I want to talk about what Rhys says about Cassian here because I haven’t seen it mentioned before (although I’m sure it probably has, because this fandom misses nothing) and it just says so much about the type of person Cassian is.
I mean he’s a born and bred warrior, honed from a young age to fight and kill. Is one of the most powerful Illyrian’s of all time, is the commander of Rhys’ armies, has fought in centuries worth of battles and wouldn’t for one second hesitate to kill anyone who harmed his family or any innocent (which is another thing I love about him!).
But he doesn’t enjoy killing, doesn’t take any pleasure or glory in it. He even mourns the death of people he’s killed. Because no matter how good or bad they may have been their lives meant something. And to take a life takes a little bit of your soul. No matter how battle hardened Cassian might be he still feels that impact on his soul. Death still has an affect on him, even when it would be so easy after so many years of killing to lose his humanity, to become hardened to its effects and stop caring, stop feeling. Yet he remains so incredibly kind hearted despite everything! I just think this one little sentence speaks so highly of Cassian’s character and I love him so much!
I feel like yall waste so much energy trying to be negative and convince yourself everyone except you is problematic and terrible. Like if you put half those energies into something positive and productive for yourself you probably would be a lot happier as people just saying
She stays up waiting for him to call, waiting for him to answer, waiting for that one goodnight text. She’s left alone in her bed, as she painstakingly waited for him all night, only for him to go to bed without calling. They haven’t talked in hours, days, and what’s seemed like weeks. He once told her he loved her, so why didn’t he show it now? Maybe after all this time they’ve been apart, the feelings dissipated. He forgot how beautiful her smile was, how much he said he loved her eyes, and how different her voice was in person. And as he was slowly forgetting her, he didn’t realize that he was also losing her. He didn’t realize the love he had with her until he screwed it all up. Well there you go, and I sincerely hope you’re happy. You lost someone who could have been your entire world, if only you let them in.
1.24.17 // for maggie: love is difficult, but it’s also worth fighting for. But the battle is that much more difficult when it’s only one-sided…
Magnus entered the loft just as the sun was setting, the
entire space painted with warm colours as he took off his suit jacket. He smiled
at the bow and quiver by the door before making his way to the balcony, and, more
importantly, to Alec.
He had his legs pulled up to his chest, hugging them to him
with his arms as he watched the sunset, seemingly completely lost in thought.
“Alexander,” Magnus whispered as he placed a hand softly to
Alec’s shoulder. His boyfriend jumped only slightly, his posture immediately
relaxing when his eyes landed on Magnus, who moved to sit behind him, letting
his hands slowly find their place around Alec’s waist. Alec moved with him, his legs dropping from his grip as he leaned back onto Magnus’ chest, placing his hands over Magnus’ and letting his
head rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
The sounds of the city bellow filled the silence as both of
them let the world melt away, let it continue spinning and ending. For the rest
of the night, it wasn’t their job to keep it spinning or stop it from ending.
No, for the rest of the night, they could simply be Alec and Magnus, Magnus and
Alec, just simply together.
“I used to never be able to sit still.”
The sentence is said quietly, like Alec is afraid to burst
the calm and silence surrounding them. But he continued on, his voice still
only a whisper.
“Because whenever I would, I felt like the stillness would
let all the things I didn’t want to think about out of their cages to swallow
me whole. But now…”
Alec sunk further into Magnus’ arms, turning his head just
enough to place a kiss to his neck before just breathing in deeply causing
Magnus to let out a breathy laugh.
“But now?” Magnus prompted after a few moments. Alec lifted
himself up just enough to look at Magnus, a small, content smile formed on his
“Now I feel like it allows me to face the things in those
cages. Sometimes it’s almost easy, but mostly these things do end up trying to
ruin me, but the difference now is that I feel stronger than them. And it feels
worth it to face them. Because having this, you, us? Getting to love you and
having you love me back? It’s worth every struggle, every battle, every cage I have to open. It’s worth
As the last word left Alec’s mouth, Magnus moved to kiss him,
and kiss him and kiss him. Lips pressed against lips, hands found their way underneath clothes, bodies
moved together, soft declarations of love were whispered into each other’s skin
before they finally fell asleep completely wrapped up in each other.
