who cares about the royal wedding

in a torn up town, no post code envy

A Stenbrough One-Shot.

Dedicated to @sunflowersandhoneybees  who requested Bill and Stan babysitting Georgie. 
Loosely inspired by this post (x)

The doorbell rang, making Bill smile while turning his head in that direction.
- It must be Stan.
He looked back at Georgie in front of him, handing the little boy the Rubik’s Cube they had been trying to solve together; sitting on the floor of the living room.
Bill got up and walked to the front door, the screen allowing him to know he was right about who had just arrived. The sound of the TV filled the house, the commercial break to a random cartoon creating white noise.  
“Call this number today and order your dream boat from Hodgdon Inc.!”
- Stan! – Bill opened the door to let Stan in; noticing first a Western Bluebird metal pin attached to the collar of the curly-haired boy’s shirt.
Bill only knew the name of the bird because Stan had told him before.
- Found my magazine! – Stan announced with excitement, walking in and towards the living room, immediately noticing a change to the place.
Bill and Georgie had moved the furniture to play on the carpet. It looked recently cleaned and smelled fresh, which turned out to be the only thing making Stan feel comfortable enough; to sit on the floor. Despite the surrounding disorder.
Bill had invited Stan to babysit Georgie with him, while their parents were at a piano recital that evening.
On the phone, earlier, Stan had said he would be there, right after going out to look for a magazine he wanted from the newsstand on Main Street.
Stan docked by Georgie’s side now. – How you doing, Nightingale? – To which Georgie giggled adorably.
Each time they saw each other, Stan would call the little boy by a different nickname. Being only five, Georgie didn’t get most of what he meant by that, he just thought it was always surprising and funny.
Bill locked the door, returned to the living room and sat down, they made a crooked circle now.
- I-I was teaching h-him he has to tw-twist it until on-one single c-color comes together. – Bill pointed at the toy in Georgie’s hand.
Georgie left it on the floor, losing interest now that one of his best friends was here. Looking at the messy-multi-colored cube, made Stan uneasy, so he changed subjects quickly.
- Georgie, look! You are the same age as the future King of England. – Stan then showed the cover of the magazine to the five-year-old.
It was a 1987 special issue; celebrating The Birthday of Prince William of Wales. Big letters promising exclusive photos of the little royal with his parents, who became celebrities since their extravagant wedding years ago.
Georgie wanted to see the inside of the magazine, so he took it for himself and propped it on his knees, turning the pages in a clumsy way, because they were too big for his small fingers.
- Be ca-careful n-now. – Bill had to laugh at the sight. – Stan w-will lea-leave if you dah-damage t-t-that. – Then Bill’s eyes met Stan’s and the blonde boy frowned at him.
- Leave him alone! Maybe someone in this family will understand what fascinates me about the Monarchy, and I’ll finally have a friend to talk about it. – He chuckled but twenty percent of his brain was actually worried about the safety of the collector’s item.
All of a sudden, Georgie halted at a specific page, looking at Stan and back to the magazine; where there was a big picture of Princess Diana wearing a luxurious tiara.
- Well, I do like Aurora… – Bill was saying in his defense; a curious George interrupted him.
- Does that on your head, make you part of her family? – The little boy was pointing at Stan’s familiar Kippah.
All of them stared at each other for two seconds, then Bill let out the most joyful of laughs, throwing his body back, and now he was sprawled across the floor, having the time of his life.
- I have no idea what this one is laughing about, Georgie… – Seeing Bill’s state made Stan laugh just a bit too. – But no, I’m afraid it doesn’t. – He replied, sounding dramatic.
- Her family is: The two little princes and Charles, who will be king after his mother; Elizabeth II. – Stan explained to his second-in-the-line-of-succession best friend. Georgie was paying full attention. Stan could see with the corner of his eyes that Bill was intensely staring at him now, sitting again, which made Stan feel like he was having the time of his life as well.
He was so happy Bill had invited him. Only him.
After a long sigh, Bill was finally back to normal, and he pointed out to Georgie:
- He w-wishes th-though. I am suh-sure he would w-wear his kippah more off-often, if that m-m-made him a Royal…
Bill smiled at Stan for as long as it took to get Stan to smile too. Thinking about it now…
It occurred to Bill, unexpectedly, that Stan would make a wonderful Prince.
“He undoubtedly has the looks for it…” Bill admitted to himself, studying Stan’s whole self; right there in front of him.
- The British Monarchy could use a successor like you. - He remarked, too naturally.
Anyone could see how that made Stan blush, and how his eyes widened. His heart was doing gymnastic tricks inside his chest, and Stan Uris’ mind demanded to know; echoing a silently question through his glance: “Is that so? Really?”
Right after that Bill Denbrough’s cheeks also turned to turn a soft shade of red.

