when i think of the name francis

táimid naimhde sa chathair | tommy shelby/reader

anon request:   you grew up with tommy and had a really long serious relationship but left when grace came along you left him - a few years later he finds you with a job as a singer in sabinis bar in London, engaged to a son of his -tommy is determined to get you back 

“When is that boy going to marry you?”

“Oh, Polly, don’t go buying a hat. It’s been bloody years, I think if he was going to make a move he’d have long done it”

“It took him nearly ten to ask for you in the first place, this is Tommy we’re talking about. Can’t do anything but make things more difficult, that boy”

“It took him nearly ten years because we were children, Polly”

“Still”

“Thanks for listening to me rant, anyway”

You stood from her table, dropping your cup in the sink as you went.

“I better get home”

“Have you told him about London yet?”

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Ajax Imagine - What’s My Name?

Request - OMG hey I saw a request for Ajax smut. And if you haven’t already wrote it, and your stuck you should add something like with his famous “what’s my name” just an idea,

(Sorry guys, this is a long one.)

Warnings – smut

Spoilers - none

“For god’s sake Francis, it was a mistake. I spent all day with him and it just slipped out!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration as you entered the house you had shared for the past 3 months, after being together for a year. You had absentmindedly called him ‘Jack’ when addressing him, after spending a day with a friend of the same name, and he was blowing it completely out of proportion.

“You spend a whole day with another guy and you suddenly forget your own boyfriend. Ouch beautiful, that hurts.” Francis replied sarcastically, as he closed the door to your house behind him and proceeded to remove his jacket, hanging it up on the hooks by the door. You copied his actions, hooking your coat up beside his, and then began the process of taking off your shoes. You let out a content sigh as you removed them, your feet aching from the heels you had been wearing all night, and you dropped them on the ground, not caring that it was disorderly. Francis watched your movements silently, glaring at you slightly as he leant against the wall, arms crossed. You tried to ignore the muscle definition visible through his tight shirt, instead rolling your eyes and moving into the kitchen. As you placed your bag on the countertop, you heard Francis enter the room, and turned around to confront him.

“Really? The silent treatment. I thought you were more mature than that.” You said sarcastically, crossing your arms as you stood at the opposite side of the room, staring at him as he was staring at you. Francis didn’t respond, instead raising his eyebrows and letting out a frustrated sigh. You mimicked his sigh, letting out a sarcastic laugh before responding to his silence. “I’m not going to apologise, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” He continued to stare. “It was an honest mistake.” You added, but still, he remained silent. Getting frustrated now, you uncrossed your arms and picked up your bag, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Come and find me when you can stop acting like a bratty teenager, Jack.” You said, repeating the name you had mistakenly called him as you looked him in the eyes, before moving to walk past him. Being equally stubborn, you knew it was best for you both to get some space during these arguments, and that’s exactly what you intended to do, until a hand gripping your arm prevented you from leaving the room. You turned to look at Francis, ready to tell him to let go, when he pushed you forcefully against the kitchen counter. Not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know that he wasn’t playing any games.

“What was that baby?” He asked, looking down at you, as without your heels you were considerably shorter than him. His arms were placed either side of you, preventing any escape, and he leant down slightly, so that his face was level with yours.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You responded, crossing your arms and turning your head to the side, refusing to look at him. Francis bit his lip, smirking at you.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He said, before leaning in even closer, his mouth now level with your ear. He moved his hands, placing them on your hips as he pulled your body flush against his. “What’s my name?” He whispered in your ear, and you bit your lip to suppress a moan. He laughed when you remained silent, placing a kiss on your jaw just under your ear. He moved down, placing kisses along your jaw, eventually reaching your neck, where he found your sweet spot. You reached your hands up, one gripping his bicep while the other was resting on his shoulder, your breath quickening. You moved both hands up to his face, pulling his head up and placing a passionate kiss on his lips. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and rest at your lower back, and melted into the kiss. In one quick motion, Francis had lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could move you to your bedroom.

Once upstairs and in your bedroom, he kicked off his shoes, before placing you down on the bed. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, before leaning down on the bed to kiss you again. Your hands moved to his belt, and you removed it quickly, throwing it to the side. You pushed him up, and sitting at the edge of the bed, pulled down his trousers. Once pooled at his feet, he kicked them off, and you fell to your knees before him. You could see the outline of his hard dick through his boxers, and let your fingers delicately dance around the top. He let out a deep breath as you pulled down his boxers, immediately placing a kiss on the head of his dick. He kicked off his boxers as he had his trousers, and groaned as you took him into your mouth, one hand placed around the base of his dick, the part you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You bobbed your head, swirling your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks and took in as much as you could. Francis suddenly moved back, quickly pulling you up and pushing you back on the bed. He pulled up your dress, moving your panties to the side and he placed an open mouthed kiss on your clit. You moaned loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets. You felt his tongue rest flat against your opening, before he entered a finger.

“What’s my name?” he asked, but you could only moan in response. Your breath came in short bursts as you felt your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach, but just as you were about to reach your high, Francis stopped. You looked down at him, disappointment etched on your face, but he simply smirked, kneeling up on the bed. You rose up to be level with him, and he quickly moved forward, placing a kiss on your lips that you quickly deepened. His arms reached around to your back, pulling the zip of your dress down, and you lifted your hips so he could fully remove it. Next, he expertly removed your bra, before leaning down to your left breast, placing a delicate kiss on the nipple as his hand moved to your right breast, toying with your nipple. You felt his teeth graze against the sensitive skin, and let out a moan. You felt his hands reach down to your panties, and moved to help him take them off. Before you could, however, you heard a ripping sound. You looked down to see your discarded, torn panties on the floor.

“Francis, they were my favourite pair.” You said, as he looked up at you with a smirk.

“Don’t worry beautiful.” He began, pushing you back and lining himself up to your entrance. “I’ll buy you another pair.” With that he quickly thrusted into you, and you moaned as you felt him fill you. He stayed still for a moment, allowing you to adjust, before exiting you completely. You were about to complain, when you felt his tip at your entrance, and he entered you once again, agonisingly slowly. You let out a low moan, as your hands gripped his biceps.

“Faster.” You managed to say, and he obliged, his movements quickly gaining a faster pace. It wasn’t long before you felt your climax building up again, and with one nod from Francis you released, shouting his name as he too climaxed, the tightening of your walls sending him over the edge. Once your climaxes had died down, Francis collapsed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest.

“What’s my name?” he asked breathlessly, smiling lazily down at you.

“Francis.” You mumbled, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips.


(feedback would be appreciated, and don’t forget to send in requests)

- K

The Island

New multi-part Omelia AU fic. Owen Hunt is a business man. He’s a firm believer that he is completely self-sufficient and void of human ‘weaknesses’ such as love. His favourite relationship is the one between him and his phone. He takes care of himself, he satisfies his needs and he prefers his own company over others’. He has his money, his looks and his power. What else does he need?

One more kick and that’s it, I’m turning round and saying something, I think to myself again and again.

There’s a certain etiquette on a plane that one should respect and adhere to, and first class usually guarantees the privelege of such behaviour. I can hear what is behind me. It’s a child- a child I now know is called Theodore Francis Shepherd after its mother scorned it with its full name for not calming down, shutting up and falling to sleep when it was asked.

Now, if I ruled the earth, sea and sky, I would insist that first class have an age requirement. They’d be no parties bigger than two unless it involved a horny, drunk bachelorette party providing a plethora of depressed single ladies about to lose one more of their kind to the married life.

In an ideal world, all flights would have the private suite option like the Emirates flight to Dubai have, but I suppose I’m not in charge of what airline the law firm book me on. British Airways will have to do.

