you don't know how much of a nightmare this was to make

Katara: It’s not magic. It’s waterbending, and it’s-
Sokka: Yeah, yeah, an ancient art unique to our culture, blah blah blah. Look, I’m just saying that if I had weird powers, I’d keep my weirdness to myself. 

So I wanted to talk a little about Katara, because I think we often focus on her grief for her mother, and forget her relationship to her culture, and her experience of the Southern Water Tribe genocide (unlike the Air Nomads genocide, which was for the greater part over after four big terrifyingly effective simultaneous strikes, this one took place over a long length of time - more than 40 years? 50? - and it wasn’t total, but it definitely was one. genocide = the deliberate and systematic extermination of a national, racial, political, or cultural group, fwiw)

(Kanna’s village - before and after)

All of the Southern water benders were exterminated or taken away to rot in prison (where they all died eventually except for Hama). Katara was born the only bender left in the whole South Pole. Then when she was eight years old, she survived a raid that was meant to kill her, but took her mother instead (she probably was too young to realize that, to her it must have been a question mark up until she met Yon Rha - gratuitous cruelty? Why her mother in particular? They took nothing else!).

So Katara from a young age had a double burden to bear: that of her mother, and the legacy of her bending (and she was shown as painfully aware of her situation and what it meant on both front). But here’s the thing: Katara could be a mother, she was naturally good at it, and her grandmother could teach her what she didn’t already knew. Her family and tribe demanded that of her, they needed her to be that for them (especially after her father and the rest of the men basically abandoned them). However, there was no one left to teach her how to waterbend - she had almost no hope of ever becoming a master without formal training, her brother thought it was silly and weird and let her know, her grandmother thought it was a waste of time. But she kept practicing, because she knew how important it was, to her and to her tribe, that she kept trying (as the only one left who could).

(…an ancient art unique to our culture, blah blah blah…)

(Of course she would obsess over that waterbending scroll)

When she gets to the North Pole, she meets Pakku, and with him the opportunity of finally becoming a true master. But because she is a girl, he judges her unworthy. He judges her, the only remaining southern waterbender, unworthy of carrying on their culture. The Fire Nation didn’t care about the gender of their prisoners, men and women - they all fought side by side for their freedom in the South, and they were all taken away to the last one, and killed to the last one. In the South, the women had the choice to learn how to fight, or be defenseless. And privileged master Pakku couldn’t possible realize the extend of what he was denying her in that moment.

Katara had to prove herself, she had to earn her right to these teachings. And if she had been less good or less stubborn or not Kanna’s granddaughter - well the North would have refused their sister-tribe the power to use their common cultural heritage to fight back against the nation that destroyed them.

(It’s sexist and terrible.)

Meh, thankfully, she was that good, stubborn, and Kanna’s granddaughter, and she did get to become a master.

Good.

But, of course, her story doesn’t end here, and wrt her culture, the next chapter is a much more traumatizing experience. In the Fire Nation, she meets another master. This time it’s an old woman from the South like her (“You’re a waterbender! I’ve never met another waterbender from our tribe!”), and she is, ah, more than willing to help her.

Look how happy Katara looks at the idea to learn from her in particular:

Katara: I can’t tell you what it means to meet you. It’s an honor! You’re a hero.
Hama: I never thought I’d meet another southern waterbender. I‘d like to teach you what I know so that you can carry on the southern tradition when I’m gone.
Katara: Yes! Yes, of course! To learn about my heritage… it would mean everything to me.

But when Hama starts her lesson, the techniques she teaches have been obviously developed with one goal in mind: survival in enemy territory. They can’t possibly have been invented in the South Pole, where water is abundant everywhere. They are deadly and cruel, and the damage they do to the environment leaves Katara sad and uncomfortable, but Hama waves that off as unimportant. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have the time to worry about flowers or beauty or nature. To her that peace and beauty is probably just an illusion anyway, a lie: years after her escape she is still living the war, and war is ugly and rotten and messy (her world is ugly and rotten and messy - this is her comfort zone).

The last technique she teaches Katara is bloodbending. She forces Katara to learn something she finds disgusting, repulsive (just like Hama was forced to learn?) by torturing her (Hama was tortured), by overpowering her, invading her, making her lose control over her own body, bending her blood (Hama herself is clinging to the last remain of control she managed to get back after rotting in prison for years), and finally by threatening to have the two people she cares most about in the world kill each other right under her eyes (Hama lost everyone too, she had to say goodbye).

(Katara: But, to reach inside someone and control them? I don’t know if I want that kind of power.
Hama: The choice is not yours. The power exists…and it’s your duty to use the gifts you’ve been given to win this war. Katara, they tried to wipe us out, our entire culture… your mother!
Katara: I know.
Hama: Then you should understand what I’m talking about. We’re the last Waterbenders of the Southern Tribe. We have to fight these people whenever we can. Wherever they are, with any means necessary!
Katara: It’s you. You’re the one who’s making people disappear during the full moons.
Hama: They threw me in prison to rot, along with my brothers and sisters. They deserve the same. You must carry on my work.)

And this, this, is the only truly southern waterbending Katara is ever going to learn. This is her tribe’s bending heritage, what’s left of it: blood, grief, suffering, hatred, loss of control over both your body and mind (because it’s terrible, but I think that’s what’s implied by the show: bloodbending makes you lose your mind. Hama’s only mean of regaining physical freedom ended up trapping her in another nightmare). Hama gifts her with a power she despises (but will use anyway in her darkest hour when she loses control) and a philosophy of violence and revenge.

Katara chose peace and forgiveness. As an adult, she will have bloodbending outlawed, she will become the greatest healer in the world, and she’ll teach her daughter, the next avatar, probably many others. These choices matter, and we should talk about them with that background in mind. Katara redefined her heritage - or rather she created a new one for herself: she refused the condition that was forced upon her (bloodbender) and ensured nobody could legally do to someone else what Hama did to her (and it’s implied this law is valid anywhere in the world). She transmitted Pakku’s warrior teachings, the ones she fought for, to the next generations (and did a great job of it!), but she also taught them how to heal, refusing to separate the arts as in Northern Water Tribe tradition - and healing was something she discovered by herself, that she felt was always a part of her. At that, she became the universally acknowledged best. Her legacy, despite everything that happened to her, will never be one of violence.

tl;dr: Katara is one of the strongest fictional characters ever created bye

On trauma aftermaths that don't advance the plot

The way TV shows trauma can lead people to expect every reference to trauma to be a plot point. This can be isolating to people coping with the aftermaths of trauma. Sometimes people treat us as stories rather than as people. Sometimes, instead of listening to us, they put a lot of pressure on us to advance the plot they’re expecting.

