the hand of the king and i

anonymous asked:

Hey Solas have ya ever stopped ta consider mebbe askin' fer help with yer crazy relatives insteada... ya know... tryin' ta take it all on yerself? Mebbe more'n one perspective'd and a few more hands'd make things less... world end-y? Y've been asleep fer a long time and shit done changed. I could help, 'm real good at findin' ways ta do impossible things. -Warden Commander Tabris (A post script: Mi amor please stop flinging yourself at old gods and their problems -Z.)

What the fenedhis, Tabris.


Nothing Without Love: Chapter 4

Gladio x Reader

THE SLOW BURN IS REAL AND THE DRAMA IS CONTINUING YO. I can’t wait for the next chapter hehehehehe. 

I hope this was worth the wait. I swear I rewrote this 1000 times to make sure it was perfect for y’all’s lovely eyes. AH MULTICHAPTER FICS ARE SO FUN. I HAVE SO MANY PLANNED HELP ME. AHHH. 

Anyway, please enjoy <3

Tagging people that I know enjoy this series so far. Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future updates: @themissimmortal, @neko-otaku13, @stunninglyignis, @itshaejinju, @cupnoodle-queen <3

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“You look so beautiful, Y/N,” Iris beamed as you took your place just outside the double doors of the Citadel throne room.

Your dreaded wedding day had finally arrived. Here you stood, trembling slightly in your ivory wedding gown ready to be presented to your betrothed like a damn pig for slaughter. A single tear sting at your left eye… you felt so useless.

Keep reading

The magus used a riding crop on his back, and holy sacrificial lambs, Gen had come up off the groind like he’d been catapulted. It was as if he was a different person, some stranger who’d manifested in Gen’s body. He’d dumped Pol flat onto his back–something I’d never thought I’d see–and gone for the magus. If Pol hadn’t been up again so quickly, the magus was ready to run and dignity be damned. Even with Pol between him and Gen, the magus had been wary.

Sophos, recounting event from The Thief, A Conspiracy of Kings hardcover, pg 71

1) Unexpectedly Scary Gen is still my favorite Gen.

2) I would give my right hand to see this scene enacted on the big screen. It would be startling (for new audiences) and freaking hilarious (for me.)


4) Not only did the magus have a sword, but he is regarded across three countries for his skills with that sword (per QoA.)

5) Unexpectedly Gen must be VERY unexpectedly scary.

6) Though I do wonder how much of this was colored by Sophos’s hero worship for Gen.

anonymous asked:

If a king had a pretty crappy heir, couldn't he disinherit him for a better family member? Wouldn't the public support this such as a case of supporting Tommen over Joffrey? Or is it a really hard coded law?

Medieval law is built on tradition and precedent. Breaking with precedent is not easy to do, and typically requires a pretty serious reason. The one prince we see explicitly disinherited, Prince Duncan the Small, was disinherited for marrying a commoner. I would imagine that if Robert wished to support Tommen over Joffrey, Joffrey would probably have to commit something pretty egregious and get banished to the Watch.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

anonymous asked:

Since you mentioned pre-relationship Peter ;) AHEM, SO,, our soft boy was so head over heels for you that he literally couldn't contain it and would talk nonstop about you to literally anyone who would listen?? Like Aunt May practically knew everything about you before you two met, Ned the poor boy had to watch his lovestruck friend pine constantly, and half of Queens knows you as Spider-Man's anonymous one true love. Like he'd just ramble on to complete strangers about you,, •Ari•