New York to London is a trip I do regularly for work. I travel the hour or so in a yellow taxi from my Manhatten apartment overlooking Central Park to JFK, I breeze through check-in and security and patiently wait in the first class lounge with a glass of champagne. If it’s the morning then they often put orange juice in too, much to my dismay. With someone, you’re thinking? Do I do this all alone? Yes. Thank God. From what I’ve experienced, from what I’ve seen, alone is better.

A 1624 work by the English author John Donne states that “No man is an island”. Nobody can live self-sufficient from the world, from other people. We depend and rely on others. Well, aside from people providing me with work and a way to get around, I beg to differ. Consider me an island with a big fucking ocean surrounding me. On my island there is me, there is work, there is a gym, there is an occasional female visitor and definitely no mother trying to tell her child to stop kicking the back of my fucking chair.

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People will say things like “Do you remember in Harry Potter when...”

Of course I fucking remember. There’s not a part I don’t remember. You think I don’t remember that reading Sonnets of a Sorcerer will make you speak in limericks for the rest of your life or that Ireland won but Krum caught the snitch. Or that Slughorn’s fish was named Francis. Or the song that the Valentine’s dwarf delivered to Harry from Ginny. ‘His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad’ is a ditty embossed on my brain for the rest of time just fucking try me I have all the knowledge and I am always ready.

Deadpool Starter Sentences
  • "I need help! And a pony!”
  • "That's the shit emoji. You know the turd with the smiling face and the eyes. I thought it was chocolate yogurt for so long"
  • "Do you know how they say cancer in Spanish ?"
  • “Ride a bitch’s back like Yoda on Luke.”
  • “It reeks like old lady pants in here.”
  • "Life is an endless series of train wrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness"
  • "Cue the music"
  • "A-Poc-Key-Lips. I think I found my new favorite word!”
  • "I look like a testicle with teeth."
  • "Oh, come on. You're gonna leave me all alone here with less angry Rosie O'Donnell?"
  • “You don’t need to be a superhero to get the girls. You just need one woman to bring out the superhero in you.”
  • "Negasonic Teenage... what the shit? That's the coolest name ever!"
  • "Shit, did I leave the stove on?"
  • “You look like Freddy Krueger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.”
  • “I was just memorizing her face, thinking it might be the last time I see it.”
  • “My common sense is tingling.”
  • “If that hit you in the chest, I’m sorry. I was aiming for your crotch.”
  • "Look-- I'm a teenage girl. I'd rather be anywhere but here. I'm all about long sullen silence, followed by mean comments, followed by long sullen silence"
  • “Shenanigans? Did you just curse me out in Irish?”
  • “You look like your an avocado that had sex with an older avocado but it was like hate sex.”
  • "I've played a lot of roles, damsel in distress ain't one of them."
  • "Why, hello gorgeous"
  • “Oh, I so pity the dude who pressures her into prom sex…”
  • "I prefer "Well-Compensated Establishment Provocateur."
  • "All the dinosaurs fear the T-Rex"
  • “She’s like the Batman to my Robin, but old, black, blind, and in love with me. Although I’m pretty sure Robin loves Batman.”
  • "One thing that never survives this place is a sense of humor."
  • "I think you'd agree that shit just went sideways in the most colossal way"
  • "His name is Francis, he got his name from a soap dish"
  • "Love is a beautiful thing. When you find it, your whole world will taste like daffodil daydream"
  • "I never said this but don't swallow"
  • "My boyfriend said this was a superhero movie but that guy in the red suit just turned that other guy in a fucking kebab"
  • "I gotta take you back long before I squeezed this ass into red spandex"
Wonderful Life [Fanfiction]

Summary: Life - this mysterious string of coincidences and cosmic miscalculations. Sometimes they bring people together. Sometimes, perhaps, they don’t. AU.

Author’s note: It’s been forever since I actually wrote a fic in one go, but here we go.

Wonderful Life

The universe and everything in it is simply an outcome of a string of chances. Therefore, when one day an Arthur Kirkland walks down the street, stumbles upon a gorgeous bouquet of roses lying on the pavement, picks it up and gets shot, well, it’s a simple cosmic miscalculation, never meant to happen, but irreversible nonetheless in all its insignificance.

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goldfilm  asked:

Hi! I remember you saying something a while ago about The Secret History, where Camilla was like Persephone, and Henry was like Hades, and whether or not Julian was Dionysus. And I was wondering who the others in the Greek Squad would be, in similar comparisons. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, thanks!

no, not at all dear! it actually makes so much sense, since i think donna purposely built up all the tsh characters as symbolic representations of the greek gods, but really much mixed up with so many other classical figures as well? if you’ve studied those subjects, it’s almost impossible not to notice all the hits the author left all around the novel, you know. and then, obviously there are even your own interpretations, as a classicist and/or as a reader, so it’s almost impossible to discern where donna’s intention ends and our personal opinions might begin? so, consider what i’m about to say as my personal interpretation of the matter, even if it’s clearly supported by some kind of obvious intention of the writer, ok? :)

said that, certain comparisons are explicitly written down in the novel, for example the one you already mentioned, henry being hades and camilla being persephone. that is said as a metaphor in the book with those clear words, no hits or allusions. it’s interesting tho, the fact that on the other hand at the very beginning of the novel bunny compares camilla to diana - in other words, artemis. i find this funny and super interesting not just because obviously to any person not completely unfamiliar with greek mythology camilla and charles would immediately be the exact representation of artemis and apollo, but what really intrigued me about this is, i’m quite a “deeper scholar” of ancient greek deities and their philosophies, i’ve read pretty much everything you can read about those subject by now, i did out of passion, and as anyone who has actually studied those matters digging a little more, i’ve come to realise in many fragments and text and poems, artemis and persephone actually were described as the same deity - at some point of the orphic hymns moreover, persephone is first called “artemis” and then a few lines afterwards, demeter even says something like “oh, my poor daughter! you were destined to bear the glorious offspring of apollo and now you are married to that hideous man!”.. does it ring a bell? camilla is first in some kind of relationship with charles and then she falls for henry? who is compared to hades?
anyways, i’ve already written about this and i absolutely don’t wanna bore you with the all hows and whys, but this superimposition of deities on the same figure is a pretty common phenomenon in ancient mythologies and it’s called “syncretism”. the same god could have many names depending on the function he was summoned for. artemis, persephone, selene, hecate - they were in truth just one goddess whom aspects had several names. so it’s super funny and as much as intriguing to me, that in tsh camilla is actually first called “artemis” and then “persephone”, given the fact that she first is with charles and then with henry, respectively apollo and hades. i don’t know if donna tartt was aware of all this and did it on purpose, or if this is merely a coincidence, but it’s totally something i’m really fascinated by and that makes a huge, cosmical sense in my “classicist eyes”? lmao
and i have to say they are oh so bloody perfect for the role? all three of them? camilla being the fragile forest creature who could actually eat you alive anytime, without even blinking; charles being so much apollo he could even be the god himself as far as we might know: charming, handsome, calming, nice, but at the same time violent, anxious, deeply possessive and jealous, his dark side as deep as his ability to enchant others; and henry, well, am i even to explain what makes him a perfect hades? shady, riflessive, lost in his own world, cold intelligence and a total self-made moral, so close to the one a king could have made up to excuse himself anything? superiority/god complex, great leader, but at the same time hunted by his own demons and his own solitude, so much he wanted to find some way to escape his personal “dark kingdom”, his own mind? and he then falls precisely for the said apparently delicate creature that in truth is so much like him it is almost scary when we do find out? do tell me if all those are coincidences, i really don’t think so.

