wish i knew who this was directed at

anonymous asked:

None of us truly knew Robin so we don't need to get all fake "omg Robin was truly this and that" So the respect you give should at least be for Harry. He DID know Robin. He was his step dad. So out of respect for Harry at least give them space and don't dig to deep into it and say all these things and write all this stuff. Just give best wishes and give space (not directed towards you Emily, just for people who might be a little invasive)

Exactly! I agree. xx

why you should not dismiss research unless you rly truly mean it

Internet, I am a queer researcher of queer health and I have something to say.

A few weeks back, a study went viral about the relationship between marriage equality policy and queer teen suicide rates, and a lot of people reacted thusly: “queer mental health is better when we’re not discriminated against! BREAKING: SKY IS BLUE, WATER IS WET”

This happens a lot. People see research about a thing ~Everyone Already Knows~ and they mock it. Now I want to make two things really clear:

1. Everyone does not already know.

2. This shit can lose these projects their funding.

Did you know that media coverage is a crucial factor in funding allocation? When we submit our application for grant renewal, we have to provide a list of news articles about our research so they can decide whether the public cares enough about us to let us keep doing our work. And most research doesn’t get all that much coverage, so individual reactions can really matter. If the primary reaction to our publications is eyerolling, we legitimately might not be able to continue.

I’ve seen some frustration from people who believe this research funding would be better put to use “actually helping” the affected populations instead of–I don’t know, pinning them under microscopes or whatever it is they think we do. But funding for policy initiatives is driven by research. I know you wish politicians would listen to individual voices telling them where the problems are, but that’s honestly not a smart way to direct limited resources. We need solid evidence. And a lot of the areas that need the most attention aren’t obvious–who knew bisexual people are at a much higher risk for physical and mental health disparities than gay and lesbian people? Who would have guessed that transgender folks are more likely than any other group (including straight people) to be military veterans, but overwhelmingly don’t claim their benefits? I’m sure some people noticed these patterns, but they definitely weren’t common knowledge within the queer communities I’ve grown up around, and those findings are leading to direct action as we speak.

I get that it can be frustrating to feel like your identity is being reduced to facts and figures for the benefit of red tape. But trust me, the researchers aren’t your enemy here. Most of us are queer too. All of us are just as frustrated by this crap as you are. We are doing our best, and I swear to you this work really is making a difference. Please don’t sabotage it.

20+ Jealous Louis Fics:

In a twisted turn of events, Louis finds himself posing as the brother of his fiancé, Harry, for an annual company retreat.

Did he sign up for this? No.

Is he doing it anyway? Yes.

Can they actually pull this off? Probably not.

Louis isn’t someone who Harry thought he could ever be with, and Louis never thought he’d break his rules for anyone.

Sometimes being wrong isn’t so bad after all.

AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

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Chapter 93 Thoughts.

Le writer is happy because this was such a good chapter.

I will be using Mangastream since it is on the point and Crunchyroll translation is not out yet. I will make corrections after I read Cruncyroll translation.

Ah, I am really living for chapters like this! Many things I learn, many things I crave. New info. Yay! To sum it up cursory, in this chapter we saw:

  • Isayama really did reversed the map, call it a brand new world and gave half of it Marley. Really, Marley is putting British, Mongols and Romans to shame while Alexander the Great is crying at background.
  • Marley is relying too much on Titan power, that is why they don’t have an advanced army and navy.
  • Mads Mikkelsen is their marshal.
  • Mid-East Union is now Fab-Kebab Union who lost the war but also got all the praises and that made Marley jealous.
  • Zeke can get even more interesting every month. He also has a Zekeret.
  • Marley is not aware that Zeke is royal blood. Bruh.
  • We found out how Zeke is able to control titans. With injecting his own spine fluid. Reasonable.
  • Cartman is actually a cartwoman and she stole my heart. Unlike roast master Galliard.
  • Reiner “I must protect the smol ones” Braun. Enough said.
  • The smol ones are also winning my heart more every chapter. Gabi, Falco, Udo and Zophia are 14 year old cutie pies.
  • Paradis is doing well, Paradis is doing great.
  • Ackermans are actually lab rats.
  • Ymir. Beautiful. Willful. Dead.
  • Le writer is wishing next month to be a Warrior chapter as well to get a Warrior volume and her chapter thoughts are under the cut.

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thegaypumpingthroughyourveins  asked:




Newt claims curiosity as his reason. He wants to know how different Grindelwald and Graves really were. He has this impression of a man with poise and power, a gentle sort of gravity – but that was all Grindelwald, wasn’t it? Who knows how long that wizard had been undercover! Surely Grindelwald had been an excellent actor! But Newt doesn’t know for certain, and so he goes to see for himself.

Tina does warn him that there might be some unexpected differences. “We simply thought he’d taken certain meetings to heart,” she hedges without really explaining. “Just… whatever he says, don’t take it personally, alright?”

Newt begins to fear a nasty temper made worse by prolonged captivity and torture. He braces himself for scathing words, a scowl – for dark brows above dark eyes that wish only to see Newt reduced beneath the heel of his boot.

“Tina,” Graves starts off with his tone wicking toward warm amusement, “I knew you weren’t really all that angry with me.”

Tina sighs heavily. “Mr. Graves, this is Newt Scamander. He’s one of the wizards who helped with your rescue.”

“I know who he is,” Graves says. Newt is rather alarmed to see Graves smirk in his direction so lasciviously, especially for a man who’s bedridden at the moment. Graves doesn’t seem to think bedridden is anything more than a challenge, however, because he pats the side of his bed invitingly. “As if I would forget the gorgeous man who so obviously stood out among my aurors.”

Newt almost goes to sit where Graves wanted him, caught up in his own fascination with a personality difference so bizarre, but Tina yanks him back to her side. Newt is still staring at Graves’ face, so he doesn’t miss the way Graves pouts exaggeratedly at her.

