the one and only body queen

Ok but I’ve been binge watching the Narnia movies again, after not having seen them for a long ass time, and now, being a little older and (hopefully) a little more mature than I was when I first saw them, I always feel physically sick when I see the Pevensies being children after The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe because they just aren’t anymore and I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like, to grow up as kings and queens, respected and important, and full of duty, only to go back to being 8 years old (in Lucy’s case).

They didn’t remember England, or the wardrobe, or their old lives, they were Narnians and they were pushed back, not only into a world that was bound to make them miserable, but also into bodies that couldn’t reflect what they’d been through.

Just imagine Peter, waking up in the morning, not remembering that he isn’t the Magnificent anymore, imagine him subconsciously reaching for something to trim his beard, only to remember that it isn’t there anymore, to expect old battle wounds to hurt until he realises that they can’t because he doesn’t have them.

Or Edmund, who left England a stubborn selfish little boy who only wanted his mummy back, and came back the Just, the redeemed traitor, the diplomat, the man, having to resort to being ten years old and probably not even allowed to peek at a newspaper because he’s just a child after all. He plays chess, incredibly well, he doesn’t mock his siblings anymore and all the friends he knew when he was still a boy are either irritated at his behaviour or too childish, too selfish for somebody who knows very well just what selfishness can do, who has a part of the White Witch in him, always.

Susan forgets, we all know that. She must’ve lain awake at night, remembering just what it felt like to cover pain and viciousness and gore with a smile and a blush, remembering being the Gentle, but never in war. She must’ve cried for all the lost years, for all that she learnt and that she can never forget, for all that she has accomplished, that will bring her nothing in this world that doesn’t feel like hers. So she sits down in front of a mirror, talks herself out of believing, telling herself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream, that this Narnia her siblings talk about is nothing but a game.
The truth is too terrifying, to devastating to face.

Lucy, little Lucy, who grew up under Mr Tumnus’ smiles and Aslan’s approving gaze, who was loved by all, who did learn how to rule, how to negotiate but who never forgot just what it means to be a queen of Narnia, this girl who matured into a woman, who had a woman’s mind and body and a queen’s grace, she who they called the Valiant, the lion’s daughter, she shrank into herself, into a child, younger than even her siblings. She remembers, clearest of them all, she is the only one who still knows Mr Tumnus’ face, still knows Aslan, but she is just a girl, a pretty little thing who will never be the queen she was, who will never be the woman she was because queenship forms a person in ways no schools can.

They must’ve been devastated when they tumbled to the floor, short and small, and there’s a war they have no control over and Lucy is small, Edmund is skinny, so skinny and Peter and Susan have lost their glow and they’ve changed, they’ve changed so much. (The first time, somebody calls them by just their names, they feel invalidated and small. And offended. They’re kings and queens, they’ve earned their titles and now they have to sit in a dim room filled with children and listen to teachers, have to allow themselves to be insignificant and nothing more than what they were when Lucy first stepped into Narnia - frightened children in the middle of a war they wish was never there in the first place)

modern soc au

inej: 

  • loves to dance !!! esp ballet but she can dance to whatever tbfh, she’s that good 
  • likes to wear caps, esp backwards. really loves bomber jackets too. 
  • has a couple, small tattoos dedicated to her saints 
  • is that one kid who loves to do parkour (both ironically and unironically) for instance is really good at it but sometimes just yells PARKOUR and steps over a rock
  • usually found eating lunch with her pals on the roof of the school 
  • is amazing at hide and seek like holy fuck ????? hid for 2 hours once and wasn’t found, came back the next day and was like “y'all losers SUCK" 
  • loves to study other people’s cultures, as well as history and is great as p.e (never has gotten a bad grade in the flexibility tests) 
  • likes to read poem books 
  • has a black cat as a pet named “saint" 
  • pronounced meme as "mehmeh” the first time she read it 
  • only has snapchat and instagram. is that kid who ALWAYS posts the sunset every day, esp from weird/high places and the comments are always “HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET UP THERE" 
  • cried the most during fox and the hound 
  • always braiding nina’s hair. Knows how to do all the super advanced onces as well
  • "I don’t know, CAN YOU?" 
  •  the best one at pushing people on the swings 
  • AMAZING AT JUST DANCE WITH JESPER 
  • "sorry I ran out of fucks to give try again later maybe?" 
  • gives the nicest presents. always knows what a person wants for christmas/their birthday 
  • the one who’s really into photography and is always taking aesthetic™ pics of Nina for her social media accounts 
  • Prefers tea over coffee

wylan:

  • bullied for not being able to read (at least up until high school), so is super shy 
  • loves drawing. the artistic™ one who takes anatomy to be able to draw people better 
  • MASTER FLUTE MUSICIAN. On the school band. Jams hard af when he plays it 
  • is in gem math and AP chem with kuwei. 
  • loves sweet. addicted to blue jolly ranchers. his tongue is always blue 
  • constantly pushing up his thick rimmed glasses (even if they ain’t on, which causes him to poke his eye)
  • looooves all the superhero shows on the CW 
  • V neck sweaters. always
  • always has his trusty satchel
  • only has tumblr. has like 10k followers because of his artwork. 
  • ”‘illuminati’ ? is that a band?“ 
  • cat person even though he’s allergic to cat fur. absolutely adores inej’s cat. settles for owning a horned lizard named "shrek" 
  • secretly a huge fan of memes 
  • really gay for tom holland and ed sheeran (calls him "ginger Jesus”) 
  • gamer with jesper. they always play overwatch together, wylans better tho. a genji and Ana main 
  • cried the most during big hero six 
  • wylan, with blank eyes: “I like my coffee how I like my men” // jesper: *spits out his drink* 

matthias: 

  • sports fan obv. On the schools hockey team bc his fav is hockey. is extremely competitive when he plays it. Is constantly checking but never gets penalties (aka slamming the other players against the walls)
  • played basketball against jesper and surprisingly lost. jesper won’t let it go 
  • dog person. owns a pet pomsky (Pomeranian-husky) with nina who’s name is “bub" 
  • “long hair don’t care”draws inspiration from Harry styles 
  • really philosophical. takes all the philosophy/ethics classes available 
  • kind of sounds like Thor (thick and deep accent) 
  • a good™
  • "you’re all horrible trash”
  • “do we really have to be doing this now? I have to finish my homework" 
  • loves baking. bakes everything for the love of his life 
  • grey sweatshirts and adidas shoes 
  • wears contacts Because he hates how glasses look on him. only wears them when he’s home 
  • oblivious to all the women in love with him
  • "CAN YOU EVEN LIFT BRO? BECAUSE I SURE AS FRICK CAN” (doesn’t curse) 
  • real 👍🏻🤘🏻👌🏻life🤰🏻👼🏻🌱student📚✂️✏️athelete🏃🏼🥇🏆🥅🏒
  • has Facebook and Twitter only
  • cried the most during bambi and dumbo 
  • little spoon™ 
  • has a couple tattoos with very deep meanings

jesper: 

  • dancer with inej. dances like those ppl who look like robots ??? the ones who look like they freeze parts of their body while the others move. AMAZING at it 
  • loves jazz but also dubstep/edm and rap/r&b. Beyoncé is MOM/QUEEN. 
  • sometimes djs parties 
  • again, huge gamer with wylan. he’s a lucio and junkrat main for overwatch. loves like every video game ever 
  • loves all the marvel movies, in love with black panther (was team cap) 
  • dresses like a hipster but also sometimes a fuck boy (tank tops and shorts with a backwards cap style) 
  • favorite subject is business and debate. great negotiator 
  • cried the most during the lion king 
  • A+ cosplayer (especially his lucio cosplay) 
  • big supporter of human rights (LGBTA+, feminist, black lives matter, poc representation). Will LITERALLY get into fights over anyone who thinks otherwise. Fist fights, always supported by Kaz and Matthias. Got suspended for 3 days for breaking a kids nose who thought LGBTA+ people should **** ** ****) 
  • that one kid who has 50 fidget spinners and can do cool tricks with them. also manages to sell all of them 
  • skateboard pro™ 
  • always sends the blinking face meme, even if it’s out of context 
  • all the social medias. 
  • one tattoo only of a gun with a ‘bang’ flag coming out of it 

nina: 