regarding all the others, it is much more difficult to say, tbh? because we are not told something as explicit, you know?
if you already read my other ask, then you know that i’m really sceptical about considering julian being the novel’s personification of dionysus. i kinda see francis much more fitting for that role if i have to name someone, but honestly i don’t actually think dionysus to be among the characters of the novel - he is indeed in the novel, but being himself. in other words, being at the same time everyone and no one at all. that’s the nature of dionysus, his very purpose and i don’t think i could accept any other interpretation, tbh.
also bunny and richard, i don’t think they are the representation of any deity whatsoever in this book. they are respectively the representation of what we are going to call the “non-believer” and the “believer”, so dear to the ancient tradition of the cult of dionysus. i don’t know if you are already aware of this or not, but it’s really a fundamental theme of dionysus’ painful journey to regain his “godhood”, meeting this two symbolical figures wherever he goes. dionysus is the god who died and was reborn, the one god who become human and had to prove his own divinity once again before being allowed to come back to olympus to claim what was his by birthright. so, every single time, in every single myth, the theme is always the same: someone does not think him a god, they disrespect him and his power, trying to kill or imprison him and they always end up slaughtered in the most amazing ways. that’s bunny. bunny who never takes anything seriously, bunny who wouldn’t understand and so that is not invited to the bacchanal, bunny who realises everything and disrespects the holiness of the act, taking the accidental murder as an atrocious act and nothing more than that, bunny that does not see it as the sacred consequence of an even more sacred experience, bunny who blackmails the actual “maenads” of dionysus (that’s what the clique became that night, kind of, in a representative way) and bunny who has to be killed, not just because of the actual modern danger of what he knew, but even because of the moral ancient one - he doesn’t get the divine importance of what happened that night; dionysus himself would have wanted him dead. this is the non-believer’s doom.
the second recurring figure in all the dionysus’ mythology is a poor, usually misunderstood and underestimated human who, while everyone is making fun of this young lad who calls himself a god and wants to punish him for that, they actually believe in dionysus’ godhood and help him achieving his purposes. this is what i called the “believer” and that’s what richard is in tsh. richard doesn’t really fit in the clique and he kinda always sees things from the outside, even in the very end. he’s a man in a land of gods, no matter how badly he wants to become one, he’s well aware he is not, he himself tells us this at the very beginning of the novel. but unlike bunny, his merit is that he just gets it. he gets the beauty of what happened, he gets the higher purpose, he gets the importance of it. richard respects and is deeply fascinated by the all story, so he’s rewarded for it in the end, just as the “believer” is always eventually rewarded in dionysus’ tales. he cannot aspire to become “that high”, “that important”, “that godly”, but he is the best a human being can aspire to be - mixed up with gods’ business, helper of the gods, touched by the gods, accepted by the gods. and that’s no light thing in the end, if we think better about it.. no light thing at all.

and here we arrive at francis, don’t we? francis is the most difficult to frame, he’d always been to me. he can seem many things, but he’s truly none of them at the end of the day. after accurate consideration, the god to whom i feel more comfortable comparing him is hermes, without any doubt. now, hermes is always seen as the playful god of thieves and mischief, apollo’s best friend, never serious, grand in wit, but not that important, am i right? well, in truth hermes is one of the most important gods of all the greek pantheon and i think he fits francis’ character perfectly as hell. first of all, hermes is playful yet always unreachable on the outside, but really complicated and shady on the inside. he’s not just the god who protects commerce and trades, he’s also one of the few phsycopompos deities of all ancient greek mythology, in other words he has the power to freely come and go as he pleases between the different realms of existence, both the living and the dead one - he’s both light and shadow. also, hermes is one of the freest sexual-oriented gods i know (he fathered hermaphroditus), but he kinda always keeps everything for himself? he doesn’t go around showing off as all the other gods. he loves deeply, but there’s always something holding him back, some shadow following him everywhere he goes. he’s also the messenger of the gods, he has the power to create a bound, a real contact between divinity and humanity. that’s so francis, tbh. francis who seem so unreachable, but at the same time so easy going and comfortable with anyone, francis who is probably the only one who actually really bounded with richard (the humanity i was talking about), francis who is never free to completely be himself out of the fear of letting down his “theoretical role” in the society, but at the same time never shows his sorrows on the outside with anyone? he lives constantly divided between two worlds, never having the courage to be fully “a god”, but scared to death to be left alone in the land of the humankind. that’s precisely hermes in my eyes, even if i don’t actually think this was really donna’s intention? who knows. i’ve certainly always seen him in this particular light.

really hope this will make any sense to you? lol if not, i’m so deeply sorry. i tend to be a little too passionate about those subjects, you know!

Allies and Their Pokemon GO! Teams

(Yo, team Instinct represent, hail our memelord of a leader.)


America/Alfred F. Jones- 

Alfie is Instinct 100 percent honestly, if the meme’s weren’t enough to speak for themselves, he would probably choose this team right away, spewing something about how cool the logo was or something like that. Also, I feel that though he can be logical when needed, America is really one to just do things on impulse. 

-Has gotten in trouble for accidentally wandering into a ‘no swimming’ lake trying to catch a Gyarados

-Probably mispronounces Pokemon names on purpose to annoy England

England/Arthur Kirkland-

I can definitely see Arthur joining Mystic, he is the type to value brains and quick thinking, and seems proud of his wit. He probably is obsessive about claiming every gym for his team and refuses to associate with anyone from another team.

-Definitely makes memes about Instinct 

-”Oh, you’re Valor? I’ve got to go.”

France/Francis Bonnefoy-

Valor af. Tbh though he probably just picked Valor because of the color. However I can see him in Valor because he’s passionate, and because I put England in Mystic, I just could not pass up this opportunity.

-Just likes to catch pokemon, probably doesn’t even care about the gyms unless England just took it.

-Nicknames all of his pokemon

Russia/Ivan Braginski-

I can see Ivan also in Valor honestly, probably because they seemed the coolest to him. Also he is quite childish so I can see him valuing strength and the promise to be the best. And he likes warm things, so fire legendary was the way to go. 

-Super competitive. ‘Oh, Instinct just took this gym? That is too bad for them, da?’ *probably rolls up right away with his twenty Bellsprouts*

-Accidentally gets lost looking for gyms tbh

China/Yao Wang-

I can’t see Yao anywhere but Mystic. He probably seriously considered his options when picking his team, but Mystic was the obvious choice for him. He agrees with their values whole-heartedly. Despite seeing people in other teams as rather childish, I don’t think he would make that much of a deal out of it. 

-Gives new players tips and probably randomly starts up conversation with other players

-Likes to look for pokemon in parks and beautiful places where he isn’t bothering anyone

freezestime  asked:

Companions react to finding a tiny and very fluffy pomeranian wandering around? (Maybe the radiation made it smaller and/or fluffier?)

Preston: “Hey it seems to like you General. Whatever it is, it’s friendly!”

Piper: “Blue what do you think that is?” When Sole explains its a type of dog she doesn’t believe them. “Before use to own midget dogs before the war?”

Nick: “Client I had use to have one of these, would piss all over the office and made them tie it up outside.”

Maccready: “What is this furry rat?”

Cait: “Bloody thing probably has rabies or something.”

Hancock: “That’s a dog? More like a yipping squeaky toy, at least it’s fur is soft.”

Danse: Would say something along the lines of ‘they were better off extinct’ but would also hide it in his quarters as a pet.

Curie: She thinks it’s so cute. Would most likely adopt it and try to see if she can breed it.

Deacon: “You know I’ve never seen a squirrel that was so fluffy!”

Strong: It’s his appetizer. Little to hairy for his taste but meat it meat.

X6: “Oh, I believe some institute scientists were making some synth version of these. I have no idea why they would be purposeful.”

Codsworth: “Oh look sir/mum! Remember when Mrs. Francis had one? She named it ‘Killer!’ Oh she was such a card!”

anonymous asked:

What are some of your Henry/Anne headcanons?

Oh sweet summer child. Forgive me. And these are just some of which I was thinking of while I was showering.