I’m the last person who will ever say that Dany and Sansa shouldn’t be compared because I think they’re foils and their journeys have been working in inverse ways since the start of the series. People reducing this comparison or thinking they won’t get along being about ship wars and misogyny is a gross misreading of what these characters are on the show currently or reach the last we see them in the books. It disregards the fact that their priorities in and approaches on ruling are different as well as their their desires. Canonically, at most they could grudgingly respect each other as women who worked themselves to positions of power like Sansa’s grudging respect for Cersei despite despising her for what she did to her family.
That said, if someone wants appreciate Dany and Sansa - for whatever reason - without picking fights, let them.
I know the Sansa-Arya internalised misogyny of fandom is used to argue against Dany-Sansa comparisons when despite Sansa and Arya’s differences in the kind of women they are, their priorities after Ned’s death have similar longing for their lost family and their remaining family and of Winterfell, home they can’t go back to (even if D&D completely missed the point). So that discourse is almost completely based on femininity when their larger goals are the same and they are meant to be seen as complementary characters (”You and your sister may be as different as the sun and the moon. But when Winter comes, she’ll need you to protect her, as you will need her”). So the idea that this must apply for all groups of female characters…is just really misinformed. That’s a very premature understanding of feminism, not an inclusive one.
But there are similarities of Dany with Arya and Sansa in different ways, as many characters in the ASOIAF/GOT universe have similarities as well as stark differences making them who they are. It doesn’t make anyone superior to love all female characters, when their goals differ. I know that might be the discourse used with “all women should get along”, but it’s a limited approach on feminism ignoring other forms of inequalities of class and actually even the historical racial layering of Westeros - which doesn’t make it onto the tv show much. Once you acknowledge that it doesn’t make anyone superior to love them all or not, it won’t feel as offensive.
It’s like I am very critical of Dany as a character and she is very problematic and hard for me to relate to as a WOC, especially on the tv show which glosses over a lot of her problematic deeds because she looks badass. Cersei stans know she is problematic, that’s why most posts on her don’t really bother me because it’s embracing the problematic fave knowing they’re problematic.
Personally, I think she’s pretty fascinating character to analyze once you stop superimposing the “hero”, “social justice warrior” tag on her because she really is one of the characters in the story that has the potential to be both a hero and a villain at the same time and her impulsive actions do cause more harm than help, even if she doesn’t realize it. Dany is not someone who can restore order because she is a chaotic agent. If most people weren’t glossing over the problematic part of her narrative, then I actually wouldn’t have to reblog memes or angry posts about her. I’m not here for simply the pretty and Dany isn’t getting unjustified hate because of a ship.
If anything she’s getting delayed criticism and therefore a stronger wave of hate because she didn’t interact with Westerosi POV characters, especially House Stark characters who are generally grouped together in the “good” category which most people thought is where Dany fell - until now. Dany has been seen in isolation and not with enough skepticism on the show in her time in Yunkai and Mereen as Tyrion and Varys are seeing her with now. Which reveals another layer of D&D’s racist approach on the show, where the POCs weren’t seen as POV characters enough for it to matter. If you aren’t POC who is aware of the argument or someone who is around POCs, you won’t see it. It reads the books like history is recorded by people on top, not the people below, which the book series balances out to a larger degree.
But at the end of the day, it’s a journey and people are struggling with letting go of the idea of her as a hero, and if they stay in their lane, no need to lose your sleep over it. They’ll get there when they have to.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS SPOILERS TO TWD’S 7.12 “SAY YES”….. AND IT’S ALSO YVETTE NICOLE BROWN’S NOTEBOOK LONG!
