“ You whisper against his warm body and soft shirt. It was a silent thanks, for making you feel loved. He always knew you were going to be a spectacular mother. He saw it in your eyes whenever a kid passed by or when you pet an animal.

"Love yeh too angel”

The Efficiency of Pants

Try as I might, I will never stop writing Nesta fighting, kicking, and punching her way through an Illyrian war camp. It was just meant to be. 

Summary: Nesta finally wants to train and does she ever.

This is the fourth installment of my challenge. Follow the one shots here or on AO3, comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated

“Till I Collapse” by Eminem

Nesta liked to watch him train.

It wasn’t for the muscles that threatened to rip out of his chest, if he was wearing one, or the bronze gleam that made even the most celibate sweat. It wasn’t the hair that spilled from his tie, or the way his chest moved rapidly, up and down, to compete with his racing heartbeat. It wasn’t even for the smirk she saw dance its way along his face when he noticed her wandering gaze.

She wasn’t immune to male attractiveness, not when that male was 6 feet of sweat and allure, but it wasn’t the reason he had caught her attention.

Nesta watched him for the way he moved his feet. The way they moved to counter attacks, instill fear, and prove he was the greater, the faster, the stronger. The different weapons he chose to use, from his glimmering sword, polished to rival the sheen of diamonds, to bow and arrows, sharp enough to cut one.

Keep reading

im not ashamed sneak peak 3

a crude drawing of a hand with writing on all sides sits on a whiteboard. dots between words, a poorly drawn fish on each side, and colored pencil skills that should probably be much better if this movie took place in a high school, but in Im Not Ashamed Alternate Universe, everything is out of place.
“ive always been drawn to hands” the Christian Girl muses

“i think its because its the way that we touch people.” unlike a real high school, where everyone would look up and possibly jeer at this potential sexual innuendo, everyone remains painfully indifferent. you can feel the awkwardness in the room. one girl is fucking passed out on the table. jesus christ rachel, ever heard of a intruiging opening sentence?

the camera pans out to Dead Girl and the rest of the uninterested class. Everyone looks like they left high school 4 years ago, especially this one chap in the corner. My oh my that’s motherfucking Keurig Careless!!!!!!!! his hair: freshly shaven in true skinhead fashion, arms: fucking ripped to shreds, legs: stunted, face: 40 years old. he is picking at the callouses on his hands on top of a hilariously thin blue notebook. What The Fuck? Why is his notebook so thin. How come dead girl has 2 binders and a piece of paper and a pencil and everyone else has a single notebook? did she try to cram it all in in one class? i suppose this would be the best place next to study hall, because im guessing most Inspirational Life Changing Speeches in this class are just as boring

“compassion is the greatest form of love that humans have to offer” christian audience gasps at the wise-beyond-her-years rachel faux scott. actually compassion is one of the only forms of love u can offer but whatever floats your goat, Fakechel.

“I have this theory that if one person goes out of their way to show compassion, they can start a chain reaction”
thats so deep rachel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hOLY shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nazi and dildo’s heads perk up at the word “chain reaction”. nnnnyess huehueheuhehe,,,, that is what Wiiii are going to do,,, a chain reaxtion to Blow this SchooL up hehuehueheuhe. the audience screams in desperation and horror. perhaps? perhaps this speech will change their minds?? perhaps rachel will convert them to godliness… yes…

“how do you know that trust? beauty? and compassion wont make the world a better place to be in?”
this is the most generic pep talk ive ever heard? like, if someone put a gun to my head and told me to recite a speech that you would find in an american girl magazine so he could write a letter to win the affections of said gunman’s estranged daughter, this is the shit i would say.

“tomorrows not a promise… but its a chance…”
we see the teacher looking at her proudly. also theres a girl that looks Exactly like Rachel in the background looking at her? is that her force ghost or something

“.. you just might start a chain reaction”
she grins. shes such a deep thinker.

the students roll their eyes dramatically, not focusing on rachel whatsoever. well that was for nothing.
she continues smiling in the silence. uhh…



“and whats behind all this is my faith” she puts down her arms to reveal a huge-ass cross necklace. This is like, margaret white style shit. its probably as big as her palm? minimalism. minimalismmmmmm….

“im a christian!” she says, smiling. obviously. every girl that wears mormon clothes like that, cross necklaces, listens to britt nicole at maximum volume while walking through the hallways at school and crying whenever she sees someone dressed in black and calls them “lost souls” is a christian girl, okay? it’s like coming out in a high school nowadays like… everyone’s gay, rachel. every single person is gay so you can chill out.

they pan to the jock guy.

and then to dylan with his psycho stare

and then to eric with his condescending smoulder

“im not trying to be weird or convert anybody or anything like that HUEHEHE,,, i just wanna be real with you guys…. Dudes, i just wanna be Cool and Swag with u guys, Ya dig?? just tryin to kick it chilly willy with my brUhs, ya see what im sayin… and let u know who i is, dawgs”

she stares again at the indifferent class. see? nobody cared. she smiles awkwardly. the second hand embarrassment is slaughtering me. my fucking eyes. please. rachel.

“jesus gave his life for me… and i will give my life for him…………………………………………….


"just wanted to get that out there”

she takes her crude hand drawing and promptly returns to her chair.

“thank you rachel.” the teacher says. the audience is aware of her purity and innocence, but also strength and endurance.

rachel sits at her desk with a sigh, plopping her notes onto her table in preparation for the next speaker.

“up next we haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaveeeeeeee….”

“eric and dylan.”

they look up with her, eyebrows raised and knuckles cracked. this video will fucking destroy. this video will fuckin KILL BITCHES!!!

“lets watch their videyyoh… on how they would change the world…”

the teacher pops the dvd labeled “hitmen for hire” into the tape player. she turns off the lights and walks to the back of the class. the tv statics like some sort of Lost Episode creepypasta.

jeffrey dahmer sits on a chair, facing the viewers
“people are always bullying me, i dont like it”
he swirls the chair and two trenchcoated bad bitches walk into the view of the screen. 

Rachel’s disapproving and paranoid eyes rest on the screen, concerned about what this could be about…. this… this isn’t about changing the world for the better? what the heckeroni??’

the video plays in the background as twink nazi smiles condescendingly at rachel. bitch whatcha gonna do? we had to listen to your bullshit

“you know we cant have weahpons on the skewl grounds.. but if you can get them away, we’ll take em’ out for ya. for 2000$, we’ll get rid of them. permanently.”

a white hat nerd walks up the stairs, neandering around, listening to 50 cent in his headphones when suddenly

eric and dylan are pointing pvc-pipe guns at him!!! shitty sound effects play as the jock is defeated.

the classroom is slightly more alert, putting their hands over their mouths in Horrified Shock! , but dead girl is still, of course, dead.

gunshots ring through the room as rachel turns to the teacher “do we have to watch this?”

dylan does a finger gun at the television.

“no, we don’t.” the teacher says. “OOKAAAAAY i think we’ve seen enough!” the teacher yells, turning off the tv

“thaaaaat” dylan begins “would make the world a better place”


afterwords, rachel’s a-skippin up the stairs, smilin bright like a diamond, when suddenly, 

shes confronted by two trenchcoated figures, cloaked in the darkness of the stairs. they corner her and yell “what’s your problem? >:O”. love this. love how eric and dylan would probably go cry in their room if someone interrupted them, they wouldnt confront them. literally the only time they had balls in their ENTIRE LIVES was nbk, so they wouldnt confront rachel…. just Sayin….