On TV, triggers tend to be full audiovisual flashbacks that add something to the story. You see a vivid window into the character’s past, and something changes. On TV, trauma aftermaths are usually fascinating. Real life trauma aftermaths are sometimes interesting, but also tend to be very boring to live with.

On TV, triggers tend to create insight. In real life, they’re often boring intrusions interfering with the things you’d rather be thinking about. Sometimes knowing darn well where they come from doesn’t make them go away. Sometimes it’s more like: Seriously? This again?

On TV, when trauma is mentioned, it’s usually a dramatic plot point that happens in a moment. In real life, trauma aftermaths are a mundane day-to-day reality that people live with. They’re a fact of life — and not necessarily the most important one at all times. People who have experienced trauma do other things too. They’re important, but not the one and only defining characteristic of who someone is. And things that happened stay important even when you’re ok. Recovery is not a reset. Mentioning the past doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in crisis.

On TV, when a character mentions trauma, or gets triggered in front of someone, it’s usually a dramatic moment. It changes their life, or their relationship with another character, or explains their backstory, or something. In real life, being triggered isn’t always a story, and telling isn’t always a turning point. Sometimes it’s just mentioning something that happened to be relevant. Sometimes it’s just a mundane instance of something that happens from time to time.

Most people can’t have a dramatic transformative experience every time it turns out that their trauma matters. Transformative experiences and moments of revelation exist, but they’re not the end all and be all of trauma aftermaths. Life goes on, and other things matter too. And understanding what a reaction means and where it came from doesn’t always make it go away. Sometimes, it takes longer and has more to do with skill-building than introspection. Sometimes it doesn’t go away.

On a day to day level, it’s often better to be matter-of-fact about aftermaths. It can be exhausting when people see you as a story and expect you to advance the plot whenever they notice some effect of trauma. Pressure to perform narratives about healing doesn’t often help people to make their lives better. Effect support involves respecting someone as a complex human, including the boring parts.

The aftermath of trauma is a day-to-day reality. It affects a lot of things, large and small. It can be things like being too tired to focus well in class because nightmares kept waking you up every night this week. TV wants that to be a dramatic moment where the character faces their past and gets better. In real life, it’s often a day where you just do your best to try and learn algebra anyway. Because survivors do things besides be traumatized and think about trauma. Sometimes it’s not a story. Sometimes it’s just getting through another day as well as possible.

A lot of triggers are things like being unable to concentrate on anything interesting because some kinds of background noises make you feel too unsafe to pay attention to anything else. For the zillionth time.  Even though you know rationally that they’re not dangerous. Even though you know where they come from, and have processed it over and over. Even if you’ve made a lot of progress in dealing with them, even if they’re no longer bothersome all the time. For most people, recovery involves a lot more than insight. The backstory might be interesting, but being tired and unable to concentrate is boring.

Triggers can also mean having to leave an event and walk home by yourself while other people are having fun, because it turns out that it hurts too much to be around pies and cakes. Or having trouble finding anything interesting to read that isn’t intolerably triggering. Or having trouble interacting with new people because you’re too scared or there are too many minefields. Or being so hypervigilant that it’s hard to focus on anything. No matter how interesting the backstory is, feeling disconnected and missing out on things you wanted to enjoy is usually boring.

When others want to see your trauma as a story, their expectations sometimes expand to fill all available space. Sometimes they seem to want everything to be therapy, or want everything to be about trauma and recovery.

When others want every reference to trauma to be the opening to a transformative experience, it can be really hard to talk about accommodations. For instance, it gets hard to say things like:

  • “I’m really tired because of nightmares” or 
  • “I would love to go to that event, but I might need to leave because of the ways in which that kind of thing can be triggering” or 
  • “I’m glad I came, but I can’t handle this right now” or
  • “I’m freaking out now, but I’ll be ok in a few minutes” or 
  • “I need to step out — can you text me when they stop playing this movie?”

It can also be hard to mention relevant experiences. There are a lot of reasons to mention experiences other than wanting to process, eg:

  • “Actually, I have experience dealing with that agency”
  • “That’s not what happens when people go to the police, in my experience, what happens when you need to make a police report is…”
  • “Please keep in mind that this isn’t hypothetical for me, and may not be for others in the room as well.”

Or any number of other things.

When people are expecting a certain kind of story, they sometimes look past the actual person. And when everyone is looking past you in search of a story, it can be very hard to make connections.

It helps to realize that no matter what others think, your story belongs to you. You don’t have to play out other people’s narrative expectations. It’s ok if your story isn’t what others want it to be. It’s ok not to be interesting. It’s ok to have trauma reactions that don’t advance the plot. And there are people who understand that, and even more people who can learn to understand that.

It’s possible to live a good life in the aftermath of trauma. It’s possible to relearn how to be interested in things. It’s possible to build space you can function in, and to build up your ability to function in more spaces. It’s often possible to get over triggers. All of this can take a lot of time and work, and can be a slow process. It doesn’t always make for a good story, and it doesn’t always play out the way others would like it to. And, it’s your own personal private business. Other people’s concern or curiosity does not obligate you to share details.

Survivors and victims have the right to be boring. We have the right to deal with trauma aftermaths in a matter-of-fact way, without indulging other people’s desires for plot twists. We have the right to own our own stories, and to keep things private. We have the right to have things in our lives that are not therapy; we have the right to needed accommodations without detailing what happened and what recovery looks like. Neither traumatic experiences nor trauma aftermaths erase our humanity.

