why does she have to be married

My grandmother is a bitter old crab with nothing good to say about anything, but she does have a few good stories. She confronted the woman my grandfather had been cheating on her with - this other woman had no idea he was married, and was righteously angry.

The two of them schemed together. My grandfather’s mistress drove her convertible to the construction site where he was working. As he approached the car, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“Married?! I’m not married!” he said.

My grandmother sat up in the back seat, where she’d been lying down, and said, “You won’t be for much longer.”

anonymous asked:

*shyly whispers* do u think u could do another Greek Mythology story~

“Your tapestries are so fine,” the merchant says in wonder, “that you must be blessed by the goddess Athena.”

Arachne tosses her head, braided hair falling over her shoulder like an obsidian waterfall, “What’s Athena got to do with it? My hands wove these, not hers.”

The merchant blanches and looks to the sky, as if expecting Zeus himself to smite them for blasphemy. Personally, she thinks the king of the gods has better thing to do with his time. “Ah,” he says weakly, “I suppose.”

He pays her for her wares and she leaves, almost immediately bumping into a hunched old woman with grey eyes. “Do you not owe Athena thanks for your talent?” she croaks, gnarled hands curled over a cane.

Arachne is not stupid, but she is foolish. They will tell tales of it. She looks into those grey eyes and declares, “Athena should thank me, since my talents earn her so much praise.”

She pushes past her and keeps walking, ignoring the goddess in humans skin as she disappears into the crowd.

They will tell tales of her hubris. They will all be true.

~

The next day she bumps into the same old woman at the market. Everything goes downhill from there.

“Know your place, mortal,” Athena says, grey eyes narrowed. There is a crowd around them, and Arachne could save herself, could walk away unscathed, and all she has to do is say her weaving is inferior to that of a goddess.

She will not lie.

“I do,” she says coolly, “and in this matter, it is above you.”

She is not honest as a virtue, but as a vice.

Athena challengers her to a weaving contest. She accepts.

~

Gods are not so hard to find, if you know where to look.

“It’s a volcano,” the baker repeats, looking down at her coins, as if he feels guilty for taking money from someone who’s clearly not all there.

She grabs her bag of sweet breads and adds it to her pack before swinging it over her shoulders, “Yes, I know. Half a day’s walk, you said?”

“A volcano,” he insists, as if she did not hear him perfectly well the first dozen times.

“Thank you for your help,” she says. He’s shaking his head at her, but she knows what she’s doing.

She walks. She grows hungry, but does not touch the bread she paid for, and walks some more. The sun’s begun to set by the time she makes it to the base of the volcano. It’s tall, impossibly large, and for a moment the promise of defeat threatens to overwhelm her.

But Arachne does not believe in defeat, in loss. They will tell tales of her hubris. Those tales will be true.

She ties a scarf around her braids then hikes her skirt up and ties the material so it falls only to her thighs. She fits work roughened hands into the divots of cooled magma and begins her slow ascent.

~

The muscles in her legs and arms shake, and her hunger pains are almost as distracting. Her once white dress is dirt smeared and torn and sweat makes her itch as it covers her body and drips down her back.

“What are you doing?”

Arachne turns her head and bites back a scream, looking into one giant eye. The cyclops holds easily to the volcano’s edges, even though her hands are torn and bleeding. She swallows and says, “I heard you like honeyed bread. Is it true?”

The creature tilts his head to the side, baring his long fanged teeth at her. She thinks he might be smiling. “You’ve been climbing for hours. What do you want?”

“Is it true?” she repeats, refusing to flinch.

“Yes,” he says, looking at her the same way the baker had, “it’s true.”

“There’s some sweet bread in my pack, baked this morning,” she says, “it should still be soft.”

His hands are big enough and strong enough that it could probably squeeze her head like a grape. Instead he gently undoes her pack and reaches inside. The honey buns look comically small in his large hands, and he swallows half of them in one bite. He licks his fingers clean when he’s done, and his smile is just as terrifying the second time around. “I am Brontes. Why are you climbing my master’s volcano?”

“I’m the weaver Arachne,” she takes a deep breath, “I need your master’s help.”

~

They tell tales of Hephaestus’s ugliness.

They are not true.

He’s got a broad, angular face and short brown hair. His eyes are like amber set into his face, and his arms are huge, and he’s rippling muscle from the waist up. He has legs only to his knees. From there down his legs are bronze gears and golden wire, replacements for the legs destroyed when Hera threw him from Mount Olympus.

“Had your look, girl?” he asks, voice rough like he’s always a moment away from breaking into a coughing fit.

“Yes,” she says, and doesn’t turn away, keeps looking.

His lips quirk up at the corners, so it was the right move. The heat is even more oppressive inside the volcano, and all around him cyclopses work, forging oddly shaped metal that she can’t hope to understand. “You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to find me, girl. What do you want?”

She slides her pack off her shoulders and holds it out to the god, “I have a gift for your wife. I have woven her a cloak.”

He raises an eyebrow and doesn’t reach for the bag, “You believe something made with mortal hands could be worthy of the goddess of beauty?”

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“Yes.”

They will all be true.

With a gust of wind the oppressive heat of the volcano is swept away, leaving her chilled. In its place stands a woman – more than a woman. Aphrodite has skin like the copper of her husband’s machines and hair dark and thick and long. Her eyes are deepest, richest brown, piercing in their intelligence. People don’t tell tales of Aphrodite’s cleverness. That is because people are stupid.

“Let’s see it then,” she says, reaching inside the pack and pulling the cloak from its depths.

It unrolls beautifully. It’s made from the finest silks, and it shimmers in the light from the forges. The hem of the cloak is sea foam, speaking of Aphrodite’s beginning, and up along the cloak is intricate patterns it tells of her life, of her marriage and her worshippers and escapades, all with the detail of the most experienced artist and the reverence of her most devoted followers.