“what?” :0

“i know you did that.” eric snarls

“did what?” :0

“i didnt stop your stupid jesus speech” HOly Shit!!!! boyyyyy HE SAID IT!!!!

dylan speaks up “you think youre better than us?

"no :O… no im not better than anybody.” wow and shes humble????? she has zero flaws omg i love her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! mom i wanna be just like rachel when i grow up.!!!!!!

“oh i know youre not” he gets closer….. cloooserr….

they stare. lock eyes. dream weaver begins to play in the background…

“i gotta get to class.” she stutters, holding back tears.

“youre just like aaahll the others” dylan jeers, striking her in her single nerve,,,, her utter originality,,

“compassion!” eric says “yeah thatll work!!!” wow what a fucking demon??/ what a devil gosh darn!!!!!!!!! i hope he dies at the end of the movie. i hope Both of them die at the end of the movie. that’d make this movie have the BEST ENDING EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ill pray abt it hold on!

the scene fades to black

Reggie x Reader: I Have Questions (One Shot )


Plot: The one where Reggie was living a nightmare you were waking up from.

Reggie reread the letter in his hands over and over again, as if it would change the contents in the paper. Said paper, has been carefully folded and slipped into his Physics book and only one person in the whole wide world would have cared enough to know that he always brings his Physics book at home to give his parents the illusion that he actually cares about school.

Reggie, I have questions.

And only said person would curve her ‘R’ just like that when writing his name because he once told her it was cute and it made him feel special. She has never changed it since.

Number one,

Reggie held his breathe unconsciously, accidentally closing his eyes to gather some strength. Big mistake: he could’ve sworn he heard your small sweet giggles in his room, your light footsteps running around him, playing with him, mocking him.

His eyes shot open just enough to see the next line.

Tell me who do you think you are?

He felt a trickle of sweat fall at the crevice of his neck.

Is it because you’re Mr. Popular? You need to prove to everyone that you really are the heartless asshole everyone aspired to be? Did it give you satisfaction? Did it give you more votes as Prom King?

Did it make you happy?

Reggie shook his head even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to see it. And even if you did it wouldn’t have made any difference.

It was too late.

I couldn’t understand then and I don’t understand now because I thought I made you happy. You told me I made you happy.

Am I a fool or are you a liar?

You both knew it was the latter but nobody had the courage to speak and therefore it will remain as an un-pointed fact.

Reggie huffed, seemingly satisfied.

When he dumped you, you never really did anything. You didn’t scream, didn’t cry, and didn’t even have the common courtesy to spread nasty rumours about him. You just gave him the saddest glare of disbelief you could muster and left. That was that. You never looked at him ever again.

You have no idea just how much he would be willing to give just for you to look at him again.

You got some nerve trying to tear my faith apart.

Reggie felt the smallest thorn being removed from his heart. Because now, you sounded angry and that was good.

You need to be angry.

Reggie deserved angry.

Number two, why would you try and play me for a fool?

What could you possibly get? What could’ve I have had that you wanted? Was it my dignity? My pride? My virginity?

Well congratu-fucking-lations, Reggie.

You got it all.

I should’ve never, ever, trusted you.

Reggie wanted to scream. It wasn’t just the sex. He loved you – God know he loves you. He was happy with you, the happiest, in fact. He wanted you and still wants you even until now.

But how?

How can you tell the girl you broke that you still love her? That you made a mistake? And the fact that he will never see the sliver of gold in your right eye when you used to beam up at him for the rest of his life will be the greatest punishment he will ever have to face?

How do you say that?

How do you say that you’re an asshole with severe self-esteem issues and needs the approval of society to feel good about himself – to have a purpose.


Number three, why weren’t you, who you swore that you would be?  

You told me we’d get out of this town together.

Our little piggy bank has still gone untouched.

Do you know how shitty that makes me feel? To pass by that stupid fucking pig every single day, staring at it before I sleep and every morning when I wake up knowing that that held nothing but money and lies.

Do you know that the reason I let the dust cover it is because I am still hoping you’d change your mind? That I am pathetic enough to keep praying and hoping and holding on to that smallest sliver of hope that  I’d wake up once again in the middle of the night – 2:00 sharp, as always – and see your stupid fucking grinning face from my window? To keep quiet every time insomnia takes me because I was still listening for the silent tapping of your fingers or the throwing of pebbles on my window?

I am in love with you, Reggie.

But don’t get it wrong I’m not in love with you – you. I’m in love with my Reggie. My Reggie who promised me the world and its stars even though he couldn’t find the difference between a mitosis and meiosis with a gun aimed at his head. To the Reggie who refused to have sex with me and played a drunken rocks-paper-scissors because he didn’t want me not to remember what happened. To the Reggie who drove to my house on a weekday at 4:00 in the morning because he had a nightmare that was so horrific he didn’t even tell me – said he was afraid the nightmare will be passed on to me.

I’m in love with that, Reggie – the Reggie who loved me too.

But I doubt he was real.

He wasn’t, was he?

Reggie never noticed how the sides of the paper where his palms once gently held it were now nearly tearing – lines and cracks appearing from the pale scented paper that smelled too much like you.

He wanted to tear it apart, forget that he even read it.

It was too painful.

To actually see the extent of the damage he’s done. He can hear your voice, broken and cracking, and if he closed his eyes enough he can imagine you writing this – reading this. Crying.

And he wanted to run.

He doesn’t know where but he wants to get away, somewhere safe and peaceful. Where he can let his guard down and drop down his walls and know he won’t be judged for it, that he will be accepted, and he will be loved, not despite of it but because of it.

Yet all he can think of was you.

His safe haven.

The safe haven he broke with his own bare hands in hopes that it will impress people who never really cared.  The safe haven who has no idea she deserves better.

These questions haunt me, Reg.

Reggie screamed, for once in his life he decided to crush the control he had on himself. He screamed and punched and destroyed every single thing that he could reach.

He imagined the vase he threw as his parents, for being the root of his issues.

The wall as any “friend” that popped out of his mind, for pushing the stupid fucking bet on him.

And his fists as himself, he wanted it bloody and broken, just the way he left you.

He wanted you back but if he really loved you half as much as he claim to do then he should leave you alone – let you heal and make you forget of the boy who did nothing but leave you with good memories and a broken heart

But I’m gonna wake up now.

anonymous asked:

You're dead right about those cupcakes being prooomooo. Idk how closely you follow Andy, but the Fat Feeder (chick that made the cakes) is his alleged girlfriend's sister. And said girlfriend is good friends with Sophia. So it's all around promo for everyone. And why are there baby cupcakes at a lady-lad bro party anyway? Ugh free Liam from this madness!

I don’t follow Andy closely but no surprise at what he’s doing. I do think Andy is the real deal in terms of 1D friends and he’s laid kinda low and even shaded the official narrative in the recent past. But I think he’s been drafted because using the douche canoe crew (the three dudes Liam started hanging with to help sell Sophiam) is not an option since they were all team Sophia and we’re employed for the purposes of that narrative.

And yes, baby themed cupcakes, randomly appearing over a month after the kid was born isn’t very bro. Why were they there? Who is that slow on the congrats anyway?? Niall?? LMAO! It’s obviously targeted at young, naive, female fans who swoon over this kinda thing without giving the context much thought.

Like I said my earlier tags, it’s a recycled stunt. And recycled stunts are evidence AGAINST a thing being an organic happening. In other words, it’s planned with a particular narrative mission in mind.

Let’s see some of the greatest hits in what I like to call, fakery from the bakery. Look away, Harry. I know you used to be a baker and these are abominations in your eyes.