  • peter fucking is the king of pining
  • he’s such a hopeless romantic 
  • like he didn’t even have to get to know you that well 
  • he saw you and suddenly his heart shouldn’t be beating this fast and his hands shouldn’t be shaking like this 
  • but oh my god just look at her 
  • and when you did something small & nice for like lend him a pen?? or help him pick up his books? 
  • peter swore he was in love with you 
  • poor ned, the kid knew more about you than he knew about liz which was really fucking saying something
  • because peter is such a rambling dork who can’t shut up about his crush 
  • and when ned found out you two weren’t even friends
  • he had such a “peter what the fuck” moment  
  • so he marched right up to you during lunch and was like hey, do you wanna come sit with me and peter? 
  • peter was behind him, almost ripping his hair like ned what are you DOING
  • peter as in the cute kid who stammered adorably when lent him a pen & clumsily dropped his book?? 
  • of course you already had a crush on him 
  • so of course you jumped on the opportunity with a smile that made peter weak at the knees
  • and after you became friends? 
  • peter was even fucking worse with his dorkish and cute rambling about you 
  • one time he was talking to ned in a cafe and the waitress interrupted saying, “you and you’re girlfriend sound like a cute couple,” 
  • peter just blushed- partly at the comment, the other at the thought of you two being together
  • “oh-uh, er, no s-she’s not my girlfriend.” 
  • yet
  • basically he was in love from the moment he laid eyes on you 
  • and yes it means when he’s on spidey duty, he always swings by your apartment like every half hour 
  • just to check in on his love 


Like for real!!! Namekians have only four fingers on the hands! I saw in the manga. (It’s good that I have been buying this manga lol.) King Piccolo, Piccolo Junior, Dende and others…  Anime lied to me with no mercy orz! And now I wonder, what do their feet look like.

anonymous asked:

29 with neville 😏

“Come over here and make me.”

There were a few perks to being with Neville, other than the whole ‘I’m dating the love of my life’ thing. For one, he’s comfortable enough around you to fall asleep while traveling. As such, your twitter and instagram are coated in pictures and videos of his face pressed up against windows and seats as he slept. 

That, he was kind of okay with. It was when you took pictures of him with random snapchat filters that he had a problem. He said there was something about snapchat filters that demeaned him as king of the cruiserweights. 

You, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with it. You loved using the filters on his sleeping form. And his reactions when he finally woke up and saw his pictures plastered all over the place? Well, you loved that even more.

Like now, when he was passed out on the bed in the hotel room the two of you shared. You were standing off to the side, cycling through the filters and giggling to yourself after every photo.

“Stop that,” Neville grumbled, one eye popping open. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can sleep, I’m not bothering you,” you argued, taking another photo.

“You are, though. The knowledge that when I wake up, those photos will be everywhere is bothering me.” 

“Oh, you poor baby,” you mocked, sliding your thumb over your screen to access a different filter. 

“Stop,” Neville groaned, throwing his hands over your face as you let out another giggle, taking another photo.

“Come over here and make me,” you chastised, wiggling your hips playfully as his eyes opened fully.

In a flash, Neville was off the bed, arms wrapped around you tightly as he moved you onto the bed. One of his hands effortlessly slid the phone out of your hand, tossing it onto his bag.

“Not fair,” you pouted, watching your phone fly off the bed.

“Life’s not fair, princess,” Neville replied, smirking down at you. You rolled your eyes at him, even while he pressed a kiss to your lips. “Now come on. We need sleep.”

“I’m still tweeting those pictures later,” you told him as the two of you got settled in the bed.

“Fine. I’ll tweet the ones I have of you,” Neville shrugged, pulling you into his chest.

“What?” you shrieked, eyes wide. Neville just laughed, pressing another kiss to the side of your head before his eyes slid shut, letting sleep fall over him once again.

  • Me: sees queen Elizabeth is trending
  • Me: hasn't had an emergency news alert from the BBC
  • Me: is confused
The Wakandan Royal Portrait offers clues to the dangers within the fictional nation


“What makes him different from other superheroes first and foremost is he doesn’t see himself as a superhero,” says director and co-writer Ryan Coogler (Fruitvale Station, Creed). “He sees himself as a politician. That’s the first thing on his mind when he wakes up in the morning. ‘How am I going to fulfill my duties as king of this place?’”

That means not just fighting external foes, but keeping the citizens of his nation happy. He’s a king, but not a tyrant. And Wakandans don’t speak with only one voice. There are many political factions, many clashing points of view. Some are ready for revolution. Some are being pushed.

“He has to keep harmony between the tribes within his country, and that means managing expectations and doing things that are unpopular,” Coogler says. “At the same time, he is the protector of that nation.”


Angela Bassett costars as Ramonda, once the queen, now the mother of the king.

“She is one of the advisors that he would look to,” Boseman says. “He has to look to her for some of the answers of what his father might want or might do. She may not be exactly right all the time, but she definitely has insights. She is the queen mother. And she’s that for not just him, but for everybody.”