We are not stories, and we have no obligation to advance an expected plot. We are people, and we have the right to be treated as people. Our lives, and our stories, are our own.

but a B99 Great British Bake Off AU

obviously this involves it being an American edition/season but that’s fine

  • all of the squad are contestants, as well as like, Doug Judy and a couple of others (maybe Figgis just for laughs idk)
  • Holt and Wuntch are the judges, Kevin and the Vulture are the presenters
  • Wuntch, weirdly, is the nice judge for the most part, cos it’s mainly just Holt she hates, Holt is the tougher judge that everyone wants a handshake off
  • they never agree on anything, coming to decisions is a NIGHTMARE which is how Kevin and the Vulture are unofficial judges behind the scenes
  • the Vulture is his usual awful self, slaps Jake’s ass off camera a lot, genuinely makes him really uncomfortable until Gina and Rosa notice at one point and threaten him until he agrees to stop
  • Kevin is the presenter who goes around and reassures people when they are freaking out
  • also he and Holt met in a baking class back in the day which is part of the reason they love baking so much (they bake together all the time at home)
  • Jake is the baker who literally has no fucking clue how he actually made it in bc he has no idea what he’s doing but somehow he just has a Knack and it always turns out amazing (with the exception of a couple of True Disasters)
  • Amy comes from a long line of amazing bakers and is hella competitive, and super meticulous with her recipes and all instructions, means she Stresses during the technicals but she does know her shit and she just has to keep reminding herself that it’s like an exam where she has to learn in advance and remember
  • Rosa relies on family recipes, says she cares about them more than the actual family members who made them, also goes with her own gut feeling (usually involves putting alcohol in the food if she’s not sure what’s missing)
  • Gina learned how to bake via trial and error and general self-discovery during a year where she was forced to stay at home and take things easy after she got hit by a bus (also usually the one putting alcohol in her food)
  • Terry loves baking for his kids and his wife and they’re his biggest fans, all of his bakes are inspired by them/done with them in mind, he gets teary on the show a lot
  • Charles is still his Foodie self, so he gets Very Intense about it all and is the one that tries all the super weird flavours
  • Hitchcock and Scully applied together and everyone’s fairly sure they just got picked for the comic relief but then occasionally one of them will actually bake something really good??
  • Jake falls in love with Amy during a peanut brownie challenge while they flirt over peanuts, he makes heart eyes at her for the whole competition after that, occasionally gets so distracted by how beautiful/adorkable she’s being that he fucks his bakes up
  • Gina falls in love with Rosa after seeing her punching her bread dough, spends the whole rest of the competition trying to pick her up, it starts to take priority over the actual baking and Kevin has Noticed and is subtly trying to help her out
  • Jake and Gina have been besties since the auditions so they start trying to help each other get their girls
  • aaand let’s not forget Doug Judy
  • aka Jake’s ex-best friend from high school, they used to be the baking bros and use cupcakes to pick up girls
  • until one day they were going for the same girl, so they both made stuff to impress her, and she said she preferred Jake’s but then Doug took the credit for them, and took her to prom only to stand her up
  • Jake has never forgotten and never forgiven
  • hasn’t made cupcakes since, too painful, too traumatic
  • which really fucks him up when they get a cupcake challenge
  • seriously like imagine him trash talking Judy and then they announce “cupcakes!!” and he does his melodramatic NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
  • (you decide if he manages to nail it and beat Judy’s cupcakes yet again, or if he totally botches it bc nerves)
  • anyway at one point Jake gets the coveted Holt Handshake and he is so elated his entire life has just been made bc he has been watching the show for years and idolises him so much
  • Amy is the same and she is so horrifically jealous until Holt tries her food next and also gives her a handshake and then her and Jake just look at each other like “WHAAAT”
  • Jake comes over after and is so excited he just gives her this real big hug and it’s really Pure bc then he gets super embarrassed and awkward but she is like “oh no, he’s so cute, help I have been specifically Not Noticing That” 
  • I have no idea who wins but Peraltiago and Dianetti and Holtzner are all in love and happy at the end

basically what I’m saying is can someone with the adequate baking and GBBO knowledge please write this AU I need it desperately

Some Place Away

WS!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Roughly based on Ariana Grande’s Dangerous Woman

Word Count: +3k | Rating: R

Warnings: Angst, SMUT. UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap your wang, before you bang!)

A/N: alright, this was hard to write, and my head hurts but i was determined to write my first song fic and this is for KUMI!!! (@mellifluous-melodramas​) my wifey! OMG I’M NERVOUS HOE

(also, i’ve added ‘///’ where the smut starts and ends)

y’all, enjoy and do drop a comment in my ask box or anywhere

Masterlist here

(*gifs are not mine)


Somewhere in London, January 28, 1992; 12.47am.

You lean on the lamp post, far from them on the empty street, your gaze never leaving his form as you watch your soldier talking to another woman, who was rather getting a little too handsy with him. Her delicate fingers brushing up over his prosthetic arm, treating it like a delicate, poor little flower.

It disgusts you to no end and your violent mind thinks of all the scenarios where you’d do anything to keep her away from him. Keep everything, everyone away from him. But you know he’s only doing his job, the one that HYDRA forced him to do.

But there are so many other ways of gathering information. You could have taken matters in your own hand, but since the Soldier was granted the liberty for this mission, he thought it could be done without any sort of destruction, which you would never hesitate to cause.

It has been half an hour since they’re talking and as much as you wanted to ignore the sting in your heart, your brain overtakes your feelings and reminds you once again that you’re nothing but the protector; you’re here just to keep an eye on the asset. Any other sort of attachment would cost you both your lives.

Keep reading

soul-rin-natsu  asked:

Can you recommend any klance fics?.

I can definitely recommend lots of klance fics. As in, lots lots. I am not completely sure what you are looking for/what you have already read though, so I’m just gonna list some of my favorite authors with some of my favorite fics. 

Quick additional info: there are no explicit fics on here, though some are rated mature. All of the stories have klance as their only ship but since I intended this to be author recs rather than fic recs, I will mention what kinds of other ships appear in other fics. 