  •  PROFESSIONAL👏🏻 MAKE 👏🏻 UP 👏🏻 ARTISTS 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 HAS HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF FOLLOWERS ON HER INSTAGRAM AND THE SAME FOR HER YOUTUBE CHANNEL 
  • Speaking of YouTube, she always does cute videos. Baking/cooking tutorial videos featuring Matthias, 'i do my boyfriends makeup’, 'my boyfriend does my makeup’, 'my boyfriend buys my makeup’, does make up tutorials obviously, challenges with her best friend inej like the 'whisper challenge’. everyone loves her and says her and Matthias are their otp 
  • loves fashion design, takes that class. 
  • loves horror movies/creepy things but also Disney 
  • great at roller skating 
  • always wins the best dressed awards ad school 
  • also huge fan of ed sheeran. loves little mix more than 5h. 
  • cried the most during 'up' 
  • Can speak like 4 languages (English, french, Latin and spanish) 
  • loves traveling and learning about new cultures too 
  • dancer!inej’s biggest fan and hockey!matthias’ biggest fan 
  • always breaks snapchat streaks 
  • likes to (friendly) debate with jesper, especially over stupid things 
  • amazing with kids. babysits all the time. calls “bub” (the dog) her and matthias’ baby 
  • big spoon™ 
  • notes are so fucking pretty. buys the most expensive stationary and notebooks 
  • also huge supporter of human rights. runs the feminist club. (Jesper is the Vice President) stresses loving yourself and your body, and makes sure to design comfortable yet GORGEOUS clothes for “"plus sized people”“ 
  • wins 'dynamic duo’ award with inej 
  • always eating lollipops 
  • has a few very small tatos of cute things like roses and crowns. has one quote written in cursive on her rib

kaz: 

  • prefers black coffee as well 
  • loves crime shows, whether they’re real or fake. for instance loves both 'Dateline’ and 'Criminal Minds’ also loves 'House’
  •  favorite class is psychology, learning how a person thinks and acts and feels
  • has the dregs tattoo on his arm * edge lord 9000™ * such a drama queen and diva like damn 
  • *deep sigh* "I think I’d rather go take a nap” *gets up and leaves* 
  • also loves computer science. knows how to hack shit like a pro 
  • always rough housing with jesper. broke a table once 
  • does walk with a cane. likes to slap matthias’ ass with it 
  • “bow down you fucking peasants" 
  • only types in lower case with 0 emojis and no punctuation marks. CONSTANTLY leaves people on read 
  • only has Twitter and snapchat. His posts on snapchat never have captions, yet somehow has a 200 day streak with Jesper and a 250 day streak with inej 
  • loves watching horror movies with nina 
  •  *in a fight* "oh I’ll sHOW YOU SOME DIRTY HANDS” *swings* 
  • gets second place for best dressed award 
  • always sending memes with no context in their group chat, as well as vines 
  • indie and alternative rock fan 
  • “does it look like I care because I’m sorry if it does I didn’t mean to give you that impression" 
  • head over heels for inej Ghafa like wow 
  • likes to read a lot of mystery books and non fiction books 
  • cried the most during finding dory 
  • can solve a Rubik’s cube under a minute and won’t let you forget it 
  • The one asshole who picks either Kirby or metaknight in super smash brothers brawl
  •  hates seeing the notification bubble so he always has all chats muted and notifications turned off for apps 
  • kiss ass to all the teachers to get them A’s

Kuwei: 

  • SCIENCE NERD. ALWAYS singing the bill nye theme song. Loves ASAPScience on YouTube. Master at chemistry and biology 
  • "hey did u know bill nye is, like, my dad" 
  • nina treats him like a baby 
  • loves everything to do with Star Wars while wylan loves star trek more. Fighting ensues. 
  • has a pet Siamese cat name sparky 
  • Used to have a huge crush on jesper and everyone knew it except jesper. 
  • knows the intro to the bee movie ("according to all known laws of aviation-”)
  •  jesper in the group chat: “gonna go shower be right back” // kuwei: “without me ;)?” // wylan: “KUWEI SWEAR TO FUCK” // kaz: “watch your fucking language wylan" 
  • obsessed with Pokémon go even if it died out (chose team instinct) 
  • "fight me on this" 
  • has Twitter, snapchat and instagram 
  • Always drinking ginger ale 
  • master at bop it 
  • the one kid who always forgets to pay you back for stuff 
  • is also into the CW super hero shows, so him and wylan are constantly talking about it 
  • loves cartoons and anime 
  • speaks fluent fuckboy 
  • God awful at comebacks 
  • "let’s take a selfie guys !!!” // “kuwei no-” // *snapshot sound* 
  • talks !!! Like !! This !!!! for,,, some reason ???????? 
  • huge nerd for other things too like lord of the rings and Harry Potter and game of thrones 
  • cried the most during inside out
  •  "do you think planes are scared of heights?“ // "for fucks same kuwei it’s 4am”
In Defense of the Misunderstood Hero, Mori Ougai

I’m sure many would raise eyebrows when they read the title because, Mori? A hero?

Many people portrayed Mori as a sadistic devil, but in no canon situation has Mori ever shown any sadistic tendency (like Dazai has). In fact, I’d say he’s the reverse of that. He took care of Elise very well, despite/even though she’s his own ability. He never once has hurt people for the sake of hurting people.

In fact whenever he didn’t have any business to take care of, his true personality shone through and it was not of a cold, heartless man with no conscience. Rather it was one full of dorkiness and gentle patience. Here, he even contacted Ango (who was sweating bullet because holy shit he’s being called by the fucking boss of Port Mafia) just to ask what color of dress will fit Elise more.

(For the love of anything holy I’ve scoured Ango and Oda’s tag in tumblr yet I can’t find it. It’s the extra DVD comic featuring Buraiha trio drinking and talking shit about Mori. In exchange, have these dorky dad and son interacting;

First thing first, I will give you what I think is the most important fact about Mori. Look at his line in this scene

Now this is his true nature; his main motivation for doing everything he did. The good of the organization.

At no point has Mori’s action ever benefit only himself. At every instance he appeared in the story, he’s doing something for the Mafia and for Yokohama. The only self-centered thing he has ever done was asking Elise to wear what he wanted her to wear and that’s moot point anyway since she’s his Ability and presumably modeled after his ‘ideal’ little girl.

In this scene, he saved four members of ADA and even gave Atsushi an important lesson. Why would he do such a thing when he could literally immobilize Anne and Lucy by bloodlust alone? He could have let her take Tanizaki and Atsushi, then pressure her to let him out with his memory intact. Not to mention that his Ability, Elise, was waiting just outside, standing by ready to break him out any time.

If he does this, not only he will go free with the memory of the attack and thus the secret of Anne’s Room, he would also take care of not one but three ADA agents. Rather, he chose to save all of them plus every single person Anne has swallowed in the Dark Room.

Now here;

This is the scene where he took over as boss. The fact that the Old Boss was bedridden and hallucinating while seemingly so thin, also from the way he was narrated by Hirostu in episode 21, implicate that his condition was something he contracted at a long period of time rather than it being something sudden.

Notice the circumstance in which he did it. Mori only killed the boss after he issued the order that would bring destruction not only to the Mafia but also to the city and nation at large, killing many people whether criminal or innocent. He didn’t do it before even though he could have.

By becoming the biggest bad of the bad, he resolved himself to take care of the light from the shadows. And this is important because if he hadn’t stepped in at that time either the Old Boss would have burnt Yokohama down or another heinous criminal would have taken over and brings the nation down with them.

He is protecting Yokohama by not letting people worse than him to take control of its biggest criminal organization. Notice what Kouyou think about him;

She supported him because of this too. She knew what it felt like to under one of those leaders that cared only for money and power like the Old Boss. Kouyou will not support people if all they brought with them was suffering and death the way she was forced to feel when her dearest was taken away from her. Under Mori’s reign, our queen Kouyou pledge her loyalty not to him but the kinder way he brought.

It can also be seen in this scene.

Mori could have taken effort to keep Kouyou there, but his tone and body language are open. He knew that Kouyou can go anytime and he’s not fighting to keep her there; Kouyou decided to stay on her own free will and he is appreciative of knowing he had a single ally he can absolutely trust on who also knew of his true motivation.

In this scene

It was made clear that he respect the Old Boss, so much that the death of a hundred subordinate made him embarrassed.  He’s not upset that he lost some underlings, he’s upset that he lost them without a good reason to justify their death. A miscalculation has taken a hundred of his soldiers.

And you might think his reaction to this is rather cold, but remember that all of them were members of the mafia. All of them are criminals who would be executed if they fall into the hands of the police and they also knew what they’re getting into when they joined the Organization.

You can probably say what he did to Odasaku was horrible, sure. But it was expected for the boss of the Mafia to do so. (further reading for this topic)

But you have to admit it was a stroke of utter genius. With the gifted Business Permit and no longer fearing the government, Mori would be freer to take down opposing criminal organization that might bother the peace. Rather, he focused the Mafia to expanding its power and outwardly he did so, like this there will be very little chance for either a rebellion or an enemy organization attacking them in their HQ. This would also mean less threat to Yokohama.