Her lips part in surprise and she slides it on, twirling like a child. “Gorgeous,” Hephaestus says, though Arachne knows he does not speak of the cloak. She doesn’t take offense.

The goddess smiles and Arachne’s heart pounds in her chest. She does her best to ignore it – Aphrodite is the goddess of love, after all. It is only expected. “Very well,” the goddess says, “you have my attention.”

Arachne swallows. Aphrodite’s attention is a heavy thing. “I have offended Athena,” she says, “She has challenged me to a weaving contest.”

Their faces somber. Hephaestus rubs the edge of a sleeve between his fingers and says, “Athena will lose such a contest, if judged fairly. She does not take loss well.”

“I know,” she says, “you are friendly with Hades, are you not?”

There are no tales of their friendship. But she’s staking her life on its existence, because why wouldn’t it exist – both of them even tempered, both shunned by Olympus, both happily married.

Gods hate being made to feel lesser. It is why they say Persephone was kidnapped, why they say Aphrodite cheats with Ares. It is why Athena will crush her when Arachne wins the weaving contest.

“Clever girl,” Hephaestus says, smiling.

Aphrodite stares at her reflection in a convenient piece of polished silver. Arachne assumes Hephaestus left if lying there for that express purpose. “Very well!” the goddess says, not looking at her, “when Athena sends you to the underworld, we will entrench upon our uncle for your release.” She turns on her heel and points a finger at her. Arachne blushes for no reason she can think of. “In return, you will weave me a gown, one equal to my own beauty.”

A gown as exquisite as the goddess of beauty. An impossible task.

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“I accept.”

They will all be true.

~

The contest goes as expected. Athena’s tapestry is lovely, but Arachne’s is lovelier.

The goddess’s face goes red in rage, and her grey eyes narrow. Arachne stands tall, ready to accept the death blow coming for her.

The blow comes.

Death does not.

~

She is an insect. Even if she can make it back to Hephaestus’s volcano, even if they can help her, they will not know it is her. She has no hope left, no course of action, she should just give up. But –

She doesn’t believe in defeat, in loss.

It was a terribly long journey on foot, that first time. It is even longer this time, although now she has eight legs instead of two. She makes it to the volcano, and creeps in between crevices, until she finds out a hollowed room, one with a sliver of sunlight and plenty of bugs to keep her fed.

Athena’s cruel joke of allowing her to weave will be her downfall. Her silk comes out a golden yellow color – it will look exquisite against Aphrodite’s copper skin.

~

It takes seven years for her to complete it. She hasn’t left this room in the volcano in all that time, and as soon as it’s done she scurries out back toward the village. She’s a large insect, but not that large.

She arrives just as the sun begins to rise, and leaves before the first rays have even touched the earth, her prize tied to her back with her own silk.

Arachne doesn’t return to her room. Instead she goes to the more popular parts of the volcano, hurries and runs around terrifying stomping feet until she finds who she’s looking for and scurries up his leg and onto his shoulder.

“Huh,” Brontes looks onto his shoulder and blinks. “What on earth are you?”

She cautiously skitters down his arm, waiting. He bends closer and lightly touches her back. “Is – is that a piece of a honey bun?”

She looks up at him, waiting. It’s her only chance, if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t understand –

His face slowly fills with a cautious kind of wonder. “Arachne?”  She jumps in place, being unable to nod, and Brontes cautiously cradles her in his massive hands, “We must find the Master immediately!”

She jumps down, landing in front of him and running forward. “Wait!” he calls, and she makes sure he’s running after her before skittering back to her corner of the cave. It’s almost too small for him to enter but he squeezes inside and breathes, “Oh.” He stares for several moments, and Arachne climbs her web and waits. Brontes shakes himself out of his reverie and uses his powerful wings to bellow, “MISTRESS APHRODITE!”

There’s that same breeze and she’s in the crevice with them, “What was so important, Brontes, that you had to yell?”

Arachne sees the exact moment that the goddess sees the gown, golden yellow and glimmering, made entirely of spider silk. “Beautiful,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush down the bodice. Her head then snaps up, “Brontes, where’s Arachne?”

She warms at that, that Aphrodite knew it was her weaving even though she hasn’t been seen in seven years.

They’ve told tales of her hubris.

They are all true.

Brontes points at the web, and Aphrodite steps over and holds out her hands. Arachne crawls onto the goddess’s palms. “Athena is more powerful than I am, I cannot undo her work,” she says, “but I know someone who can.”

Then they are in front of a river. A handsome young man stands there waiting with a boat. “Goddess Aphrodite,” he says, “we weren’t expecting you.”

“Thanatos,” she returns, “I need to see Persephone.”

The man’s face stays cool, and for a moment Arachne fears they will be refused and she will be stuck in this form forever. Then he smiles and says, “My lady is of course available for her favored niece.” He holds out a hand to help her onto the boat, “Please come with me.”

~

Arachne weaves a dress for Hades’s wife as a thank you, and returns to her volcano.

“I can take you somewhere else,” Aphrodite says, “you don’t have to hide here.”

Arachne pauses at her loom. She has lived in this volcano for seven years. It’s her home. “Would you like me to leave?” she asks instead.

Aphrodite scoffs, “Of course not! How could I dress myself without you here?” She’s wearing the spider silk dress Arachne spun for her, and she’s working on another for the goddess now. Aphrodite runs a gentle finger down Arachne’s cheek and for a moment she forgets to breathe. “You are the finest weaver to ever exist.”

She looks up at the goddess, “Then as the god of crafts and goddess of beautiful things, where else would I belong besides with you and Hephaestus?”

To declare your company equal to that of gods is the height of arrogance and blasphemy.

They tell tales of her hubris.

“An excellent point,” Aphrodite murmurs, and tucks a stray braid behind Arachne’s ear.