I’m the queen of the world! Woo-hoo! I feel like I’m flying at the front of the most magnificent ship on television. Rick and Michonne Grimes are honestly one of the strongest, healthiest, and inspiring couples I’ve ever seen in any media form. I know it sounds cliche, and they are anything but cliche, but they complete each other. It’s remarkable really because independently they are already capable warriors who don’t NEED anyone but that’s essentially what makes this pair so amazing. Rick and Michonne on their own are survivors, but together they are an unstoppable force. This episode really was a beautiful tribute to each character but a undeniable display of their impressive teamwork. I loved this episode so much I can hardly express why. It was the little things that made me the happiest. I truly appreciate the hardwork that goes into The Walking Dead. The whole cast, crew, writers, and producers are in a caliber quite different from any other tv show out there. It’s such a gift to be able to pick up on new things each time you see an episode. As some fans might have noticed. There was a lot more to the episode than just what was at the surface, as often there is in any episode. Okay, so let’s dive in. There were parts of the episode that I was swooning over as a fangirl but other parts that I found I was completely fascinated by as a regular viewer. I found there was a lot of symbolism and signs going on especially regarding callbacks to other episodes and possible foreshadowing to the future. Let’s first discuss all the callbacks. As a whole, I feel like this episode sort of embodied their journey so far, individually and together. If you look enough into it (as a fangirl), you might even say this was like going down an AISLE of memory lane. ;)
If you do another Matty fic, could it maybe be based on Change of Heart? To sort of mirror the Robbers fic?
Matty Healy Fic
From the day you laid eyes on Matty, you were absolutely infatuated with him. It was the most unromantic way to meet ever, drunk and giggly and flirty in a club, exchanging numbers and sloppy kisses throughout the night. You were obsessed with the way his red-rimmed eyes twinkled in mischief, and the way his cheeks were so flushed, and the way his chapped lips looked so kissable, it had to be a sin.
Matty didn’t remember much of that night, he had drank far too much alcohol than he would’ve cared to admit, which wasn’t unusual. And even if he did remember, he wouldn’t be able to say that was the day he fell in love with you. In fact, if he was being completely honest, it was mostly your breasts that caught his attention from the start. No, the first time Matty felt himself fall for you was your first official date. Everything about you was positively endearing, from the way you said his name, to the way that if you could describe yourself with any two words, they’d be punk rock—even though you were admittedly not very punk rock at all. You reminded him of someone straight out of a magazine. Like somehow you just already were the person that you were meant to be. Matty loved the way you always texted him back as soon as you got home, and how you were already going on a second date before the week was up.
You’d been together for almost three years now, and had always considered yourself nothing less than soul mates. Your twenties had essentially revolved around him, spending every free moment you had talking, breathing, thinking Matty.
Lately, you had felt the effects of the honeymoon phase fading. Whether it was the stress of college weighing down or the fact that you were just growing up, it felt as though Matty’s once endearing behaviors were becoming more of a nuisance on your life.
You felt guilty for the how irritated Matty’s presence was making you, particularly this evening.
You knew the minute you woke up that it wasn’t morning yet. Your eyelids felt heavy. As you peeled them open, the darkness only further proved your point. Everything inside the house was silent. But from outside, you heard a car alarm going off. You could feel your heart starting to beat along to the rhythm of the alarm, and your tongue felt numb with the inevitability of who had set it off. You flip the comforter off from you and let your feet touch the soft carpet before padding out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
The alarm still hadn’t gone off by the time you reached the kitchen, so you grudgingly grabbed your set of keys from the bowl on the counter, and slipped on a pair of sneakers before going outside to check on the commotion.
Sure enough, Matty wondered around outside of the car, tugging on the handle and banging on the windows drunkenly, as if that would stop the alarm.
You watched for a moment, assessing just how shit faced he truly was, before snapping the alarm off.