Bozeman laughs. “She’s has her hands in everything — even his love life.”


“The one thing I will say about all the female characters in this movie is that they are very strong,” Boseman says. “It’s a very matriarchal society.”

One of them is Wakanda’s undercover operative Nakia, played by 12 Years a SlaveOscar-winner Lupita Nyong’o. She may actually be the closest thing to 007 in this movie, and she’s a former lover of T’Challa’s.

“She is a departure from what she was in the comic book,” Nyong’o says. “Nakia is a war dog. She is basically an undercover spy for Wakanda. Her job is to go out into the world and report back on what’s going on.”

She also boasts some unique weaponry. “We call them her ring blades,” says Moore. “The ones Lupita carries while in the green outfit are based on traditional African weaponry. However, she does get a hi-tech upgrade later in the film, compliments of Shuri.”


Letitia Wright plays T’Challa’s kid sister, who is no one you want to face in battle either. “She is also a genius and runs the entire Wakandan design group,” says producer Kevin Feige, whose also president of Marvel Studios and one of the chief architects of its interlocked universe. “She’s responsible for all these amazing technological advances that Vibranium has brought about from Wakanda.”

Here she is pictured with twin, panther-shaped weapons. It’s not clear yet what they do exactly, but it probably hurts.


She’s not technically family, but she’s just as close. This character played by The Walking Dead‘s Danai Gurira is the head of the Dora Milaje, the all-female special soldiers unit that protects the kingdom (and the king) from harm.

“They are a very powerful force,” she says. “They are not utopic, but what Wakanda has down well is it has allowed people to function within their strengths. These women, their strength is to preserve Wakanda. It’s more like the secret service in a sense that it’s not just military. She is head of intel.”

Okoye has guilt over the death of the previous king, and she’s generally a stoic presence. But she’s not unfeeling. “She can be serious, but she also has an unexpected sense of humor,” Gurira says. “She has a heart, but for her country and for her people. She’s not a person who doesn’t connect to human beings as a result of what she does.”


There is an enemy in this portrait.

In the comics, he was once a Wakandan known as N’Jadaka, but he took on this “death-dealing” nom de guerre when he became a dissident, then an exile, from his homeland.

Michael B. Jordan’s character is one of the antagonists of the film, allied with the mercenary Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis, reprising his role from Avengers: Age of Ultron), an arms dealer who has plundered Vibranium before and plans to do it again. He’s addicted.

In The Godfather terms, Killmonger has sided with this outsider against “the family,” his brothers and sisters of Wakanda. “I think Killmonger has his own opinion on how Wakanda has been run and should run, and what I think Michael brings to the table is sort of a charming antagonist, who doesn’t agree with how T’Challa is running things, frankly,” says Moore. “I think that puts T’Challa in a difficult situation. Killmonger is a voice of a different side of Wakanda.”


Get Out star Daniel Kaluuya plays T’Challa’s best friend, who is also a member of one of the most vital groups in the nation. “W’Kabi is the head of security for the Border Tribe,” says Moore. “They live on the borders of Wakanda and serve as the first line of defense for the country.”

In other words, he helps maintain the disguise that Wakanda is just mines, farms, and woods.

“To outsiders they appear to be what people would ‘expect’ of a small provincial African nation – but the truth is they are some of the fiercest warriors in Wakanda, intent on protecting the secrets of their advanced nation at all costs,” Moore says.

Now that T’Challa is king, he asks W’Kabi to join him as a palace advisor.


Another vital voice of reason for the young king is Forest Whitaker’s shaman, a longtime advisor to T’Challa’s father and the keeper of the Heart-Shaped Herb, a plant that grows only in Wakanda and absorbs the Vibranium-rich minerals. When consumed, it gives the new leader superhuman strength. (But in the comics, it only works on members of the royal bloodline.)

“He’s somewhat a religious figure or spiritual figure,” Coogler says of Zuri. “Spirituality is something that exists in Wakanda in the comics, and it’s something we wanted to have elements of in the film. Forest’s character, more than anything, is a major tie-back to T’Challa’s father. Zuri is someone he looks to for guidance.”