They are all true.

gods and monsters series part iii

anonymous asked:

So I hella ship Camren but I kind of don't get why everyone makes a big deal out of the black and white gifs of Lauren and Camila in the audience.. because although Camila gazes at Lauren with so much damn love, Lauren seriously looks like she couldn't be bothered with her which I feel kind of says a lot since it was technically behind the scenes, idk.

I think it does says a lot indeed, the fact that Lauren doesn’t seem to be bothered one bit to have Camila’s mouth so close to hers, like it’s no big deal, just a normal everyday occurrence…

I swear they look so much like a fucking married couple I can’t

anonymous asked:

What do you love about Pride & Prejudice? (I'm asking because I really enjoy how you translate many of the works you read into 'today's language' so to say) x

I love that it’s about love. Like actually really genuinely and honestly about love. It’s about love and compromise and change and trust and expectations and maturity and learning when you’re wrong and when you’re right and acting accordingly. And all of those things are love?

Like, Darcy isn’t this cultural icon of the perfect man because he’s all dark and brooding but rich and attractive. He has the cultural iconicity he has because like…he’s rude and proud and a hypocrite and some of that is covering for the fact that he’s just damn awkward, BUT he owns up to it. Lizzie calls him tf out and instead of sulking, instead of feeling entitled to her (which all the norms of their society says he is), he starts examining his behaviour and his attitudes and changes them. And he doesn’t push her or do it just for her, he doesn’t do grand gestures that scream ‘look at me I’ve changed I’m being better now marry me’. He does it quietly, discreetly, because he genuinely wants to be better, bc she’s shown him how and why it’s important. And THAT’S why Lizzie falls in love with him, and why generations of readers have too.

Lizzie goes through a similar process of growing out of her prejudice and growth generally and learning that love is about compromise and commitment and fighting to understand each other while the entire world seems to conspire to obscure you. She learns that sometimes it’s about holding your damn nerve and sometimes it’s about giving in, about letting yourself feel affection for this man in full knowledge that it won’t be easy but that it will be worth it.

And it’s beautiful, it’s so beautiful. It’s light and life and honestly I could read and watch these two fools fall in love over and over again for eternity and never get bored.

I’ve only talked about Lizzie and Darcy here but it’s also about love between family, between people who have been married for decades, between siblings who struggle to like each other but love fiercely, and all those forms of love are just as important. It’s so honest and true and wonderful and everyone should read it.

Midnight Masquerade - Part 8

Originally posted by beui

Genre: Vampire!AU | Fluff | Angst

Synopsis: Your best friend drags you into attending a masquerade ball with her, only to abandon you in the middle of the strange dance. Standing alone in the midst of a flurry of people, the events that play out here change the course of your life; only to leave you wondering; who is under the mask?

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi (Ft. the other boys of BTS cx)

Word count: 2119

Warnings: None for this part c:

Series: Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10

(A/N: Ah, I’m not sure if this came out okay cx I really would like feedback, are you guys still enjoying the series? Is the pace too slow? Does it need more action? Please let me know! Ah, I’m not entirely satisfied with this part, but I wanted to update it, and I had to get it done today because I won’t have time tomorrow for sure ;-;)


Yoongi stared at Nurse Sumi, his figure now upright and attentive, his eyebrows furrowed in a questioning expression. Even the other boys in the room were murmuring amongst themselves, their gazes also focused towards Sumi, waiting for an explanation. The youngest, Jungkook, nudged Jimin, his eyes darting around at the other member’s inquisitive, surprised faces, knowing nothing about was going on.

“Come again?” Yoongi said slowly, glancing over at your figure still and unconscious, your hair sprawled out over the pillow, and then back to Sumi, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You’ve lost me, Sumi. And the others look even more confused, so care to explain?”

Sumi sighed, pulling over a plastic chair, the scraping causing the boys to wince slightly. Looking around at the boys, who were now leaned forward, listening intently, her gaze stopped on Yoongi, and she began explaining the situation.

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you this, or if I should leave this for your father to explain, but I guess I should explain what’s going on. To summarise, when you were a child, Yoongi, you were betrothed to, who I think is, (Y/N) over there,” she said, nodding at your sleeping figure. “If she is the right person, then she’s a half-breed, not fully vampire, but also not fully human. Something didn’t work out, it seems, otherwise she wouldn’t be here, she’d still be living in our area… I don’t know the specifics, but your father set me the task to find her again… and here we are… ” Sumi explained calmly, ignoring Yoongi’s increasingly confused expression.

Yoongi continued to stare at her, his eyes scanning her expression, and yet she remained straight faced, no sign of lying evident in her face. Was that why he felt such a connection to you? Did you know each other at one point? Who were you exactly? So many thoughts began swimming around in his mind, and he felt himself left with more questions than answers. The other boys began murmuring amongst themselves, their gazes occasionally darting to glance over at you, as Yoongi sat there, mulling over this new information.

“If she’s a half-breed as you say, then how will the… bite affect her? You said she’s not human, so…?” Yoongi’s voice broke the quiet atmosphere, his eyes fixating on the jagged scar on your neck. What brought him to do that? You fascinated him still, as he watched your still body, your skin strikingly paler than before.

“Why exactly does she have a bite mark on her neck, Yoongi hyung?” Jimin piped up from his corner of the room, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What did you do? You never did explain that.”

Everyone turned to stare at Yoongi once again, eyes squinting slightly in confusion and curiosity. “Ah that…” Yoongi rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, trying to work out how to explain himself. “I kinda might have bitten her… It was her scent…” Yoongi tried to defend himself before trailing off awkwardly, his eyes darting around the room as the boys snickered amongst themselves.

“You think he would’ve been able to tell she wasn’t exactly human, huh?” Namjoon asked, trying to hide his own smile, as the boys held in their giggles, Taehyung nudging Jungkook with a laugh.

Yoongi glared at them all, trying to hide his own embarrassment behind a cold front, but Jimin simply mumbled something to Hoseok by him, bursting out into a fit of giggles.