He let out what looked like a sigh of relief, thinking he did something to shut it off, before turning towards the door and making eye contact with you.
“Babe—“ he says surprised.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you mutter, almost to yourself, before turning on your heels and strutting back inside. You hear him stumbling after you, knocking into the door before successfully entering the house.
“I thought the house was locked,” he slurs, “so I was gon’ sleep in the car for the night- but then that was locked too.”
In the light you can see the red outline rimmed around Matty’s eyes. It reminds you of the first day you met him. His pupils are bulging like a wild animal’s. Instead of entrancing you and pulling you in for more, they just look pathetic. Like the eyes of a sad, lost boy. He’s trying his best to focus on you standing still. But you begin toeing off your sneakers and decide you’re just too tired to care.
“Where you going?” he asks innocently as you begin to climb the stairs.
“To bed,” you snap, not even bothering to turn back around. The digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:47am and you lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the days when you and Matty would stay up well past 2:47pm together. Matty was the one who introduced you to the concept of a night life. Before him, you’d been content with going to bed at a normal hour. You remember it being so exciting at first. The parties, the alcohol, the drugs. It was a foreign world that you delved head-first into, Matty by your side the entire time.
You were twenty four when you met Matty. You were young, excited, impressionable. Now, three years later, the original glamor had worn off. The health effects had caught up to you; things like huffing after climbing one flight of stairs, and building up an increasingly large tolerance for alcohol. You’d cut back for your own good and you’d stopped attending so many parties with Matty. The only problem was, you’d thought Matty would follow suit. You’d thought that his late twenties and your sobriety would hit him with veracity and he’d grow up a bit. You were wrong.
“You’re twenty seven,” you said to him, “Aren’t you a little old to be getting so stoned?”
Matty got defensive whenever you mentioned cutting back on all the dope he did or alcohol he drank. So you left it alone. It wasn’t worth the battle.
A few moments later you heard Matty trudging up the stairs and into the bedroom. His shadow moved around the room until he was on his side of the bed. He collapsed onto the mattress beside you, his scent filling up the room.
You turned over on your side so you’d face him, hoping maybe you two might be able to talk tonight. You admitted to be a major contributor to the increasing distance between Matty and you, but you also wanted to make things better. You felt like you were willing to put in an effort when the same wasn’t always said to be true on Matty’s end.
He was already breathing steadily in and out by the time you rolled over. His eyes were shut closed and his hand rested on his rising chest. You let out a heavy sigh. In earlier years, you would have rolled into his side, laying your head on his chest or nuzzling his neck, planting soft kisses over his exposed skin. But tonight you looked at him and shook your head. You were disgusted with the smell of vodka reeling off from him and instead, you curled as close to the edge as you could get and rolled over, your back facing him.
You’re woken by another alarm in just a few short hours. This time the noise is coming from the phone charging on your nightstand. You sigh before turning if off and sitting up. You rub your eyes grudgingly before getting up to get ready.
You flip the light on as you hover outside your closet, starting the great debate of what to wear for the day.
Matty groans in the bed, pulling the sheets over his head and mumbling something incoherently.
“What?” you ask.
“I said shut the god damn light off,” he barks, his face makes a reappearance as he flashes the covers up briefly.
You roll your eyes. “Just give me like fifteen minutes.”
“Jesus christ,” he snaps before flopping back down onto the mattress.
“Fuck off,” you mutter, “if you went to bed at a normal time, you wouldn’t be so pissy every morning.”
Matty shoots back up at that, “Don’t fucking start lecturing me. I can’t take anymore of that shit.”
“I’m not lecturing you,” you explain, “I just wish you wouldn’t drink so much.”
“You sound like my fucking mum,” Matty says. You gaze at his skinny figure hunched over in the bed. He’s digging into his eyes with the heels of his palm, rubbing what you would assume is the itchiness, away.