Fukuzawa’s remark in this was absolutely true. Not only between the two organization but also for him and Mori specifically. Mori loved Yokohama, enough to dip into the darkest of dark to protect it. And Fukuzawa knew it too because look at his line here

In this, it can be said that he didn’t want a war to break in Yokohama that might disturb its peace. But then why say ‘balance’?

This is because Fukuzawa knew the extent of his subordinate’s strength also that they will be able to kill Mori if they go all out. This is what he feared the most. While if he died, the Agency can be well-taken care of in Kunikida’s hand, once Mori’s dead there’s no one to reign in the Port Mafia and keep it from wreaking havoc, thus destroying the balance of Yokohama city into what it was before; the Dragon Head Rush. (you might want to read the novel of dark era to really grasp the situation. But basically it was a gang war that led to many victims including the families of Odasaku’s orphans)

More than that, the people who might succeed Mori would not be as kind as him. They might do what the Old Boss did and try to burn Yokohama down.

And this, I think, is also the main reason why Mori sent Dazai away from the Mafia. It is, of course, easy to assume what Dazai remarked about Mori’s intention in chapter 30/episode 21 to be the truth; that he did it to remove a threat to his position.

But is this the whole story?

The fact that he kept Dazai’s spot empty rather than choosing someone else to fill it was a paradox if you were to look at him from the angle of a man hungry for power. He has anticipated Dazai’s return, was so sure of it in fact that he sacrificed monetary and workload gains of having another Executive. If he wanted Dazai back in the first place, then why drive him out of the Mafia and into the ADA?

For now, imagine what would have happened if Dazai took over as the Boss if he’s still the same man he was before Oda’s death. Cruel, ruthless and uncaring for people’s life as he was, he would have gone into the same track as the Old Boss and destroys Yokohama as his mental health eroded. Not even Odasaku would be able to save him from himself at this point.

This is also why he asked Dazai back to the Mafia after taking such extreme methods to drive him out. Of course there are another reason, that is he needed his right hand back to drive out the Guild as he remarked.

But the main reason why he asked back after all this time was because there are people in ADA who have taught him about having something worth loving and worth protecting.

Mori felt that Dazai has learnt enough about the light and why it is something worth protecting. With it, when Dazai inevitably take his seat as the Boss of Port Mafia, Dazai would be able to follow his legacy as the Darth Vader of Bungou Stray Dogs and The Dark Knight of Yokohama. This is Mori’s special way of grooming Dazai to become his successor.

All this was so Dazai can be his successor and not the Old Boss’.

Conclusion for those who are too lazy to read 2000+ words of Mori being awesome: no, Mori is not an evil incarnate born to manipulate everyone to his own amusement.

If anything, he’s the greatest hero of the story. The same way the ADA is protecting the city and Japan from the light, Mori is protecting it from the shadows. With the balance that has been made between him and Fukuzawa, it is imperative that he keep doing what he did, or the balance will fall and Yokohama condemned into a lake of fire.

Asagiri Kafka is truly an exceptional writer. They made Mori into this all-bad boss of the Mafia while slipping in his real face every so often. Here is the author who made every character complex and with their own motivation. What made you think they’ll make the ‘villain’ as simple as a man existing just to be a villain?

Even Fitzgerald and Fyodor got development and reasoning for doing what they did, but the difference is they’re arc-villain and not whole story-villain like Mori. Their reign will be over with their arc, but Mori’s will live as long as BSD continues, so it’s imperative that they got their development and exposition early on so the readers can sympathize with them.

Thus I concluded my exposition of the anti-hero that has been protecting Yokohama all this time not by bathing in sunlight but by submerging himself in blood yet capable of keeping his head out of it depth; Mori Ougai.

I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.
When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.
And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.
Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to it.
—  Pablo Neruda, Love Poems
4

The pervasive hatred of black women that is misogynynoir comes out especially when black women are celebrating or showing pride in their representation of their black womanhood.

It’s even more reprehensible when this misogyny noir is packaged as Mainstream White Feminism. This isn’t the first time Beyonce was attacked for openly discussing her pregnancy, as fake feminists stretch feminist theory to some bizarre interpretation that Beyonce’s pregnancies are oppressing other women.

This is also not the first time jacked feminist theory was used to attack Serena Williams’s body. Female opponents have criticized Serena’s success and claim that it’s unfair because they don’t want their body to look like Serena’s therefore they will never be as strong and successful as her. These comments about Serena’s body resemble ideas about black women and black femininity that are centuries old. That black women can never be seen as “feminine” or beautiful. And any attempt to celebrate ones own black female beauty will be attacked and mocked.

Black motherhood has been under attack since the Victorian era. Black women are only allowed to be seen as the Welfare Queen mother who “eats her young”. Beyonce stands as direct challenge to that, asserting that black mothers are something to value and writers are doing all types of mental gymnastics to diminish her representations of motherhood.

Let’s not forget that Beyonce’s first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage so one has to have some deep, troubling level contempt for black women to find a problem with her celebrating not one but 2 successful and (so far) healthy pregnancies.

Both critiques represent not just misogynoir but the assertion that black women are still not allowed to be in charge of their bodies and are not allowed any ownership to their own definitions of femininity or womanhood.

anonymous asked:

Do you do Rowaelin? If so, 15 and 18

Anon I will gladly give you Rowaelin HCs!

Touching (can be NSFW or innocent): (Both. Both is good.)

  • It’s a rare sight to see Rowan and Aelin not touching each other in some way. They are quite physical when it comes to showing affectionate displays.

  • Aelin claims that Rowan’s crown is crooked or that his hair is ruffled in a mess from flying so that she has the excuse to run her fingers through his white hair.

  • Note: Aelin has a weakness for petting animals so sometimes the Cadre will shift in their animal forms when she is angry and more often then not she will melt at the sight and proceed to have a petting session.

  • Another Note: Fenrys and Connall will shift into wolf forms for Aelin to pet them just to piss off Rowan as Aelin’s attention is fixed on the twins instead of Rowan who jealousy seethes on the throne.

  • The Queen of Terrasen also is a fan running her hand up and down Rowan’s thighs during meetings

  • Honestly it’s a game they play in which Rowan attempts to maintain his composure as his mate inches further up and up his leg until she at last holds the hardened weight of him in her hands

  • One time Aelin managed to unsnap one of his pant buttons, before Aelin’s Court, specifically Aedion and Lorcan, immediately requested that they continue the meeting another time since they knew it was only a matter of seconds before the Queen and King were about to use the table for reasons other than the use for political meetings.

  • Rowan will trace imaginary patterns on Aelin’s skin.

  • He usually runs his fingers in swirling motions to get an idea for any new tattoos he could give his wife.

  • His innocent touching though turns into heated brushes of skin as he runs in calloused hands up Aelin’s body and underneath one of those tempting nightgowns she always has.

  • Eventually his hands are toying with her breasts and he is sinking deep into her folds in a rough play for dominance.

What “turns them on” Headcanon:

  • Aelin is all about trying to get Rowan to grow his hair back out. When he does she can finally play with it and pull on it during sex.
  • “Do you think if I pull you hair hard enough would some of your feathers be plucked in your other form?”

    “And do you think if I make you scream loud enough for me in pleasure would you bring down the Staghorns mountain range my Fireheart?”

  • She also can’t deny that watching Rowan wrestle with the rest of the Cadre gets her turned on. (A fact that most of the Terrasen Court can agree on.)

  • Seeing Rowan mud-splattered with sweat running down his chest is feast for Aelin’s eyes.

  • Rowan was never one to enjoy fancy material items, but he now is one of the most visited customers at a woman’s intimate store where he buys Aelin all sorts of lacy, sheer and silk garments.