As wondrous as Wakanda seems, it can also be treacherous. For all the talk of honor in The Godfather, the families were compulsively driven to destroy each other. 007 may venture to the most beautiful places (and people) on Earth, but there’s always a villain determined to wipe those places off the map. If Black Panther owes thematic inspiration to those predecessors, the danger comes hand in hand with the beauty.

But that’s where the similarities will end. When the Marvel Studios movie debuts Feb. 16, the story will remain on Earth, but its creators pledge to take fans to a world they’ve never seen before nonetheless.

“I don’t think people are prepared for what this movie is going to be,” says Feige. “Not just Black Panther, but the Dora Milaje, and Killmonger, and the entire design of Wakanda – both its traditional African-inspired elements, but also the Vibranium inspired techno-elements. I can’t think of a blend that has happened like that before in movies.”

There’s only one Black Panther, after all.

No matter who wants to lay claim to his throne.

theres no such thing as overkill. if the thing i wanted dead is dead, then it was exactly the right amount of kill

anonymous asked:

What's your take on the world ending for the Greek Gods? Or when they cease to be relevant to mankind, and what happens to them? Would Athena, Aphrodite and Artemis take the streets and march for Pride? Would Demeter be the manager at a zoo?

Time passes. The world changes. Temples fall. People now speak their names as if they are fairytales.

The gods are dead.


Apollo’s chariot lies broken and forgotten in the ruins of a city no one knows the name of anymore. He watches the sun crawl across the sky of its own volition, without him to push it forward.

“Do you miss it?” Artemis asks him, appearing by his side.  They stand at the top of a sparkling glass building, almost the same as ever. She walks among the mortals more than he does, she always has, and She’s dressed like one of them. Tight clothes and half her head shaved, sparkling gems curling up the delicate shell of her ear. She looks like one of the teenagers that fill his concert stadiums.

He thinks of the way his chariot threatened to escape his grasp every morning, the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on him, the burns and the undercurrent of fear that one day he would lose his grip on the reins and plunge the world into darkness.

Apollo leans his head on his sister’s shoulder. The sun rises slower without him, but it rises just the same. “No. Not really.”


Hephaestus’s workshop has evolved with the times – from a volcano base to a modern lab, but always a workshop bursting with creation. The cyclopes are still his best assistants.

Aphrodite steps over discarded parts and expertly walks around frantic cyclopes carrying bubbling concoctions. Her dark hair is swept up in a bun and she wears chunky glasses and a blood red pantsuit that almost hides the fact she’s the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. “I have a client, try not to blow up the house. Again.”

“Yes dear,” he says, but doesn’t looks away from his soldering. She hadn’t expected him too. His prosthetics are off and on the floor besides him, and he’s seated on a too-tall chair to compensate for the loss of height.

She reaches out and carefully touches the corner of his eye. Crow’s feet have started to work their way onto his face. They’re getting old. “It’s the couple that’s fighting because he wants kids and she doesn’t want to carry any kids but doesn’t want to say that. It would probably be easier if I just told them to adopt and threw them out the window.”

“Yes dear,” he repeats, sparks flying. A few land on her, but she doesn’t burn. Of course.

She moves her hand up and pushes it through his hair and resists the urge to pull him from his work and abandon her own so they can make out on his worktable. “I love you.”

Aphrodite turns to leave, but Hephaestus grabs her wrist and pulls her back. He holds up a single copper lily, the edges of the petals still glowing with heat it had taken to shape them. He carefully slides the stem into her hair so it sits at the base of her bun. He grazes her bottom lip with his thumb as he pulls his hand back to his side. “Yes dear.”


Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.


Hera sits on a pure white couch in an elegant mansion, smiling for the journalist seated across from her.

“What do you think is the most influential decision you ever made?” he asks, “If you could pinpoint the success of your business to one moment, what would it be?”

She tilts her head as the light of the camera flashes. “Why, divorcing my husband, of course.”

“Would that be your advice to young women hoping to be as successful as you?” he asks, “To not get married?”

Hera thinks of thousands of years by Zeus’s side, and how little it got her. She thinks of Hestia’s men, and Artemis’s women, of Hephaestus’s love for Aphrodite, of the way Hades softened the sharpest of Persephone’s edges.