  • When they were stuck in Calais for a couple of weeks after the meeting with Francis, Anne won a shit load of card games against Henry. Eventually, they moved on from her winning money and jewels to ~sexual favors ;)
  • Anne goes into early labor with their second child in 1534. He doesn’t breathe for the first two minutes in the world but miraculously comes to life when they think all hope is lost.
  • They name their second daughter Margaret for his sister (who Anne seems to have liked, unlike his sister Mary) and their third Claude for Anne’s late mistress. Alternatively, they name the third Frances to get back at Francis for naming his son Henri.
  • One of their boys is named Arthur and another Owen. (and none for Edward, byeee)
  • Their firstborn son inherits Henry’s domineering height, nose, and eyes. But his rich brown hair and “swarthy” complexion are all Anne.
  • Anne has a Bad Feeling about the January joust of 1536 and asks Henry to sit it out – he acquiesces but sulks. Until they watch the man who jousts in his place get thrown from his horse and crushed to death. Then he sulks a lot less and nearly faints instead and then clings to her and their babies for the rest of the day/week.
  • Whitehall was their intended “dream home” that they planned and renovated together irl. They favor it over the other palaces.
  • Elizabeth is the brightest of the Tudor children. In an ironic twist of fate that baffles Christendom, she goes on to marry Phillip of Spain (she is originally married by proxy to Charles II of Orléans but he still dies early, when she’s around 12). Whether she is truly Catholic is questionable. She and Robert Dudley correspond his entire life long.
  • When Mary Stuart’s guardians refuse the betrothal between Mary and their Prince of Wales, Henry and Anne launch the Rough Wooing due to insult, manage to capture Mary and her mother, and Anne takes her as her “ward” slash prisoner, to be reared as their prince’s consort. This unites Great Britain even sooner.
  • Later in life, Anne commissions an expensive tapestry series starting with Henry’s youth (featuring his parents and siblings) and proceeding to his coronation, their wedding, when he was officially proclaimed the Head of the Church of England, the birth of their prince. and ending with them surrounded by their children. She hangs it in Eltham Palace, his childhood home. He weeps when it’s unveiled to him.
  • Speaking of Eltham Palace. They go there a lot to escape court life. And Hever.
  • Henry teaches Anne a little how to wield a sword because cuteness and because she’s a lioness.
  • She’s allowed to breastfeed their second son for a while, despite the scandal of it.
  • Centuries later, the popular black eyes of European royals and nobility can be traced back to Anne and the red-gold hair to the Tudors (thx EoY u the real mvp).

As I review this before publishing, I’m not sure if this is what you were seeking – you probably wanted (more) individual/relationship-oriented head canons lol, which I do have a fuckload of and I typed out a bunch of them for Modern AU but I thought there were too many so I stopped with just the historic ones. So if you want them just hmu and I’ll post them!

A Quick Interview About Christian Faith.

An interview about my faith and denomination, from @sjpark11 for his class.


1. What is your understanding and experience of spirituality?

- There exists a divine pulse to the universe, a breath of creation by a Creator. To experience spirituality is to be in touch with this pulse, to be “aligned” with creation in all its potential and possibility.

As a Christian, I also believe this divine pulse, God, revealed Himself on the earth at one point in time as one of us, to reverse the human condition of entropy and invite us into that story of healing.


2. What are some images or metaphors that support your understanding and/or your experience of spirituality?

- I like C.S. Lewis’s metaphor about the door. Currently, we are on one side. We get glimpses of a “reality” beyond us, something so grand and beautiful that we can hardly take it in. It’s evoked sometimes in our natural experience, whether by sunset or ice cream or romance or song, though these things in themselves come quickly and go. One day we will get to the other side of the door.

Faith is about the journey of looking through the keyhole, getting a glance of infinite beauty, until we permanently partake in the radiance of all that we hoped for.


3. Who are some of the people and authors from your denomination who have significantly shaped your understanding of spirituality?

- C.S. Lewis shaped my faith as an imaginative, playful, breathtaking adventure. Before Lewis, when I was an atheist, I had always imagined faith to be stodgy and full of silly rules. After Lewis, I found faith to be a field of freedom in which good was maximized.

I also absorbed a lot from G.K. Chesterton, Timothy Keller, Francis Chan, Andy Stanley, Sally Lloyd-Jones, Henrietta Mears, and Brené Brown (who is indeed a Christian).


4. Name and describe some significant insights and characteristics of your denomination’s approach to spirituality. What do you consider its strengths and weaknesses?

- I was trained in a Baptist seminary but also served at a Methodist church. I think the strengths of the Protestant group are a very close communal structure like a family, a high emphasis on intellectual sermons mixed with the emotional depth of liturgy and music, and occasionally, a care for the neighborhood and city. Baptists also use a full tank of water for baptism, not that weak sprinkle sauce. (Totally, totally kidding on the last one.) The weaknesses are often too much “insider language,” an inability to handle grief, a temptation to be isolated, and in-house bickering.


5. Name and describe a book written by someone in your denomination that would help someone gain insights about your denomination’s approach to spirituality?

- While C.S. Lewis might fall outside my “denomination,” he’s informed nearly all of them, and his books Mere Christianity and The Problem of Pain are must-reads. For someone outside Christianity, his book The Screwtape Letters is excellent.

Mere Christianity was a series of radio talks where C.S. Lewis answered the reason we need Christianity, particularly after the cynicism of World War II and the Holocaust.

The Problem of Pain answers how there could be a good God with suffering in the world. Lewis, by the way, had an incredibly difficult life. He was married for just four years before his wife died of cancer and he was nearly broke his entire life, despite his books being bestsellers.

The Screwtape Letters is a satire, about a senior demon teaching a younger demon how to tempt a human to hell. The twist is that the demon’s most effective techniques are shallow, boring, trivial trappings that fog the human from ever thinking too hard and that distract them to death, or as Lewis writes, “The safest road to hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.”


6. What people and resources have been important influences on your spirituality and spiritual practices outside of your denomination?

- At my hospital, where I’m a chaplain, nearly every third chaplain is from a different denomination. They’ve all helped to broaden my faith by their differing interpretations of the Bible while at the same create a deeper understanding of my own. More than that, even when our ideas may disagree, I’ve learned disagreement doesn’t have to mean division.


7. Describe your spiritual practices. How do they influence your living and ministry?

- Spiritual practices such as prayer, reading Scripture, serving the community, and solo or corporate worship times (whether by myself or on Sunday) have brought a greater joy to my daily experience.

It’s humbling to know through such practices that there is a greater, higher, incomparably wonderful beauty beyond the brokenness we see on earth. It’s unbelievable to think that this great divinity would take an interest in us. It brings perspective to some of the trivial things and crystallizes what’s most important. I realize constantly that I am small, life is short, and God the great parent wants us to get along with our brothers and sisters.


8. What suggestions would you offer for someone who is in the process of establishing a spiritual practice in their lives?

- To have tons of patience. Spiritual practices are hard. We are easily distracted and our minds are busier than ever. The second we try to pray or read sacred books or serve others, we think of a million other things to do. It’s FOMO at its worst, because “spirituality” can feel like it doesn’t pay off. But as spiritual practices are both a way of growing character and getting in touch with God, these things take as much time as growing fruit or growing a full beard.

So it requires a stillness and a kind of rest that we’re not used to. When we get there, it’s worth that extra amount of investment to run through the distractions.

J.S.

I just don’t get it.