  • He can no longer bring Aelin to the store, because one time they did and they ended up clearing out the backrooms due to their loud session of “trying out the garments”

  • Rowan immediately gets turned on when Aelin nips at his ear or neck. Feeling her teeth grazing against his skin unleashes the primal urge to claim her right there on the spot.

get the fuck ready for some DP HEADCANONS ABOUT MY GURL STAR

first up her last name is Benson because @melancholicmarionette
made it so in a fic and I’m adopting it because it sounds gud thank

Star Benson has an insane memory, like she remembers everything, and it’s all important stuff like who’s fucking who and which stores have the best deals and all the important current political figures and their policies

and also she can recite the entire Bee Movie script by heart for some reason

she only uses this power for evil

Star Benson knows everyone, literally everyone, that kid who moved into town last week? Star knows his favourite colour, that girl who sits in a corner and doesn’t talk to anyone? Star knows exactly which hair salon she goes to every month for that shitty dye job

names, phone numbers, addresses, Star knows them all, her phone is so full of contacts and emails and she has an account on almost all forms of social media and follows everyone from school on all of them, if anyone needs to contact someone Star can hook you up, she’s owed favours by half the student body

she is a gossip queen, she has all of the dirt, she can recognise someone by voice, by mannerisms even. she knows who the Red Huntress is, she knows who Danny PHANTOM is

nobody knows how she knows all this shit

Star Benson’s mother is a hippy fortune teller, she reads tarot cards and crystal balls and palms, very few people know this. Dash, Kwan and Paulina are the only ones she allows over her house, and they know better than to tell anyone, Star has dirt on ALL OF THEM

Star might be lowkey psychic nobody can be sure

she’s defs highkey gay tho Star is so gay and everybody knows… except her mum her mum doesn’t know because if her mum knows she’ll be so excited that she’ll tell EVERYONE and then her dad will find out

Star does not want her dad to find out her dad is a dICK

but everyone is defs lowkey scared of Star tbh Paulina acts like she’s top dog but only because Star let’s her because Star is crushing on her SO HARD, in reality Star runs the whole fucking social structure of the school. but she won’t fuck over her friends she’s not a MONSTER… as long as they don’t fuck over her first

Danny knows Star’s mother, their parents are friends, they used to hang out as kids, they didn’t have much in common but they were chill, Star and Danny are still pretty chill, mostly when nobody else is around to see it, they still chat at family barbecues

Danny doesn’t know Star knows his secret, Star doesn’t tell him, she doesn’t tell anyone

well she tells Wes because Wes already knows and nobody believes him and he keeps begging her to back him up

she thinks it’s funny

she doesn’t like Wes, he stole her chocolate bar in elementary school and Star n e v e r f o r g e t s

Star knows better than to fuck with a superhero, she could have him wrapped around her little finger but she’s smart enough to recognise that his secret is important, HE’S important I mean he regularly SAVES THE ENTIRE TOWN AND SOMETIMES THE WORLD she ain’t gonna fuck around with stakes that high she knows better than that

she doesn’t say shit about the Red Huntress because Valerie is a fucking rage nuke who can hold a grudge tighter than a god damn hydraulic press, playing with Val is playing with fire and Star ain’t about getting her ass kicked by fucking with the wrong bad bitch

Star is really focused on things she’s into the only classes she makes sure to nail perfectly are the ones she’s interested in and the ones that are relevant to her intended future political career so she’s really good at anything involving history, geography, politics, economics she’s into learning about the world and where it’s been and where it’s going

Star is going to be president of the United States one day, she’ll make fucking sure of it

How Y’All Dance (Avengers Preference)

Hey guys! I know I said I’d be writing more but I haven’t posted anything! I was out of the country for a little bit and then went on a family vaction, but I am back! I know this isn’t a full blown one shot, but it’s better than nothing (And I had so many ideas sooo!)

I hope this is what you had in mind and that you like it! If not please let me know and I can try again!(:

~~~

Tony Stark:

Most people would think Tony liked to dance like he’s at the club. Your back pressed close to his front as you swayed mindlessly to the beat. However, Tony’s favorite way to dance with you was ballroom style. His parents had forced him through cotillion when he was younger and the art of ballroom dancing had not been wasted on him. Tony loved the way he got to twirl you around the dance floor, making you feel like a princess. He enjoyed the way everyone would stare at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the room (because you were, especially in that stunning dress Nat picked out for you). But most of all Tony loved the way he got to look into your eyes as he made you laugh and drew you closer.

Steve Rogers:

Steve was not much of a dancer. Sure he had gone to clubs, and (never, ever tell Tony this but) even took a few lessons throughout the city, but Steve just couldn’t dance. On undercover missions he was actually forbidden from dancing in order to prevent another Johannesburg incident. But in the quiet of you guys’ apartment, whether on a lazy Sunday afternoon or the middle of a Tuesday night, Steve would hold you close as y’all swayed aimlessly. Sometimes you would have the radio playing modern music (from Ed Sheeran to Beyonce), sometimes Steve would be listening to his old records, and sometimes there would be no music at all. Steve would hold you as close as he could and slowly sway around the living room, your head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat, while he placed soft kisses to the top of your head. 

Bucky Barnes:

Bucky loved dancing like he had back in the 40′s. At first his memory was a little hazy but after watching a few videos and trying it out a few times Bucky realized his muscles remembered exactly what to do even if his brain didn’t. Bucky loved the feeling of getting to go somewhere and feel like he fit in. To be perfectly in sync with those around him as he melted into the music with the perfect partner. He loved the chance to impress you with his moves as he spun you around before pulling you in close again, giving you little winks or short kisses on the forehead or nose, before spinning you out again. Bucky also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the fact that for once when people were staring at him wide eyed and open mouthed they were staring in awe of his skills and in jealousy of the beautiful dame he had with him.

Bruce Banner:

Bruce was hands down the most awkward dancer you had ever seen in your entire life. Every time you guys tried dancing it ended up with your toes being stepped on (and once you even got a bloody nose when Bruce accidentally got off beat during a line dance and his hand hit you square in the face). But for some strange reason Bruce was really good at square dancing. Clint had dragged you guys to square dancing in Bryant Park one day and while Bruce had been reluctant at first he was surprisingly very good. It probably helped that he was getting constant instructions on what to do while also getting to follow what everyone around him as doing. Whatever it was, Bruce was soon taking you to as many square dances as he could find, loving the fact that he was able to take you dancing and NOT have to patch you up afterwards.

Clint Barton:

You name a dance and Clint could do it. He could two-step, waltz, foxtrot, every dance Clint had been trained to do it perfectly, able to blend into any crowd so he could go undercover. But even though he was an expert at every dance and was able to blend into any room of dancers, Clint stood out when he swept you into a tantalizing tango. He would lock his eyes with yours and lead you around the room, other couples jumping out of the way as Clint would twirl you out and bring you back in before sweeping you back so far your hair tickled the ground. If Clint was honest he had never really cared for the tango before he met you, but the old saying “it takes two to tango” had become his favorite line since finding the perfect person he wanted to tango with.

Pietro Maximoff:

Pietro loved club dancing. He loved the fast beats and the vibrations of the floor as he held you close and moved to the rhythm of the music. Pietro also enjoyed getting to hold you close and show you off. His hands would grip your hips as he pressed you close to himself as everyone around you guys shot jealous looks your way. On top of the fast music Pietro loved that he got to hold you body close, allowing him to steal kisses whenever he wanted, not having to wait to press his lips to your forehead, nose, neck, etc. While most people would say that this type of dancing was too impersonal (what with the sweaty strangers around and the music so loud you can’t hear yourself think), but that was one of Pietro’s favorite things, that he didn’t have to think about the lyrics to the music or running into the people around him, he could just get lost in you - your body and eyes and the way you made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive. 

Thor Odinson:

Thor loved the traditional ballroom dancing of Asgard. The elegant dresses that his mother would get made for you, made him beam with pride as all of Asgard stared at you with wonder. He loved getting to teach you the elegant dances of his people- happy to be teaching you something for once instead of the other way around. The rich music was just soft enough to let him hear you counting under your breath as you tried to concentrate, only for it to be broken when Thor told you how happy he was that you were here with him. Thor loved getting to show you his world- knowing that one day you would make a wonderful queen. 

Loki Laufeyson:

Loki was a very graceful dancer. His slender body was made for grace so when you first met him you would assume he enjoyed the more traditional types of dancing like his brother. However, Loki really loved line dancing. The Cha Cha Slide, the Cupid Shuffle, etc. For someone who usually hated “stupid Midgardian” things Loki always got a kick out of the synchronized dances. You remember the night he made you stay up so you teach him all of them (the furniture in you guys’ apartment being pushed against the walls to give you more room). Loki’s eyes would light up as he scurried to the dance floor to clap his hands and wiggle his shoulders around. After finally asking him one day why he loved it so much Loki admitted that he enjoyed blending in for once and just being in sync with those around him.

Sam Wilson:

Sam liked simple dancing. The slow swaying and shuffles seen at weddings and during slow songs at Tony’s parties. The slow movements allowed him to relax into you, not having to worry about stepping on your toes or running into other couples. And the fact that there was no real rhyme or reason to the motions meant he could focus all of his energy on talking with you. Whether y’all were joking about the people around you (leading to Sam’s favorite feeling of you laughing as you tucked your face into his chest), or you were staring into each other’s eyes as you talked about your own wedding some day. Sam just loved that he got to be with you, physically as well as emotionally and mentally as you shared those moments he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Scott Lang:

Scott loved to do random dance parties with you- managing to make the most embarrassing dance moves ten times worse. It didn’t matter whether you were at a party with music or shopping in the middle of a crowded target, Scott would take your hand and start “dancing” like a maniac. He would do things like the sprinkler, the lawn mower, the shopping cart, anything you see awkward nerdy people doing in the corner by themselves at parties Scott had perfected as an art. You should be embarrassed but instead you would just jump right in making everyone around you either burst out laughing or look away out of second hand embarrassment. Cassie would pretend to hate it when you guys were in public but as soon as you got home she would join right in. 

T’Challa:

T’Challa enjoyed doing the native Wakandan warrior’s dance. It was a complicated dance that looked more like a planned fight with the swift movements that brought your bodies so close, but never quite completely together- it was stunning. It had taken him months to teach you the entire thing but the finished product was worth it. It was a dance that only the Black Panther knew and T’Challa had been taught by his parents when he was growing up so you were very honored to have been taught the dance. While it wasn’t really something you could just show off at a club or one of Tony’s parties, it was something you guys did when hosting parties in Wakanda for fellow government officials. And even though countless people had asked you how to dance the beautiful ritual you knew it was a secret you would share with T’Challa until you had your own children to pass it down to.