I think so much about King Alistair and mistress Tabris though

Alistair being the absolute fucking worst about discretion (I mean, some random barkeep in Kirkwall is gossiping about the king’s “elven mistress,” man)

Alistair and Tabris trawling around at various fancy affairs and sneaking off to the kitchens to play Wicked Grace with the servants (and that’s the story of how the King of Ferelden lost five sovereigns and a pair of boots to Arl Eamon’s assistant chef)

Alistair sneaking away from his retinue to visit Tabris in the Alienage and Alistair dear darling I just stopped by after my last mission to see my family for a few hours before coming to the castle will you chill yeah but I missed you oh fine but you’re staying for dinner

Alistair panicking over strange policy questions because oh no, what did Tabris say she had a royal mandate to do this time

Dark Wolf Tabris and Alistair fucking pissing themselves trying not to laugh at the assorted rumors going about the court

Bann of the Alienage Tabris keeping an ear to the ground for which nobles are awful to their servants and certain someones finding themselves in royal disfavor like that

Tabris who made Shianni Bann having the same deal going on except now the nobles have to deal with Shianni amongst their ranks.

Tabris who doesn’t know anything about Fiona but who traces fingers over Alistair’s ears, notes the way his eyes are just a little too bright in the dark, and wonders. “Your mother was a scullery maid?” “Yes.” “A human one?”

Tabris who swore with blood on her wedding clothes that she never wanted another wedding again and thinks about being careful what you wish for

Tabris who swore with blood on her wedding clothes that she never wanted another wedding again and couldn’t care less about not having a ceremony and a ring

Tabris growing roses in the gardens at Amaranthine

Alistair keeping all the gifts she gave him lined up on the shelves of his room.

(Alistair giving her a gift of his own for every one he received.)

anonymous asked:

Hey, can you rec some royalty fics where one is royal and the other is in uni?

I can ! ;)

- And I’ll judge the cover by the book : At twenty years old Harry has his life figured out. He’ll graduate from the private University of Buckingham and move to Oxford to study journalism. He’ll meet someone who shares his values and accepts who he is, and apply everything his successful parents have taught him.At twenty-two years old Louis has no clue what he wants in life. He’s not sure he’ll pass the year and doesn’t know where he’ll go after that. He spends his time smoking away his doubts about himself with his friends and all he cares about is making sure his family doesn’t fall apart.They don’t belong together.Or a Private University AU where Harry is a queer posh prince, Louis is a closeted troublemaker, and neither expect to understand each other the way they will. (78k)

- call it magic, call it true : Harry Styles loves hockey, art history and speaks Italian. His Royal Highness Prince Louis of Wales is second in line to inherit the British Throne. Their relationship is sometimes a fairytale but occasionally a nightmare.(Louis is the Prince William to Harry’s Kate Middleton.) (17k)

- Pressed Against The Sky : In his final year attending the prestigious boarding school Blake College, Harry, the 17 year-old prince of England, hopes to befriend his new roommate. Louis Tomlinson, the rebellious football phenom, just wants to make it to graduation without losing his scholarship.  (30k)

- Like a Bullet in the Dark   : Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway. With a promise from the press (and his father) that they’ll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson. Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- ‘cause Harry has a secret that he’s only told his sister Gemma about. Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own. A Will & Kate Au- with a twist. (99k)

- Fit for a King   : On the eve of his tenth wedding anniversary, HRH Prince Louis tells a bedtime story to his daughters about how he met and fell in love with their father. Featuring flashbacks and present day fluff and His Royal Majesty, King Henry IX. (21)