You think back to the first night you and Matty had slept together. It wasn’t long after you met. The third date. He took you to a movie, and he had bought a popcorn for the two of you to share, but you ended up eating the entire thing yourself. You remember dancing your way to the theater in parking lots and back streets, twirling under the lilac sky to nothing but each other’s laughter. You knew then that you’d met your soulmate.
He took you back to his apartment, nothing but a lumpy mattress on the floor and maroon sheets covered in lint. He had no furniture or food or running water for all you knew. But the way he cupped your cheek so softly and held you like the most delicate piece of art he’d ever seen, was enough. It was enough for a lifetime.
Or so you’d thought.
You finally look down at your own hands in the mirror, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.
You briefly contemplate shutting the light off and rushing back to bed. You can imagine yourself tackling Matty down to the mattress and planting kisses all over his face and collarbones like you used to. You’d blow off class and just stay in bed all day, limbs wrapped around limbs, breathing each other in. Just like you used to.
But Matty acts first. His voice cuts through the air like a knife being thrown straight into your chest, “Are you ever gonna pick something out or am I gonna be blinding by the goddamn light all morning?”
You can feel the pressure of tears coming on, but you let the anger blink them back. You glare at him through the mirror for a moment before grabbing a sweatshirt and pair of pants from your closet, and snapping the light off.
Neither of you say ‘goodbye’ or ‘I love you’ like you used to. The only noise of departure is the slamming door and your footsteps trudging down the hall.
You walked through the door that evening after the busiest day of your college career to a bouquet of flowers sitting in the center of the counter. The assortment of carnations and roses was intricately placed and woven between one another. Your favorite.
Matty was always buying you flowers as a way to apologize. He knew how happy they made you feel. But tonight, you stared at the beautiful red pedals and felt nothing.
You never considered the possibility of falling out of love with Matty. You knew from the first time you met him, that he was your soulmate. The one who made you feel most alive. He was the light of your dark tunnel of a life. The one who picked you up and spun you around. Matty was everything.
But you put extra emphasis on the past tense part of that statement.
“Where do you wanna eat?” Matty asks. He’s driving around downtown, one hand holding the steering wheel, the other a cigarette. He knew how much you hated him smoking in the car.
You shook your head and continued to stare out into the dark night. “I don’t care.”
“Helpful,” he muttered.
Instead of commenting back, you just leaned forward and turned up the music.
“Oh come on! Don’t be like that all the time!”
“Don’t be like th- Don’t be be like that all the time? Excuse me? Who is being a pain in the ass all the time lately, huh?”
“Well it for sure isn’t me!”
“Oh yeah, true. Because you’re never around.”
“Don’t even go there!”
“Oh I will go there! When was the last time you didn’t go out drinking with George? Or shooting up with fucking who knows who?”
“If I remember correctly, you used to love going out with us. Wasn’t so bad back then when you were the one getting high all the time!”
You took a deep breath as you turned away from Matty. You used to absolutely hate fighting with him, it’d make you cry and feel guilty and awful for hours. But lately all they did was fight, and you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. You had genuinely come to hate the time that you spent with him. And if you were being honest with yourself, you had genuinely come to start to hate him.
“I think we should break up.” You blurt the words out without processing them in your mind, but the minute you do, you feel a wave of relief washing over you. You hadn’t been thinking about the specific phrase “break up”, but the concept of a life without him had become your reality.
If it had been years before, you would have broke down crying. You were never good at confrontation, but over the last few months of your life, you had learned to suck it up and compose yourself.
You realized immediately that you should have just walked out then and there without even looking at Matty. It would have been easier, and you’d already be packing the car up by now. But instead, you were facing him, and you knew it was going to be too hard.
His face had fallen. And he was crying.
His small, tattooed chest was heaving with such force, that you thought his ribcage might burst open.
You shook your head, closing your eyes and breathing out deeply through his nose. You can do this. You can do this. No you couldn’t-
“Babe, I love you.”