~~~

I hope you guys liked them! I tried to make them a little longer to make up for my constant absence!

Also requests are CLOSED… BUT I have gotten a few requests for the soulmate stores so f you guys had any ideas revolving around those (for Clint, Pietro, Loki, Tony, Bruce, Scott, or T’Challa) please send them my way! I would love to hear you guys’ ideas!! Ok love y’all!(:

Usually, I lie. At a party, someone asks the question. It’s someone who hasn’t smelled the rancid decay of week-dead flesh or heard the rattle of fluid flooding lungs. I shake the ice in my glass, smile, and lie. When they say, “I bet you always get that question,” I roll my eyes and agree.

There are plenty of in-between stories to delve into; icky, miraculous ones and reams of the hilarious and stupid. I did, after all, become a paramedic knowing it would stack my inner shelves with a library of human tragicomedy. I am a writer, and we are nothing if not tourists gawking at our own and other people’s misery. No?

The dead don’t bother me. Even the near-dead, I’ve made my peace with. When we meet, there’s a very simple arrangement: Either they’re provably past their expiration date and I go about my business, RIP, or they’re not and I stay. A convenient set of criteria delineates the provable part: if they have begun to decay; if rigor mortis has set in; if the sedentary blood has begun to pool at their lowest point, discoloring the skin like a slowly gathering bruise. The vaguest criterion is called obvious death, and we use it in those bizarre special occasions that people are often sniffing for when they ask questions at parties: decapitations, dismemberments, incinera- tions, brains splattered across the sidewalk. Obvious death.

One of my first obvious deaths was a portly Mexican man who had been bicycling along the highway that links Brooklyn to Queens. He’d been hit by three cars and a dump truck, which was the only one that stopped. The man wasn’t torn apart or flattened, but his body had twisted into a pretzel; arms wrapped around legs. Somewhere in there was a shoulder. Obvious death. His bike lay a few feet away, gnarled like its owner. Packs and packs of Mexican cigarettes scattered across the highway. It was three a.m. and a light rain sprinkled the dead man, the bicycle, the cigarette packs, and me, made us all glow in the sparkle of police flares. I was brand new; cars kept rushing past, slowing down, rushing past.

Obvious death. Which means there’s nothing we can do, which means I keep moving with my day, with my life, with whatever I’ve been pondering until this once-alive-now-inanimate object fell into my path.If I can’t check off any of the boxes—if I can’t prove the person’s dead—I get to work and the resuscitation flowchart erupts into a tree of brand-new and complex options. Start CPR, intubate, find a vein, put an IV in it. If there’s no vein and you’ve tried twice, drill an even bigger needle into the flat part of the bone just below the knee. Twist till you feel a pop, attach the IV line. If the heart is jiggling, shock it; if it’s flatlined, fill it with drugs. If the family lingers, escort them out; if they look too hopeful, ease them toward despair. If time slips past and the dead stay dead, call it. Signs of life? Scoop ’em up and go.

You see? Simple.

Except then one day you find one that has a quiet smile on her face, her arms laying softly at her sides, her body relaxed. She is ancient, a crinkled flower, and was dying for weeks, years. The fam- ily cries foul: She had wanted to go in peace. A doctor, a social worker, a nurse—at some point all opted not to bother having that difficult conversation, perhaps because the family is Dominican and the Spanish translator wasn’t easily reachable and anyway, someone else would have it, surely, but no one did. And now she’s laid herself down, made all her quiet preparations and slipped gently away. Without that single piece of paper though, none of the lamentations matter, the peaceful smile doesn’t matter. You set to work, the tree of options fans out, your blade sweeps her tongue aside and you battle in an endotracheal tube; needles find their mark. Bumps emerge on the flat line, a slow march of tiny hills that resolve into tighter scribbles. Her pulse bounds against your fingers; she is alive.

But not awake, perhaps never to be again. You have brought not life but living death, and fuck what I’ve seen, because that, my friends at the party, my random interlocutor who doesn’t know the reek of decay, that is surely one of the craziest things I have ever done.

But that’s not what I say. I lie.

Which is odd because I did, after all, become a medic to fill the library stacks, yes? An endless collection of human frailty vignettes: disasters and the expanding ripple of trauma. No, that’s not quite true. There was something else, I’m sure of it.

And anyway, here at this party, surrounded by eager listeners with drinks in hand, mouths slightly open, ready to laugh or gasp, I, the storyteller, pause. In that pause, read my discomfort.

On the job, we literally laugh in the face of death. In our crass humor and easy flow between tragedy and lunch break, outsiders see callousness: We have built walls, ceased to feel. As one who laughs, I assure you that this is not the case. When you greet death on the daily, it shows you new sides of itself, it brings you into the fold. Gradually, or maybe quickly, depending on who you are, you make friends with it. It’s a wary kind of friendship at first, with the kind of stilted conversation you might have with a man who picked you up hitch- hiking and turns out to have a pet boa constrictor around his neck. Death smiles because death always wins, so you can relax. When you know you won’t win, it lets you focus on doing everything you can to try to win anyway, and really, that’s all there is: The Effort.

The Effort cleanses. It wards off the gathering demons of doubt. When people wonder how we go home and sleep easy after bearing witness to so much pain, so much death, the answer is that we’re not bearing witness. We’re working. Not in the paycheck sense, but in the sense of The Effort. When it’s real, not one of the endless parade of chronic runny noses and vague hip discomforts, but a true, soon- to-be-dead emergency? Everything falls away. There is the patient, the family, the door. Out the door is the ambulance and then farther down the road, the hospital. That’s it. That’s all there is.

Awkward text messages from exes, career uncertainties, generalized aches and pains: They all disintegrate beneath the hugeness that is someone else’s life in your hands. The guy’s heart is failing; fluid backs up in those feebly pumping chambers, erupts into his lungs, climbs higher and higher, and now all you hear is the raspy clatter every time he breathes. Is his blood pressure too high or too low? You wrap the cuff on him as your partner finds an IV. The monitor goes on. A thousand possibilities open up before you: He might start getting better, he might code right there, the ambulance might stall, the medicine might not work, the elevator could never come. You cast off the ones you can’t do anything about, see about another IV because the one your partner got already blew. You’re sweating when you step back and realize nothing you’ve done has helped, and then everything becomes even simpler, because all you can do is take him to the hospital as fast as you can move without totaling the rig.

He doesn’t make it. You sweated and struggled and calculated and he doesn’t make it, and dammit if that ain’t the way shit goes, but also, you’re hungry. And you’re alive, and you’ve wracked your body and mind for the past hour trying to make this guy live. Death won, but death always wins, the ultimate spoiler alert. You can only be that humbled so many times and then you know: Death always wins. It’s a warm Thursday evening and grayish orange streaks the horizon. There’s a pizza place around the corner; their slices are just the right amount of doughy. You check inside yourself to see if anything’s shattered and it’s not, it’s not. You are alive. You have not shattered.

You have not shattered because of The Effort. The Effort cleanses because you have become a part of the story, you are not passive, the very opposite of passive, in fact. Having been humbled, you feel amazing. Every moment is precise and the sky ripples with delight as you head off to the pizza place, having hurled headlong into the game and given every inch of yourself, if only for a moment, to a losing struggle.

It’s not adrenaline, although they’ll say that it is, again and again. It is the grim, heartbroken joy of having taken part. It is the difference between shaking your head at the nightly news and taking to the streets. It’s when you finally tell her how you really feel, the moment you craft all your useless repetitive thoughts into a prayer.

At the party, as they look on expectantly, I draft one of the lesser moments of horror as a stand-in. The evisceration, that will do. That single strand of intestine just sitting on the man’s belly like a lost worm. He was dying too, but he lived. It was a good story, a terrible night.