- My Fairytale : Prince Louis William of York is tired. He’s tired of formalities.
He’s tired of attending events, showing a nice smile and pretending he knows people he actually has never heard of. Well, he probably has, but he couldn’t care less about them. He is tired of people knowing who he is, and would like to have some privacy when it comes to his personal life. But most of all, he is bored. He craves something different.  Little does he know what kind of “different” he’s getting into when he applies to that studying abroad program. 

thepraxianweasleygeek  asked:

I just remembered the thing about Jenna calling Marcellus 'Uncle Marcellus', and I realised you've got a potential situation like that other post about people with undead relatives. Years down the line, Jenna's own descendants are introducing their friends to Great Uncle Marcellus like: 'Yeah I know he looks like that guy in the portrait with my grandma and that's cause he... kinda /is/ that guy? There's Alchemie involved. He's cool though, and we have him over for lunch every Sunday'.

Oh my gosh. This is amazing.

Before, he used to stay in his home, alone, keeping himself hidden from the world, becoming old and decrepit.

But now he has a family. Now he has friends. He has people he cares about again, and he has an apprentice, and I can’t see him shutting the world out again. So he’s there when Jenna gives birth to every one of her children. He’s there at Septimus’ wedding. He’s there when Marcia steps down from being ExtraOrdinary Wizard. He’s there when William first starts doing Magyk.

And he’s also there at Silas’ funeral. He’s there when Jenna is complaining about her gray hair. He’s there when Septimus’ son gets married. He’s there when they start tapering off.

But instead of being sad about losing the ones he cares about most, he just starts caring about their children. And grandchildren. And he’s included in every Royal family event, so there’s all this evidence of him. And eventually, he starts feeling his age a little more, so he’s not as active, but he still stops by, and shows up to important events, like births and weddings, and so he becomes this staple in the Castle family. This man who hated the Royal lifestyle when he was young now is one of the traditions keeping it together. Whenever a new child is born into the family, it’s tradition to let Uncle Marcellus come and bless the baby, being the first to hold it after it’s mother, taking it aside and whispering things that no one hears or remembers in full. It becomes tradition for Uncle Marcellus to make a speech at every wedding, because he has known everyone there for literally their entire lives. It becomes tradition for every member of the family to take one month in the summer of their 14th year with Uncle Marcellus to learn about Alchemie, and hear stories of their family a long time ago (he obviously has some favoritism towards old Queen Jenna and the people from her time the kids think). It becomes tradition for Uncle Marcellus to be the first to put a flower on the grave at a funeral, because he may not have been closest, but he’s the one who will be remembering them for years to come.

And eventually, one day, when Uncle Marcellus chooses it’s time for him to die, he spends his remaining time writing a book, detailing the history of the Royal Heap family, starting with his sister Esmerelda. It takes some time, but he writes this history from then until the present, including details about every person in there that you’d never find in a history book. And he goes to the Castle, and visits the current Queen and her family to present them the book. And when it’s time to bury him, all the family that has spread out all over the kingdom and the world itself, is called back together as much as possible, and they bury him in a plot in the center, saved for hundreds of years. And all at once, every member of the family puts down a flower for Uncle Marcellus, creating the biggest array of flowers the cemetery had ever seen. And it was alright, for they knew Uncle Marcellus died with a smile on his face, for he’d finally be able to see all those that he’d loved and lost again.

anonymous asked:

How would you compare Robb Stark's marriage to Jeyne Westerling to the marriages of Aegon V's children?

Thanks for the question, Anon.

I think they’re fundamentally different circumstances that demonstrate the different paternal influences in each case. 

In the case of Aegon V, although we don’t know many details, we know that Aegon V wed Betha Blackwood for love. I’ve talked before about how I think Aegon was betrothed to his sister Daella, and how he wed Betha in secret at Raventree before coming back with her to court. Betha’s noble riverlord blood and Aegon’s comparatively low place in the line of succession meant that Aegon wasn’t punished for the marriage, but I think the action taught his children the wrong lesson: that if you found someone you loved, it was perfectly alright to break off a betrothal to marry that person instead. 