Why do the writers even bother throwing in the little bits of continuity? Like mentioning Maura donating her kidney or when Jane shot Doyle? It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me. Okay, with Frankie’s name. For a character Jan Nash claims to love so much, she certainly can’t remember that his name is Francesco, not Francis. The writers seem to think that they can answer fan’s questions with just throwing out an “oh! didn’t we mention? Bass is at the zoo!” or an “of course Jo Friday’s owners were still looking for her after five years! And they found her! Yay!” And even when they TRY to get it right by making up what could have been a semi-plausible story for Maura hating lying and breaking out in hives when she lies, they fail miserably by forgetting that Maura enrolled in boarding school at the age of ten. Which means that she was not living with her parents at fourteen in order to have a friend next door who’s mother was having an affair with her father. It’s simply not possible. And really, what was with Maura throwing out that comment about Jane seeing Tommy? Where the heck is he? Is he even in Boston? I just can’t comprehend how much the show runner and the writers don’t know their own show. Get your shit together Rizzoli and Isles. Get your fucking shit together.

mockingjayne12  asked:

because i need something good on my dash right now, please tell us about the time you saw jen in person. :)

oh really? I love how you already know this story but you want to hear it again. Sure thing!

Well I was at the london premiere of Mockingjay Part 1 last november. My friend got us tickets for the movie and I was nervous and shaking when we got there. I was about to go on the red carpet -that was included- when I heard people screaming and saw Jen get out of the car. Well, you know what dress she was wearing. I loved it. And that hair with the black band woah <3

I was forced to get on the carpet and do the walk so I did, only to realise I was standing right next to Joshy, cute, incredibly charming, happy Joshy. He was busy signing autographs so I didn’t say anything, but I did melt. 

After waiting inside the theatre, already in our seats, for a while, the whole cast came in. The entire cast is amazing but I had eyes only for Jen. She just couldn’t stop smiling, and I knew she’d entered the building because I heard her laugh! Seriously. She was cracking up at something. Walking at all times next to Josh. 

One by one they went up to the stage, but while Francis was introducing the movie, as I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jen, I saw her teasing Josh -like nudging him with her elbow- and both of them giggling together at something I obviously couldn’t hear from fourth row. She proceeded to explain the joke, but when she opened her mouth we all realised she didn’t have a mic! Bummer. 

I also remember Francis introducing the cast one by one and the moment he said Jen’s name I stood up and whistled at the top of my lungs -and I am 100% the entire audience heard me, which includes Jen lol
The last thing I remember was them walking down the stage and to their seats on the upper floor, and I saw Jen take her seat. I tried to see who she was sitting next to, but I think Josh was in the seat in front of her? Not sure.

Anyway, I cried that night on my way home because, even if I hadn’t been able to get close to her, I’d seen her in the flesh and finally realised that her beauty was even more striking in person. She was bubbly and happy around everyone, something I will never forget :)

The moment I fell in hate with Conde.

Disclaimer: Gonna be harsh and all that yeah.

Ok, I actually liked the guy at the start, I really did, even though it was obvious from 2x02 that he was gonna fall for Mary [see 8 simples rules to write Reign]

But I was objective.. I’m an adult, not just a hardcore shipper ya know? Hehe. And after all, he was a nice guy.. He helped his King out, and even when Narcisse bitched about Conde to Francis in epi 1, I sided with Conde, obviously. So overall, other than his married woman fetish yucks , he seemed like a pretty good guy right? I mean I would’ve been friends with him.

UNTIL HE UTTERED THESE LINES!

I did it for you”? I’m sorry, but WHAT, THE, FUCK? Like, dude, seriously?! Can you be more creepy/overt/desperate/distasteful/odious/home-wreckery/ oh and did I mention creeeeepy? I mean I know you can be‘cause well, you have been ever since. But this is pre-rape Reign I’m talking about! And if I read ONE more post about how “noble” Conde is or how he “never flirted” with Mary, and how Monde is so natural and pure like a new born baby, I will literally go and punch these people’s faces keyboard keys out!
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THIS THEN? ARE PEOPLE PURPOSELY FORGETTING THIS SHIT, ‘CAUSE GOD FORBID FRANCIS MIGHT ACTUALLY BE THE GOOD GUY THEN?
But let’s not even compare him with Francis, just Conde for now.

All this hoohaa about his “love speech” to Mary in 2x14
*I puke a Lil in my mouth every time I type that alphanumeric combination*.

This is what that whole episode was->
Conde: I’m leaving with Lola ‘cause love you and I can’t bear being near you without getting in your skirts. You gonna make me stay? Why? Tell me why?! Pssst. I’ll give you a hint, say it’s ‘cause you’re jealous and I’ll stay.

Later, again we see,

Conde: Don’t you get it, girl? I get a HUGE erection every time you’re near me! I’M in love with YOU! So you owe me either your love or “release” me from my puppy leash which I bought for myself

In this scene and even in 2x13, Conde victimizes himself and blames all his “feelings” on Mary. Wait up dear Mister Conde, let’s have an “honest” chat shall we?

Q1.

Did Mary ask you to fall in love with her?

Q2.

Did she, at any point, tell you she doesn't love her husband or doesn't want to be married to him?

Q3.

Did she ever tell you before 2x14 that she had any inclination towards you of the romantic kind?

But, according to him though, it’s all Mary’s fault that he is in love with her and can’t have her. Oh boo-bloody-hoo. She never led you on, man! You know what would have been Mary leading Conde on? If she didn’t confront his “love-letter” and still kept asking for his help. Then, she actually knows this dude is in love wimme so lemme just keep using him. But she didn’t do that! [Until now, at least, idk what her Scotland plan with him is tbh. I’m not getting into that now. Mary is OOC atm for me. Laurie was PMSing when she wrote this whole SL, imo]

But yeah, Conde is the poor chap in this whole scenario and Francis is the asshole. I really don’t get this ok. Say what you will about Francis. Yes, he throws sex at his problems, yes, he “lied” to her + whatever else flaws he has ‘cause he is human, but he has NEVER, EVER, EVER, TRIED TO BREAK ANOTHER PERSON’S MARRIAGE/ENGAGEMENT! Even when it was his own ex-fiancee and half-brother!

When Francis came back in 1x13, did you hear him say “I’ve been miserable, and it’s ‘cause of you. I even revenge sexed your BFF, haha, you jealous?You’ve literally taken my entire life and given it to my brother and are now gonna marry him. This is all your fault, but you can still fix this. I still love you, I always will, don’t care about feelings tbh, marry me” ?

It was this actually-  “You’re engaged to my brother now, and you need this alliance for your country, and I’m not here to screw with that. Just came to save mommy”. Later when Cathy says Mary still loves you even though she’s with Bash, he refutes her painfully “You don’t know that, I don’t know that”. Even at that point, he didn’t want to force their marriage on her in case she had fallen for Bash! And when the prophecy bull shit is done- “I’m telling you that you don’t have to make a forced decision based on fear and politics. Just choose, without any other pressure - him or me”.
It was never really a choice though c’mon Frary4life
[Or did I understand all that wrong? Sometimes looking at these Francis haters comments, I start to think that I wasn’t watching the same show as they are]

But, yeah, I get it. Francis is the bad guy, always. And anyone who breathes(not even that is necessary I’m sure) and is not named Francis is good, even if he says shit like “I did it for you” to a married queen.

Yeah, I’m cool with it.

dramoor  asked:

PS (The character limit in this doesn't allow me to say much in one message) - I don't know when you last visited the Vatican, but the visit I related was in 2007. I doubt it's gotten more lax since then; if so, that would seem backwards. Many people viewed the Pope as being dishonest, hypocritical, and wrongly judgmental in his comment on Trump. I am one of them. Then to see you defending him with a lot of false statements and insults..I had to speak up. The Pope is not infallible, he is a man.

Hello,

I won’t include the first message, since this second part has the main substance of your concerns. Let me address them here.

I last visited the Vatican 10 years ago, and at that time, there was no security checkpoint to enter the large plaza in front of St. Peter’s church. So, as I said, I was not trying to deceive people, because that was my honest experience while I was there. Now, I know that security is different than when I visited. Thanks for informing me.