I was new and I didn’t know if I’d done anything right. He lived, but only by a hair. I magnified each tiny decision to see if I’d erred and came up empty. There was no way to know. Eventually I stopped taking jobs home with me. I released the ghosts of what I’d done or hadn’t done, let The Effort do what it does and cleanse me in the very moment of crisis. And then one night I met a tiny three-year old girl in overalls, all smiles and high-fives and curly hair. We were there because a neighbor had called it in as a burn, but the burns were old. Called out on his abuse, the father had fled the scene. The emergency, which had been going on for years, had ended and only just begun.

The story unraveled as we drove to the hospital; I heard it from the front seat. The mother knew all along, explained it in jittery, sobbing replies as the police filled out their forms. It wasn’t just the burns; the abuse was sexual too. There’d been other hospital visits, which means that people who should’ve seen it didn’t, or didn’t bother setting the gears in motion to stop it. I parked, gave the kid another high five, watched her walk into the ER holding a cop’s hand.

Then we had our own forms to fill out. Bureaucracy’s response to unspeakable tragedy is more paperwork. Squeeze the horror into easy-to-fathom boxes, cull the rising tide of rage inside and check and recheck the data, complete the forms, sign, date, stamp, insert into a metal box and then begin the difficult task of forgetting.

The job followed me down Gun Hill Road; it laughed when I pretended I was okay. I stopped on a corner and felt it rise in me like it was my own heart failing this time, backing fluids into my lungs, breaking my breath. I texted a friend, walked another block. A sob came out of somewhere, just one. It was summer. The breeze felt nice and nice felt shitty.

My phone buzzed. Do you want to talk about it?

I did. I wanted to talk about it and more than that I wanted to never have seen it and even more than that I wanted to have done something about it and most of all, I wanted it never to have hap- pened, never to happen again. The body remembers. We carry each trauma and ecstasy with us and they mark our stride and posture, contort our rhythm until we release them into the summer night over Gun Hill Road. I knew it wasn’t time to release just yet; you can’t force these things. I tapped the word no into my phone and got on the train.

I don’t tell that one either. Stories with trigger warnings don’t go over well at parties. But when the question is asked, the little girl’s smile and her small, bruised arms appear in my mind.

The worst tragedies don’t usually get 911 calls, because they are patient, unravel over centuries. While we obsess over the hyperviolent mayhem, they seep into our subconscious, poison our sense of self, upend communities, and gnaw away at family trees with intergenerational trauma.I didn’t pick up my pen just to bear witness. None of us did. And I didn’t become a medic to get a front-row seat to other people’s tragedies. I did it because I knew the world was bleeding and so was I, and somewhere inside I knew the only way to stop my own bleeding was to learn how to stop someone else’s. Another call crackles over the radio, we pick up the mic and push the button and drive off. Death always wins, but there is power in our tiniest moments, humanity in shedding petty concerns to make room for compassion. We witness, take part, heal. The work of healing in turn heals us and we begin again, laughing mournfully, and put pen to paper.

Daniel José Older

Thranduil’s Talented Tongue - Thranduil x Reader

This Thranduil x Reader fanfic is based on the above imagine by @elven-nicknacks.

And believe me, the king takes his obligations very seriously. So better be prepared for some steamy action with Thranduil’s talented tongue.

I decided to take this one-shot towards a teasing side and include some very light bondage. But admit it, dominant and in control Thrandy is just absolutely irresistible. So I hope you enjoy your time with the King of Smirkwood ;). And I am definitely not sorry for the smut, the queen deserves a loving treatment from her king.

You can also find this one-shot on AO3.

Length: 3.986 words

Disclaimer:
I do not own Thranduil (unfortunately), nor any of the other characters from Tolkien’s Middle-earth. I do not make any money with this, this is purely for entertainment.

Thranduil’s Talented Tongue

With an exasperated sigh you slammed the door shut behind you, the wood creaking dangerously on its hinges. You were fuming and in a bad temper. „Ah! Those endless meetings!“ you grumbled to yourself, cursing under your breath as you fought to unfasten your cloak. „They drag on forever. Can they not spare the king for one evening?“

You stomped towards the bed and kicked off your slippers seeing with satisfaction as they bounced off the bedpost. „Why do I need to do without him and go to bed alone? They are all just boring officials with boring reports about boring things.“ 

You flung your cloak into the furthermost corner of the room and threw yourself onto the soft bed, enjoying the springy feeling as you bounced up and down softly with the momentum of your body’s motions. A naughty smile dawned on your face as you were reminded of all the other times the bed had bounced and shaken vigorously those countless times when Thranduil had made love to you there. He was such a passionate lover, tireless and ever striving to please you, his queen. You loved his playfulness and the fact that you could instil in him such desire that he would eventually cast away his self-restraint and do all those unspeakable things to you, his kisses burning on your skin, their imprint remaining on your body as a delicious memory. Just thinking about what he did to you sent flashes of heat through your body and you could feel your core begging to be caressed by his hands as they wandered all over your body just to find the spot that longed to be touched the most.

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Little Details About Star Wars I Love

-how holograms are blue and glitchy and flicker, showing that even though their technology is advanced everything is so dilapidated

-Asajj Ventress’s perpetually chapped-looking lips

-When everyone cheers because they weren’t killed by the trash compacter but C-3PO thinks they are dying

-tiny Boba Fett going “Get him, Dad! Get Him!” because he supports his violent bounty hunter father like any good son should

-Padme Amidala continuously out dressing everyone

-Rey’s desert flowers, pilot doll, Rebel helmet, and home made from a rusty AT-AT

-Shmi Skywalker nicknaming Anakin “Ani”

-#livinglegend Sabine Wren pausing her mission in an abandoned, creepy Republic base to spray paint her starbird tag on the walls even though no one will probably ever see it

-Clones giving their brothers names because the Republic only gave them numbers

-On that note, Poe naming Finn because the First Order only gave him a number

-Ahsoka Tano’s reverse lightsaber grip

-Princess Leia’s early and mature wisdom

-Vader throwing his lightsaber at Luke so he will SHUT. UP.

-Ezra Bridger’s stormtrooper helmet collection

-Maul and Savage’s intricate full body Dathomir tattoos

-Clones painting their armor

-Sabe posing as Queen Amidala and smiling a little too giddily as she tells the undercover Padme to clean R2-D2

-Skywalker ponchos

-The roar of a TIE fighter

-19 year old Princess Leia smiling as she sasses two of the most dangerous men in the galaxy

-Darth Vader’s clear hatred for the Death Star, and the corresponding anxious body language of his grandson towards the Starkiller Base

-Obi-Wan doing shots in the middle of a chase scene

-The dangerous smile that spreads across Luke’s face as he tells Jabba the Hutt “This will be the last mistake you’ll ever make.”

-Recent developments that hint that when the dying Anakin Skywalker looked into his son’s big blue eyes as he said “I won’t leave you. I’ve got to save you” he is remembering a young Togrutan girl with big blue eyes firmly stating to Vader “I won’t leave you. Not this time” and how he betrayed her

I need to share what I found in my attic last night

By reddit user A10A10A10

I’m an old man living alone in an old house.  My wife and I bought it 10 years ago, just before she passed.  I don’t know how old it is.  If I had to guess, I’d say at least 150 years.  It’s your typical old house in back country southern United States, surrounded by forest and far from the closest neighbor.

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Something Worth Fighting For- 2

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series

Words: 1105

Masterlist    Part 1

Originally posted by downeyjrs

Present

“What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria?”

The screen buzzed, blacking out as you stared up at it. Above you, sitting on her bed, Wanda turned to look at Steve as he moved further into the room, the remote control in his grasp. Steve glanced down at you, sitting on the floor between the bed and dresser with your arms wrapped around your legs. You did not look back at him.

“It’s my fault,” Wanda said. Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not true-”

“Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

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|| Yours To Keep || [[smut]]

{summary: you are his to keep now.}

due to such a popular demand, i’m making the mafia!bucky story into a five part series with maybe a few extra parts written at the end in bucky’s POV (since it was kind of requested) ;w; once all of the parts are posted, i’ll make a mini masterlist of some sort so you readers won’t be scrambling to find all the parts to this story.

[ {I’m Yours} series tagging list ]: @marvel-fanfiction , @sea-kale , @acunningstargazer , @imagine-thingsandstuff (if you would like to be included in this specific tag, let me know in an ask!)

warnings: wake up morning sex [♥]

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine**

——

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Back in England

After returning home from ‘the country’, from their beloved Narnia, the Pevensie siblings had troubles adjusting. They were too different, to grown up for their adolescent bodies any longer.

Peter, the eldest, was a magnificent king in Narnia. He commanded armies, fought with a sliver blade, and reigned over his people with a firm but loving hand. He was a glorious leader, and a strong man. But now he was back to being a common school boy with no respect and no authority, and most of all, no one with which to depart his wisdom. He was noticeably pessimistic in his return, even as his heart so desperately wanted to cling to his lord, to his true place in this world. It ate him up inside, and so he turned to his studies abroad, distancing himself from his sibling because he was ashamed to no longer be the man he once was.