So Prince Duncan stumbles upon Jenny of Oldstones in the Riverlands, and I think he fancied himself a new version of his dad. Papa Aegon was trying very hard to be a new kind of Westerosi king - the kind who cared about making the smallfolk’s lives better, someone who drew upon his own experiences with the people. He had given his heir a commoner’s name, after all - the name of the man who had showed him the common side of life in Westeros. What better way to continue his father’s legacy than to make a commoner future Queen of Westeros, and mingle the blood of the royal dragonlords and that of the humblest of their subjects? And, of course, Aegon had already shown that wedding for love was quite alright, even when the party was betrothed. 

Same story with Jaehaerys and Shaera. Sure, they were betrothed, but they loved one another. Aegon had (at least in my thinking) married his bride in secret at Raventree, so again I think Jaehaerys and Shaera thought that they were doing exactly what Aegon’s own example told them was alright.They would elope together, just like Betha and Aegon, and how terribly romantic it would be. I know Yandel speaks of willfulness as the reason for his children’s choices, but I’m not sure that they actually thought they were doing something wrong. That is, maybe they were aware part of it was wrong - the being already betrothed - but I think Jaehaerys and Shaera might have honestly believed that Aegon’s experience made it alright. Aegon had wed a noble lady in secret and come back to court with her as his wife; Jaehaerys and Shaera were marrying each other in secret, noble dragonlord blood, and consummating the match so that they could never be separated.

Looking at Robb, by contrast, he was not motivated by love per se, but he was similarly influenced by his father. It was extraordinary and tragic circumstances which led Robb to deflower Jeyne Westerling; Robb’s retelling of the story to Catelyn underlines that it was only after the wounded Robb was brought news of Bran’s and Rickon’s “deaths” that Jeyne “comforted” him. What provided him some comfort in the moment, however, gave him none in its aftermath: he had now taken the maidenhead of a nobly born young woman, and perhaps created a bastard child.

Robb himself was no stranger to the taint of bastardy: the honor of his father had compelled Ned Stark (at least in popular telling) to bring his bastard son Jon to Winterfell, to be raised alongside his trueborn children.  Still, Robb would have seen the cool relationship between his half-brother and close friend and his lady mother; even doted-upon bastards like Jon are widely disgraced among the Westerosi nobility (outside of Dorne) as products of lust and shame, and their career options are limited (a large motivation behind Jon’s joining the Night’s Watch). Deflowering Jeyne and leaving her with his bastard would condemn her to a similar unhappy fate, disregarding every lesson Ned Stark taught his sons about honor. Ned could not have married the mother of his bastard son, being already wed to Catelyn, but Robb could – and would – do his father one better. That’s not to say Robb didn’t love Jeyne - he very clearly did, and Jeyne’s devotion to him is one of her most laudable qualities. But his marriage was not about “well, dad wed for love, and so can I”, the way Aegon’s children’s were. I think instead, Robb felt like he wanted to do what his father could not - make good on his error in fathering a bastard. 

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

Merthur AU

Prince Arthur Pendragon and lord Merlin Emrys are deeply in love. One day, Arthur proposes Merlin and Merlin - to his delight - agrees. Arthur can’t wait to inform his sister Morgana, surely, she will be happy for them. However, what non of them knew, Morgana didn’t care about Arthur’s happiness. In fact, it disgusted her. She hated Arthur with every inch of her soul. When Arthur tells her about the engagement, she feels betrayed - it was her crown and her throne and now Merlin and Arthur were stealing it from her. After the royal wedding, Morgana left Camelot and seeked an old druid woman, who started teaching her dark magic. It took her three years to master it, however, she never forgot the reason she decided to enhance her powers. Each day her hatred grew and she became more and more bitter. When she returned to Camelot, she heard Merlin and Arthur are happy in their relationship, which made her sick. This was the reason she enchanted kings’ guards and made them kidnap her brother with his husband. The revenge was finally hers.

anonymous asked:

I agreed with the let her sink herself but she cannot sink herself if they keep covering for her and that is what they do - they covered for her with the Africa trip - they covered her stalking at IG they covered her crashing at Inskip wedding and polo - how is she supposed to self destruct if they keep covering her? This is a chaotic situation and the longer ot lasts the more unpredictable it is - dangerous. End this Stop lying to Brit People

They are not covering her, she is on her own. They will not dictate to someone who they don’t care about or has nothing to do with them. The Royal family doesn’t want to be involved, no comment. Let the press sink her.

thanks anon

Not Alone: a Sansa X Tyrion oneshot

When Joffrey summoned the dwarves for the mock war reenactment, Sansa felt her stomach roll. Bile rose in the back of her throat, threatening to give her away. She swallowed it back and took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her eyes fixed on the distasteful display in front of her.