“You’re ruining my fun, darling,” Graves scolds her lightly. “How ever is Mr. Scamander supposed to know how grateful I am if I can’t thank him appropriately?”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Tina replies, “but the last time you thanked someone appropriately, you nearly started an international incident with the Australian Prime Minister and the whole department had to take sexual harassment classes for a month.”

Graves doesn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed. He has eyes only for Newt. “Well, how was I supposed to know that he didn’t like tongue?” he says, licking over his top lip as if to invite Newt to investigate his meaning. “That kind of thing really should be in the dossier beforehand. Don’t you agree, Mr. Scamander?”

“I find your tongue rather interesting myself,” Newt says breathlessly before he can stop himself. Graves’ face splits into a grin, and Tina huffs in frustration before she starts pulling Newt out of the hospital room. “Oh, oh wait– Tina–”

Tina is relentless. “We’re leaving!”

Graves laughs. “Next time then, Mr. Scamander!” he calls out, wiggling his fingers at Newt as he’s pulled through the door.

“There won’t be a next time!” Tina shouts back.

Dating Choices (Reggie x Reader Request )

Request: ‘Can I request a Reggie x reader imagine where the reader is friends with the core four and she and Reggie get into a fight about the way he treats jughead and it gets angsty but ends with fluff?’- Anon.

Characters/Pairings: Reggie x Reader, Jughead x Betty, Veronica, Archie.

Warnings: Physical violence, swearing.

Word Count: 789

Originally posted by riverdalebish

Why can’t everyone get along? We’d have world peace, everyone would be happy and my boyfriend wouldn’t bully my best friend every day.

Today was the final straw, the scene kept replaying in my mind. It was the end of the day and I’d arranged to meet Reggie at my locker. It had been a crappy day and all I needed were some snuggles from my man. When I arrived at my locker to see Jughead up against it, Reggie’s hand around his neck, it was all too much.

‘Reggie, what the hell are you doing?’ I yelled, pure fury running through me.

‘He was making some comment babe, had to teach him a lesson.’ Reggie quipped back, thinking his macho act was impressive. The rest of the gang arrived next, all just as angry as me. Archie grabbed Reggie, dragging him away. Jughead was finally released from Reggie’s grip, a red mark radiated from his neck. Betty ran up to him, inspecting his neck and placing a concerned kiss on his cheek.

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You know how Angelina Jolie said that Maleficent having her wings stolen from her was a metaphor for sexual assault? It got me thinking about Iron Man 1, and Obie stealing the arc reactor.

If you look at both scenes side by side (and i’ve never wished I knew how to make gifsets more than now) there are so many similarities, and honestly, I’m really disappointed that no one involved in the IM franchise has addressed It.

So, for Tony, you have this man, who he has trusted his entire life, come into his home uninvited. This within itself is a direct correlation to sexual assault; most victims are assaulted by someone they know in an environment they were comfortable in. This man that he trust literally immobilizes him before tony can even think to call for help. He takes something valuable and important to Tony’s lively hood from his chest (from his heart) while looking into his eyes. There’s no remorse, there’s no hesitance. If anything, Obie gives off this air of being owed the arc reactor technology. It parallels directly with the way that sexual assault is depicted in films, with sexual assault in real life, and its so sad because no one really cares about the violation. Everyone talks about Obie trying to kill Tony, no one talks about how he took advantage of Tony, and violated not only his trust, but his body as well.


•Obie being so grossly, intimately, close to Tony the entire time

•"Easy, easy, breathe.“ Being a direct parallel to the common “relax/dont struggle” line we see in media that depicts sexual assault

•Obie, like, moaning at the sight of the arc reactor once its out of Tony’s chest

•Tony’s fucking face. The fear, the betrayal, the confusion. You can see it all play out in his eyes.

Tldr; the scene in Iron Man 1 where Obie steals the arc reactor is a metaphor for sexual assault

Bewitching - Draco x Reader

Summary: Convinced by Narcissa earlier during the day, you attend a soirée at the Malfoy’s, where something weighs heavy on your conscience as you feel yourself losing control under Draco’s gaze.

Word count: ~2.6k 

Originally posted by drarrymore

You were hurrying down the hallway, clutching a file full of papers that would go flying should you let them slip out of your grip. You were stressed out, as you’d felt a change in the atmosphere at work over the past months. You had to prove your value, or you’d get rid of.

During the war, the Ministry had seized control of the operations at Gringotts. Since your parents had forbidden you from attending your 7th year at Hogwarts, not willing to risk your life, you’d applied for a job at the bank; making sure you wouldn’t stay idle for the year.

Now that the war was over, and that it had been exposed that He had been controlling the Ministry then, control of Gringotts had been surrendered back to the goblins, on the condition that they kept the wizard employees that had earned a position inside during the war. 

The goblins weren’t too happy with their institution being taken over, and now that it had been months since they’d won back control, tensions were high. They were extremely scrupulous, and should one task be ill-performed, any wizard was sure to be pointed towards the door. Not that you particularly blamed the goblins for reacting that way. You believed if you could outlast their disgruntled period, you could have a future at the bank, and without a complete education, you wouldn’t let it go without a fight.

So there you were, rushing to deliver some important documents from an office to another when you made eye contact with a woman you’d last seen nearly a week before then. She was talking with a goblin, who seemed to be showing her the way out from the vaults, but you knew she recognized you from the knowing smile that she gave you. Observing decorum, you halted to salute her.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what a lovely surprise seeing you here today,” you greeted her with a polite smile, still holding on to your papers.

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Little Secrets (Jughead x Reader)

200 Writing Prompts: “Hi,so I was thinking maybe 35 and 41! Thanks“ –Anonymous

“Could you do a imagines with 35 and 41 Please!? Thank you 😀” – @emilycarlton

Imagine: Your long-time boyfriend Jughead dumps you, sending you into the arms of his former best friend, Archie Andrews. When you realize you’re pregnant, it’s time to call up an old friend.

“Hi, Jughead,” You said softly.