Now then, here you go, in no particular order:

manamune

- Crossroads (106k): not quite canon verse, not quite AU - check the summary

- Plunged (6k): canon verse, Lance teaches Keith how to swim

Roommates (6k): modern AU, Artist!Keith, Photographer!Lance, exactly what the title says

This author’s writing is amazingly smooth and I particularly enjoy their Keith. Crossroads was my favorite fic for a long, long time until I found some others that were just as good :D [this author also wrote some nsfw and sheith]

magisterpavus 

- He Who Fights Monsters (65k): AU, there are dragons

This author has a style of writing that makes you forget that time exists. Like, you read their stories, look up 2 hours later and go “what the hell I only just started reading 5 minutes ago”. Their fics are pretty action-heavy but the romance part never falls short. [they wrote a lot of nsfw, their newest fic is shklance]

mackerelmademedoit

- Entangled (102k): canon verse, Keith and Lance get mind-melded

- Right-hand Man (4k): canon verse, Keith approaches Lance after the end of season 2 to talk about their roles from now on

Amazing characterizations here. I particularly enjoyed the OS because it seemed like something that genuinely could happen like this in canon… sadly I don’t think it will, but one can dream, right :’D Also amazing art! [they wrote some nsfw]

redburn

- it had to be you (9k): modern AU, Keith and Lance are professors, lots of flirting

- Echoes In Your Mind (7k): canon verse, Keith is turning Galra

- let the whole world know (4k): modern AU, soulmates AU

I honestly don’t know why I like this author so much? Probably because they can squeeze an entire story into less than 10k words, complete with character development and appearances from friends etc. I liked many more of their OS but there are just so many, you should check it out for yourself. [they wrote some nsfw and shallura]

varelsen

- Not That Bad (68k): modern AU, socially anxious!Keith, lots and lots of fluff

- just like that (10k): canon verse, Lance struggles with his crush on Keith

this author just? makes reading feel so good? so relaxing?? Their style is focused on conveying emotions and flows really nicely, I strongly recommend to give it a try. [their newest story is nsfw and includes lancelot]

battleshidge (Amiria_Raven)

- Drive Me Crazy (8k): modern AU, lots of flirting and stupid pick-up lines

- Next Level (33k; WIP): modern AU, online gaming, they know each other but they don’t know that they know each other

The style of writing is really, really good and I love how everyone’s friendships get portrayed. The author is also pretty good at writing conflicted emotions. [they wrote some shallura and shidge]

aknightley

- it’s all in my head (8k): canon verse, mind meld

This author is super good with emotions. You always end up feeling what the characters are feeling and I’d definitely recommend going through their other fics as well - once again, there are just so many that I won’t list them all. [they wrote some nsfw and shallura]

lemoninagin

- You Can Fog Up My Windows Anytime (3k): modern AU, all the awkward flirting

Another author that has a fantastic style of writing and portrays the characters really well. Also another author that wrote so many good things that I can’t possibly put them all on here. [they wrote some nsfw, sheith, shklance, shallura- lots of stuff, check the tags]

MilkTeaMiku

- Moonset Deep (50k, WIP): mermaid AU, lance is the mermaid

- The Quiet (40k, WIP): ghost AU, lance is the ghost

- 7 Days Series (pt 1 - 30k, pt 2 - 30k, pt 3 - 4k): canon verse, lance/keith get turned into babies

Amazing writing, plot-orientated. Don’t let that fool you though, the emotions never fall short. [they wrote some shallura, shance and other ships - also their fics aren’t rated. the ones listed are entirely sfw]

Zizzani

- Drive It Like You Mean It (94k): modern AU, street racing AU, it gets pretty intense later

This writer has a really fluent and nice style of writing and they somehow manage to easily let lots of characters interact. Everyone feels extremely in character and nothing feels forced. Also I know nothing about cars and yet their fics belong to my favorites, so give it a try. [they wrote some shallura]

shipstiel

- Of Don Juan And Elvis (3k): modern AU, soulmate AU

- Barbie Girl (2k): modern AU, soulmate AU, continuation

I’m not sure whether it’s just me but no matter what fic of them I read, they always feel– soft. Easy. Something good for in-between. One of their fics (not the ones listed here) has some pretty heavy topics in it and yet I still feel like that. [they wrote some shallura]

Gigapoodle

- A Moment in the Snow (3k): canon verse, Galra!Keith, snowball fights, fluff

- Carpe Diems and Chrysanthemums (14k): modern AU, hanahaki disease, trans Lance, angst with a happy ending

- A Quarter Past Midnight (14k): canon verse, trans Keith, angst with a happy ending

This author is amazing at writing angst. It just always hits you right in the feels. Like damn. I adore their writing so much but ho boy I was too scared to click the one Chara Death fic they wrote. I couldn’t do that to myself, the two longer OS that I listed here already gave me enough feelings. [they wrote some shallura]

Trashness 

- Nightmares (15k): canon verse, sleeping together, as in snuggling, fluff

- Costumed Identities (42k): modern AU, cosplay AU, they know each other but they don’t know they know each other

This author writes Keith’s and Lance’s interactions really nicely. They also never fail to make me smile/laugh with their fics, they are all really cute!! Lots of light heartened stuff here.

SKayLanphear

- Running Flat (11k): canon verse, thought sharing, lance is trying to figure out who has the crush on him

- A Commutal Contract (24k, WIP): canon verse, bed sharing

I really really really enjoy this author’s Lance!! He feels incredibly in character and I swear I can see him act in canon just like he does in the fics. Their style of writing is fluent, nice and adapts really well to the situation.


[I also really enjoy witty_name’s and freshia’s fics, both of whom usually put background shallura into their fics though so I couldn’t list them here]


Aaaand that’s it for now! :D If you have a specific length/specific topics/specific ratings in mind for what you want to read, feel free to send another message!! You can also visit the fic rec tag on my blog, maybe you’ll find something else there.

/EDIT: now there is a part two with some other of my favorite fics

anonymous asked:

what about the stairs in the forests!!! and what doc were you watching and would you recommend?

ok so I DON’T BELIEVE IN THE STAIRS IN THE FORESTS! mainly because I’m A Search and Rescue Officer for the U.S. Forest Service, and I Have Some Stories to Tell a) is posted on /r/nosleep so it’s definitely made up, b) the op admits to knowing about David Paulides, and lbr knowing about = being influenced by, so it’s definitely made up, and c) if you read all the way through to the end it stops being even vaguely believable and starts reading like a WTNV transcript, and then he plugs his book, so it’s DEFINITELY MADE UP. however, it is an amazing (read: terrifying) thread, some of it is obviously based on truths/insider SAR knowledge which means a lot of it is probably uncomfortably close to actually being true, and it’s a good Gateway Read into MISSING PEOPLE IN NATIONAL PARKS CONSPIRACY THEORIES, which is where I live now. (plus, if you read this before getting into anything else it imbues every single missing persons case with an unsettling sense of Eldritch horror, which is why I had to turn on three overheads and unfocus my eyes all the way to the bathroom last night at 2am.) 

so yeah, after reading that /r/nosleep thing for the first time I drew a line under it and moved on until SOMEONE (ahem@roundtop) sent me a link to an article called How 1,600 People Went Missing from Our Public Lands Without a Trace (on a legit and sensible outdoorsy people website), like ‘haha, stairs in the forest!’ and I SWAN DIVED DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. thus: the documentary-watching, staying up till 2am and spending all day today trying to find copies of David Paulides’ books for less than $80 inc. postage. 