She says, “Do not get married to someone who makes you less than you are. If you are not a better person for being together than apart, then do not be together. It’s as simple as that.”

Simple, but not easy.

Leaving Zeus was the hardest thing she’s ever done.


Persephone isn’t forced to spend half the year on the mortal earth anymore. She goes when she pleases, which isn’t often.

Sometimes she’ll sit by Artemis’s side while she brings a new life into the world and holds the warm, wriggly child first. She visits hospitals and makes the flowers bloom out of season, and spends long hours sitting under the sun and feeling it’s warmth touch her face.

Hades left his realm rarely before, and even more rarely now. More people are being born than ever, meaning more people are dying than ever. Their realm is massive, comprising of all the dead of several millennia. Hades and Hecate spend their days as always – desperately trying to expand the realm so that they don’t all have to live on top of each other.

“Have you heard?” she asks one day, seated on his desk and leaning across it so he can’t work on the latest draft for another level of their realm. “The gods are dead.”

He gives up on attempting to tug it out from underneath her. “Are they? That’s odd, none of them are here.”

Persephone doesn’t bother to hide her smile. They haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe they never will. But when death comes for them, as death does for all, it will be to Hades and Persephone’s door they are brought. Hades himself will usher Gaia and Amphitrite into the underworld, when the time comes.

That time is not today.

“Darling, I really do need to work on this,” he ineffectually tugs on the map again.

She pushes him back into the chair, climbing on top of him and pressing their foreheads together. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, and obligingly moves his head so Persephone can nibble at his neck. He manages a whole thirty seconds before going, “I mean, I really do, Hecate said if I didn’t have a plan by the time she leaves for the mortal realm tomorrow, I’ll either have to wait until she gets back or do it by myself, and I’d really prefer to do neither–”

Persephone kisses him to shut him up, twisting and pushing them through the realm so they land on their bed. “I’ll help you finish it later. Focus on me now.”

Hades doesn’t answer, but he does flip them so he’s above her and reaches below her skirt, so she’ll take that as agreement.


Hestia sits around a bonfire, watching a group of teenagers get drunk and dance around the flames. They’ll never be younger than right now, never feel as much love for each other as they do right now.

She is besides an old man who warms his hands from the fire coming from an abandoned trash can.

She lies on a bed as a girl lights two dozen candles around it as a surprise for when her lover gets home.

She watches a young man make dinner for his boyfriend for the first time and burn the chicken on both sides. They eat it together anyway.

She sits on the kitchen counter when a sister takes out a pie from the oven, made special for her little brother’s birthday.

She is there when a father ticks the thermostat up high in freezing dawn of morning so it will be warm by the time his wife and children awaken.

Most people don’t have hearths anymore. But there is warmth, and love, and for Hestia that is enough.


As their names fade from existence, as his name is called less and less on the battlefields of mortal men, the more Ares sleeps.

He falls asleep in too tall trees and on park benches. He sleeps in seedy motel rooms and naps in every one of Athena’s libraries. He sleeps curled up on a chair in Aphrodite’s office, and on the floors of a lot of veteran resource centers. As fast as he can tell, that’s the most they help any veteran.

Still, his favorite place to sleep is the underworld.

He goes knocking on Orpheus’s door, who is always willing to play for him. “Hades is here,” Eurydice says, “Would you like to me to go get him?”

He shakes his head, “Persephone is home. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eurydice and Orpheus share the same look of faint disapproval, but neither of the say anything, for which he is grateful.

He lies in the soft grass of the garden Persephone made, and lets Orpheus’s playing lull him to sleep.

Later, he’s woken by strong arms picking him up and holding him against a familiar chest. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know who’s holding him. “I can go,” he yawns, his actions at odds with his words as he pulls himself even closer the warmth coming off the king of the underworld.

“No,” Hades says. “Stay.”

Ares lets out a content sigh as Hades presses his lips to his forehead, and he’s not great about touch, about people laying their hands on him and getting in his space. But Hades has always felt safe, felt like home.

He stays.


The gods are dead.

Long live the gods.

gods and monster series, part xiv

read more of the gods and monsters series here