“You’re into some weird stuff, Yoongi hyung…” Jimin laughed, his eyes scrunching up into crescents. “What were the two of you getting up to, hm?”

“Say one more thing, and you’re dead Jimin,” Yoongi threatened, and yet spinning around when he heard you stir, groaning as you tried to sit up.

“What happened? Did I pass out again?” You said with a rough voice, shaking your arms around. The pain had lessened, resulting in a dull, bearable throbbing in your head. Crossing your arms, you looked around expectantly, your eyebrows raised.

“Now, can someone please explain what the hell has been going on with my body? The random fainting spells, the pain, everything?” You twisted your body, your gaze fixated on Yoongi. “Yoongi, what the hell did you do to me?” You gestured to the bite mark, and the room erupted with laughter again.

You were not in the mood for laughing at this point, you simply wanted answers, and so you balled up your fists in frustration, anger bubbling up in your chest, your stare becoming fierce and fiery.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” You said slowly, between gritted teeth, and pools of murky red unknowingly settled into your irises, flashes of flames beginning to burn. “Is someone going to answer my question?”

Sumi rushed over to your side, gently attempting to push you back down onto the bed, the boys now silent, worried by your sudden change. “This is definitely new to me,” she mused, chewing on her lip in thought. “I reckon the bite has caused a physical change… it seems the human side of you was always more dominant, but the bite is reversing that, causing the vampire side of you to come out…”

“Uh, excuse me? Human side? Vampire side? Care to explain?” You gestured with your hands, completely in the dark about your current situation, your anger only building up even more, your eyes becoming darker by the second.

Yoongi moved over to your side, as you snapped your head around to face him, and yet feeling yourself soften under his weirdly concerned gaze. He awkwardly reached out to take your hand, and you visibly relaxed, your eyes reverting to their usual colour, the boys sighing in relief, knowing that could’ve ended badly.

“Ah…” Sumi spent the next five minutes attempting to explain everything she had explained to the boys, much to your shock.

“So, let me get this straight… You’re telling me that not only am I a… half-breed, but that I was supposed to get married to Yoongi over there, someday? I barely even know him, how could that be possible? My mother doesn’t have a role in this, does she? Otherwise, I have no idea…” Your stare darted from Yoongi to Sumi and back, and you threw your arms up in frustration, wondering if you had imagined the whole thing or if this really was your life now. And yet, it gave some explanation to as why you felt yourself strangely drawn to this man you barely knew, apart from seeing him around the university. Why his presence seemed to calm you down, why you felt so drawn to him. Clearly this wasn’t an ordinary case of a promise to marriage; there was something more to it.

After sitting in contemplation for a few minutes, you remembered what you had heard eavesdropping on your mother, “The bite is going to activate the dormant side of her.”

The realisation slowly hit you, that she knew. Your own mother somehow knew about this, and she had kept it from you. You were some sort of weird hybrid - at this point, you didn’t know yourself anymore - and she hadn’t ever thought to mention it. You were determined to get answers as soon as you stepped into your house; you weren’t going to drop the matter. You weren’t even human anymore. You wanted a sound explanation from your mother, and so you opted to ask her about it as soon as you got home.

Sumi slipped out of the room, leaving you still lying in bed, the sheets pulled up to your chest, and the other boys murmuring to themselves. Yoongi was staring intently at you however, his eyes wandering over your face, almost as if he was looking for something. You noticed, and it unnerved you slightly, shifting slightly to stare back. You expected him to look away, having been caught staring, and yet he only met your gaze, the two of you once again caught in your own bubble, closed off from the rest of the world, oblivious to the giggles that had started up in the corner of the room.

Yoongi felt that same strange feeling of familiarity nagging at the back of his head, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. Something about your eyes was so familiar to him, the way your eyebrows adorably furrowed when you were annoyed or confused. You seemed so familiar and yet so new to him, and he was beginning to think he’d somehow known you somehow at one point. Sumi did say the two of you were betrothed somehow, by your fathers, so your fathers must’ve known each other. Yoongi thought about it, feeling slight dismay, knowing the motive for his father must’ve been power or something similar. It was always about power and securing his family’s position in the hierarchy with Yoongi’s father, and he had always disagreed with it. But, what could he do? It was all about connections.

So why you? Yoongi was still baffled by it, his gaze still fixated on you as he tried to work out the meaning behind Sumi’s words. Why would his father get him betrothed to you? If his father cared so much about connections and ensuring the best for his family, why you? He hadn’t ever heard of you or your family; you didn’t even live nearby it seemed. Who were you?

**

You were equally baffled by the situation, if not more. You, betrothed to a man you didn’t even know? It all seemed very old-fashioned to you, and strange. Did your mother do this? Your father didn’t even play a role in your life; you had no memory of him, your mother always avoided the subject whenever you’d tried to bring it up, her eyes holding a sense of guilt, like she knew something that she wasn’t letting on. The events that had just began unfolding in your life left you with unanswered questions, some new, some question you thought you had buried years ago.

“So, if I’m a “half-breed” as she says… wouldn’t that mean one of my parents would have to be… well, a vampire?” You said out of the blue, your arms crossed in wait.

Yoongi seemed surprised by the question, biting his lip as he thought. “Well… I assume so, I’m pretty sure that’s how half-breeds work.”

You sat up, contemplating this new information. You highly doubted your mother was anything but human (Although, at this point you weren’t sure of anything, you weren’t even human) and so this led your thoughts to drift off to the father you barely knew. Was he a vampire then? You were determined to grill your mother about all the questions you were left with, determined for answers. You looked around the room, throwing the sheets off yourself and peering around,

Sumi walked back into the room, her gaze resting on you once again. “I think it’s best I sent you home for now, (Y/N). You should be okay to come in to uni tomorrow though.”