THIS DUDE DAVID PAULIDES. he was in law enforcement before, for some reason, deciding to become a ~*~cryptozoologist~*~ and certified gung-ho Bigfoot conspiracy theorist, and through that found out about how many people had disappeared without a trace from National Parks in the U.S., did 7,000 hours worth of digging, and wrote a bunch of books about it. his books are called Missing 411 and are about the ridiculous number of people who go missing in National Parks, the usually weird circumstances around their disappearances, the fact that when people are found (dead or alive) it’s often in places miles and miles and sometimes waaaaay higher up mountains than where they disappeared from, and all sorts of creepy crap to boot. like they can’t get bloodhounds to find a scent, or they find tiny children miles away from where they got lost, barefoot, without a scratch on the soles of their feet, human remains being found years later in places that were search dozens and dozens of times. not to mention the National Parks… People (? I really don’t know enough to be making this post) are aware of what’s happening but don’t keep a list of the people who’ve gone missing on their lands. 

(which is all part of why I’m A Search and Rescue Officer for the U.S. Forest Service is so freaky – enough of it (people being found miles away, kids being found up mountains, the people in charge being cagey about it all) sounds real that you can believe it was actually written by a SAR Officer. heebies!) 

it’s all real nightmare fuel, if you’re the sort of person who is absolutely terrified by all this Scary Forest Disappearing People Unexplainable Deaths stuff, i.e. me. luckily I can’t afford to buy any of them! phew! however, I haven’t let that stop me from a) SCARING MYSELF SHITLESS and b) BECOMING A TIN HATTER, and it shouldn’t stop you either: you can read loads of stuff over at /r/missing411, listen to one of his initial interviews (in which he talks about how he was approached by two park employees in plain clothes who were like ‘please investigate this, there’s SOMETHING going on and it’s so goddamn weird’) on Coast to Coast AM (which is, like, a paranormal radio station… I’m sorry), watch a bunch of Paulides’/CanAm Missing Project’s vids about disappearances on youtube, and listen to hours worth of interviews and late night spooky radio/podcast discussions with Paulides. 

the documentary I thought I was watching was Missing 411, which is based on his books and Kickstarted by the public in 2015, but it turns out that they’re apparently shopping it around at festivals so it’s not out yet. what I was actually watching (and quickly abandoned) was a weird supercut of all of David Paulides’ tv interviews and some cryptozoologist chatter about Bigfoot. Paulides, god love him, never ever SAYS Bigfoot in any of his books, and everything he presents is 100% factually accurate and extensively researched, but… I think we can safely say he thinks it’s Bigfoot. tbh, after reading about Jaryd Atadero I think it’s Bigfoot. I mean, goddamn. 

so, yeah. I’ve finished reading every search and rescue story on this blog (Hunt for the Death Valley Germans is LONG but awesome), I’ve got West of Memphis ready to watch after work tomorrow because I remembered how much I love that case and spooky true crime things, if you have any related LINKS or STUFF about This Shit then REBLOG THIS/MSG ME AND TELL ME, or if you have a copy of a Missing 411 book you wouldn’t mind mailing to me then LET ME KNOW, and in conclusion I can’t believe America is so fucking huge and unkind, goodnight.

The Handmaid’s Tale: marketing, then and now

Comparing the Hulu adaptation of The Handmaid’s Tale to the 1990 version is… weird, because the old one seems to have been made with a “haha, this could never happen; let’s play it like a fun adventure thriller and sell it as sexy as possible!” kind of attitude. I mean, the trailer has this bouncy narration that starts with “once upon a time…” and turns the dystopian element into more of a soap opera.

And just take a look at the promotional art:

(…I don’t think that was the message of the book, guys. Sure, Offred was longing for human touch, or pretty much any kind of human connection, but I think that the book was more about women being reduced to wombs with legs, not state-owned prostitutes… It was about the desperation of needing to give birth or face punishment. Everything about this dystopia was hyper-de-sexualized.)

Oh, and my favorite:

“A psychosexual movie shocker.” With what looks like half the cover of a cheesy romance novel, minus some buff shirtless guy.

(I also think it’s kind of funny that they say “once upon a time in the near future” sex became used for control and domination, as if rape and prostitution haven’t existed for centuries… but okay…)

I’ll admit I haven’t seen this version (or the Hulu one, for that matter), but I do appreciate that they cast a properly old and creepy man in the part of the Commander, and a properly aged woman for his Wife. The Hulu casting is a little youthful, if you ask me; the book characters felt very weathered, and I think it mentioned that they were supposed to be quite a bit older than Offred. Her “affair” with the Commander is supposed to feel very weird and unsettling, partially because he’s this old man who wants someone to play Scrabble with and dress up in sequins.

Anyway, then we had what I call the “holy shit these dystopias are too real” phase, culminating with the new Hulu adaptation of this particular dystopia, which is waaaay too relevant to today’s issues.

See? This is how you depict the feeling of objectification. Not with a topless woman bathed in flattering lighting – by objectifying a woman yourself, you’re not sending a message so much as continuing the trend. Especially when you sell your film as some kind of sexy romance. “Branded, sold, controlled: she belongs to The State” doesn’t quite cut it; this very simple, very clear message does. Offred is no longer human, she doesn’t have a face; she is just an object. Objectified.

(This also has some fantastic layering because it recalls the messages that you might find scrawled across the bathroom mirror meant to demean other girls; part of Gilead’s system involves pitting women against each other: Wives against Handmaids, Handmaids against Aunts, even Handmaids against each other out of jealousy and in the Red Center with their slut-shaming. To stay in power, the men at the top make sure that the women below them are too occupied with resenting each other that they forget to look up at who the real enemy is.)