As for the pope being dishonest, I ask you to clarify this. Did he tell any lies? Did he deceive? He simply said that if all a person wants to do is build walls, to keep out poor, starving, or persecuted people, that this is not a Christian attitude.

Why is the pope hypocritical? Did the pope say all walls are bad? No. Did the pope say it is wrong to have security? No. Did the pope call for open borders and to abolish all immigration laws? No. He did not. So you really do not have grounds for calling him hypocritical. Yes, the Vatican has security. But having security does not make the pope hypocritical when he says that Christians build bridges also.

Because, in fact, Christians do build bridges. The pope has directed church funds and resources to assisting immigrants in various countries, to building refugee camps in various countries, to helping immigrants in the city of Rome even, both legal and illegal. Although the Vatican only has a few refugee families because of its small size, there are properties of the church all over the world that give shelter, food, and clothing to immigrants and refugees, no matter what their race or religion is, or whether they have passed our security.

Next, you say the pope is judgmental. Well, as Christians, we have to discern activities and thoughts that are sin or not sin. We have to test spirits (1 John 4:1). We have to call out certain behaviors and attitudes as going against Christ.

Was Saint Paul also being judgmental when he wrote these words:

“For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ” (Philippians 3:18).

Those words sound much harsher than what the pope said. Also, did you read where Pope Francis said that he gives Trump “the benefit of the doubt.” The Pope never, ever said, “100%, for a fact, Donald Trump is not a Christian.” In fact, the Pope never mentioned Trump by name–not once. Here is the quote:

“A person who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not building bridges, is not Christian.”

“A person who thinks ONLY about building walls.” That is a comment from Pope Francis about “a person” or people in general who think this way. Did you notice the words, “only about building walls.” That means that IF a person thinks this way, their thoughts are not Christian.

That does not mean that Trump or any politician who says these things is not “a Christian.” 

There is a difference between “being Christian” and “being A CHRISTIAN.” 

Of course, Trump is a Christian, because he is baptized. But he’s not necessarily “being Christian” in all his thinking. Donald Trump is not infallible either, and if his response to illegal immigration does not show any of the compassion and charity of Christ, then he will be criticized, and not just by fellow Christians. 

Overall, I think your criticisms of Pope Francis, while claiming to protest judgmental behavior, are pretty harsh and judgmental in themselves, using words like “dishonest” and “hypocritical” just because you think the pope was attacking security and laws–which he wasn’t.

Line and Pole.

Originally posted by ageofsuperheroes

Request:

Yay! In that case could you write a Deadpool fic where the reader is Deadpool’s best friend and Ajax uses you as bait to get to Wade but something happens and you almost die. Then Wade reaches you just in time to save your life and confesses his feelings for you :D! Sorry if that was a lil’ confusing lol by anon

A/N: Finally! An Upload!! This took me forever, but it is finally finally finished!! So Sorry about the massive wait! Make sure to let me know what you think and requests should be reopening soon!! xxx (I know the gif is ridiculous but every time I see it I laugh harder so I just had to use it)

“Did you know, female Kangaroos have three vaginas?” Spluttering and choking were the sounds that met your statement.

Looking up at Wade, you couldn’t help but smile. If it were possible for a black and red mask to be wearing an expression of abject horror, this one certainly was.

“That’s a biological marvel!” He exclaimed, his gloved hands gesturing grandly to convey his overzealous reaction.

“It is pretty fucking wild.” You agreed, nodding along, before you flicked him in the face. “Take this stupid thing off, it creeps me out.” It was true, the mask was like some horrifying nightmare. It was the blank white eyes, they were oddly disturbing.

“And Texas Chainsaw thirty-seven doesn’t?” He asked sarcastically, clearly referring to his face.

Rolling your eyes at his dramatic distaste of his own features you leaned over and roughly pulled at the mask. “Just take the fucking thing off!”

“Ah okay, Okay!” He conceded as you practically yanked his head off in your attempt to unmask him. “Jeez, you’re so vicious.” He told you, voice rising in pitch in mock disbelief.

Eventually, he took off his mask. “Thank God” You sighed as he haphazardly threw it onto the shoddy coffee table, where it landed in a bowl of salsa. Sitting back into the sofa and bringing your knees into your chest, you looked to Wade. “What are your wacky plans for tonight then?”

“Hmmmmmmm.” He tapped his chin as he deliberated and, when he cracked a grin and glanced at you, you held out a staying hand to him.

“No, forget I asked! I don’t wanna know!” You had known him long enough to guess at at least one of his nighttime activities.

“Let’s play ping pong!” He exclaimed, entirely ignoring your previous statement in favor of spewing ridiculous ideas.

You just shook your head.

You heard a long, clearly annoyed, huff and, looking back at Wade, you saw him throw his head back like a petulant child. You felt a small smile stretch upon your lips as you subtly shook your head at him.

In the end neither of you moved from the creaky sofa, both of you just sitting and messing around. But eventually, tiredness seemed to overtake you and you heaved yourself from the couch, grabbing your now empty mug from the rickety coffee table.

Wade was fast asleep at this point in the night, his mouth hanging open and a loud snore resonating from him as he lay haphazardly on the sofa. Placing the mug in the cracked ceramic sink, you smirked at the sight of him, and moved to leave his run-down house.


“Ughhh.” You groaned loudly as you lifted your head, your eyes squinting against the harsh artificial lights. You tried to lift at least one of your hands to block out this light but the moment you tried to shift your hand you realized, with panic, that your hands were tightly bound behind you.

Taking a deep breath you tried to relax, with little success, as you struggled against the ropes that were viciously cutting into your already chafed wrists. “Fuck.” You breathed, feeling panic set in despite yourself.

“Quite a bind, isn’t it?” Whipping your head to the side you spotted a man, hooded in darkness and shadow as he leaned against a bright doorway. You couldn’t see it, but the smirk on his lips was obvious in his accented voice.

“Funny.” You growled, overly angry about his stupid little pun. Uselessly struggling against the ropes, you attempted to ignore the way he was slowly approaching you; his shoes ominously clacking against the cold stone floor.

As his figure loomed over you, you couldn’t ignore him any longer. Glancing up, attempting to seem unaffected and unwavering, you stopped the pointless struggle to free your arms.

“Who the hell are you?” You spat at him, narrowing your eyes as he leaned his face down close to yours; clearly in an attempt to intimidate you.

His lips quirked up in an arrogant little smirk. “You might know me.” At his words you racked your brain, did you know him? After a brief moment of uncertainty you resolved that you definitely didn’t know him, you were sure you would recognize his eternally smug features.

“Sorry, agonizingly attractive faces are the only ones I remember. You don’t seem to fit the bill.” You told him, smirking sarcastically at him.

He hummed in mock contemplation as he rudely tapped his fingers against your skull. “How ever do you remember your little friend Wade?”

Shit. Realization hit you like a speeding train.

“Francis.” You barely whispered it, saying it merely to affirm your own realization.

As soon as the name passed your lips his face morphed from an arrogant smirk to an aggravated scowl. He stood tall and you winced as his clenched fist reared back.

“Wake me up before you go-go” The music reverberated through the room and, although you had no idea at all as to where it was originating from, the moment the exuberant sounds of Wham! cascaded through the air you felt yourself relax.

Unfortunately, Francis seemed just as pleased at the development. Turning slightly, he glanced towards the door, a smile clear upon his profile. “Well, well, well,” he commented, unsheathing two blades from somewhere. They were similar to Wade’s katanas but they looked a little more… lethal.

He raised one of the swords, allowing the sharp edge of the blade to rest just beside your cheekbone. “If you want to catch a dumb little fish,” he started, as he allowed the blade to slice slightly into your skin, “dangle a pretty piece of bait in the water.”