Of course, Elounor are the OGs of this foolery. Fauxmance and Disney promo? Genius.

That mess wasn’t even the best. Behold the shady af tribute to the mother of modern bearding, Taylor Swift. Why ever would they go there?? Everybody’s in on this joke except 75% of this fandom.

The cake stunts didn’t end with Elounor 1.0. This one isn’t even funny. Because Louis was dealing with the very recent loss of his mother when this happened:

The look on his face says it all. Not ok and no further comment.

But not to be outdone, Liam has done more than his share of cake stuntin’. Cakes everywhere. The Funky Buddha promo cake and the cake Danielle allegedly got him:

Please note this was August 2012 and Payzer 1.0 was probably over at this point. This was post fandom famous Ziam/Payzer Vegas showdown. And as far as we can tell, it looked like Zayn won that battle and ultimately the war. So this explains the need for extra strength cake stuntin’…I mean, I guess by 1DHQ logic.

Cake stunts continued with Sophiam. As always, aided and abetted by friend of Modest, Funky Buddha.

In hindsight, the emphasis on Sophia was obviously promo meant to set her up as an Instamodel post scheduled break-up, which came later that year. I tell ya, all the cake stuff is planned and deliberate.

This brings us to Zayn. We were told to believe Zayn was responsible for this pre-school fantasy for Perrie’s 21st (yes 21st) birthday. Picture credit: ©Little Mix…yeah, exactly.

More Zerrie cake fakes: That one time the garbage press told us this was Zayn’s birthday cake courtesy of Perrie…

…but Zayn’s family showed and proved that this was actually Zayn’s birthday cake:

Zayn was never seen with the Hulk cake. Surprise, surprise. And the cake beat goes on with Gigi and her Zayn stand-in with the photoshopped tattoos.

Now the pastry aided deception includes babies. Sad but true.

As for Niall, there was this weirdness a few years ago:

Hahahaha, no. Somebody tried it. This was an insult to Niall and great promo for 1DHQ co-conspirator The Sun. This implied co-sign was meant to tell us to believe 1DHQ’s lies as told by The Sun. Because if you can’t trust Niall, who can you trust? I see what you did there.

So for some try-to-get-inside-the-mind-of-teenaged-girls logic fail, cakes are supposed to = rayl. I guess 1DHQ thinks the kiddies love cake and no one would ever use precious, delicious cake in the interest of faking it because precious delicious. Yeah, ok.

One Hundred Percent [The8]

A/N: I’M FINALLY BACK!! I’m working to finish my to do list in the next couple of weeks sooo my requests will be open again soon. I hope this is a nice, fluffy scenario to welcome you back!~

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1640

Originally posted by minghaeo

Nervously playing with your fingers, you tried to focus on the cooling breeze rushing through the car window. Months, even years, had lead up to this fateful day. For so long you had been consolidating your knowledge on your boyfriend’s culture, trying to match yourself to unbelievably high standards, even learning Chinese diligently while trying to keep up with your own studies. You had worked so hard to be the most respectable girlfriend possible all for this moment and now, it was finally here.

Keep reading

we’re better in practice

     { spencer reid x reader // wc: 852 }
“Well, it may be alright in practice, but it will never work in theory.” All the signs say that you shouldn’t date Spencer Reid, but real life works in strange ways.

Originally posted by matthewgrayistherightway

Spencer Reid, by definition, is an awful boyfriend.

He is a textbook workaholic. The nights when he doesn’t bring home work to finish up are few and far between. It’s hard to sleep with the fluorescent glare of his lamp that’s constantly on through the night and you’d often find yourself staring at him instead of sleeping: his forehead creased with frustration and his mind too deep in his thoughts to notice that you’ve been sitting in front of him for almost half an hour. You yearn for his touch during these late nights, but your pleas for him to come to bed often fall on deaf ears.

And try as he might, he has trouble keeping his promises to you. Sure, it comes with the territory and you expected this when you agreed to date an FBI agent. But the long days without him takes its toll. Dinner plans far too often turn into frantic last minute apologies that you’ve learned to take in stride with a smile and a quiet ache in your heart.

When he is home, there’s no guarantee you’ll get all of him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I'd love for you to write an msr fic based on/inspired by the song "wicked games" by Chris Isaac. Also I love GA so much, and am so happy that she has someone who makes her smile the way she did at GG.

Hi, anon, thank you for this prompt. It’s been sitting in my inbox for a long time, but I saw it again recently and thought the prompt was an interesting one. So, thank you for the different idea. I hope you like it. xx

“What a Wicked Thing To Do…” 

Rating: Mature (MSR)

The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, and I hiss against its fiery trail. That’s the plan for tonight. Sip. Hiss. Repeat. No thanks, I can’t make it. I have a date with Jack Daniels. We haven’t been seeing each other long, you see – It’s relatively new. More like a rebound. He knows it, and doesn’t seem to mind. It’s all part of the pattern: Scully calls, Scully comes over, Scully comes, Scully leaves. Enter Jack with his smoky aftertaste and mind-numbing powers to pick up the pieces in the wake her trail. She barely wipes my come from between her legs and there she goes, bolting through the front door. Again.

 But, Jack is always there. He’s dependable like that.

I wonder if I dip my fingers in the amber liquid they would smell like Jack instead of her. I can still smell the earthy musk of her arousal every time I bring the glass to my lips. She’s on my fingers, on my clothes. Jack doesn’t judge. Jack doesn’t tell me to change my clothes, or wash her scent from my skin. Jack lets me indulge. Jack lets me martyr in my own self-pity. Jack understands. It’s going well.

It’s not going to happen again, at least that’s what we tell ourselves each time. But we’re like addicts looking for a fix. It doesn’t take her yuppy, over-priced Falls Church shrink to figure that out. Save the money, Scully, I could have diagnosed our dysfunction for free.

She’s no better at resisting it, than I am. She may pretend to be in control with her bullshit rules and the false bravado behind her fifty-dollar mascara and two-hundred dollar dye job, but she’s always the one who calls. Even after all of these years we’re drawn to each other, pushing and pulling as we each fight against the addiction. My needle to her vein. Needle to her vein… Let Freud chew on that one for awhile.

We are the perfect enablers to our most destructive tendencies, which is ironic really considering my most destructive habit looks and acts so much like the woman I fell in love with. My greatest strength is also my greatest weakness. And she knows it. She knows it even as her hot breath against my ear is begging me to make her come…

I’m pretty sure there’s a good-looking D.C. plastic surgeon who knows that sound, but I’m not supposed to know about that. She likes it hard, Doc, in case you didn’t know, and judging by the sob of relief I heard when I hooked her cunt around my fingers, you could learn a thing or two. My forearm twitches with the muscle memory. My ever-sympathetic cock follows closely behind. So nice of him to make his feelings known.

This is how it goes now: clothes on, no bed. Those are the rules, or rather those are what I assume are the rules. It’s not like we’ve spoken about it. God forbid we fuck in the bed we shared for a decade– *that* might mean something, Scully. But, sure, I’ll fuck you against the cold stainless steel of the refrigerator door with your skirt hiked around your waist, and your stiletto heels pressing into my ass in some sort of staccato rhythm of self-conflagration with each thrust I drive into you. Sure, I can do that. Because that’s what we do now.

She lets me fuck her, but not love her. She needs to feel me, but doesn’t want to touch me. I say no, she says yes. I push, she pulls. These are the wicked games we play. She has her D.C. surgeon non-boyfriend to keep her D.C. bed and D.C. life warm, and I have Jack Daniels. Yes, Jack and I will get along just fine.