*holy FUCK*

Now THAT is how you market a dystopia. This story is not some scandalous fantasy set in the near-but-distant future; it’s a warning, of what might be lurking just around the corner. The Handmaid’s Tale is an incredibly frightening book to read today, because of the things that are being allowed to happen in our society. It shows what happens when we let sexism flourish, when ecological and political crises make us paranoid enough about national security that we let the people in power take away our rights. It is a fucking nightmare.

Just A Little Bit More: A Feysand Mini Fic

A light weight on his shoulder and a short motion out of the corner of his eye is what silences the table.

The wine glass Mor holds pauses en route to her lips. Cassian’s booming laugh cuts off. And Azriel sets his utensils down from where he’d been picking apart the meat with a faint clinking on his plate. Amren alone remains quiet, smirking over her glass of Rhys doesn’t want to know what, the only one who seemed to anticipate this moment.

Rhys looks to his left and finds Feyre with her head on his shoulder and she’s…

Asleep.

His entire body goes still in that moment, his heart the only thing bursting with life inside of him. Feyre’s only been in the Night Court for maybe a month and sleep has been hard to come by. But she’s sleeping now. Next to him. On him. And she seems oddly peaceful about it in a way he’s never seen her before.

He remembers the nightmares. He remembers all of them. But none of the terrors that flashed through him in a flurry of panic and sweat for three months after he came home from that mountain compared to the one he had to wake her up from himself. How Feyre had thrashed on the bed, talons ripping the sheets, the anxiety on her face when she’d finally gotten a hold of herself and had to fly to the bathroom before it all came screaming up her throat.

The blood. The tears. The pain. Miles and miles of pain choking the life out of her and all Rhys could do was sit and watch it unfold, hoping she wouldn’t stop him from rubbing circles on her back until it was over. He’d tucked her in that night, stayed a while. Didn’t leave her side until he was sure she was okay again.

He wonders if this will be one of those times, except…

Keeping his entire body rigidly still, Rhys moves only his eyes and catches Morrigan staring at Feyre. She glances at Rhys and a soft reassuring smile blooms on her face. “You were saying? About Cassian’s last trip to Adriata?”

And that’s that. That’s all she says. And Rhys goes on telling the story that only moments ago had Cassian in stitches about his own antics and Azriel quietly shaking his head.

And the entire time, Rhys sees Morrigan, the cousin who knows every secret he has carried for weeks now, staring at him. Staring at Feyre. Staring and smiling. Because they both know that Feyre can barely fall asleep in her own bed, much less in front of their inner circle. Because they know this means something. Because they know this is the beginning.

Because they know that maybe Feyre had been about to smile too before she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on her mate without knowing it.

And Rhys feels this little seed of hope inside him crack, a tiny sprout peaking out to see some sunlight.

The rest of dinner is pleasant. Feyre doesn’t move once. When Rhys scoops her up to lay her on the sofa so he can go over updated plans for the mortal realms with Azriel on the balcony, she remains ever tranquil. Cassian begins piecing out dessert on the table and Mor digs in before she has even finished plating it in front of her. Amren shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.

Dessert is nearly finished when Cassian cuts off telling his version of visiting Adriata, the table going eerily quiet again. Rhys freezes because he just knows. He felt Feyre even before Morrigan put her hand on him and whispered, “Rhys.”

Feyre twitches on the sofa uncomfortably. Rhys can see her eyes rolling back and forth rapidly beneath her closed lids. Her hands curl into fists and constrict around her chest. Sweat begins to pull across her brow.

He’s up in a heartbeat.

“Feyre,” he says kneeling next to her and his voice is more a sob than a plea. “Feyre, wake up.”

Rhys shakes her. Shakes her until she groans and wakes up, sitting bolt upright, the hands just on the verge of letting those razor sharp talons inch out of her digging into his shoulders as she grabs him. He doesn’t even feel the pain.

“A dream,” he tells her. “It was just a dream.”

She’s breathing deeply. Her eyes flit to the table where Rhys’s friends - her friends now - are watching and quickly flit back to find Rhys’s eyes. They’ve never seen her in such a state of panic. And it terrifies Rhys how she’ll feel about that.

Suddenly, Feyre sucks her lips in and he knows she’s holding it all in. He starts breathing with her, deeply and loud enough for Feyre to hear. She mimics him.

“In,” Rhys says. “Out. In. Out.”

She shakes her head, more at herself than him, and he hears the words past her broken mental barriers.

I’m not going to throw up. I’m not going to throw up. I’m fine. I’m okay. This is okay. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. This is real.

When she murmurs ‘this,’ her talons release on Rhys’s shoulder, but her fingers left in their place give a little tug on his tunic and Rhys instinctively leans forward. He doesn’t move nor stop his labored breathing for her until she slows down, until her lips release, and her grip slackens.

But she’s tired. He can see how utterly exhausted she is despite sleeping all through dinner. A thousand years of sleep might not be enough to erase the kind of fatigue he and Feyre both suffer from.

Feyre looks at him, the blue-grey of her eyes more grey tonight than blue.

She had been so peaceful, he thinks.

Can you take me back? She asks him through the bond. She doesn’t even have to ask him to lower his shields for her to come through. Pl-

Rhys has her in his arms before the word is even finished in their heads. He will never make her beg him for anything. And then without another word or so much as a look at anyone else, they’re soaring off the balcony into a smooth flight through the night wind.

Rhys tells Feyre to look up at the stars, but it makes no difference. She’s asleep again long before they reach the townhouse.

xx

anonymous asked:

What do you think lazy Sunday mornings would be like with Finn/Rey/Poe?

General Organa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Rey.”

There was a profound and deep silence in the hangar, interrupted only by the intermittent beep and whir of mech droids, doing their daily maintenance on the other x-wings. Leia sighed.

“Rey, I can see you.”

Very slowly, the rest of Rey’s head appeared over the edge of the cockpit. “Good morning, General,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“I was under the impression that I ordered you, along with Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn, to remove yourself from duty for the next three cycles before you dropped dead of exhaustion,” Leia says dryly. “Am I mistaken?”

“Um—no, General—”

“So either you ignored a direct order from your commanding general, or you’re not working on an x-wing at,” Leia idly checked her chronometer, “seven-hundred hours.”