Then when all had fallen but faux-Joffrey and faux-Robb, Sansa could feel the scream swelling in her chest. The pain and the sorrow she was trying so hard to quell was fighting to get out. She was losing the battle; her eyes were stinging until… until she felt a warm, reassuring hand, cover her white-knuckle grip on the table.

Sansa glanced down to see Tyrion had grasped her hand, reminding her that she was not alone. His offer of comfort steadied her. Tethered her in the moment, and prevented her from drowning in the sea of her swirling emotions.

Sansa let out a small breath and, like a release valve, the pressure eased. She slackened her grip on the table, and Tyrion patted her hand, the only sign of encouragement he could offer under the circumstances.

It was enough. It was a reminder.

I am not alone.

~ X X X ~

Humiliation has always been a constant state of being for Tyrion, and is something he has come to accept. He wears it as an armor, refusing to let it define him. Somehow, though, today it is almost too much to bear.

When Joffrey poured the wine over his head, Tyrion tried to shake it off, metaphorically speaking, and say something witty. This was not allowed. Tyrion would not be spared today, not on the King’s wedding day when all the cruel bastard wanted was to strut and show who was in charge.

Still, Tyrion couldn’t help trying to ease his own discomfort and save face when he was called on to be the royal cupbearer. This earned him more embarrassment and humiliation. The goblet dropped and kicked from Tyrion’s reach.

Tyrion had crawled under the table, wishing the ground would swallow him up, and wondered why he should expect anything more. No one cared about him. Maybe Jaime did a little, but not enough to help him. Not enough to deny a king.

Then he saw it. Saw her. His wife.

Sansa was in front of the table, bending to pick up the goblet. Tyrion had froze momentarily, unable to do anything but look upon her in awe.

Tyrion climbed from beneath the table, and walked to her. Sansa held the cup out to him, a look of understanding, and just a flash of defiance in her eyes. Their fingers grazed as he took the goblet from her, and he met her gaze, trying to convey his gratitude. She did more than just help him.

She made him see.

I am not alone.

fanfiction.net (X)  AO3 (X)

anonymous asked:

Are there a lot of mixed marriages in High Rock? Alternatively, do the Dunmer mind if their children are mixed?

Oh, but of course!  It’s High Rock.  If you can’t kill them, marry them, that’s the motto of Bretons.  In Skyrim, many people can trace their lineage back centuries and they’re not descended from anyone who came from further away than the next hold, but that’s not the case in Daggerfall.  When foreigners come to High Rock, they’re very confused because they see women with snowy, olive, sepia skin and they think, “Oh, I see a Nord, I see an Imperial, I see a Redguard,” but they’re all Bretons.  In Daggerfall, being a Breton is not about what kingdom your ancestors came from.  It’s all about hating the kingdoms you aren’t in now.

Of course, it can be a little different when it comes to the other races.  Altmer might be sought after like fine wine, but when I was young, many people would look at you strangely if you had a fondness for Bosmer.  That’s not to say that marriage didn’t happen but you know how people are with the cannibalism jokes and whatnot.  I don’t know if it’s any different today but I do find that the young people of the present are generally more tolerant than they were a century ago.  Orcs are…well, that just wasn’t done.  At all.  There are some Bretons running around with odd teeth and eyes in the common classes, but nobody of any means would ever marry an orc.  It would be like marrying a goblin.  I do not think the situation has changed today. 

Now, as for Dunmer and Bretons, I suppose marriages must happen but they were rare in my youth.  There’s Barenziah and the king of Wayrest, yes, but they were wed under exceptional circumstances.  I can think of no other noble or royal who married a Dunmer, though you hear of dark elven mistresses.  We’re thought to be…promiscuous.  That sort of thing.  We’re not fit to marry, apparently.  There are many more of us in High Rock now and maybe we are no longer exotic novelties but instead boring and commonplace.  That would be nice.