Until she calls again. She always calls again. It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do…

Shadow of the Stars

A Captain America and Winter soldier story

Jaylin Rogers has always struggled with being the daughter of Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, mostly because of her lack of freedom. After a failed attempt to do something about this, her life is changes forever when a shadow from her father’s past returns to haunt her.  



It isn’t easy, being the daughter of super-soldier Steve Rogers – better known as the legend Captain America. Not at all.
First of all, it is never fun to always be “daughter of” and nothing more. You quickly learn to live inside a shadow. Your last name will always be far more important than your first, even though that’s the one identifying you.
Second of all, it is weird. I mean, he’s older than many (if not most) grandfathers, yet on bad days he might look barely older than 30.  And… let’s just say that as I got older, and the girls around me got older as well, those girls started to notice how “young” he was.
Third, I wasn’t super. At least, not nearly as super. Having only half of his genes meant I was maybe a bit faster and stronger than most people without having to work out 24/7, but being healthy, never getting a cold or beating all high school boys in sprint doesn’t make you “cool” or even likable.

They did say I look like him, with my blue eyes and blond hair. Mine are both darker, less… pure. As if my appearance was a confirmation I wasn’t as good as him - proof of being in a constant state of disappointment.
As a little girl, you quickly learn the other kids only want to play with you because they want to see your house and the stuff in it. Everyone always seems to look right through you. I can tell from personal experience it is pretty traumatic when other pre-schoolers get mad at you because no one is allowed to come home with you… Let me say: you learn to SHIELD yourself from other people… Sorry, that was bad.
But yeah…
Admittedly, there are some advantages to being spawn of the Steve Rogers; you never get bad grades on history tests and essays. Oh, you also have lots of non-related, vengeful aunts and uncles. With vengeful I actually mean the Avengers. They are cool, though dad tries to keep me away from that world.

Aunt Nat is amazing, and she’s actually my best friend. She taught me everything I need to know about being a girl, and I think dad still owes her for not having to deal with any of my “woman inconveniences”.
Then there’s Sam. He’s one of the nicest guys I know and probably the most normal one, too - even though he regularly soars through the sky with metal wings strapped to his back. He’s a good support in a world that is totally abnormal, despite your father’s attempts to make sure you don’t get caught in his own, strange reality. Sam understands how it feels to live in between those two worlds – the one where they worry about their grades, crushes, jobs and promotions, and the one where you’re in a constant state of vigilance, knowing no one is who they say they are. He’s the most stable part of my life; a sturdy pillar to hold me up.
One might think this connection and support would mean I’d be happy to see him when he picked me up after school. In reality it didn’t, because it meant dad was on another mission and hadn’t had time to say as much as “goodbye”.

‘If it isn’t the messenger,’ I grunted, pulling the car door open with a mean swing. Had I had my father’s strength, it would’ve been dangling in my hand, torn loose from its hinges.
'Hello to you too,’ Sam greeted me, leaning undisturbed upon the sleek car. It was a dark blue model, matching the navy blue jacket the driver was wearing today. It fluttered a little in the heavy wind, which also rustled through my ponytail.
I slumped down in the passenger seat and shut the door - not too carefully - all the while I kept staring straight ahead. ‘How’s the captain?’ I sneered.
Sighing, Sam got in, closing the door behind him. ‘He didn’t know he’d have to go, you know.’ That I knew, very well. Still, I looked out the window with a constant frown on my face. The keys jingled when Sam turned them to start the engine. The car hummed a pleasant, low rumble, and barely made a sound as Sam steered it towards the tranquillity of our home.
It would take us while until we would reach the niceness of familiarity. For now, I just watched blankly as teenagers laughed and complained while stepping into their cars, all happy to go back to their ordinary home and ordinary parents. All of them were quickly out of view, replaced by the many other aspects of mundane life. ‘You are such a little beam of sunlight, aren’t you?’
I was aware of Sam’s eyes glancing back and forth between the road and me, those brown eyes always full of worry. If I were to look at him, my angry mask would break, so I kept staring ahead. 'Humph…’
'That’s all I get? I come here, especially for you, and you don’t even smile. And I do like your smile so much, Jay…’ I could no longer resist; I gave him a sly look and met his kind and teasing expression. I smirked, laced with a genuine – though slightly unwilling – smile. 'That’s my girl,’ Sam smiled back. 'How was school?’
Ugh, school; I rolled my eyes. 'The usual. You know, I don’t see the point in testing how many presidents we can memorise, there aren’t that many.’ I breathed on the window and drew little stars, which vanished within seconds.
'Not everyone has super memory,’ Sam remarked.
I grimaced at him. 'I’m nothing compared to dad. Besides, what is the use of knowing all American presidents?’
'Says the daughter of America’s greatest patriot…’ Sam smiled at the road ahead.
'Exactly.’ I sunk a little deeper down into the seat, so I could only barely catch glimpses of the colours rushing past the car’s windows. ‘I can know.’
I watched as we drove into a quieter lane guarded by high trees, until we arrived at an electronic fence, which opened automatically when the cameras recognised our faces.
We lived far away from the city, somewhere surrounded and guarded by tall trees. Here, you never heard the constant noise of traffic, or the never-ending murmur of voices. Only here, I knew true silence, were it not for the evermoving branches with their rustling leaves.
'How was your day?’ I informed, hauling my backpack over one shoulder and closing the car door behind me, still a bit of annoyance packed in the gesture. Together, we made our way to the big, white house, oozing America. Made of wood, with a big porch, two stories and even an attic, perfectly maintained; exactly as you’d expect from Captain America’s home. Soft leaves crackled underneath our feet, giving a lovely, autumny atmosphere to this already idyllic picture.
'Also the usual,’ Sam held the door for me. 'Want waffles?’
I threw my bag on the kitchen table. 'Is that even a question?’
'What’s the magic word?’
'Please,’ I grinned. ‘Or else…’

I watched Sam take everything he needed, prepare the batter and begin making the waffles. He did it with the ease of a man who’d done it a hundred times before – which was about right, to be honest. I loved Sam’s cooking.
'Nat’s with him?’ I asked, walking towards the fridge where I took a bottle of glacier water (it had become my favourite after a joke of Natasha and Tony had stuck around).
'Yeah, though they didn’t need me, for some reason.’ Yet again I was amazed at how little Sam seemed to care about that.
'They need you to babysit,’ I chuckled, nudging him as I walked by. 'Even though I don’t need it, I appreciate it.’
Sam glanced back at me. 'I’m happy to hear that.’

'Mmm,’ I hummed a while later as I poured maple syrup all over my waffles, 'you’re such a good mommy bird.’
'I will take that as a compliment,’ Sam said the moment my phone buzzed.

Dear Jaylin,

I’m sorry I had to leave again, so soon after my last mission.
Sam promised me he’d take care of you.
I trust you will behave.


When I read “I trust you will behave,” I grimaced at the screen. How old did he think I was? It was frustrating; while other people often thought I was quite a bit older than I actually was, my dad still seemed to deem me no more than a foolish little girl. It was especially frustrating because I had always felt different, maybe even older, than most children surrounding me. It had often crossed my mind this might be another result of my father’s genes – how they even interfered with how I grew up, refusing to grant me as much as a normal childhood.
'Sometimes I feel like I should date someone dad really dislikes,’ I mused abruptly. I imagined myself coming home with the biggest jerk I could find and shivered.
Sam’s cheeks rose as he took a sip from his large mug filled with strongly smelling coffee. 'I would be worried, if I didn’t know you have more pride than your dad.’
'Sadly, yes.’

Hey, Natasha…
Forgot something…?