Rey’s expression was doing something complicated, torn between amusement and vague embarrassment. “In my defense, General, I had to be awake much earlier on Jakku to beat the sun and the other scavengers. It’s simply habit by now.”

Leia snorted. “Also, you thought that no one would be around to notice your flagrant disobedience.”

“No, I’m sticking with my first answer,” Rey said firmly.

“And Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn? I suppose they’re still asleep in your quarters, since neither of them share your desert upbringing.”

It was funny to watch Rey school her face into blankness. “Of course, General. Why would they disobey an order from you?”

Leia did laugh at that. “Remind me to get someone from Intel to teach you how to lie convincingly. After your temporary suspension is up,” she added pointedly, when Rey perked up. “Go to bed, Rey.”

Honestly, Leia could forgive everyone who had assumed Rey was Luke’s daughter. They pulled the exact same face whenever they were annoyed, and just barely refraining from whining about it.

(Maybe it was a Jedi thing.)

.

Leia wandered into the command center without looking up from her datapad. It always benefited her to get through the previous day’s transmits before first shift began in earnest; otherwise she would be dealing with the backlog all week.

She marked a message from the ambassador to Brindisi for further follow-up and hummed, pleased. “If I look up and either of you is standing at the command console, I will have you dragged to medical and personally ensure that Major Calonia doses you with a sedative.”

There was a pause, then a flurry of datapads being gathered up and frantic whispering, the ping! of a file being saved to the console. A very quiet, “go, go, go,” along with boots scuffling on the duracrete.

When Leia looked up, there was no one in the command center except her, and the fading after-image of a holo battleplan. DAMERON, CMD., FINN, LT. obligingly blinked on the screen for a moment before it went dark.

Leia smiled slightly to herself, and went back to the transmits.

.

The next morning, she found Finn reorganizing the storeroom. At six hundred twenty hours. “That is on-duty work, Lieutenant,” she said, almost startling him into falling off the ladder. “And I’m fairly certain you are currently off-duty.”

Finn’s blank expression was much better than Rey’s. “General, with all due respect, is there any way I can convince you to sleep in an hour or two?”

“Funny,” Leia said. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

.

Rey had updated the software for all the droids in the maintenance bay at some point during the night; it was time for Leia to call in the big blasters.

…….unfortunately, “the big blasters” were on their eighth run-through on the x-wing simulator. Leia watched Poe dispassionately, noting that the first run-through was timestamped 00512. “General!” Poe said, after he completed the run, and tugged his helmet off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Something I can do?”

“No,” Leia said finally. “No, just letting you know that your suspension is up tomorrow. Please be aware that if you, Rey, or Lieutenant Finn ever show up incapacitated to the point of being unable to fulfill your obligations again, I will take drastic measures.”

He regarded her warily. “May I ask what those are, General?”

“I’ll personally shove a sed-pack up your ass, Dameron. Or worse,” Leia said, cocking an eyebrow at him, “I’ll make all of you talk to a minder until you stop waking each other up with your nightmares.”

Poe, like Rey, has never been a very good liar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, General,” he says, fitting the sim helmet back over his head. His next words are muffled—”But I’ll take it under advisement.”

Abused Omega Headcanons

-Omegas that have been abused or taken advantage of by Alphas becoming extremely tense and paranoid before and during their heats. Staying safely locked in their homes, curled up in their nest and constantly worrying about a stranger Alpha catching their scent and finding a way in

-Omegas using suppressants and scent blockers to hide their dynamic because they think that being an Omega is what got them stuck with an abusive Alpha to begin with, so they slowly start to become bitter and resentful about their dynamic

-An Omega meeting with an Alpha for the first time since they got out of an abusive relationship and their Beta best friend being extremely protective. Insisting on chaperoning the first date, low-key rubbing their scent on the Omega and practically interrogating the Alpha all through dinner

-An Omega that was abused by an Alpha becoming very skittish around stranger Alphas and avoiding them whenever possible

-An Omega cleaning out their closet and panicking when they catch a hint of their past abuser’s scent, frantically digging until they pull out one of the Alpha’s old shirts, picking it up with shaky hands before rushing out to throw it in the dumpster. Opening up their bedroom windows to try and get every trace of the offending scent away from their room and more importantly, their nest

-An Omega that was abused feeling inexplicably anxious whenever they realize that they are becoming close to someone and therefore opening themselves up to be hurt or controlled again

-An Omega having a nightmare about their past abuser and feeling absolutely terrified of the restrictive arms wrapped around them until they slowly begin to register the calming scent and deep crooning that surrounds them and reminds them that they are free and safe and tucked warmly into bed with their new Alpha who has only ever treated them with love and kindness and they slowly fall back into a peaceful sleep

-An Omega struggling to trust people whose scents are at all similar to that of their past abuser’s

-Omegas that have been abused being extremely careful in their interactions with Alphas because they don’t want to give an Alpha any reason to pursue them or think they want attention from them

-An Omega that was once abused by an Alpha becoming paranoid about not only their own relationships but those of their Omega friends as well. Desperate to prevent anyone else going through what they went through

-An Omega that was once in an abusive relationship but now lives with a kind Alpha and feels terrible because they go through phases in which they feel the need to hide away and avoid the Alpha because they were so used to doing it before, the Alpha being very understanding and assuring the Omega that they will work through it over time

-An Omega being all settled with a book on the couch while their Alpha is on the phone working, the Alpha getting upset about something and their angry pheromones rolling off them in waves and the Omega knows that it isn’t directed at them but that doesn’t stop the stab of terror in their chest or the way they tumble off the couch and race to the nearest closet where they lock themselves in while struggling for air and trying to tune out the distant shouts of the angry Alpha that reminds them just a bit too much of past events…the Alpha finally ending their call and belatedly noticing the potent scent of fear in the air lessened only by the overwhelming stench of their own annoyance and frustration. Panicking slightly as they set off to find their Omega that they know reacts badly to anger because of their abusive past and feeling absolutely horrible when they hear the whimpering and choked sobs coming from behind the locked door. The rest of the night is spent apologising and crooning until they fall asleep on opposite sides of the door…the Alpha spends the next day coddling their Omega and reassuring them that they would never do anything to hurt them even if they get mad about something