“It’s Forsythe, now,“ your ex-boyfriend replied curtly, letting you into his Manhattan apartment.

When Jughead had signed a book deal for his high school tales regarding Jason Blossom’s murder, the book immediately became a New York Times bestseller and he left Riverdale as soon as possible, eager to leave his old life with you, behind.

The apartment was lavish-looking, and bare. The only thing indicating some semblance of Jughead living there was a small bookshelf in the living room with books you recognized from Jughead’s youth. A small picture frame held a snapshot of Jughead as a child, with his parents and Jellybean in front of the drive-in.

“Your apartment looks nice,“ you said.

Jughead leaned against the door, ignoring your comment. “Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. For the first time in months, you stared into Jughead Jones III’s stupid, hateful, blue eyes. Facing him, he noticed a small out-sloping on your abdomen.

“I’m pregnant.”

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anonymous asked:

Hello~ I have a request please! ((ps I really like your writing ^^) MC and Yoosung and/or Seven are about 12 years old and best childhood friends. They have always had a crush on each other but never admitted to it. Fast forward to current day MC and Yoosung and/or Seven, they still have a crush on each other. At a Valentine's RFA themed party, MC decides to confess her love to him. You can do what you'd like with this prompt, but I'd love to see a reaction too :) thanks!



One day that he was on the hallway of the church has hypnotized by a sound and when he got closer he was amused with a beautiful voice.That voice came from a little girl.

He just stared amazed of the beauty of her voice…but maybe he stare too much so you notice and you wave at him.AND OH MY FUCKING GOD HIS REACTION WAS SO FUCKING CUTE.

  • First,He turn around because he though you were waving to someone else.
  • No one is behind
  • He looks back at you and he point at himself.You giggle.
  • Tomato face ON
  • He waves back in a super shy and cute way.

But the nun scold you.He stops waving an starts to go to another place.  

The Next day you see him and scared him from behind Poor baby he was really scared .

  • ”Ahhh!” he screams and at the same time he falls on his butt
  • ”I´m sorry.Are you ok?”You try to touch him on his arm but he immediately pulls out.
  • ”Ouch!” You touch him on one of his bruises.
  • Are you hurt?”You lean and kiss him in his arm were that big bruise was.
  • He was surprised and very red 
  • Don´t worry…my kiss will help.”
  • ”Ok…” he is still very red .
  • “You are red like a tomato” you giggle

You stand up and give him your hand to help him get up,he grabs it and stands up too.Taking his hand you don´t let go and guide him to the cafeteria of the church.

  • “Let´s eat something” you say enthusiastic.
  • “What? Why?” He was scared of getting cut.
  • “You are very skinny and I never see you eat something plus you stare  the food the same way you stare at me.” 
  • “Did you notice?”  still red
  • “Yes,but don´t worry I look at you all the time and that´s why I notice all those thing.”
  • You took a banana and peel it for him “Eat”
  • “No,It´s bad.What if they catch us?”
  • “They won´t.I promise”
  • “I have a brother and…”
  • You took another banana and other types of fruits and some sandwiches that were around and put it all in a bag.”Take.Now let´s go”
  • You hear someone is coming.
  • “Run Tom”
  • “Tom?”

You two ran and when you were far enough you catch your breath as you stop.

You started laughing and he thought you were weird but cute at the same time.

  • “That was exciting”
  • “That was crazy !” he yells 
  • You giggle  “Tom,It was a thrilling day with you but I have to go.See you later” You give him a kiss on his cheek of good bye and you run in  another direction.
  • “Hey!” he said “My name is Seayoung not tom”and then he yells.

Obviously he told Saeran every thing of what happened “Wow that was a very Interesting and exciting day…I wish I could have a day like that” Saeran says.

Seayoung was excited of seeing you again even if you were a little bit crazy but he didn´t see you until years later.

When he first saw pictures of you ( In the background cheek) he knew who you were but He was to 100% sure since he dosen´t know the name of the little girl.And 1 year later after you enter RFA he is still just your friend.

But all changed when you proposed a RFA party with the them of Valentine´s day and you though it will be a good idea if you sing a love song.The moment of truth arrived and when you were singing…and in the corner of the crowed you saw Seven and he stare at you like that little boy that you meet at the church.You wave at him and he does the same reaction of when he was a boy.

  • First,He turn around because he though you were waving to someone else.
  • No one is behind
  • He looks back at you and he point at himself.You giggle.
  • Tomato face ON
  • He waves back in a super shy and cute way.

When you finish, you go to him and you say:

  • “Hey,Tom.Sorry I mean Seayoung”
  • “You Heard me”
  • “Yes.You know I was always so bold and adventures when I was younger…”
  • “Yeah,I know” He cut you as he smile 
  • “Now I´m not like that but I will try to bring my inner child and say something that I wanted to say for a long time…*Inhale* I like you,Seven,Luciel,Seayoung,Tom”
  • Tomato face SUPER ON
  • “I like you too,Mc”
  • Tomato face Mega ON
  • You hug each other like the knowing the past was the final piece and now you feel complete.
  • “Seven…”
  • “Yes?”
  • “Where is your brother?”
  • “What?”
  • “You told me that you had a brother…”
  • “…”

There is a missing piece in seven´s puzzle and you were wiling to find it with him by your side.

HEY! HAPPY VALENTINE´S  DAY  a little late but I´m her. I hope you liked this post and give my blog a little visit if you want some mysme Hc and for the people that give me the opportunity to work with them THANK YOU! I hope you pass a great day/year/life.

Special Agent 606, Out.If you want to request here are the rules: HERE/Matchups: Here /Masterlist: Here

Making Fun a Priority III

For Ash’s Writing Challenge Round 3. My prompt was Vibrator… never really used kinks in my stories before (intentionally, at least) so bear with me guys… Before I get started though, I think I should mention that I won’t be using the prompt how most people probably think it would be used… I know that might not make sense, but all I can really say without giving up too much is that I’ll be using vibrations and not a vibrator.