I waited. Dad usually send his messages late, but Natasha didn’t; she knew exactly how I felt about their sudden disappearances and the radio silences that usually followed. It’s how I got to hate surprises, as surprise never held a pleasant meaning for me, only that my father had to save the world again.

I’m really sorry
I was really busy
I’ll make it up when we’re back…?

Even these texted words were hasty. Still, they seemed genuine enough.

Keep him safe, will you?

I was aware It wasn’t much of a message, but it was all she would need; Nat knew me too well to think I’d stay mad at her.

'So,’ Sam said, when I had finished eating, and I had put down my phone, ‘are you going?’
'Going where?’
Sam raised his eyebrows. 'The gala. I saw the flyers.’
Flyers? Some brightly coloured papers seemed to hang before me. Curly font spelled out the date of a gala (or a masked ball) for all students. Apparently, it was going to be quite fancy. Now I thought about it, I recalled many people at school excitedly discussing the event. 'Oh, that… No, I don’t think so.’
'Well, it’s more than a month away,’ Sam said confidently, like he was certain I would change my mind. This self-assuredness annoyed me.
'I’m really not going,’ I stressed. 'Definitely not.’
My guardian shrugged. ‘It might be good for you to go out. Be around people your own age.’
It was time to deploy my most efficient method to avoid topics I dislike: walking away.
‘Then let me go out,’ I smirked. ‘And as I am the same age as myself, I’ll be around people my own age, too.’ Before Sam could react, I sprinted to my room.

After changing into my workout clothes – shorts and a tank top –, I put in earbuds and let music fill my ears. Running never failed to calm me down. I didn’t get tired easily, so sometimes I ran for hours on end without realising it. I was happy for the immense woods in which I could jog, without people staring at me or annoying me. So, today, like I had done many times before, I let myself absorb the sound of the music while my mind went blank. My heart beat steadily. My blood flowed rapidly. My feet stomped regularly against the soft dirt.
Just running, only running.

Chapter Two

Lord of Thorns (Chapter Six)

Peter is the sweetest, and Wade stands no chance of not falling in love.
I’m so glad you guys are enjoying this story! Share the love and like and reblog for me! And oh my gosh I have been loving hearing from you guys, so keep those messages/ asks coming! love my readers!

This Chapter picks up right where Chapter Five left off.

Enjoy :)

The fire was burning bright, Wade slumped painfully in his great chair, when the boy came back inside from the stables, clutching several parcels to his chest.

“Um, my Aunt–” he started hesitantly. “My aunt makes poultices and pain relief things, and I had some in Phillips saddlebags. I’m going to mix some up for you.”

Wade didn’t answer, turning his face into the side of the chair, closing his eyes against the pain in his side. The boy should have left him in the forest. Now, in the warm room, the adrenaline was wearing off and Wade was getting light headed from blood loss, the hurt making him shake violently, and he didn’t even hear what the boy was saying to him, didn’t even register his cloak being moved aside, but then everything in his body seized, his back arching and he shouted out in anger, jerking away when the boy laid something against him that made his skin feel like it was falling off.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Every movement hurt and Wade swore again, forcing himself to still before turning furious eyes on the boy. “That hurts!”

“If you held still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” he snapped right back and Wade’s lips curled in a snarl.

“If you hadn’t run into the woods this never would have happened. I wouldn’t have had to take on a wolf pack to keep you safe.”

The boy dipped the rag in some water and squeezed it with shaking hands. “If you wouldn’t have scared me I wouldn’t have run away!”

Wade’s mouth dropped open. “You were in the West Tower. No one is allowed in the West Tower! If you would have stayed away, I wouldn’t have had to yell at you.”

“Maybe.” the boy huffed, reaching for another one of small packets, emptying it in the water and submerging the cloth. “Maybe.” he said again, softer. “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to control your temper.” he swallowed hard, slim throat jerking with the movement. “Hold still, alright? This is going to sting some more.”

Wade clenched his teeth, bit back a groan of pain, but didn’t pull away, and after a few minutes, the boy wrapped the wound with some gauze and backed away a few steps to start cleaning up his supplies.

“My names Peter.” the boy said hesitantly, so quietly Wade almost didn’t catch it. “And I–I–I’m sorry for going into the West Tower, My Lord.”

“Um.” Wade was speechless for a minute, the anger gone from him instantly at the unexpected apology. “It's… fine. No harm done, I suppose.”

Pretty red lips lifted in a small smile, and Wade found himself staring, something like interest curling through his body. “I’m going to check your temperature, alright? Just need to make sure an infection isn’t setting in.” Peter asked, moving towards him, and Wade startled violently when Peter touched his forehead, hissing in pain as the gauze pulled at his wound again.
“Alright? Does that hurt?” Peter looked down at him with a frown and Wade swallowed.

“I–I–” he licked his lips nervously. “It’s fine.” Peter nodded shortly, and held his palm against Wade’s head for a minute, then seemed to be satisfied and pulled away.

“It doesn’t seem like you have a fever and the wound is clean, so you should be alright. Just rest, and lots to drink, alright?”

“You are…good at this.” Wade ventured and the boy smiled again.

“My Aunt taught me. She always said that being able to take care of someone else was the greatest feeling and I guess I have to agree. Always liked going along with her when she went to help at the orphanage.”

Peter tucked everything back into the bag he had brought with him, and turned to leave, hesitating at the big doors. “Thank you for saving my life.”


Wade was still staring at the door long after Peter had left.

Peter. The beautiful boy who had stood up to him. Who had defied him. Who had tried to fend off wolves with only a branch. Peter.  Had brought him home. Had cleaned his wounds. Had thanked him. Had touched him.

And that was it, right there.
He had forgotten what it felt like to be touched by someone.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I netflixed the shit out of arrow season 1-4. I really don't see how laurel and oliver were ever friends. I can see tommy and Oliver being life long friends but I don't see how laurel fit in their dynamic. I could just imagine Tommy covering for Oliver whenever he cheated. It's hard to believe laurel was anything more than just a hanger on. I didn't understand the three musketeers vibe the writers were trying to peddle with 4:19, when they were being nostalgic. What's ur take on that dynamic?

Okay, if you’re familiar with my writing you know I psychoanalyze the crap out of my characters. I was just talking with some friends of mine tonight about my ‘writing style’ and how I  get inside the heads of the characters and base their reactions to any given situation based on their actions in canon.

Like my husband always says, ‘A person can say anything but their actions don’t lie.’

In order to understand how these three characters connect you have to examine who each of the characters are starting with Tommy since he’s the bridge between the two.

Tommy has two major issues: An inferiority complex and abandonment issues. He lost his mother, his father abandoned him for two years, and then came home completely changed and treated him like a waste of space by constantly criticizing him and telling him he wished he wasn’t his son. This is canon.

Tommy latched onto Oliver and the Queen family because they were his only support system. He gratefully accepted the role of second banana to Oliver because A) he never felt good enough to ask for more and B) Oliver was his only constant and the first person to tell him that he’d always be there for him and mean it. It’s why he ran all the way to Hong Kong based on an unsent email and never lost hope he was alive. It’s also why when Oliver came back he immediately offered to back away from his relationship with Laurel (such as it was) because, in his mind, she was Ollie’s girl and he was the interloper.

Unfortunately for poor Tommy, that was true. 

Remember that in canon Tommy said he and Laurel were only booty buddies before Ollie’s resurrection. They’d only hooked up three times before then, quote: ‘Her place, my place, my place again.’