The cut he left in your cheek felt like it was burning, as though it were on fire, sizzling and bubbling like melting plastic. “Wha-” You tried to demand he tell you what was happening, make him tell you what was burning its way through your veins, but your throat felt too constricted and raw to form a single sound. He must have coated his blade with something.

You could barely even see his smirking face, your eyes were swimming with salty tears and, regardless, you could barely concentrate on just one thing. “Hurts, doesn’t it.” His voice was piercing through the vale of pain in your mind and you couldn’t tell whether it was a relief or a greater pain.

“This will make it all better.” He told you, holding a little vial in front of your eyes, you could barely even concentrate on the small bottle but when he snatched it from your sight you felt a small whimper escape you.

He placed the vial just out of your reach on the floor before you, before turning to stalk from the room.

You weren’t certain how long you were sat there, slowly burning from the inside out, but by the time a figure arrived in the doorway your senses were entirely blurred and your mind was slowly fading.

A flash of red and black was the very last thing you saw.


For the second time that day, you awoke with a pounding in your skull, except this time it was accompanied by a throat like sandpaper and an intense aching in your limbs. “Ughh.” You groaned, not entirely sure as to where you were but feeling a strange sense of comfort anyway.

As you shifted slightly, something white and fluffy fell upon your face. Achingly raising your arms to move the object you realized that it was a large pillow. In fact, as you looked around, your realized that you were entirely encompassed by large fluffy pillows.

You slowly sat up, looking around the room. You instantly recognized this cluttered place.

“Wade?” You called, your voice still hoarse and cracked.

In response you heard the clattering and clanging of what sounded like dropped saucepans. The shuffling of feet sounded before he came into view; his mask was off (thankfully) but the rest of his suit was still on.

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, clearly excited.

“What’s with all these pillows?” You asked, still feeling groggy and slow.

He moved to sit beside you, between you and the mountainous pile of pillows. “Well, I thought…” This was the first time Wade had ever seemed even slightly awkward about anything, it was disconcerting.

“What happened with Francis?” You asked, placing a hand on his back.

He held up a hand, and pretended to shoot one of the pillows, despite his playful action he seemed somewhat unenthusiastic.

“Wade-” You were about to ask him what was wrong, when a gloved hand pulled your face to his.

And the next thing you knew, you were being kissed.

Before you had the chance to react, he had pulled away, watching you with wide eyes.

“I love you.” Now Wade had a nasty habit of blurting out whatever came to mind, but this surprised even you.

You barely even had time to process what he had said before he was babbling again. “I know I probably should have said that before now but, you know, I didn’t think you’d go and get yourself poisoned by Francis-” The fact that Wade still ensured the name Francis was said with such disdain even during this conversation was entirely endearing and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. “-And I panicked. I only just figured out about that tiny little bottle on the floor and then I had to go and find all these pillows for your pillow sanctuary and then the pancakes kept sticking to the pan-”

Cutting him off the only way you could think off, knowing he could talk about pancakes and saucepans all day, you kissed him. He leaned into you instantly, as though he could somehow deepen the kiss infinitely, and you eventually ended up falling backwards onto one of the many pillows.

You felt your hair spread over the pillow as you giggled and looked up into his eyes. “Pillow sanctuary?” You asked, laughing at the ridiculous concept.

He was still leaning over you as he glanced up and around at the countless pillows surrounding you. Glancing over his shoulder, to the grey ceiling above, you were struck with an idea. “Doesn’t a pillow sanctuary need a roof?” You whispered breathily.

Yes. It. Does.” He punctuated each word, as if to emphasize their importance, and quickly moved to stand. You found yourself smiling stupidly, until you heard the commotion emanating from his room. “God Wade, please do not use your sheets for the roof!” You lamented, hating to think about how long it may have been since his sheets were last washed.

He quickly moved from his room and into another, easily avoiding the clutter as he went. “Good idea.” He conceded along the way.

Masterlist

anonymous asked:

Wait....holy crap. I just realized Reba and Francis are the healthy version of Hannibal and Will. Francis realized his relationship with Reba was codependent and decided to split from her (in the most dramatic way possible) in order to spare her. But in "Hannigram," neither of them took this step. But who is Francis in their relationship? Both of them are dangerous to each other...

Haha. I should think regardless of Will’s current awareness of and potential threat to Hannibal, it should be pretty clear that Francis and Hannibal correspond to each other. They’re the serial killers, after all. 

Besides that, remember when Francis told Reba, “You threaten me, but you do not threaten me”? Reba threatened Francis with her influence, through his love for her, the same way Will really threatens Hannibal. 

anonymous asked:

Hi! I would like it if you would write a FrUK fanfiction based on how I met my best friend who roleplays France? England's friend, any country you'd like, was over and commented on how England needed to get more social skills so they said despite knowing that Arthur would hate it, they invited France over. of course Arthur pretended to hate this at first, but something about France made him go crazy. Once he left Arthur immediately asked if he would be coming back over and invited him every day

I am SO sorry this took FOREVER AND A HALF! I’ve been so busy! But! I never forgot! I hope it’s alright for you :P


Arthur refused to act anything short of indignant after Antonio had announced he had invited another one of his friends along to their movie night.

“You need to get out and meet more people, mi amigo,” he had said happily as Arthur scowled at the mere suggestion. He didn’t need more friends. He was on friendly terms with the cheery Spaniard and he had a couple of online friends he liked to game with; he didn’t need any more social interaction other than what was absolutely necessary.

“Why did you invite someone else along without consulting me first?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms over his chest and putting on his best ‘I am disappointed in you’ face. He had barely been coaxed out of the house to go to the movie at all, only bending to Antonio’s desires to not go to the theatre alone when he offered to pay for Arthur’s ticket.

“Because he needs to get out of the house just as much as you do,” Antonio laughed and shrugged, grinning as the two boys walked towards the theatre. “I am thinking that you two will get along,” he added, nudging Arthur in the arm.

“His social life is none of my concern,” Arthur said, nudging Antonio back, “what’s his name?”

“Francis.”

“Oh bloody hell, Tonio, you didn’t invite the Francis Bonnefoy to our movie night did you? That bloody frog is the most detestable creature I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“You know him?” Antonio paused, eyebrows high on his forehead. Arthur could not help but roll his eyes and sigh heavily; of course Arthur knew Francis, everyone knew Francis. He was one of the most popular boys in school and popular among the ladies. He was widely known as the school’s resident playboy and flirt.

“I can’t imagine why you think Francis needs to get out. I’m fairly certain he spends too much time getting out.” He held open the theatre door for his friend, his stomach turning in his gut. He didn’t want to spend the next two hours sitting beside Francis, he might have to make pleasant conversation before or after the movie. He would make Antonio sit between them. Antonio sighed.

“I have known Francis for a while now,” he said, fishing out his wallet and standing in line to buy tickets, “he is a different person once you get to know him. He’s not as confident as you might-” Arthur was not sorry that Antonio’s speech was cut short, he didn’t really care about all the lovely things Antonio would likely have to say about the French boy, as the very object of their discussion suddenly flounced up next to them.

“Antonio!” Francis practically sang, throwing his arms around his neck and laughing happily. “I have been waiting for ages for you to arrive. I thought you had abandoned me!” He turned and smiled at Arthur, who took a step back, not willing to be subjected to a similar greeting. “Hello,” was all he said, much to Arthur’s appreciation.

“Hi,” was all he said with a glare. He should never have let Antonio convince him to leave his house. He could be at home, raiding a dungeon online with Lukas and Vlad. He outwardly scoffed at the idea of being friends with someone like Francis.

“He’s a bit prickly on the outside,” Antonio said to Francis, handing over a debit card to pay for the movie tickets, “but he’s quite nice once you get to know him,” he threw a smirk over his shoulder at Arthur, then handed him his movie ticket.