Susan, the gentle queen, was solitary and lost in the face of her old life, her old body. After centuries of being a true lady, one with grace, elegance, and many a male suitor, to be forced back into her somewhat awkward teenage years was a slap in the face. She knew she was meant to find Aslan in this world, but how could she seek someone who had abandoned her so easily, taking from her the only life she ever wanted. She had no way to cope, and her parents could not comprehend how their once lively daughter had become so harsh and withdrawn. And so, faithless and bitter, Susan turned to parties and social events, craving to fill a desire she never truly would.

Edmund was the younger son, the one who had strayed and yet returned stronger. After reigning in Narnia, as a just and benevolent monarch, returning to a world he was no longer familiar with was a great struggle. Unlike his elder siblings, Edmund did his best to search out his lord Aslan in England, offering this faith in return for the forgiveness the great lion had offered him all those years ago. He found that his parents and his classmates no longer knew how to approach him, thrown by his newly calm and understanding temperament. He had turned into a man in seemingly no time at all. Edmund turned to religion then, clinging to all he could keep with him from his previous life.

Lucy, dear Lucy, was the favored of Aslan. His dear heart, his valiant lioness who was a brave and compassionate queen. Although she was understandably distraught at being trapped in her childlike form, with no one to recognize the strong and powerful woman she had grown into, Lucy never lost her sunlight, and stayed just as wild and bold as her rolling eastern sea. Unlike the others, Lucy had spent more of her years aging in Narnia than in England, and considered it her true place in the world, and so she never gave up hope in returning, or her faith in her beloved lion. The valiant queen was drawn to painting in water colors in her wait, great and beautiful scenes of a shining palace, wild enchanted forests and glistening oceans.

And so, years later, as a young prince hurried through a darkened forest, desperate and unknowing of the golden monarchs he would bring back to their rightful place, he blew into a horn that was long thought to be lost in the ruins of Cair Paravel. When they felt it, the call, the magic, their kingdom drawing them home, the siblings rejoiced even as they despaired inside, because they never knew when they would be forced to return.

As many of you know, the portrayal of sex and sexuality in Once Upon a Time has become increasingly frustrating to me. More often than not, specialized characterization has been saved for the villains, with the heroes being portrayed as “pure”. In earlier seasons, Hook was a walking innuendo and you could joke about how evil a woman was based on the amount of cleavage shown. Heroes, by contrast, rarely seemed interested in their baser instincts, dressed fairly conservatively, and had to be almost talked into sexual situation. This is why the pancakes scene in 6x18 is important.

In truth, it is a scene right out of fanfic. Hook approaches Emma and flirty heavily, and they kiss. They both express their happiness, kiss some more, and then proceed to ignore their breakfast food in lieu of more enjoyable activities. But here’s the thing: Emma is in control for most of the situation. Though Hook initiates their encounter, it is Emma who turns to kiss him. It is Emma climbing into his lap and declaring “to he’ll with pancakes”, hellbent on riding her pirate into next Tuesday. She is an active participant as much as she is an enthusiastic one.

Contrast this scene with their interrupted couch escapades in 6x01. Hook practically has to convince her to pull a Marvin Gaye and “get it on” as it were. She questions about the location of her and her parents, while he provides answers as they fall onto the couch together. He’s the one covering her, and while there is absolutely nothing wrong with a man on top or a woman ensuring they are absolutely alone, the scene felt disjointed. Some argued that Emma didn’t really seem into it, that she was just going alone because he wanted it. There’s none of that in 6x18.

On its own, the scene in 6x01 wouldn’t be a problem, but the issue is that it was a part of a trend for how women and sex are portrayed in Once. 6x18 is almost the exception. Rarely do we see the “hero” coded women actively seek out sex. Every time Rumbelle has had on screen references to sex, it is shown with Belle fast asleep while Rumple watches her as he dresses, often before he goes off to do something ominous and bad. The OQ queen scene was colored by the fact that Marion was frozen nearby. The last time we saw Snowing in present day have sex was season 2, which I would argue was the last time there was a 100% healthy portrayal of sex between loving couples.

We’ve never seen Belle try to climb Rumple like a tree, not even during their honeymoon period on 4a, or their reunion in 3b. She wears sheer clothing, which the Rumbelle fandom has joked implies their coupling, but it is never overtly implied in the text. In fact, we’ve really only seen Rumple get overtly sexual with Cora and the Evil Queen, much of which is villain-on-villain, with the characters using one another. Their scenes are not portrayed as “loving couple in a healthy dynamic enjoying sexing one another”.

Snow and Charming have basically turned sexless, Snow being dressed increasingly matronly. Yes, Ginnifer Goodwin had a baby and her body changed, but it doesn’t mean she has to look like she’s always wearing a curtain. Emma, too, has taken to wearing more high-necked and loosely fitting clothes. Her wedding dress has many buttons, and shows a scant amount of skin. Yes, one doesn’t have to show off skin to be sexy, but taken as a whole, this series has a huge episode with the whole villain=“sexy” clothing, and heroes=“conservative” clothing.

So that’s why the pancakes in 6x18 mattered to me. Yes, it was fan service. Yes, it didn’t add much to the plot. But it was departure from how the show usually plays relationship dynamics between heroes and sexuality in the women of the show. It was a woman taking charging and giving enthusiastic consent to something she clearly wanted – and that’s great.

these voices shall keep me waiting- (m/a)


Kingdom / Fantasy AU

Characters: Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook, Reader, and the OC The King 

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Jungkook x Jimin Yoongi x Jimin Jungkook x Y/n |

Warnings: dubious consent, mentions of rape, underage sex, mentions of death (no actual death), smut, angst with a happy ending ;))

Words: 40,815

| mobile tumblr has a hard time with long fics like this, so here’s an ao3 link to the fic if you’re having issues |

(( this isn’t at all historically correct, while it wasn’t meaning to be. it gives no specific dates to when this is taking place, so imagine it the past, or if you’d like, the future ))



Act One- Love for the King 

;

This is the kingdom. A simple village, and separated from it, the castle. It’s walled in layers of brick, which at the tops of its 4 corners, are stations where guards stand day and night. There is a King and a Queen, along with their many staff. The rain is incessant, relentless; and when it isn’t raining, a thick veil of fog lays itself along the ankles of the staff. If mapped, there are 3 things to show of it, a tower that’s up in the clouds, a field for the horses, and the long strip of building which is the castle. This is where one enters, and does not leave, if in pure faith to the King, in pure fear, or if only a body beneath the Ostrich Ferns, of no use to the King any longer.

A question, to those who work for the King: have you been soaked in the grease of his fingertips over your skin? Have you drowned in it? Have you drowned in him? Have you been bruised at the knees, bruised at the eyes, at the heart, with your love for your King?

There isn’t much an answer though. There are gruesome answers, as it is a gruesome story. Not gory in its violence, nor are there any wars. It’s gruesome in pretty boys wrecked on wrinkled duvets, and the nitty gritty kinds of details that twist one’s nose. Of course, love stories can sprout from such sickly conditions such as those; the same love stories can as well wilt. 

The King is not defeated by the end, dethroned from his power. Yet, it’s still a happy ending. An ending of maybe two boys falling in love with the clouds, floating off from the Kingdom finally. Or another boy growing a daisy amidst the mud, until the rain is sparse enough to let it grow. Perhaps a girl cuts her dress so as not to trip over it anymore. That can be your happy ending, if you dare allow it to be.

This is the love story of when the sour rain turned sweet. 

Keep reading

Not Her  [ P.P ]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Hey love! 55, 77, 118 and 162 but not NSFW, just make out, with Peter Parker please? Thank you! 

Prompts:

  • 55: “Shut up and kiss me already.”
  • 77: “Are you jealous?”
  • 118: “Are you mad at me?”
  • 162: “Make me.”

From This Prompts List

Word Count: 837

Warnings: None? If I have missed anything then please let me know.

A/N: This didn’t turn out as I would have liked in the end. Not very happy with it but that’s okay lol. 

Masterlist

“Are you mad at me?”

You roll your eyes at Peter, not bothering to say a single thing to acknowledge him altogether. He had really pissed you off. Without saying a word, you carry on doodling mindlessly on your homework sheet as Peter stood at your window with his mask held loosely in his hand. It was safe for him to have taken off his mask; there was no way anybody would see.

Peter had been at the scene of another one of the Goblin’s stupid attempts to kill him and take down the city as well. Of course, he was there as Spider-Man. That’s not what pissed you off though–what kind of partner would you be if him saving lives pissed you off? No, you were pissed off that him and the daughter of one of the biggest businessmen in Queens were getting an up close and personal impression of each other. She had flung herself at him, running her hands over his body in a way that only you were allowed to.