Tommy pursued Laurel because she was the last tie he had to Oliver but he knew what he felt for her wasn’t what she felt for him. He also knew that the reason Laurel hooked up with him in the first place was because he reminded her of Ollie and that she would always go back to Ollie no matter what. He even said to Oliver that even if Laurel found out he was the Hood, despite the fact that he had killed people, she’d immediately choose him every time.

Again, he was right; Laurel, all throughout her relationship with Tommy, would run to Oliver or the Hood every chance she got. The fact that she refused to have a relationship with Tommy until AFTER Oliver returned is telling as well. Laurel only got serious with Tommy to show Oliver she was over him then she stayed with him in order to make Oliver jealous. Tommy knew that but he stayed because he was convinced that eventually Laurel would see how much he loved her and how hard he was working to gain her trust and respect. That’s what really soured his relationship with Oliver, the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be everyone’s second choice.

Still, Tommy’s greatest strength has always been that he’s a good friend and highly loyal. No matter how badly both Oliver and Laurel betrayed him–and they constantly betrayed him long before the sex up against the wall thing by carrying on an emotional affair behind his back–he stood by them. He protected Oliver and helped him even when he disapproved of what he was doing and he rushed onto a burning building to save Laurel even though she made it very clear through her words and actions that she never really loved him.

She confirms that in episode 1 of season 2 when she refers to him as her ‘friend’ then makes excuses about the fact that she didn’t cheat on him, not really, even though it kind of felt like she did, then reassures herself of that by saying that Tommy ‘would’ve wanted us to be together’ even though that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

Oliver’s biggest problem is that he’s emotionally immature and lacks the chip in his brain that recognizes that actions have consequences. Even now he sees himself as the center of the universe and everyone around him are there merely to serve a purpose within his narrative. 

I get that it’s his show but, if this were real life, then that would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Everyone uses Oliver’s 5 years away as an excuse for his actions but he had 22 years of life BEFORE the island and now 5 years after and a lot has changed but a lot hasn’t changed as well.

Oliver was always his mama’s ‘beautiful boy’ and he said to his mother in canon that her parenting style has always to let her children do anything they want and then to step in to sweep the consequences of their actions under the rug. Moira protects her children but she likes keeping them dependent on her as well. She offered them no structure, no discipline, and she withheld affection as a punishment before swooping in to save the day and basking in her ‘heroic motherhood’. In a way Moira has this sort of Munchhausen’s by proxy where she ensures her children have no sense of consequences so she can always remain the center of their universe.

It’s why we see a grown ass 20 year old Oliver curled up in his mommy’s lap and whimpering to her about knocking some girl up. Subconsciously Oliver  knew she’d make it go away, that’s why when Samantha told him she paid her off, Oliver began to object then immediately let it go with a guilty look on his face. After all, he practically told his mother to do it so how could he be angry with her for it?

Because of this, Oliver was raised with this idea that he should hand over his autonomy to his mother and let her fix everything and that nothing has consequences for him.

Notice that he treated Laurel the same way he treated his mother right down to the way he would curl up in her lap like a little boy.

Everyone saw this gif and cooed, I didn’t because I saw it for what it was:

 Ollie and mommy

Originally posted by oneofakindxx

Oliver knows he screwed up, he knows he’s about to get into trouble, so he cuddles like a little boy looking for comfort. This would be endearing except for the fact that we see him do this same thing with Laurel right after he finds out he got Samantha pregnant and knows he has to tell her soon and then he does it again when he confesses to Moira.

Basically Oliver is stunted emotionally. He knows he loves Tommy but he has no problem with telling his best friend to get the girl then sleeping with her because he wants the girl for himself. He doesn’t even stop to consider the consequences of his actions, he doesn’t care that he hurt Tommy until after the fact. 

As for Laurel, she’s a classic type A personality with a superiority complex. 

I want to emphasize that, as much as we may dislike her, Laurel is not the bad guy. Another friend of mine shared her headcanon about Laurel one day. She asked, ‘How did a girl from a working class family grow up with the sons of billionaires?’ The answer is that her mom was a teacher and, chances are, she taught at the school Oliver and Tommy went to. Lots of private schools allow the children of the teaching staff attend for free or at a discount so Laurel was probably enrolled at the same private academy. That said, she was still the teacher’s kid and she’s going to school with people who spend more on shoes than what both her parents earn in a year combined. Not only that but she has a little sister who is an admitted fuck up and two parents who are always working or going to school at night so she’s given the responsibility of taking care of her sister. Whenever Sara screws up, she catches the blame because she’s ‘the responsible one’.

Laurel busts her ass to be accepted by the kids she goes to school with; most teenage girls would. She gets straight A’s, she’s active in all the clubs, and she’s popular, but she can never be good enough. What’s worse is that Sara seems to have everything handed to her. Sara gets great grades without trying, she screws up and her parents bail her out or yell at Laurel for not watching her better, and she makes friends easily because she has this kind of laid back personality people respond to. Sara is fearless and people love her for that while Laurel resents the hell out of her for it. When she finds out that Sara is planning on hooking up with Oliver at a party, that’s the final straw for her.

Oliver is the most popular guy at school and her sister is going to wind up dating him on top of everything else so she tells on her, gets her grounded, then marches into that party with the intentions of snagging Oliver for herself.

Again this is at least partially canon.

Sara tells Oliver that Laurel hooked up with him that night because she knew they were planning on meeting up. She wanted to ‘steal’ Oliver from Sara because she resented Sara and felt like she deserved him, like he was a trophy. She justified her actions by saying that Sara was too young for Oliver or that she had a crush on him first but, really, Laurel never wanted Oliver so much as she wanted credit for getting Oliver. 

Throughout their relationship, Laurel constantly pushed Oliver into doing what she wanted. She had a plan and she expected Oliver to eventually fall in line. She couldn’t deviate from her plan which is why, no matter how many times Oliver cheated on her, she always took him back. 

Despite the fact that her father called her a gold digger, that’s not what Laurel is; she’s more like a social climber. Laurel is a goal oriented person; she knows what she wants and she won’t stop until she gets it. She also has that same blindness to consequences and collateral damage Oliver has and cannot accept failure. When she fails or is wrong she lashes out and deflects blame onto others or rewrites history in her mind. 

She stole Oliver from Sara but she rewrites history to say that Sara was a boyfriend stealer first even though she’s the one who spread that rumor around the school in the first place (again, that’s canon).

She says Oliver is the love of her life even though she caught him with more than a dozen of her ‘friends’ even before finding out about Sara and Samantha. (canon)

She runs into CNRI for files even though she’s warned not to go inside the building leading to Tommy’s death but she blames the Hood for not getting there in time to save him. She completely disavows any responsibility in the events leading up to his death. (canon)

She also disavows any serious relationship existed between them by rewriting history and painting them as ‘friends’, not ‘lovers’, and tells Oliver that Tommy would want them to be together. She even stages a romantic scene mere days after his funeral where she’s all smiles while looking over his pictures then launches into a discussion about moving in together and getting married as if the last six years never happened. (canon times infinity)

How these three people connect is simple:

Oliver is with Laurel because she offers him structure and she reminds him of his mother. Tommy fits in because he just wants a family and he wants to have a place where he is loved by the people he loves. Laurel wants to save the world and be the hero. She wants everyone to look at her and admire her and she knows she can do so many good things if she’s Mrs. Oliver Queen. She convinces herself that she loves Oliver because she has to love Oliver otherwise it would make her look like a bad person and Laurel is a very good person. Laurel is a hero in her own mind and anything else is unacceptable.