Summary: Brandi was on cloud nine. It had been a few days since she and Negan had been together, and she was still coming down from the high he’d given her. But despite how good she still felt, Brandi was sure that Negan was done with her. That he’d had his fun and that it was over… Oh boy is she in for a surprise…

Warnings: smut and language.


I felt amazing. I felt like I was on top of the world. My smile hadn’t left my lips once over the last two days. Nothing could ruin the mood I was in. I felt incredible. Well… for the most part I did. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was still buzzing from sleeping with Negan. I still couldn’t believe it had actually happened. But it had been a short-lived moment.

After we’d had sex, Negan and I had fallen asleep. By the time I woke up, it was dark and I was alone.

Negan had been nice enough to set some clothes on the end of his bed, for me to wear. Seeing as my clothes were still very wet and very muddy, he’d given me a pair of black sweat pants, and one of his white shirts. Of course, Negan and I had completely different body shapes and sizes… Where he was tall, I was tiny. Where he was lean and muscled, I was on the almost-too-unhealthy side of thin.

When I put his clothes on, I had to use my hair tie to tie pants so they’d stay in place. I also had to roll them up and hope I wouldn’t trip- though knowing me I still would. The shirt was baggy, but not to the point where I was at risk of revealing anything, which meant I didn’t have to worry about it too much. Though my anxiety constantly had me checking to make sure I wasn’t flashing anything. He’d left me some socks as well, which were the only form of footwear I had to wear, to get back to my room.

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PRIDE || MAFIA!Seokmin [Chp 3]

BLURB: Sometimes we put on facades to seem stronger than we are, when all we need is someone to tell us they will hold our hand through it all.

GENRE: mafia!au, action, mystery, family, monsta x cameos

WORDS: 3325

PART: 1 | 2 | 3

Your life was a series of fuck-ups and yesterday might very well be one too. After agreeing to “come with him”, whatever that meant, Seokmin let you go back.

“What, no holding me hostage in the big mansion to make sure I won’t rat you guys out?” You were only half-joking.

“Nah,” he’d said, “I trust you.”

Trust. So when you got back to the subway station that night you stayed as mum as possible hoping that Wonho wouldn’t even notice you were there. It wasn’t much of a problem. When you reached, he and a few of the others were knocked out cold, dumb with alcohol they probably stole from another sad store somewhere else. If you’d been here last night you would’ve watched them drink themselves silly from your perch at the top of a subway car and put yourself on guard duty. Without you here Wonho didn’t even bother.

It’s like they’d forgotten all about you. So you hid in your little corner and pretended to disappear.

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Perfect: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Originally posted by behindpotterscenes

First Request! ♥

Request: Fred weasley x Ravenclaw!reader? She is shy and loves to read, she is also one of ravenclaw’s best chasers. She gets invited to Bill and Fleur’s wedding because she is friends with Ginny & Hermione, during the attack at the wedding she saves Fred’s life. She gets captured and tortured during the war and gets found bleeding and dying by Fred, he is in tears, a lot of angst but she lives. And throw in some kisses.

A/N: This is longer than I expected it to be, but I did my best. I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted considering there was so much information to be put into this, so I may had to leave a few minor details out, but I still think it turned out well. Let me know what you think! 

Also, this is my take on the war, I didn’t glance at the book at all while writing this so, it’s not accurate, and uh… *cough* Fred’s alive in this so… 

Now excuse me while I cry in the corner.

Word Count: 2751

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hogwarts War, Torture, Feels. 

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sentence prompts ➝ queen of the damned ( book & movie )
  • ❛ Join me or die. ❜
  • ❛ I’m too old to live forever. ❜
  • ❛ I only have myself. You taught me that. ❜
  • ❛ I’ve had enough of this discussion. ❜
  • ❛ You’ll not stop me! ❜
  • ❛ He is no more. Now you are my consort. That’s why I kept you safe, alive. ❜
  • ❛ Come out, come out, wherever you are. ❜
  • ❛ I want to live forever with you. ❜
  • ❛ This isn’t the time to settle old scores. ❜
  • ❛ Come on, say it again. I’m the perfect devil. Tell me how bad I am. It makes me feel so good! ❜
  • ❛ Really? Is that what you’re going to do? ❜
  • ❛ Your kind never satisfies my thirst. ❜
  • ❛ That was quite a performance. You should learn to be more careful. ❜
  • ❛ Do you love me? ❜
  • ❛ I can’t help being a gorgeous fiend. It’s just the card I drew. ❜
  • ❛ We live forever but they don’t come back. ❜
  • ❛ Vampire’s don’t settle scores, we harbor them. ❜
  • ❛ I’ve always been my own teacher. And I must confess, I’ve been my favorite pupil as well. ❜
  • ❛ All of your wishes have come true. ❜
  • ❛ Did the cries of the dying ring so thickly in the ears of those who can hear them? Has even more blood been shed? ❜
  • ❛ Is that an invitation? ❜
  • ❛ You know, you’re brave joking like that. ❜
  • ❛ Why should we hide? We are the powerful. We are the immortal. ❜
  • ❛ The world is our garden. ❜
  • ❛ She takes pleasure in only one thing: destroying life. ❜
  • ❛ I knew I left that journal somewhere. So, was it a good read? ❜
  • ❛ Her blood is like liquid fire. ❜
  • ❛ A vampire’s life is a life of discretion. ❜
  • ❛ Read the directions. What are you, an immortal idiot? ❜
  • ❛ Finally those you love are simply, those you love. ❜
  • ❛ You must know we do not really change over time; we are as flowers unfolding, we merely become more nearly ourselves. ❜
  • ❛ So, after all this time, what’s the occasion? ❜
  • ❛ Warms my blood to see you all gathered plotting against me. ❜
  • ❛ Goddamnit, do it yourself. ❜
  • ❛ It’s an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give us a greater lustre to our colors. ❜
  • ❛ I’m not as precious as you think. ❜
  • ❛ Real hauntings have nothing to do with ghosts finally, they have to do with the menace of a memory . ❜
  • ❛ There is no wrong! There is only desperation. ❜
  • ❛ Why so surprised, my love? You’ve called, I’ve come. ❜
  • ❛ You must be dead to the world. ❜
  • ❛ We’re going to dismember him, bleed him dry. ❜
  • ❛ They believed in nothing and now they are nothing. ❜
  • ❛ Do you think of anyone but yourself? ❜
  • ❛ Humans are animals, brute creatures. Their destruction can only make sense. ❜
  • ❛ You will not touch her! ❜
  • ❛ Come, let me show you what it means to live in the light. ❜
  • ❛ They worship me. Millions of arms reach out to embrace, beg me to come into their lives. ❜
  • ❛ I don’t have time for this. ❜
  • ❛ You’re beautiful to me because you’re human. Your frailty. Your short years. Your heart. All that suddenly seems more precious than anything I’ve ever known. ❜
Old Wounds - Chapter Nine