You sighed in relief, climbing out of the bed you had been laying in and grabbing your coat and bag, ready to leave at any moment. Yoongi felt a slight pang of forlorn, and yet he kept silent, watching as you gathered your things, and making a mental note to get a hold of his father once he returned home.

“I guess I’m going then…” You trailed off, meeting Yoongi’s gaze once again, and once again the feeling of familiarity returned, your head tilting to the side slightly as you tried to work out why you felt this way, why you felt like you knew him at one point in your life. You watched as he brushed his fringe away from his eyes, your mind suddenly casting back to the strange flashback you had on the night of the ball. The child reminded you so much of him, you thought - even though the memory didn’t even seem like it belonged to you - and you stopped in your tracks.

Was Yoongi the child in your flashback? Could you have known him as a child? How would that be possible? The building from that night had felt strangely homely in a way; you realised it was strange how you seemed to know where to go, how you knew to go towards that hallway. Who was this man?

Yoongi simply stared back, and it was as if you shared the same memory, your eyes both widened, and you both took a step back.

“Our parents have some explaining to do.” You both simultaneously said, a determined look evident in the both of you.

Lullaby

Partially inspired by an anonymous request, partially inspired by a thought from @stylishmuser and partially inspired by my own need to hurt myself with daddy!Harry concepts on the reg. Enjoy!

I also really wish I knew how to make manips because I want a image of this so bad!

—————————————————————————————————

He could hear her tiny voice humming from the bottom of the stairs as he started to climb. He knew she was in her room and he thought that she had been getting ready for bed, but by the sound of her humming, that didn’t seem to be the case. It wasn’t abnormal for Harry to send his little four-year-old up to her room before bedtime, telling her to change into her pajamas and pick out a book, only to go up ten minutes later and find that she was still half dressed and distracted by a toy.

Thus was the case when he finally approached the doorway of her bedroom and peered inside, only to find her sitting in her tiny rocking chair in the corner with one of her dolls wrapped up in a blanket. Harry smiled as he watched her for a few seconds, listening to her hum and rock the doll back and forth like an infant. It took him a while, but the song she was humming started to sound familiar. It wasn’t a typically lullaby that he or you would have chosen to sing to your kids, but he realized that she was humming his song; a new song that had just dropped about a week ago.

He hadn’t even really thought that his daughter had paid enough attention to the song for her to be able to remember the tune, but she was doing it pretty well from what he could hear. Still, it was odd for her to have picked a song such as that to use as a lullaby; typically, she would use the songs that you and Harry sung to her at night.

He watched her for another minute or two before poking his head inside and capturing her attention. She looked up at him with a smile on her face, but then put a finger to her lips to shush him. Harry nodded in undestanding and tiptoed into the room, crouching down beside the rocking chair.

“What are you doing, munchkin? It’s time for bed.”

“Shhh, daddy,” she whispered, putting her finger to her lips once more, “I’m singin’ dolly a lullaby like you do with me.”

“Ohh, I see. Have you gotten her to sleep, then?”

His little girl nodded and continued to rock back and forth.

“Did she like the song you chose?” Harry asked, reaching out to move some hair away from his daughter’s face.

“She likes your song,” she answered, “It put her to sleep really fast.”

“Good. Well, now that dolly is asleep, I think it’s time for another little monkey to go to bed, hmm? S'gettin’ late, love.”

She nodded and kept a firm hold on her doll as she stood from the chair and walked over to her bed. Harry helped her crawl in, careful not to disturb the doll because she seemed very keen on keeping a hold on her like a real baby, and covered them both up with the blanket.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can you tell me a story?”

Keep reading

3

Just imagine this:
Clay runs into Hannah before she leaves school after making the 13th tape and tells her everything he wanted to say. They go to Monets and Hannah opens up to him saying how hurt she is on the inside and Clay does everything he can to help. Clay and Hannah start dating and thing go great just like they imagined. They stay together for years until they get married and have kids. One day Clay finds the tapes that Hannah kept as a reminder of the lowest point in her life. Clay listens to them all and breaks down because he couldn’t never fully understand her before and he decides to ask Hannah about them. Hannah tells Clay that she was ready to kill herself that night they got together, but she didn’t because of him. He showed her that she had value in the world and she could be so much more than what people said about her. This opens all the old wounds Hannah has and she breaks down thinking about it all again, but she sees it from the parent point too. She thinks about her own daughter and imagines her going though the same things and realizes just how much damage she would’ve done, how many people she would’ve destroyed. She and Clay then go on to be anti-suicide activist, Hannah tells her story and they start a organization to help kids all over the country. Then the next year on their anniversary Clay gives Hannah a present, 13 tapes. These tapes are the opposite of the old, they are full of love, and hope, and sincerity, not pain, and resentment, and sadness like the originals. These are the 13 reasons why Clay loves Hannah and how she saves him from himself. They represent how they each saved each other, Clay from himself and Hannah from a cruel world.

This is how I would loved the story to end I completely understand why the author had it end like he did but I just there was too much left open. I like to think that they could be happy and save each other. I’m in no way saying that Hannah needed a man to save her or anything sexist like that, she needed Clay specifically to help her see her worth, not validate it. I also like to think that Hannah helped Clay overcome his anxiety and being trapped in his own mind. I love the idea of them being there for each other in every way and especially saving each other’s lives. I think that everyone needs a hero in their life and that theirs was ultimately each other instead of a martyr or a reason like they actually were. I think I understand the original points of the story: suicide shouldn’t be an option, how it hurts so many other people, how everything you do can have repercussions and you’ll never know how they will affect others, and that once you commit to taking your own life there’s no going back and it shouldn’t be taken lightly. I personally like the idea of showing that no matter what, things can get better and never give up. I know it’s cliché and boring and it’s been done before but I’m hopeless romantic, sue me.