To put it simply, these are three very damaged people locked in a toxic relationship where they enable each other and feed on one another’s worst traits. If anyone comes out smelling like a rose it’s Tommy but he isn’t perfect either. He doesn’t understand that the reason Laurel can never love him isn’t because she loves Oliver more, but because he allows her to treat him like a tool and doesn’t have enough self-respect to demand more. 

Now, what should’ve happened was Tommy should’ve gotten therapy and met Felicity and never hooked up with Laurel in the first place that way when Oliver returned he’d be married to her and she would’ve turned him into a grown up.

Laurel should’ve dumped Oliver the first time he cheated on her and demanded the respect she was due. At the very least she should’ve taken that job in San Francisco and gotten the hell away from Starling. Maybe she would’ve met someone like Ray Palmer, someone who was successful and a bit oblivious who she could shape into the person she needed him to be but who could also stand up to her when necessary.

Oliver should’ve grown the fuck up a long time ago. When he knocked Samantha up, his mother should’ve gone to Robert, they should’ve sat Oliver and Samantha down, and Oliver should’ve been made to take responsibility then and there. If Oliver had been allowed to become a father then he would’ve buckled down and his entire life would’ve changed. I doubt he and Samantha would’ve been a couple but they would be co-parents. Oliver would begin working at QC part time and gone to school at Starling U. He would’ve matured and become more independent because he wouldn’t have had a choice. If Laurel was smart, that would’ve been the final straw and she would’ve left him to pursue her own life because sisters are doing it for themselves.

There wouldn’t have been an island either because Oliver wouldn’t want to be away from his kid for three months. It takes a minimum of a month to sail to China so they would’ve flown instead. He would’ve gone to the meeting then come straight home. 

The whole thing is a tragedy when you think about it. None of these characters are completely blameless and no one is the bad guy. The only bad guy, IMHO, is the writers who decided to tell us what a strong, smart, and noble character Laurel was without allowing us to see that.  She came off much worse than they intended her to because, in the end, these were male writers who thought a strong female was the same as a bitch. They thought that ambition was the same as being a social climber, and they failed to realize that no strong woman would put up with all the shit Laurel put up with.

The way most women viewed it was that he cheated and she took him back once. That’s fine, that’s understandable. He cheats again and she drops his ass because fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice, shame on you. The fact that Laurel took him back after he cheated on her more than a dozen times then slept with him after he ran off with her sister?

Yeah, no. That’s the point where the vast majority of your female audience turns on her and asks why the fuck she’s with this guy if she isn’t after the name and the money?

I honestly doubt that Oliver would’ve ever married her if the island ever happened. He never wanted that, he was just too chicken to say it. After Tommy died, the minute she started in on that crap again and began waxing poetic about becoming Mr and Mrs Queen and saving the people of Starling City together he tuned out and split for Lian Yu because he would rather go back to hell then live in that particular section of heaven.

Hope that answers your question. :)  

anonymous asked:

Jon needing to be saved tim and time again Stannis, Crasters wife, Sansa and LF, Sandy, Benjen is too just overdone. Basically like a damsel in distress because it were a woman, people would have been saying exactly this. They always put him in these situations, same as Jon will die or won't die?

I don’t mind the moments when Jon needs other people to help him. I think that he does so much good for others that when people help him it’s just fine. And I couldn’t think of anyone less a damsel than my boy Jon Snow. 

So here we go, you didn’t ask for this but you’re going to get it. All of the times Jon Snow either shows he is a strong ass dude who can take care of himself and/or the times Jon does genuine good for others that earn him a little good karma and assistance.

This will strictly refer to the show!Jon since anon is bringing up some examples of Jon being “saved” that we don’t know will take place in book!universe (Sansa/LF, Benjen, etc).

Jon grows up in a household full of people he can never truly feel a sense of belonging with. He loves his father and siblings so muchbut Catelyn and (we are to assume based on her insistent apology in 6.04) Sansa make sure he is aware that he is one apart from them. So one would understand if maybe Jon turned out to be weak or bitter. But he’s not.

Originally posted by cerseilannister

He is driven from his home as a teenager, sent to live in one of the most inhospitable—and we later learn, dangerous—places in the world. Yes, he’s a bit of a shithead at first when he’s there but he quickly learns his place and makes friends with his brothers. The real reason I bring up his early time at the The Wall is because we get to see the strength of Jon’s character very quickly when he defies Alistair Thorne, putting his own status there in jeopardy, just to defend his friend, Sam. That takes its own sort of bravery.

Originally posted by rubyredwisp

At the end of the first season after Ned is killed Jon almost deserts The Wall so he can fight at Robb’s side. He knows the consequences of being a deserter. Our first scene with Jon shows him watching a beheading of a deserter. He knows that he will be on the run forever and will have to hide his identity, but he is perfectly willing to ruin his own life to try to help his brother.

In season 2 when he ranges north of The Wall with his brothers he is separated from them with Qhorin Halfhand and falls upon the group of wildlings. Jon is expected to execute Ygritte but he doesn’t, because he thinks for himself and sticks to his own ideals. He knows early on that it isn’t right to kill someone just because they were unlucky enough to be born north of The Wall. He defies his superiors again, again to help someone else.

Originally posted by aryajon

When he is taken prisoner by the wildlings he follows through with Qhorin’s plan to stage a fight, and as Qhorin orders, Jon kills him. This is a man Jon admires, his ally. This was likely incredibly difficult but he does it to keep them both from dying as wildling prisoners so that someone can get back to the Watch and deliver news of what they’ve discovered.

Then Jon manages to ingratiate himself to the wildlings and become one of them. And while to some extent it’s an act so he can get back to Castle Black alive, he also genuinely likes the wildlings and develops real relationships with them and a real appreciation for their spirit and way of life. Even so, he never forgets his duty and almost dies getting back to The Wall to report back to his Brothers.

He doesn’t lie about breaking his vows and sleeping with Ygritte. He could. There aren’t any wildlings at Castle Black to contradict is story. But he is open and honest with Thorne, Maester Aemon, and the others because Jon is an honest person and someone who always takes responsibility.

He takes some men with him back north of The Wall after his return to avenge the mutiny at Craster’s Keep. He is under no obligation to undertake such a task and the party of men to go with him is small. Doing this again signifies Jon’s principles and sense of justice. He does not leave the responsibility to someone else but takes it on himself at great personal risk, and he is successful.

When the wildlings assault Castle Black Jon fights people who were his friends, and he fights bravely. If it wasn’t for his warnings to his Brothers, his battle strategy, and his own fighting prowess, one could argue that Castle Black would have fallen to the wildlings’ greater numbers that day.

He then travels north of The Wall again to face Mance man-to-man and try to treat with him, knowing that to do so is likely suicide. I can’t stress this enough. In what way is this kind of courage indicative of a “damsel” character? 

When Stannis’s men apprehend the wildling forces and attempt to burn Mance at the stake, Jon Last of the Mohicans their sadistic asses and shoots Mance to end his suffering. Once again, what a badass. He has just witnessed firsthand what Stannis and Melisandre are capable of, and still put himself on the line to save his friend from a tortuous death. I mean???

Originally posted by killbilled

Also in season 5, Jon is elected Lord Commander. He has risen through the ranks from being a simple bastard, barely more than a child, to the leader of a force of men that protects the entire realm from the greatest threat it has ever known. He of course, like literally ANY human, had help along the way from others, but no one gave this to him. He earned it, and did the job well—though not well enough to please all of his Brothers (but more on that later).