Gigi shuffled through the pizza boxes until she found the one she was looking for: pepperoni, black olive, and pineapple. She grabbed the two largest remaining slices and transferred them onto her plate. “Has Gemma or Wills talked to you about Christmas?” she asked her parents and then took a huge bite, so any visible reaction to their answer would be disguised by chewing.

Her dad made a noise that she understood to mean that they had.

“Are you going?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

“Manners, dear,” Karl chided her, exactly mimicking Grandma.

Gigi carefully held out her pinkie as she took an enormous bite of pizza and then grinned at her brother. Karl was home for a few weeks for the holidays. His elbows were on the table, fencing off the area around his plate, guarding it from any additional depredations. They were all gathered around the table in the kitchen, scene of more dinners than she could count. The table bore the nicks and stains of a busy family and thousands of art projects. A few flecks of glitter, permanently glued to the surface, reflected the light shining down from the string globe lanterns they had made a decade ago.

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Bonnie & Clyde - pt 9

Originally posted by sugaglos

Mason was at the door waiting for you. When he saw the car pull up he ran to open the door for you.

“Hey beautiful.” He said, kissing your hand.

You smiled and threw your arms around him, kissing him happily.

“Dessert is after dinner sweetheart.” He teased, leaning down to kiss your neck.

You gently shoved him away. “Your dad’s inside. He’s going to see us, it’s embarrassing.” You pouted sarcastically.

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anonymous asked:

More viking aŭ! Pretty please!

Of course I can! Sorry ti took me so long, I’ve been feeling sort of down lately. I hope you enjoy the fic! Requests are still closed I’m just catching up on the ones I have left in my inbox! Enjoy!

Read the last one here! https://tomco-headcannons.tumblr.com/post/160748981622/hi-i-dont-know-if-someone-else-requested-this

Tom walked down the beach that night, leaving footprints behind him. He had to find some way to win this battle. Or else his entire tribe was screwed. “I thought we made a deal to not come here until the battle tomorrow at dawn.” A voice cut his thinking and Tom whipped around. He saw the viking princess Marco before him, looking angry.

“I wasn’t trying to betray you in any way, I swear.” Tom assured. Marco gave him a disbelieving look and the namad flared up. “Well what are you doing here then, princess?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“I thought I might find you here, and I was proven right.” Marco huffed. Tom pouted and the viking princess turned away. “You should go to your ship, you’ll need your rest for tomorrow.” Marco told him. He was about to walk off but Tom stopped him.

“Wait, Marco.” He called. Marco turned around and Tom sighed, looking down. “We both know my Demons don’t stand a chance tomorrow. We’re outnumbered, that’s all there is to it.” Tom began. Marco crossed his arms.

“After years of pillaging and chaos, you attack my village, and ask for pity?” Marco demanded. “I would never, EVER show the likes of YOU pity!” He hissed.

“I know.” Tom looked away. “That’s why you won’t be showing ME pity.” Tom explained. Marco looked confused and Tom took a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “I should have known that challenging you guys was a bad idea but…” Tom bit his lip. He was so young, and had only been a chief for such a short time. They were low on resources and he thought raiding Marco’s village would help but… he just got in too deep with a battle he couldn’t win.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Marco asked. Tom looked up.

“Let my tribe go, they will never bother you ever again.” He asked. Marco shook his head.

“You can’t just get away with this! You have to pay for what you’re tribe has done!” He hissed.

“And I will!” Tom exclaimed. Marco fell back. “I’m the chief, I should be taking responsibility for my tribe. That’s why you let them go, and in exchange I stay on your island as prisoner. I’ll work for you, pillage for you, anything just to let them go. It’ll be like we never showed up in the first place.” Tom offered.

Marco stood there in shock for a long while, watching the voyager closely. “You’d stay here as a prisoner, just so I will let your small tribe of twenty people leave?” Marco asked. Tom scoffed and shook his head.

“No you moron!… We’re twenty-seven people… and yes.” Tom added. Marco nodded and held out his hand. Tom reached out and they shook on the deal.

“We have a deal, have your people promise to leave my village, you stay here as my prisoner, and they go free, without a battle.” He agreed.


“Tom you can’t be serious.” Vanessa shook her head, Chet the other Demon was perched next to her. Tom sighed and looked away.

“I am. You’re the chief now. Do a better job than I did.” Tom requested of her. Vanessa nodded, but seemed to linger. “Go!” Tom urged. “If you guys don’t get out of here soon Marco’s army will get impatient and think we’re trying to get out of the deal.” He explained. Vanessa nodded and she motioned for Chet to get on the boat. Tom looked up and watched his tribe leave, the boat got smaller and smaller until it was out of sight.

“Come on Demon, we got a place for war prisoners.” Janna sneered at him. It was her job as commander to be this cold towards enemies. She wasn’t a mean person. She was about to take Tom away but she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Marco.

“Just let him be for a while.” He whispered. “He just lost his home.”

“Do you seriously feel sorry for him?” Janna asked. “The Demons are monsters! You’ve seen what they’ve done.” She reminded.