Better For Me (Part Two)

Pairing/Characters: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Natasha (Reader sometimes calls her Natalia), Sam Wilson, let’s just say everyone in the fuckin compound lmao

Warnings: Swearing, cocky!Bucky, sexual tension, eventual smut, it’s a slow buuuurn

Summary: You meet one of New York’s richest Bachelor’s. He’s hot, he’s rich, and he’s an absolute fucking asshole. Luckily for you, you’re an asshole too and you could take a challenge any day. Within the first 24 hours of knowing each other, you’ve already pushed each other over breaking point. But when something comes up, you’re both forced to try and get along. Can it be possible?

Word Count: 3011

Chapter Notes: Bucky apologises to Y/N but being the self centred prick he is, he makes her snap, making her push him to his breaking point. Does she really think he won’t go down until he’s pushed her to her breaking point?

A/N: The start is pretty filler-ish, all the nice stuff is near the end <3

<<<PREVIOUSLY ON BETTER FOR ME

Originally posted by likemadeofstarlight

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Make A Wish (3/4)

Stuck in the Enchanted Forest after her wish was granted, Emma seeks out Killian. She doesn’t expect what she finds.

Endless thanks to @caprelloidea for reading over this for me.

Rating: M

Word count: 5002

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

AO3 | FF.net


Killian’s fingers never leave Emma’s skin. It’s as though he can’t decide where he wants to touch her, first brushing her hair from her forehead before his knuckles caress her cheek, drifting down over her collarbone before sliding under the covers to lightly trace nonsense patterns across her bare back.

It’s one of Emma’s favorite things about him, how he becomes so soft in intimate moments like these. Even before he remembered her it was the same, the way he let her hold his hand, the way he kissed her back when she took a chance and pulled him to her. She closes her eyes and rests her cheek to his chest, falling into the feeling, the only sounds his steady heartbeat under her ear and the faint crackling of the fire.

She touches him too, her thumb painting circles over his chest before sliding her hand over his shoulder and down his arm. He sighs when she wraps her fingers around his blunted wrist and she loves that about him too, that he’s vulnerable enough to let her do this. Someday she’ll work up the courage to ask if anyone had touched his bare wrist before her. She suspects not, but it’s such a delicate thing, the way he feels about it. Sometimes it’s all bravado but in others she can see the insecurity there, all the subtle little looks and playful self-deprecating comments he thinks she doesn’t notice. In the meantime she settles for grabbing his hook whenever she can, for holding his wrist like it’s nothing because it truly is for her, for making him forget and telling him she loves him.

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jennusdemenus  asked:

Sorry if you answered this before, but how and why do you think the incest started between Jaime and Cersei?

Hi! Wow, I wrote way too much for this. I think first a timeline and some text will be useful before we get started.

  • 266 - Jaime and Cersei are born at Casterly Rock
  • 272 - Jaime and Cersei are taken to KL for Aerys’s Anniversary Tourney, though Cersei does not see Rhaegar there. “When she was just a little girl, her father had promised her that she would marry Rhaegar. She could not have been more than six or seven.” (This art by @bidonica​ is my favorite thing.)
  • 273 - Jaime and Cersei are seven. They are discovered by Joanna’s maid. Joanna dies soon after. After the Martells arrive, Cersei sexually abuses Tyrion by twisting his penis; she physically abuses her baby brother on more than one occasion
  • 276 - Jaime and Cersei are 10. Tywin hosts a tourney. Maggy the Frog tells her prophecy. Cersei sees Rhaegar for the first time. Aerys refuses the Cersei/Rhaegar betrothal and he refuses Jaime as Rhaegar’s squire.
  • 277 - At eleven, Jaime is sent to squire for Lord Sumner Crakehall. 
  • 278 - Tywin brings Cersei to court. She is 12. Cersei wept and Jaime raged. 
  • 279 - Jaime wins a squire’s melee, though where this melee took place is unclear. Possibly at the tourney held at Storm’s End?
  • 279 or 280 - Tywin visits Casterly Rock with Cersei. Jaime visits home too. The twins are 13 or 14. Jaime dares Cersei to kiss Tyrion, which she does. Cersei laughs at Tyrion’s tumbling, until Tywin puts a stop to it. 
  • 281 - Jaime wins his spurs against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Jaime and Cersei are known to have slept together at Eel Alley. They are 15.

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anonymous asked:

To go with the Ricci shop pic: what do you think of Wednesday marrying a woman who at first glance doesn't appear to fit into the Addams' world?

I could be sold on it! Depends on the woman.

One of the aspects of Wednesday’s character – I think of all the Addams Family but her in particular because she’s a young girl – is that she’s not just the outsider, she’s also the voice of outsiders, she’s the speaker for the weird. She’s defiant but with a purpose: she defends the right to be different if different is who you are, when she is literally the person in the family who is most likely to be abused by the outside world for it. 

Morticia and Gomez and Pugsley just ARE weird, in a sort of confident but unconscious way, and Fester struggles with being weird but not always knowing if he wants to be weird, but Wednesday is targeted for being weird and is well aware of it and fights back consciously. Which is why she would never grow up to be, say, a Stepford Wife type of creepy – she’s the antithesis of that conform-or-die mentality, even though the Stepford Wives are 100% a form of horror. 

So I think she would be fine to marry a woman who didn’t apparently fit in at first, because “not fitting in” is who she is and it’s also what she does, aggressively. It’s why she’s instantly so likable, because she wins every fight she gets into about being a weirdo and a lot of us have repeatedly lost that fight. But I also think any woman Wednesday could love would still have to share the Addams family ideals of accepting the Other and unconditional love for family. She’s not going to marry the Queen Bee, she’s not going to marry someone cruel or normalizing, which is the immediate idea of “not like the Addamses”.