While serving as Lord Commander Jon brought about the most radical reform in the history of the Night’s Watch. He travelled north of The Wall to Hardhome with Tormund to treat with the last of the wildling forces. This scene shows us the depth of Jon’s courage when he killed a White Walker in single combat and evacuated thousands of wildlings to safety so that the Night King didn’t have a total victory that day.

Originally posted by lifesucka

He actually brought wildlings through the gates and into safety despite intense protest from his Brothers. Once again, Jon put himself in harm’s way to help other people. And of course, as we know, this cost him his life. Literally. Thorne and the others murder Jon for what they consider treason to The Watch.

Originally posted by timelordinaustralia

When he is brought back, Jon is given literally no time to grapple with what has happened to him. He has died and seen that there is no afterlife. He is visibly extraordinarily shaken by this incident and wants nothing more than to leave The Wall and find peace somewhere else. But then Sansa arrives and we get another example of Jon putting his personal wellbeing second to assisting others.

Originally posted by winterfellskingdom

He even tells Sansa that he has spent his entire life fighting and is tired. But he agrees to help her take Winterfell back from the Boltons and in doing so takes part in an extremely dangerous battle where the odds are stacked soundly against them. This, as we know, starts off with Ramsay’s sick game in which he murders Rickon right before Jon’s eyes. This causes Jon to abandon the battle plan and the pincer maneuver as he rushes headlong into a column of armed cavalry.

Originally posted by thisis-a-mans-world

Is it ill advised? Yes. Is it an emotional decision on his part? Yes. But is it cowardly, inept, or something that makes him a “damsel” who needs saving? No. I believe strongly after having watched 6.09 several times now that even if Ramsay had not pulled his stunt with Rickon and Jon’s men had followed their original battle plan verbatim, they still would have lost to Ramsay’s superior numbers and clearly very well-trained army without the assistance of The Vale.

Originally posted by jonsnownoshow

So I guess you could make the argument here that the men of The Vale had to “rescue” Jon like a damsel in distress character. But I disagree. This is one of the big issues that I have with season 6 and with the relationship the writers created between Jon and Sansa. Sansa knew that she had LF on her side and the Vale’s army at her disposal, but she chose to hide this from Jon. So I feel this is a matter of viewer perspective. You say Jon needed to be rescued because he is a damsel. I say Jon would not have needed any help and thousands of men could have lived instead of died on that battlefield if only Sansa had been honest with him. I know that Sansa has been hardwired not to trust anyone after all that has happened to her throughout the series, but we even heard that she trusts Jon when Brienne asks her about it. In the now famous scene where Brienne hilariously calls Jon “brooding.”

And she had plenty of opportunity to put that trust in Jon and tell him about LF. The writing in this part of the season was very strange to me. We saw scenes, such as the one where Jon receives the letter from Ramsay, where Sansa was treated with respect and allowed to speak freely and say her piece among his men and advisors. When they went around the North asking the Stark bannermen for assistance, Sansa was by Jon’s side, treated as an equal, freely allowed to speak with these lords and try to win their favor. At no point do we see Sansa silenced by Jon or Davos or Tormund, etc. Yet on the eve of battle, their dialogue suggests that Sansa has been given no chance to warn Jon of Ramsay’s trickery or to tell Jon that she’s got an ace up her sleeve, that if they wait just one day, the numbers will be on their side and their chances of victory will be far better with LF’s army.

Originally posted by weasleysweaters

Instead they have a yelling match in the tent during which Sansa cryptically tells Jon not to do what Ramsay expects him to do, and leaves it at that. If she had told him that she has this other force coming their way, then things could have been different and no one would have needed saving in the first place. I don’t feel that the events of 6.09 are the result of Jon’s own failings or something that required him to be saved as if he is a helpless, damsel character. What I think actually happened in that instance was the writer’s doing a huge disservice to Sansa’s character–one of the smartest women and most adept survivors in the show–by making her withhold important information with no real good reason that we can see, resulting in a near-disaster that simply made better suspense and good TV for the viewer because it caused the battle to be more dire for our heroes.

And as far as Benjen is concerned, the wight hunt in general seems, from what we know, to be a very foolhardy endeavor but a necessary one nonetheless. It is just another instance of Jon walking into danger to do what MUST be done. It is conceivable for not only Dany but the rest of the southron lords to need proof in order to be invested in the Great War, and someone needs to get that proof. We have seen at Hardhome just how devastatingly powerful the WW army is, and Jon faces their horde with only a handful of men. That is incredibly brave and yes, I am glad that Benjen intervenes to help him in this crucial moment.

But overall, for every person who has ever come to Jon’s aid, he has helped more people. He is a physically and mentally strong character who still maintains his conscience and kindness in a cruel and twisted world. Jon Snow is by far my favorite character and I will continue to love him forever, and hope that people save and help him, as he saves and helps others. Because he is the glue holding all of our favorite characters together, and without him, we would be watching a very different, and frankly not as interesting show.

Originally posted by casaharington

I think what would be boring and unwatchable would be if Jon never needed help. If he was this impossibly perfect hero figure who not only always saves the day, but is always moral and good, always does the right thing, always looks fuckable, is a sex god who goes down on women unprompted, always treats his family right …  do you see what I’m saying? He has to mess up sometimes to be human We all need help sometimes, even Jon Snow. And I don’t think that makes him like a weak character as you suggest. I don’t think that at all. If anything I think it is more progressive in terms of gender tropes for Jon to need saving sometimes. So I don’t really know what prompted this ask, anon.

The North Remembers [Jon Snow x Reader]

Originally posted by thronesdaily

You guys seemed to be intrigued on what I’ve been secretly working on….AND IT’S HERE! In the spirit of Game of Thrones I’ve decided to take up a long and exciting project. This series will follow the events happening thru ALL SEASONS Hopefully, we can make it through! 



 What do you guys think? Are you ready?

You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, carefully tracing the outlines of your still somewhat sleepy features as your quick fingers wrap a string of leather around your now finished (color) braid, without a hair out of place. (Color) eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of your room as satisfied you pull away and re-think every single little detail that had already happened and will happen on this very day.

Today you are officially assigned to be Sansa Stark’s handmaiden and are to follow her journey all the way to Kings Landing.

Keep reading

The Wayfaring Stranger

Pairing/s: Thorin x (human!wife)reader

Setting/Timeline: Almost 2 years after BoTFA, Erebor’s catacombs, Durins live!AU

Warning(s)/Genre(s):Mention of death, may elicit trauma/s or phobia/s regarding death, angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,547

The Hobbit, Thorin II Oakenshield, and the Company © J.R.R. Tolkien
Context © me

Based on @deepestfirefun‘s prompt.

A/N: Another songfic for our beloved Thorin! And since I posted it today, Aug. 22, therefore I dedicate this to the ever immaculate birthday boy Richard Armitage! May he still be graced with more blessings and all the love in the world in the years to come! WE LOVE YOU RICHARD!! <3 

And since this request was fired in full force, I’ll have this fired in full force as well. And I’m sorry if there’s not much fluff as expected, or so I think. Still, so sorry, and it’s a long one.

If interested, listen to the song here.

The Hobbit tag list: @sdavid09, @life-is-righteous, @fizzy-custard, @igotanaddixon@deepestfirefun, @fromthedeskoftheraven 

Masterlist: HERE

Originally posted by thorinoakenshieldconfessions

Part 1 - Whatever You Imagine

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world alone”

‘Poor soul.’ You thought as you quietly approached the body of a dwarrow, basking in the dim light of the candles as it lay on top of his tomb.

“There is no sickness, toil nor danger
In that fair land to which I go”

‘Such young soul. Never deserving to be robbed away with life.’

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