“I know! Why do you think I didn’t let him go!?” Marco demanded. “But even a monster can get homesick, how would you feel if you lost everything you knew?” He asked. Janna sighed and looked down. “Besides, he was so willing to give himself up for his people… I think he’s just… just give him a moment, I’ll take care of him.” Marco told her. Janna nodded and left, signalling the rest of the army to follow.

Marco approached Tom, who was still standing with his ankles in the water, watching the direction his ship had left. “Are you going to be okay?” Marco asked. He put his hand on Tom’s shoulder, but the boy ripped away.

“It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled. “What is it you wish me to do?” Tom asked. Marco looked the demon over. The first thing he saw was an abundance of weapons Tom had on hand casually. He took it in and nodded.

“A personal body guard will do for now.” Marco told him. “I deal with dangerous people in trade roots. You seem like the type of person who can handle a fight.” Marco smiled a bit and Tom nodded, he bowed a bit.

“Anything you request.” Tom looked up and Marco frowned. He seemed so sad. But Marco had to remember not to get personal, or attached, to this new prisoner. He was a bad guy, right? Why else would he run around and cause chaos. Marco couldn’t become emotionally attached, and remember to treat this prisoner as a enemy.

He couldn’t let Tom become anything more to him.

Aries  -  someday someone will love you so much that they won’t be able to stop themself from waking you up in the morning when you are still sound asleep; someday they’ll love you enough to let you sleep.

Taurus  -  winter is almost over, and soon it will be warm enough for that feeling in your chest to melt away.

Gemini  -  just because someone doesn’t feel the need to show you something doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist; remember that the next time you feel like prying secrets from someone’s mouth.  

Cancer  -  you spend so much of your time pouring yourself out; you deserve to  fill yourself with nothing but sunlight and clean air for the rest of your life for all the time you’ve spent giving yourself to other people.

Leo  -  observing yourself is the only way to grow.

Virgo  -  someday someone will be so important to you that you’ll stop trying to play it cool.    

Libra  -  there is a mirror in your chest and everyone who loves you sees a part of themselves in you; this can be truthful or it can be a reflection of what they wish were true, so it is up to you if you want to break the mirror or leave it whole.

Scorpio  - finding a balance between your quiet and your loud feels like it is never-ending, but once you figure out how to stop bouncing from one end of the spectrum to the other, you will know what it’s like to walk away from a conversation without feeling like you were either sucked under or like you overshadowed every other voice.

Sagittarius  -  there is so much going on in your head that you can’t explain to anyone, and I just wish I knew how to explain to you that so many of your problems will be ironed out by time.

Capricorn  -  there are parts of you that aren’t gone, they’re just from versions of yourself that are so far from who you are now that you feel like you’ve lost them; if you look hard enough, you can find them again. 

Aquarius  -  scratching the surface is easy; it’s dealing with what you find at your core that will  shake you in the right direction.

Pisces  -  go on  a long drive and don’t go home until either your mind is less tangled  or you’re almost out of gas.

—  next week’s horoscopes, maria s. 
Day 8: Front’s Seat’s For People Who Haven’t Been Kidnapped By Fucking Numpties

“Front seat’s for people who haven’t been kidnapped by fucking numpties,” said Simon, his words sinking from his lips to mine as he kissed me (in between sentences just like he knew I liked).

“I really wish I never told you that,” I said, biting at his lips.

After a moment of this (time lulling to a honey-like consistency) he pulled away, though he kept his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

“I can’t believe we’re snogging in your aunt’s car,” said Simon with a breathy chuckle.

“We’re like any other teenage couple,” I said, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. He smirked.

“Except you’re a vampire and I’m the Chosen One and I don’t even know if I’m gay or not,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said firmly, digging my fingers into the thick fabric of his jumper. “But you know what does? This.”


I leaned forward and kissed him hard enough to push him back against the passenger side door. Whatever he was about to say faded into an indignant muffle. I never ceased to feel a spark of triumph whenever he reached for me, held on to me. I hoped that this never changed.

When I leaned back he was breathing heavily, his rosy cheeks even rosier.

(I loved that I had this effect on him).

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he said after a pause. He shook his head, almost like resignation. “You’re attractive either way.”

“Damn right,” I said, tossing my hair for good measure (I knew he secretly loved when I did that).

“Oh fuck off,” Simon sighed.

Instead I pulled him close, nestled in the crook of the driver’s side door. There wasn’t much leg space, but at the moment I didn’t quite care. I cared so acutely about this moment instead. Because Simon was curled into my arms, and his hair was brushing my chin and I could feel his heart racing beneath the wool of his jumper. These were the things I cared about. I relished every bit of this, even the fact that our legs were tangled and pins and needles had begun to bloom in my feet. It wasn’t perfect—but then again, neither were we.

Sure, the front seat wasn’t for people who had been kidnapped by fucking numpties. It was for an ordinary teenage couple. 

Well… one was a vampire and one was supposed to save the world. But this—this felt almost normal.


Trans in Theatre: Adversarial and Jubilant Ultimatums

          After one of our late night dress rehearsals for Footloose, I felt a friend to my right grip my arm during our notes. She said, “Denny, are you okay?” and I realized tears were falling down my cheeks without my notice at all. At that point, everybody fixated their eyes on me and for the first time (of soon-to-be many), I felt seen but so unseen. This was my junior year in high school, and I was cast as the male lead, Ren McCormack. Despite the crisp dance moves and singing, the director kept telling me that something was still not right about my performance. She then sat with me until midnight, where we were the only ones left on stage. Through the shakiness in my voice and my hands burying my face, I said, “It’s just hard playing something you know you’re not.”

           She looked at me, and for the first time, I think she really saw me.