You start shaking your head, sympathetically, your heart beating heavily in your chest. You stared at Matty, whose lips were quivering like a child who wasn’t getting what he wanted, and you felt the sting in your eyes that had been missing earlier. And you became suddenly aware that you, yourself, were crying, and knew that you had to leave right now or you would never be able to.
“Matty.” you said, voice cracking from the emotion bubbling behind your throat. Your hands shook.
“I mean it. Please, for the love of God, don’t leave. I’ll change, I can be better, I-I can love you more than anything and take care of you..” Matty pleaded, fingers wringing around your wrists then, something you knew meant he was nervous. Your heart clenched then, as you realized how much that you knew about him.
“I can’t.” you said.
“Please don’t leave me..” Matty cried, eyes closing as more tears fell down his cheeks. “You’re the love of my life. I can’t live without you.”
You felt your entire body start to shake as Matty’s soft words washing over you. This wasn’t how you wanted to hear all of this. You wanted to have the words said in a different environment, to know that they were real. You closed your eyes, and the first thing that popped into your mind was Matty wrapping his arms around you after your first date. He planted a sloppy kiss on your lips and told you that he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life memorizing the color of your eyes and for the first time, you felt so, so loved.
“You’re just saying that.” you whispered, eyes still closed.
“No, no, no.” Matty tittered, and you sucked in a gasp as you felt Matty suddenly right in front of you.
“Baby, you’re my everything. I love you more than anything.” Matty’s breath was warm across your cheek as he spoke, it smelled of cigarettes and wine.
His calloused fingers ran over your cheeks, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to do this.
“Y/N..” Matty mumbled, face closer than it had been in so long.
A tear fell down your face just as Matty pressed his wet lips against your own.
More tears fell from your eyes as you closed them again, letting yourself fall back into the kiss and the vicious cycle of being in love with Matty Healy.
My friend @occupiedoctopi suggested I should draw this scene during Cabinet Battle #2. I have never seen a clip from either of the battles so everyone is just so full of sass in my version and no one can convince me otherwise that Jefferson didn’t do the offended “Hand to chest” thing.
It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.
He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.
They are both horrible liars.
Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: HAPPY SEASON OPENER! Things. Are. Happening. In case anyone was wondering, I listened to a lot of “Time” by Cute Is What We Aim For while writing this chapter because not only does it fit, but I have not listened to new music since, approximately, 2008. As always, I can’t thank you guys enough for every single word of response to this story. It blows my mind. My endless gratitude to @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan - who has a NEW EDIT FOR THIS CHAPTER, AGH. Also living the good life on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr.
It was raining.
“Ok,” Emma said sharply, stopping short in front of Merida as she nearly collided with her back. “Go over the itinerary one more time.”
Merida glanced down at the clipboard in her hand and nodded once and Emma got the very distinct impression she was being placated – she didn’t care.
Summary: The realities of a working mom, Natalia knows all too well. Characters: Chris Evans, Natalia Evans (OFC), Hadley Evans (OFC) Rating: T Warnings: Language (as always), very brief and slight angst, and mentions of menstruating Note: Just a little look into domestic Natris. Thanks for reading :)
With only two more days until winter break, Natalia was
in a crunch. Stacks upon stacks of quizzes had laid ungraded for days on her
desk before she’d decided to carry them home. Originally, she had set time
aside to go through them on Friday night while her teenagers were out with
friends and her husband had poker night plans at one of his buddy’s house. But
as luck would have it, her youngest Mikey had come down with a terrible fever,
and so she’d dedicated her weekend to getting him well enough to finish up the
last week of school.
Monday night had been a no-go, as well. She had
promised Shanna she’d be at the school to help the drama department on their
opening night of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Tuesday night had started out
promising, but as soon as she picked up her red ink pen, Chris had strolled in
the den and distracted her with a massage that led to…other activities.