But I can see her marrying a woman who’s super awkward or not slim and slinky the way Morticia is and it’s sort of implied Wednesday will be, or even just someone who doesn’t quite get the point of The Aesthetic™ but okay hon, we’ll do the Dark Swing Dance, it’s not like I don’t LIKE the Dark Swing Dance. Or someone who’s really upbeat and cheerful and likes pictures of kittens and fuzzy blankets and wearing bright colors and the entire family is like “What…do you two even talk about” and Wednesday turns to her dad super deadpan and says, “Skeletons” and in the background her fiance-soon-to-be-now-that-she’s-met-the-parents, who also happens to be a forensic anthropologist, just nods super enthusiastically. (True fact, the most cheerful, upbeat person I know used to dig up bodies for a living.) 

And Morticia considers this very carefully and then announces, “It’s time she met Grand Nana Sylph” and they get the shovels and head out to the graveyard. Grand Nana Sylph had the best bone structure of the whole family, and after Wednesday’s Young Woman articulates her, everyone can admire it in the comfort of the parlor!  

And then she wears like, a BRIGHT RED DRESS to the Addams Family Reunion and everyone looks at everyone else in black Victoriana and then back to this ONE PERSON in bright red and thinks to themselves, “It fits. The Aesthetic™ is still served. Wednesday found her a keeper.” 

You guys I have a LOT MORE THOUGHTS about the Addams Family than I expected, wow.

Secrets - Sherlock Version

Requested by anon:  Any Pairing: Reader x ?. I’ve got an idea where (Y/N) is hiding something and acting strange but when her boyfriend questions her about it, she avoids answering. This continues until he accuses her of cheating and during their argument she blurts out she’s pregnant (or something).

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 1,006

Warnings: None.

A/N: I was so close to just 1000 words…

Enjoy!

Originally posted by cumbersnitchflabberbatch

Sherlock was staring at the window, violin in hand, immerse in his own thoughts. He was no longer playing, and the movement in him was minimal. Anyone with poor view would’ve thought he was some kind of statue.

“Sherlock.” (Y/N) spoke as she entered the flat. Sherlock looked at her intensely, noticing the details one by one.

“Grocery shopping, rainy, tired, hormonal, new haircut, less makeup, back pain, swollen feet, new manicure, cheerful, keeping a secret.” Sherlock’s mind spoke.

“Thank you, mister for helping your girlfriend to carry the bags all the way up.” (Y/N) spoke exaggerating her tone. Sherlock chuckled slightly and left the violin before walking over to her and hugged her by the back.

“Sorry.” He whispered in her ear and left a kiss on her temple.

“I can’t ever stay mad at you, can I?” She inquired playfully. Sherlock chuckled once more and breathed in her scent like she was used to, except this time he smelled something out of place.

Anaesthetics, but she didn’t have an appointment at the dentist. Bit of male cologne. Which man does she know that can smell like so? John, but he was with Mary all day long, perhaps that doctor friend of her.” Sherlock thought.

“How’s Pete?” Sherlock inquired, pulling away to help her get everything in place.

“He’s good, planning a holiday trip with his kids, why?” (Y/N) replied listlessly. She was used to Sherlock pulling tricks like so, and although it still impressed her she liked to act oblivious just to put him off.

“Is he married?” Sherlock continued, ignoring her question.

“Yes, twenty years together.” (Y/N) answered.

“It would be a shame if he cheated her after so long.” Sherlock commented.

“Thankfully, Pete is a good man.” (Y/N) said.

Sherlock nodded and continued to observe her from time to time, when she wasn’t aware of it.

She bought loads of snacks this time. Extra comfort food and too much fruit. Oven pizza, doughnuts, cake.” Sherlock listed on his mind, “Strange walk, maybe something is keeping her from moving properly but… Please don’t think of that, focus, what else do you see? Baggy clothing, perhaps from the plus-size shop. It’s too big for her, why would she buy such thing?”

“Sherlock.” She called, “You are staring.”

“My apologies.” He said, “You look lovely today, that shirt looks good on you.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and walked closer to him to leave a kiss on his plump lips.

She was wearing lipstick this morning, but there isn’t any now. Just a sly glimpse of what there used to be. Her breath… She was chewing mint gum on her way here, why would she want to hide her breath? Maybe because Pete smokes often. I have shared a cigar with him before.”

“Stop trying to deduce my day, please.” She begged softly as she pulled away.

“I’m not…” She lifted an eyebrow knowingly, “Apologies.”

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly.

“I want you to be very honest with me, please.” He begged, she nodded, “Why did you go to Pete’s office this morning?”

“How do you know I went to his office this morning?” Sherlock sighed heavily.

“Do you really need me to explain?” She nodded, “You smell like hospital and his cologne is impregnated in your clothes, but it’s not a smell strong enough to have been recent which means you went this morning, before going to buy groceries. What I don’t know is why?”

“Think, detective.” She dared, “Why would a woman go visit a gynaecologist?”

“Check-up, but your last appointment was three months ago and a healthy woman like you should go every six months.” Sherlock replied quickly.

“Why would a woman like me break a pattern like that?” (Y/N) continued.

“I really don’t want to think of it.” Sherlock confessed, looking down at the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“You know how many women fall for their doctors?” Sherlock inquired raspily without looking up. (Y/N) took her time to process his words, and once she did she let out a loud laugh.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” She inquired half angry, half mockingly. “I’m not cheating on you, Sherlock.”

“Then why would you break the pattern?” Sherlock asked, he was exasperated.

“Maybe because something in my life broke my own pattern.” (Y/N) replied.

“Like what?” Sherlock begged, but before she could reply her phone rang.

“Deduce it, Mr. Holmes.” She ordered, and took the call, walking outside.

Think. What patterns does she have? Eating patterns… No, he’s a gynaecologist. Which feminine patterns does she have? No infections, that’s for sure. No trouble with her hormones, at least not important ones. When was the last time she ovulated?” Sherlock rushed to their room, digging on her drawers to find the little note pad where she wrote down her dates. “Nothing for two and a half months.”