          My senior year I was cast as The Leading Player in Pippin, a gender neutral character with a presence so demanding you can’t take your eyes off the charm, wit, and agility. Around this time I was sneaking out late at night, dressing up with my friends and going out. Liberating myself from gender roles and rebelling against their normalizations kept me stable emotionally and mentally. I was in a place where I had to dissect gender to its core in order to sort myself, and experimenting with winged eyeliner paired with a staple dark red lips and too many striped dresses allowed me to come to terms with myself at my own pace. I took advantage of the ambiguity of gender within my role in the show through androgyny.

           Femininity turned from secretive repression into a hobby.

          My first theatrical experience in college was an identity play reading for The Laramie Project, a collection of reactions to the homophobic murder of Matthew Shepard in 1998. I auditioned for two women in the room, one who was an upperclassman directing the play, the other an older white woman who accompanied the student director. She had a sweet and nurturing voice, and a full head of gray and white hair that complimented her soft smile. I felt an odd sense of comfort for a strange white lady I barely knew. She still recognizes me now and wishes me well whenever we bump into each other. I read a monologue they provided and was contacted the next day to play Romaine Patterson, the lesbian best friend of Matthew. It was my first time reading a part that was inherently for a woman. I don’t recall my exact emotion that given moment, but I know I was happy. Telling my friends about it felt radical and transformative. To be seen as a genderqueer person of color beyond that identity and only for talent was a big deal for me. Previous auditions for The Voice and X-Factor never went well because like my high school director, the producers could tell something was off.

           I started to, too.

          The following semester, I took an acting class. The second I walked into the first day of class and saw twelve fraternity boys was the second my own ideas of theatre spaces being safe from potentially harmful masculinities were proven wrong. My professor was a mother with a smile as big as her frames, face framed by the middle part of her dark curls as beautiful as her name—Carmela. Her fingers were crowded with unique rings, her outfits casual yet bold with statement pieces—I could tell this person was comfortable with who she was, while remaining to be somewhat reserved. I envied her. I wanted her womanhood, although confusion overshadowed my lack of vocabulary to express this specific desire. All I knew to do was to wake up two hours prior to classes for the sole reason of feminizing myself. But the hesitation on femininity started the moment she referred to me with “she, her” pronouns, which led the entire class, including the fraternity boys, to do as well. At the time I reserved to gender neutral pronouns because I knew I wanted to detach myself from anything innately considered ‘male’, and unlike the most heard trans narratives, growing up without exposure to trans folks (a conscious one, that is) left me thinking my gender was concrete, and Carmela was another person to see me beyond what I knew was possible, and that is woman. Her de-solidifying my possibilities as a person gave me space to let my gender identity move and rebuild, even with words as scary as “her” and “girl”.

           Not once did I ever correct anybody in that class.

           Transitioning started the summer after that. I officially came out as a woman, and coming back to school was surprisingly easy. I never thought much about what it must have been like for everyone else, which led me to sleep comfortably every night thinking everyone around me must be on board as well—the theatre department included. I wish people spoke to me about concerns, or vocalized their questions, in which I would have been much slower and more patient moving forward. Instead I felt immortal and unbeatable, and receiving my first female lead in a show the same day I started my medical transition were only further signs that I was going in the right direction. I was misgendered throughout the show but I disregarded that. I recognized the ways in which I could have been critical in the moment but I disregarded that. I refused to admit that people were not seeing me as a woman because I accepted and made effort to uphold how progressive everyone involved in the production must have been to include me in the first place. Although I wore an exquisite wedding gown, I also wore three noses but I disregarded that. I felt beautiful in the midst of knowing the audience saw me otherwise—I played the freak but I disregarded that. I kept quiet because a part of me felt that staying silent as the team player would access me to more opportunities. I was right. A few months after, I was cast for the following semester’s show, where not only did I play a woman, but a woman of my race. I thought the recognition as a woman of color meant that I was perceived twice—for my gender, and for my racial background. But I was still misgendered throughout, therefore disregard became a way to navigate spaces where successes and failures were happening simultaneously.

          Earning my first female role as an openly trans woman should have been the starting point to education beyond inclusion, because what is the point of inclusion if we are unaware of its purposes? What is the point of adding flowers to the living room if there are no given benefits to the overall goal of aesthetic aside from sole decoration? My personal purpose was to prove people’s inherent assumptions about trans talent wrong—not to be tokenized. It still is. But being in my position and getting two leads in a row, I had a responsibility to fulfill. The fulfillment of my responsibilities became highly prioritized because I know opportunities like these do not always work in the favor of girls like me. Taking it for granted was never an option. So when I found out I was the only woman of Asian descent to even audition I kept pretending that I played these roles because I could, not because I was needed; because I have talent, not because of profitable aspects about myself that could satisfy their agendas.

           For the next few months I shared my story, making sure I expressed that it was never just a role I earned, but that I was transitioning under a microscope for the majority of campus to watch. Therefore, people knew who I was and could comprehend how big of an accomplishment this must have been for me. I bounced from one interview to the next ranging from friends’ articles to local newspaper journalism, giving them the heroic story I knew they wanted. Here I was, a nineteen year old Southeast Asian trans woman spilling my story of the adversity of transitioning at school, whilst spilling my story of triumph and attainment of playing main female characters in the theater department, knowing that there were gaps in between one story of challenge and the other of execution. I did not tell them that many people were struggling to see me beyond a man, that these roles were not the only thing I was “acting” in. I did not tell them that I felt the pressure to act woman on the daily—for the sake of being understood— and add on my character on top of that to act for. I did not tell them that I felt exhausted, stripped of my own personhood. But most of all, I did not tell them these feelings because I was warped in my own thought that the things I accomplished were courageous, and nothing else.

           I was happy, though.

           At least happy enough to come back my junior year believing I was going to be seen no different from the rest of the girls during auditions. Especially because none of the roles required the women to be a specific kind of woman, and therefore I sought after them as my perfect chance to really prove people that I was capable and deserving of a female role with no strings attached. For the first audition, I studied the script months prior to the audition day and created two monologues on my own from pieces in it. Oddly enough, the night of auditions, there were two female monologues provided, in which they were almost identical to the one I put together. Instantly I felt at an advantage because it was clear that the visions I had for these women were very close to the director’s. For the first time, I did not have to use vulnerable parts of me as a source of reliability, only creativity and deep understanding of the script. The second audition was for the only female role in the show. Her character development was built off of the desire and dream to be a forefront leader despite—or maybe even because—of her gender, a desire and dream I hold closely.