To answer your next question, yes.  It’s a point of contention in the Gray Quarter that the new generations do not care as much as the old ones about who they marry.  Morrowind is notoriously xenophobic; we barely even tolerate each other.  In many clans, you would have been branded and expelled for marrying a human or, worse, a betmer.  An Altmeri or Bosmeri spouse maybe could be tolerated if they accepted the temple way and brought wealth to the union, but you can forget it if they would be the one who conceived children instead of the Dunmer.

Old Dunmer still consider the other races to be less than people.  They view marriage with humans as unnatural and mixed children as a tragedy, cut off from part of our ancestral line.  I know that when I was in Vvardenfell, I was pitied because anyone would know that I have human blood if they looked at me.  There were exceptions.  We are not all as rigid as the Indoril, the Dres, even the Redoran.  The Hlaalu would sometimes marry their children off to their foreign allies to strengthen their business alliances and as for we Telvanni, we care more for magical potential.

The young ones and the ones who fled from the rigidness of Morrowind society before the Red Year are much more tolerant.  They say that around Cheydinhal, you see many Dunmeri with soft faces and brown hair and many humans with red sclera and a grayish cast to their skin.  And here, many of us have Nordic or Imperial husbands and wives.  When I go to Blacklight, they say, “Oh, of course you’re from Skyrim, you’re a blonde giant,” and I say, “Do you hear my accent, fetcher?"  Well, I say that in my mind.

Sex headcanon time

Some people think Anna and Kristoff would wait until they’re married to have sex, and some don’t. But I think most of us agree that if they didn’t wait, it would be Anna who initiates things and Anna who pushes for them to go all the way. Not only is Kristoff a strict consent-seeker, but I think that Anna’s royal title adds to his apprehension. He doesn’t want to do anything that could reflect poorly on Anna. That and a healthy fear that her sister might freeze his dick off if she found out.

I also headcanon that if they have sex pre-marriage, they’d be careful to not get pregnant. Which has led me to think about their wedding night, when they don’t have to be careful anymore. When they’ve discarded their fancy wedding clothes.  

“Come make love to your wife, Mr. Bjorgman,” Anna teased him from the bed (their bed). 

“I like the sound of that,” he replied with a wink. 

When he entered her, they both said “we’re married” at the same time, which caused them both to laugh. But the laughter soon turned into something more serious, something more important. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow and she was kissing his neck. Anna, spread open beneath him like this was nothing particularly new, except now she was his wife, and there was something about that fact that sent his heart soaring. 

His thrusts became more forceful which caused Anna to gasp in his ear. “Kristoff will you…,” she didn’t finish her sentence. He pulled his head back to look at her; she was biting her lip. A sign of nervousness but her eyes were anything but nervous and they both knew what she wanted. He wanted it too, so badly.

Their lips met in a kiss, a hungry kiss filled with lust. With his tongue in her mouth and his length buried deep in her wetness, Kristoff broke apart.  Anna clung to him like a vine, legs wrapped tight around his waist to remind him not to pull away. He whimpered into her mouth, finding his release inside her for the first time. His warmth flooded her, the new sensation causing them both to moan in unison. 

When it was all over, after he helped her finish and they were wrapped up in each others arms, Anna lazily traced the curves of his stomach with her fingers. “Was that worth the wait?” she asked. Kristoff chuckled quietly and kissed the top of her head.

“Yes. It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

anonymous asked:

fairytale au~ if you need more info or what not just say so

does this count? fff <3

As much as he loved his father, Nico didn’t see sending countless suitors to him as a way to cheer him up. If anything, rejecting girl after girl was outright depressing. 

Keep reading

NS: the Last is a clusterfuck of shitty shojo tropes
NH: Salty! NH is canon
SS: Scarf-kun has more screentime than Sasuke, blaspheme
NH: Butthurt! This is all about Hinata her royal highness playing damsel in distress
SNS: Sasuke not at Naruto’s wedding? bullshit
NH: This is a shojo, NH is canon!
T7 fandom: Where’s their reunion
NH: Who cares about T7? this is a shojo
Rest of the fandom: Where’s my favourite character
NH: They have one line, you should be grateful. All of you are just butthurt.