Sherlock ran back to the kitchen at the same time (Y/N) returned from her phone call.

“Is it true?” He asked.

“True that I’m cheating or…?” Sherlock shook his head, walking closer to grab her by the shoulders.

“There are only a few reasons why a woman’s menstrual cycle would suddenly stop, and you haven’t taken any pill to bring it back and… There’s only one option left.” He stuttered and (Y/N) noticed his trembling body. She was holding her because he needed support or else he’d fall to the floor.

“Just ask, solve the mystery.” (Y/N) encouraged.

“You’re pregnant.” He whispered.

“I wanted to let you know through some kind of game… You know, like the ones we do to look for clues all over the flat…” She confessed shyly.

“I did clued for looks.” Sherlock stuttered and (Y/N) giggled softly.

“Are you okay with… this? Because I’m keeping the baby.” She asked.

“Of course I am.” Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, “And of course you’re keeping it… We are keeping it.” Before she could say anything else Sherlock kissed her hesitantly. He was scared but he was also excited for the upcoming gift.


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By Royal Decree (Part 13)

Summary: Royal AU; you are engaged to be married to the Crown Prince James Barnes. That’s the last thing you want, especially when you meet him and find out he’s the opposite of everything you had pictured. How will you get through it all?

Word Count: 1,770

Warnings: None.

“By Royal Decree” Masterlist

Originally posted by flyngdream


Bucky blinked and found himself staring at an unknowing Steve. He glowered at him. Imagining himself punching Steve had been great, but he knew that if it weren’t for the fact that they were in the middle of a meeting, Bucky would have Steve sprawled on the floor already.

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when you’re having a nice time with jonathan and then he says, “Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does… until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac. Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.“

Jove, Thalassa and the Troupe: Meta Masterpost

Okay so here’s the post theorizing about Jove and Thalassa and their relationship with her family. 

(content warning for discussions of abuse)

There’s one main idea at the core of all this: Jove and Thalassa purposefully ran away from  the troupe, and there was a permanent rift between Thalassa and the rest of them ever since she was forced to return with his passing. 

So let’s get on with the evidence.

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ScarletVision

I just think the antis are hilarious, most of them are somehow saying that Wanda and Vision shouldn’t be together because of age gap…what?
They do know that Wanda and Vision are an actual married couple in the comics, right? The casting is done wonderfully, Paul Bettany does a great job, so why are you complaining? Suddenly you care more about actors appearance than skills? Ha!

The funny thing is that they believe they are defending “Wanda’s love life”?? She is with Vision because he understands her, they have an actual deep love connection THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH LOOKS …

And I’m pretty sure the age gap is a weak argument because technically Wanda is older than Vision…so why are they complaining? Oh I know, because they wanted her to get with someone “attractive”.
Grow up people, if you’re not listening to me you should hear what Elizabeth Olsen says about ScarletVision.

Plus! Most of the antis were people that complained about Bruce and Natasha which was not a canon couple in the comics, you all complained about changing what was canon… ANTIS, WANDA AND VISION ARE CANON IN THE COMICS, PLEASE STOP HATING

WTF?

Why is it, whenever an Irish person becomes famous, the British media want to claim them? Fuck off, you have your own people. Ruth Negga is Ethiopian-born, Limerick raised to Irish and Ethiopian parents, and calls herself Irish/Irish-Ethiopian. Literally, none of this involves Britain, she moved there for work, but does not hold citizenship, nor is she married to a Brit, is is not British! 


They always do this, Katie Taylor, Michael Fassbender, Saoirse Ronan, Chris O’Dowd, Dara O’Briain, Conor Mc-Fucking-Gregor(is the Irish flag not a big enough hint for you!?!?!?!), Walking on Cars, Cillian Murphy, Hozier, Richard Harris, to name a few. I mean, I know we’re fabulous, and everyone would want to be fabulous, but you’ve been stealing our shit for 900 years, it is literally time to fuck off.  Then again, you love stealing African sports people and calling them British *cough* Chris Froom *Cough* Mo Farrah, so it’s not like it’s news. 


You’re like that clingy ex that still rings at 3am saying you love us, we know, we love us too, but we dumped your abusive ass in 1922, so fuck off. It is getting to the stage now we are going to steal your good actors and sports people as Irish.


And before anyone tries to say it, no we are not part of the United Kindom, no the term British Isles no longer includes Ireland and we are absolutely fucking not the same. We are neighbouring countries who were once oppressed and killed for our lands by the Brits, we are not them!!!! 

Smash Patriarchy Means End the Nuclear Family Model

What do feminists mean when we say “smash patriarchy!”? What is patriarchy and what does it look like? How do we destroy it?

The term patriarchy literally means “rule by the father” but in practice, as an institution, is acted out in the form of the nuclear family. This is because the nuclear family model is the direct enabler of patriarchy; if gender is a tool of oppression, then the nuclear family model is the factory which produces it. For this reason, the common family structure must change for the liberation of women and girls to be achieved.

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anonymous asked:

Can you do write a Roman Reigns drabble w/ the quote 17 - "I love you, I'll make you love me too." Can you also use it where Roman is saying it to the reader? Tysm! xo

#17- “I love you, I’ll make you love me too.” (Roman Reigns)

From Drabble List #2

Originally posted by leakees

          Roman’s shoulders hunched over as he looked at the picture held in his hands from five years earlier: one of you wrapped tightly in his arms smiling and laughing, as he passionately kissed your skin. He missed the way you smelled of peppermint and how sweet you tasted when he made love to you.

          The pictures in Roman’s phone weren’t any different: the shared grins of your wedding day a year earlier and another of when the two of you were on vacation at the beach in the Bahamas: he was holding you up in his arms with your legs wrapped around his waist and the water surrounding the two of you on all sides. Your black hair tangled up with his. Roman’s shoulders shuddered, as the tears began to fall from his eyes. The both of you were happy and deeply in love.

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