           The following day I searched hard for my name on the callback list before realizing that I was not called back for either shows. I felt the people behind me looking over my shoulders to see the cast list, and in their exhales I heard “Sorry, maybe next time,” “Yikes,” “I feel bad for you,” “What happened?

           What happened?

           I felt myself in shock, but worked painfully hard to prevent any showings of defeat or weakness. I came into my junior year with content and pride in the conquering of my endeavors, and within those five seconds of glance I started to question everything I might have done wrong. Straight away I put the responsibility on me, because the professors I have worked with know what they are doing, right? They are the ones whose judgments should be trusted, no? During a callback, the people who auditioned are asked to come back because the directors or anybody else involved were interested in what they had to offer during their auditions. This can either solidify the decision to cast these people, or make them change their minds. To be stopped before the second process confused me in all angles. I saw myself back in sophomore, junior, and senior year of high school where producers never passed me through the first rounds of The Voice and X-Factor auditions because they knew something felt misaligned. But this time, I was whole, with the strongest sense of identity out of all twenty years of my life, so therefore, my identity could not have been the reason, no? I don’t want to believe my transness is the reason I was not granted the opportunity to prove myself past auditions, and it took me strength to slowly admit to myself that my experiences in previous shows were never perfect. Some days they were barely validating or comfortable. It was a difficult process having to prove my own gender before the characters I played.

           I learned to prove myself—(cis) womanhood before talent, whiteness before talent, Americanness before talent (unless my race is needed)—twice as hard for half the consideration before somebody else’s name blankets mine. When I do earn a part, I memorize my lines twice as hard for half the recognition compared to someone who might embody surpassing privileges that give them access to opportunities where recognition is a routine experience in their involvements in theater. Over the past couple of months my peers in the department have comforted me with words like “it’s not fair to you,” “your gender is valid regardless,” “this is not a representation of your talents.”

           For those who have been my backbone throughout this emotional calculation, I profoundly thank you. However, the problem is that there is more to this. I am not seeking out validation—I know I’m valid. I am not having these conversations to re-stabilize myself as if I’ve lost a sense of identity, but to redirect the conversation and have everybody else acknowledge why they don’t have it as exhaustive, and what integrating privileges they possess that allows them to think this issue is one sided, and therefore lacks a need to hold themselves accountable at any extent. Many of the minoritized students participate in the identity play series, where their theatrical experience lasts for only one to two weeks for rehearsals—the performance production is not as tumultuous as the faculty or student directed shows. The series allows for many unheard narratives to be on the front lines of exposure and the following discussion sessions open up the conversation into further depth. However, many of the participants are only exclusive to identity play readings, and the space to welcome them (with effort) to larger scale shows in the department is limited, thus there is an imbalance between the demographics of the regular members who participate in major production shows versus the ones who are part of the identity series. This leads to the impression that those whose identities are minoritized are utilizable when their otherness is needed—a deep pain I know all too well.

           My experience in the department lies at the crux of having enough marginalized identities to truly transcend in identity play series with personal authenticity and having enough past experience to be given roles for the main stage. I aspire the space to roam freely where I can openly talk about what it means to be an Asian transgender woman in the theatre department, but also where I can express myself artistically without my sense of self being the source of muse for whatever it is I do on stage. It is impossible to completely disregard my transness, but to make my work revolved around it is no better.

          There is a way for transness to flourish in plays and productions that have the potential to be progressive. Angel from Rent encapsulates the reclamation of femininity (for a person who is inherently not meant to be feminine under the socialization they were enforced into) as her narrative parallels amongst many trans women who internally struggle to claim their own girlhoods. In this I see a theatrical opportunity to have the production not only progress the show, but allow opportunities for trans women of color to showcase talent, even if Angel is traditionally a drag queen of color. A modernized adaptation allows a political play to move along with progressing politics.

           There is also a way for transness to not completely diverge from any other plays, because trans narratives are not completely alienated from non-trans narratives—there will always be a bridge in between. In 9th grade, my English class read Romeo and Juliet, and nobody volunteered to read for Juliet. I felt her character on a deep level but hesitated to raise my hand—not only did I lack the language to describe my situation, but so did everybody else. All I knew is that there was more to Juliet than a girl who falls in love with a family foe; there was a young woman who craved to liberate herself from her family’s containment in order to pursue a more novel life. Due to societal pressure to please others before herself, her option was to take her own life—an emboldening statement of redemption and salvation. This is not uncommon in many lives of trans women and trans femmes. In 2014, Cincinnati, Ohio, a 17 year old transgender girl named Leelah Alcorn stepped in front of a tractor trailer on Interstate-71 after posting a suicide note online saying “My death needs to mean something.” In her note, she mentions “When I was 16 I realized that my parents would never come around, and that I would have to wait until I was 18 to start any sort of transitioning treatment, which absolutely broke my heart.” In Leelah’s heartbreak I see the story of Juliet—a suicide not driven from love, but driven from social abuse that prevents the embrace of and ability to love. Adaptability of transgender stories into mainstream stories is possible.

           I dream of transness in theatrical spaces to be acknowledged, not as a cause for muse or a reason of dismissal. I dream of this phenomenon of theatre as a safe space for LGBTQ+ people beyond cis, white, gay, flamboyant men. I dream of trans girls and trans femmes of color like me celebrated on stage as much as we do advocacy off stage. I dream of people who hold power in theatre to mobilize their privileges, and hold themselves accountable to take it further to tell stories that matter, stories that marinate in truth, stories that can impact the audience yet provide benefits for those involved, because it is the right thing and it is doable if you care enough.

           Make them happen. If the show must go on, do not leave some of us behind.