A lot of people joke about RBB trolling us, which is fine. I love the funny posts and stuff, especially pointing out how fucking ridiculous the situation is that they literally have to speak to us with teddy bears, but when Larries are actually STILL doubting it after fucking two tours? You’re just as bad as a damn anti. In reality, they are gagged and cannot speak, so they’ve found a silly and fun loophole.  They’re not trolling us. Are they having fun? Sure. But they don’t HAVE to do this. They are doing literally the only fucking thing they can to communicate with us. They’re screaming time and time again ‘IT IS US!’ and just because people can’t always understand what their full meaning is, that doesn’t mean it’s not them, and it doesn’t mean it’s not genuine. Whether or not they physically dress and put the bear there (who knows) - or send the tweets (yes they probably do because they tweet with it every single fuckin time it tweets) it is still them. Their ideas and their brilliance and their love.

Honestly it’s fucking insulting to Louis and Harry at this point.  They care about us and are thankful for our support, so if you wanna bitch about it just because you don’t understand, (or refuse to take the 233 Big Gay War references, or refuse to just accept that there’s literally gonna be a fuckin royal wedding) that’s fine, but remember the overall ridiculousness of the situation. They don’t deserve that kind of disrespect from the people they’re taking time out of their day to communicate with. They’re reaching out to us, and just like people constantly want ‘proof’ that they’re together - they don’t owe us that, and they don’t owe us continuous every day ‘proof’ that they are speaking through the bears. They’ve told us. They don’t have to keep telling us, and they don’t have to keep dressing it and playing with it. They don’t owe us any of that but they take the time out of their day to think it through and buy all the expensive ass overpriced Build A Bear outfits so please, when you’re frustrated with the situation, remember WHY.  If you don’t like RBB’s mystery then maybe just kindly shut the fuck up and let them have a little fun while sending us a message of love nearly every day?

all that i want (part 5)

an: I lied. I’m not done. I’m probably never going to be done. I hope that’s okay? 

prologue, part one, part two, part three, part four

also found on: ao3, ff.net

Emma wakes when Mia pounces onto the bed, bouncing and giggling. It’s a shock, but Emma is used to it.

She keeps her eyes closed and burrows her face into Killian’s chest with a groan. Her husband is a good sport about it, though. He wraps an arm around her and strokes down her arm.

“Mia,” he says, voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doing here, little lady?”

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cynical thought of the day:

the guarantee of freedom of speech for the press is ultimately meaningless when those managing the most widely visible news media (and determining what content to publish in the first place) are themselves members of the groups benefiting from oppressive systems and institutionalized abuses of authority by those in positions of wealth and power.

i am absolutely convinced that Trump would have been remembered as a fast-fading joke from early in the primaries if TV news hadn’t given him so many platforms. I am certain that portrayals of protests against racial injustice, sexual harassment, and discrimination on the basis of sexuality, gender, or religion would be far more successful if the news did not downplay their numbers or reframe them as violent, while at the same time giving attention to those who seek to maintain or worsen the status quo.

if there was as much news coverage of sexual assault committed by Hollywood celebrities as there was of their daily fashion choices, if the British royal family’s ties to literal fascists and Nazis were given as much notice as their wedding plans or pregnancies (even in US media! Why are we supposed to care about this?), maybe some good would be done in this world. Maybe we could progress towards being the enlightened, advanced species that all our old sci-fi shows used to say we would have been by now.

Cherik medieval-ish fantasy fic for @rozf! Shall put up on AO3 momentarily.


Stars glittered above, peaceful and playful, with a kind of serene hard-earned joy. Under their light, under a blue-velvet sky, Charles turned when Erik came out onto the castle’s walk; turned and said, smiling, “It’ll stand.”

“I know it will,” Erik said mildly, and leaned elbows on parapet stone beside him. He’d overseen the building of the new keep and the sketched-in outlines of the new capital; he knew its bones the way he knew his own. The metal of ironwork and nails sang to his blood. Charles hadn’t only meant that, of course.

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