What ticked you off even more was that Peter had his hands all over her too. It wasn’t as if he had been the one to initiate anything but did he really have to react with such cooperation? The girl had even yanked his mask up and over his own and placed her lips on his on live television. And Peter had kissed her back. That had pissed you off.

You huff out, the need to yell at him clawing at you from the inside out. You really wanted to give it to him.

“Am I mad at you?” You glare at him as he steps through the window and into your room, his eyes holding a regret that had only managed work you up even more. “Am I mad at you?! Of course I’m mad at you!”

You let out a frustrated yell, picking up a piece of discarded clothing from the floor and throwing it harshly at his face. Peter frowns, catching the piece of fabric effortlessly.

“Are you jealous?” Peter blurts, grimacing at how it sounded out loud. Peter wasn’t usually an asshole but he did sound like one at this given moment.

“You are unbelievable,” You glare daggers at him, not even wincing as he flinches under your gaze. “Why did you have to kiss her back? Why did you have to return her bloody-bloody affections before she even kissed you? Peter, in case you forgot, I’m your girlfriend. Not her.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t realize it would upset you so much–”

“Are you kidding? Peter, of course it would upset me, you can’t just kiss other girls like that! Especially when it’s a spoiled and sexy rich girl!” You step up to him, poking him once on his chest with a strong finger. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I didn’t–I didn’t think. I don’t want to be an asshole but I was thinking in the moment and my judgement was all over the place. She was a pretty girl who was all over me, I-I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking straight because of it. I figured that because I was Spider-Man–” Peter frowns at the hurt expression on your face, watching as your eyes hold a different kind of frustration towards him.

“So you didn’t even think about me?” You mumble quietly, “God, Peter is that–I love you, Peter, I do but you can’t just kiss other girls and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I don’t expect that from you. That’s why I knew that I had made a mistake as soon as I had pulled away.” Peter shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you strongly so that you couldn’t back from him. He couldn’t help but want to pull you into him and smash his lips onto yours. To him, you were so damn adorable when you were pissed and he knew that it was not good of him to think that when you really are genuinely upset at him.

“Geez, don’t you understand that I’m mad at you? Just because–”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Make me.” You glare at him, your eyes narrowed as he smirks cheekily. He chuckles, dipping his head and smashing his lips onto yours, letting all of his emotions flow through his lips.

The kiss had spoken for him and you found that you had forgotten about your anger towards him as you melted into him. Your lips moved against each other’s before Peter takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

The both of you find yourself on your bed, Peter resting on top of you and between your legs as you explore each other’s mouth almost ferociously. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, pulling lightly as his hands roam your sides. Your mind is hazy from the feeling, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You pull away first, your lips slightly puffy and your eyelids fluttering.

“I’m still pissed at you.”

What an absolutely intoxicating performance by Mitch Grassi. I had never heard of him or Pentatonix before the Grammy’s last night, but God damn! That man has a serious set of pipes on him.

Well, I will tell you one thing, he put the queen Bey in a fucking body bag, when it came to performing last night. He put her on notice that there can only be one queen and you better believe her name ain’t Beyoncé, it’s Mitch, bitch.

The whole bands got great voices, but when Mitch busted out the gorgeously high pitched “bah bah bah bahhhh” out of the gates, I knew we had a star on our hands. Everything about him screamed superstar. Starting with those absolute electric silver boots he was sporting, to his little bounce dance he had going, all the way down to his double finger point at himself at the end. It’s honestly a sin the camera even panned away from him. Every second he wasnt on screen was a crime. It’s a fireable offense on the camera mans part. It was a one minute performance, but it was the best one all night. I don’t want to hear Beyoncé whispering to us for 10 minutes, when we could have the real queen serenading us.

— 

A Man Named Mitch Grassi Stole The Grammys Last Night.

By Thegurubenchwarmer

Colours (Barry Allen)

BLURB: every person you love leaves a colour on your skin. Some people are stained everywhere with colour, some with none at all. But there is always one simple rule, once you find your soulmate they wash away all the other colours. 

OR 

 The soulmate colour AU with Barry cause lets be real, everyone needs this in their lives.  

 Also I apologize, I wrote this at three AM.

——————————————————————————–

The waiter that handed me my coffee had hands stained with blue, bright blue standing out against their dark skin. Guess they got lucky, found someone to wash away the rest. Or perhaps they never had any to wash away, their hairline is stained too. Signs of gentle touches. 

 Yeah I know most people use words like ‘painted’ or ‘caressed’ to describe the colours. I use ‘stained’, because thats what they are. Stupid marks that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried. Marks that show everyone your personal life. Stains that show if you love too much or not at all.

 You see I hate the orange stains that lace my body, the constant reminder that my only love left me. Ran away with someone who could mark them with deep purple, wash away my pitiful gold. 

 Most people think gold is an amazing colour to leave behind, not him. He hated it, said it reminded him of all the medals he should have won. 

 Oh well, at least I’m not stained with white 

 That’s the worst, white means you’ve fallen in love. But they don’t love you back, so every time that person touches you your skin is bleached. A constant reminder that they don’t love you back 

 Most of the time those people find another soulmate, someone to wash away the bleach. To give them colour again 

 There’s one person in this city that I know of with skin bleached. 

 A CSI, I don’t know his name. But it’s obvious, I always see him interviewing patients at the hospital I work at.

 See their sympathetic looks as their eyes trail along his bleached body. 

 I’ve never spoken to him though; hell I’ve never even looked him in the eyes. I’m too scared I’ll see myself in them, see the same hopeless look all people left by their colour match do. 

 Yeah I get that there’s still hope. That by some miracle you might find a real match. Someone to wash away the other colours. Or paint over the bleach. It had happened before. 

But then I look at the bleached CSI, and I lose all hope. 

**************************

 As I walk to the hospital I see him again, running in. He’s always late, that much is obvious by the annoyed scowl of the police captain as he arrives.

 The annoyed scowl stained with yellow. 

 I went to my next patient, trying to ignore the bleached soul behind me as much as I tried to pretend my hands aren’t stained with orange. 

 “Y/N?” one of the nurses called. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “The CSI has to question your patient.” 

 “Alright, send him in,” I replied as I carried on taking my patient’s vitals.

 There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to not be in that room.

 To not see my own fate reflected in his eyes. 

 I could ignore him, I thought. I could carry on my duties and pretend I didn’t see the other person in the room, I could just make sure the patient was stable and handle the rest once he leaves.

 Easy. Until he enters. 

 He’s much taller than I expected, about half a head taller than me (yeah I’m tall urgh). He walked in and tried to introduce himself. Tried to shake my hand.

 I ignored him, I couldn’t possibly address him. That would mean addressing all of him. 

 I try not to notice the sad looks my patient is giving him.

 I did my full exam without even looking at him, and then practically ran from the room. 

 Thankfully the rest of the day went fine, a couple patients commented on how happy I must be of course. Because that was the only option when a colour stains your body as much as it stains mine, no one presumes that person could have left. 

Because somehow everything revolves around this stupid colours.

**********************

 As I was walking home that day I heard running behind me, as I turned around I saw the CSI running towards me. 

 No. No. No. 

 This cannot be happening, I thought. There was no way he could about to reach me, none at all. I avoid him as much as possible. This isn’t happening.

 “Hey! Wait,” he called, running up to me.

 When I turned to look at him I saw just how bad off he was, his hairline, his cheeks, the outline of his lips. All bleached, like every bit of colour was drained from him. 

His pain painted on his face by some cruel artist. 

 He held something in colourless hands, “This fell of your neck while you were examining that guy, thought you might want it back.” In his hands he held my gold necklace that my brother gave me, I hadn’t even noticed it had gone. 

 “Oh my god, thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost this!” He smiled, he was different when he smiled.

 Almost like a trace of his former self somewhere in there, fighting to resurface.

 “No problem,” he said as he handed it back to me. 

 As he gave it to me our hands touched, I almost screamed. 

 Where he touched me, the orange had changed to a deep maroon. I looked at his hand and saw gold, the bleached had been painted over. 

 “Hi,” he whispered, a broken smile on his face.

 “Hey,” I laughed back, tracing his face with my hand, watching as the bleach there changed to gold.

 It’s been five months since that day and I’ve got to own up to something, maybe soulmates weren’t so bad after all. I’ve learned his name is Barry, I’ve he’s the Flash (his colour is maroon for god’s sake). 

He’s in and out of the hospital all the time now.

 Only I don’t avoid him now, I watch with pride. As the patient’s smiles change from sympathetic to hopeful as their eyes trail down the gold paint strokes that lace his body.

———————————————————————————

Thanks for reading what happens in my brain at three AM…

I’m actually rather proud of this one, please let me know what you think.

requests are open :)