“Why are you so prickly, Arthur?” Francis asked; he was smiling innocently enough, but his eyes had a mischievous glint to them that made Arthur’s stomach do a flip.

“Because.” Francis seemed to get the hint and busied himself chatting happily to Antonio as the three stood in line for popcorn and drinks. He continued to chat all the way until they were sliding into their seats, Arthur only noticing last minute that they were filing to sit down in the wrong order, Arthur first, then Francis, then Antonio.

“Shouldn’t we switch seats around? Why don’t you sit in the middle, Tonio?” He tried to correct the problem.

“Nah, mi amigo, I’m already sitting. Just sit down, it’s fine how it is.” Arthur grumbled and sat down, Francis gave him a sympathetic smile. He remained silent through the majority of the previews before finally leaning in towards Arthur to tell him something; he smelled like vanilla and lavender.

“I am sorry you are stuck sitting next to me,” he whispered, “I can ask Toni to switch with me if you are really uncomfortable.” Arthur was surprised by the gentleness in his tone, his eyes looking sincere in the gloom of the theatre, bright blue irises reflecting the preview on the screen and casting him in an eerie, flickering light. Arthur cleared his throat.

“No, that’s alright, this is fine.” Francis smiled and turned back to face the screen.

Arthur did not expect Francis to jump so much during tense moments, he briefly reached out and grabbed Arthur’s arm before hastily apologizing and curling in on himself while he refocused on the movie. Arthur kept glancing at him, enjoying the array of expressions on the French boy’s face as he was completely absorbed in the movie, feeling everything the characters were feeling on the screen. Arthur was more entertained watching Francis than the actual movie. Near the end he had only meant to glance at him, but openly stared when he noticed him wiping away what looked to be tears; Francis turned to him, quickly rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hand and laughing quietly.

“Just something in my eye,” he lied and Arthur smirked.

After the movie Antonio invited both of them back to his house to play some board games. Arthur could not help himself but agree to go along, secretly enjoying both of their company. During the walk, Arthur relentlessly teased Francis for crying during the movie.

“You are being mean!” Francis pouted, “you only noticed because you were staring at me the entire time!” Arthur bit down on his tongue and was silent the rest of the trip, scowling at the ground in front of his feet.

Antonio laughed, appearing between the two and circling his arms around both of their necks, knocking their heads together at his chest.

“I knew you two would get along!” He happily cried, squeezing both boys tight before releasing them.

“I’d hardly count this as getting along,” Arthur mumbled, rubbing his forehead and scowling at his friend…s.

Arthur did not mean to enjoy himself. He had tried very hard to hate every moment he spent with Francis. But there was something about him, something so very different than he had expected. In school, he was loud and charming, charismatic and confident. In an intimate gathering with just the three of them, he lapsed into contemplative silence, chewing on his bottom lip and coming off as quite shy. Arthur was so fascinated by this turn of events he simultaneously wanted to strangle him. Would the real Francis Bonnefoy please stand up?

It was quite late in the evening when Arthur finally stood from the table, announcing his intent to leave. There were only so many board games he could lose at, and it was quite tiresome listening to Antonio lord his wins over both his and Francis’ heads.

“One more round!” Antonio pleaded and Arthur shook his head.

“I have to walk home still, idiot,” he chided, helping pack away the game pieces. Francis hummed in thought and nodded, quietly agreeing that he should do the same.

Arthur thanked Antonio’s mother for having them over so late in the evening. He was sitting on the bottom stair of the landing putting on his shoes when Francis sat next to him. He tried to ignore the fact that he could smell him, that their shoulders were brushing together as Francis pulled on his fancy boots. Arthur caught himself slowing in his lace-tying, prolonging how long they were connected, then mentally gave himself a shake before quickly finishing his task and jumping to his feet. He called farewell to Antonio and his hand was on the door handle when there was a quiet, “ah, s'il vous plaît, can I walk with you?”

“Why?” Arthur turned to face him, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest when he saw the flushed and worried expression in Francis’ face.

“Company is always nice,” Francis said after a moment, offering a weak smile. Arthur heaved a sigh, unhappy at how happy he felt on the inside at the prospect of walking home with the annoying French boy. It was conflicting, confusing, and it was driving him crazy.

“Bye, boys!” Antonio called after them as they left his house.

“Where do you live?” Arthur asked, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, trying not to look over at Francis and watch as he wound a soft-looking scarf around his neck. He gestured in the direction of Arthur’s house.

“I live over on Roanwood Avenue,” he said quietly, Arthur noticed him peeking through his hair at him. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, I live on Mapleton,” Arthur said, musing at how close their houses were. Strange, he had never run into him before. They fell into silence, the only noise was their shoes hitting the pavement. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Well, since we live so close an all,” he looked over at Francis who was watching him over his scarf, his eyes bright and expectant, “do you want to come over some–”

Oui! I would love to!” Francis laughed, pulling his scarf down a bit to reveal his grinning face. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Francis chatted happily the rest of the walk; Arthur’s house was first and he waved the the blonde boy as he climbed the steps to his front door.

“See you tomorrow!” Francis called as he continued down the street.

Arthur tried not to feel excited at the prospect of spending more time with Francis. He was so strange, though, it was hard not to look forward to observing him more. That was how he decided to look at it: a study of the French boy and comparison between different social settings. He nodded to himself, happy with the justification and squashing the butterflies stirring up in his stomach.

Arthur tried not to enjoy himself when he spent time with Francis. But, how was he to stop himself from hiding smiles at Francis’ strange antics. He tried so hard not to be interested in everything that Francis was – he found himself asking questions, slowly discovering everything he could about the strange French boy. He tried to stop himself from inviting Francis to come over, again and again… He could not get enough of him, despite the fact that they argued bitterly at times, he was so interesting and beautiful.

Arthur tried even harder to ignore the fact that he found himself attracted to Francis.

Cher, you are staring at me, again,” Francis had the audacity to giggle when he said this, reaching over and poking Arthur in the nose. “I’m going to start thinking you like me if you keep that up!”

“Like I could ever like you like that, frog,” Arthur spat, quickly turning away to hide his blushing face.

“Don’t be like that, rosbif. Come, let’s finish this homework quickly, I need to get home for dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Arthur turned, forgetting his previous embarrassment, “you can’t stay for dinner tonight?” Francis smiled, shrugging and shaking his head.

“I cannot eat here every night. You could always come home with me, instead? Ma mère keeps asking who this person I spend all my time with is,” he chuckled, bending back over his textbook. Arthur felt the ‘oh’ on his lips but hesitated when Francis kept speaking. “She says I must like them an awful lot if I frequently miss her home-cooked meals for British food.”

“Do you?”

Pardon?” Francis looked up, blue eyes wide and shining. Arthur cleared his throat, absently wondering why he had asked such a thing, his courage was quickly dissipating.

“Do you like this person an awful lot?”

“I…” Francis tilted his head, not breaking eye contact as he thought about this, chewing on his bottom lip and Arthur’s heart rate picked up making him feel light in the head. “I do,” Francis said at last, “he is an idiot and terribly grumpy at times, but he is very cute when he thinks he’s hiding his blush and when he thinks he looks away in time for me not to notice him staring.” The breath hitched in Arthur’s chest.

“He, ahm,” he cleared his throat, “he likes you too.” Francis laughed.

“I am glad! So does that mean you will be coming to dinner?” Arthur choked, suddenly furious and he half rose to his feet, but a wink from Francis sent him back to sitting.

“Yes, I’ll come to dinner.”

On the short walk to Francis’ house, Arthur asked him to clarify “like how? Like like?” His response was Francis stopping, grabbing Arthur’s shoulders and placing a brief, warm kiss to his cheek. Francis laughed and skipped away, calling for Arthur to hurry up as he stood there stunned, hand against his cheek and heart pounding in his chest.