-An Alpha platonically scenting their Omega friend when they go out places because the Omega was once abused by an Alpha and is now afraid of even being approached by one

-An Alpha being in love with their Omega best friend but not being able to do much about it because the Omega has been abused by Alphas before and is always very outspoken about how they will never want one now. So the Alpha focuses on being a good friend and providing support and comfort as the Omega works through their past, and eventually the Omega realizes that they’ve never felt a shred of fear when the other is around. The Omega timidly suggesting the idea of a relationship to the Alpha and promptly dissolving into tears as the Alpha sweeps them into a hug and tells them how much they’ve always loved them and sincerely promises to always make the Omega feel safe and protected

-An Omega being afraid of Alphas after getting out of an abusive relationship and begging their older Alpha sibling to go with them when they have to go out somewhere, the Alpha acting all reluctant but agreeing to accompany them…they had been secretly planing to follow their younger Omega sibling anyway, just to be safe…

-An Omega that was once abused by an Alpha and is now absolutely terrified of them, passing a group of them in a store and instantly getting all tense and distressed until another Omega walks up to them and gently leads them away from the now very antsy group of Alphas, all of which are resisting the urge to follow and comfort the distressed Omega

BatB 2017: my post-curse headcanons/possible fanfic prompts

• Maurice arrives several hours after the curse is broken, both worried about Belle and curious how everything turned out. He realized that something good has happened about half-way through his journey when he had no trouble finding his way to the castle and no unexpected weather changes await him.

• Adam apologizes sincerely to Maurice for imprisoning him and calling him a thief. Maurice says shortly “Apology accepted” and immediately continues “So, where is that gentleman who was a clock? I need to ask him some things!” (Maurice and Cogsworth become friends. Sometimes they go fishing together. They rarely talk, just enjoy comfortable silence.)

• That first night after the curse is broken, the formerly enchanted people make sure there is light in most of the rooms and at least one of them is awake at all time. They don’t talk about it, but the fear that they might never wake up and become lifeless objects is still very strong. The only two creatures who have no trouble sleeping anytime and anywhere are Froufrou (the dog) and Chip.

• Most of the previously enchanted people have nightmares occasionally but Adam’s are worst of all. His mind keeps replaying him the long hours after Belle left. The feeling of despair when he was certain he doomed both himself and people he cared about. And heartbreak that he is never going to see the woman he loves again.

• He doesn’t mention anything to Belle at first but she notices that something is amiss when most mornings he greets her with obvious relief he sees her and she notices dark circles under his eyes. After he tells her, she begins to sneak into the West Wing in the night, so everytime Adam wakes up, she is right there next to him.

• Belle has her share of nightmares as well, though they don’t occur that often. She dreams she is locked up either by Gaston or the villagers, knowing that Adam is out there somewhere fighting for his life or dying. In her nightmares, she can never reach him on time.

• This sleeping arrangement is actually pretty hard to maintain because their rooms are not exactly close. And while Adam and Belle might be technically engaged, they don’t want the whole castle to know that Belle spends most of the nights in the West Wing (even if not much occurs between them physically). *imagine the fanfiction possibilities here :D*

• Belle is mostly worried her father might find out. She explains to Adam that while Maurice is a kind, understanding father, she doesn’t want to have a conversation “I sleep in my fiancé’s room because we have bad dreams” with him. When Adam chuckles at it, she says with a deadpan face “He knows how to use that screwdriver”. Adam can’t tell if she’s kidding or seriously suggesting that her kindly looking father might physically hurt him.

Feel free to add your own BatB 2017 headcanons.

The relationship between misogyny and romance: a SJM study

Why female desire* isn’t problematic, but A Court of Thorns and Roses is.

In which I wade into an issue in depth, praying that the flame war gods do not strike me down.

**Please note that this essay discusses only the misogynist elements of SJM’s writing in the ACOTAR series. There are obviously other problematic elements that require acknowledgement, but this is the one I feel confident in addressing. I haven’t read any of ACOWAR yet.** 

*also, female desire in this instance refers to the desire of the presumed female reader of romance. The reading of romance and YA is obviously not exclusive to women, although a lot of the assumptions of SJM’s work ascribe to the concept of a binary gender.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

75: "Don't bite me, I'm mad at you." Nessian please!

This took me far, far, far too long, and I apologise. I really liked this one for Nessian so I wanted to do it justice. As always, anyone and everyone is free to send me ACOTAR prompts for any character/pairing. 

Here’s the fic - hope you enjoy! 


For all their bickering, Nesta and Cassian can never seem to have a decent argument.

Nesta tries her best. With the same burning fury from the days when they spent every second fighting Hybern for all that they held dear, she storms into the cabin Cassian occupies. She catches him unprepared, half changed from where he’s been training the new recruits. The mental image of him in all his muscular, inspiring glory instructing a new class of liberated young Illyrian women does nothing to assuage Nesta’s anger. What she hates most though is that now it stings of jealousy. Damn her fae hormones.

“My Lady. I didn’t expect to see you before the dinner,” Cas says, focusing back on the straps of his fighting leathers. Though Nesta often calls him clumsy or blundering, his calloused fingers are awfully deft as they free his chest from the tight, black material, unlacing straps and freeing clasps. If only there was a way for Nesta to get him to stop stripping without admitting to why it caused a problem. If only he wasn’t so damn confident now in how he affected her. If only she hadn’t let him learn that really, beneath all her cold hatred, her knees went weak every time he gave her that fond half-smile.

“Then perhaps,” Nesta says, arms crossed firm over her chest, “you shouldn’t have sent me what I can only assume was meant as an insult.”

Cassian quirks an eyebrow. He doesn’t look at her, but being the insufferable man-child he is, his lips betray him, not quite able to swallow an impish smirk. “You don’t like my fashion tastes?” He asks, cocking his head at her like a young pup, like he’s innocent, not the scheming, centuries old arsehole he clearly is.

“Fashion would imply that this monstrosity qualifies as clothing.”

Nesta holds up the garment that was delivered to her not an hour ago. It would put even the Court of Nightmares to shame, all black lace and slivers of translucent fabric as thin and soft as a whisper. She’d have taken it to be intended for the bedroom, were it not accompanied by a scrawled note of ‘I look forward to seeing you at dinner.’

“You said you were fed up of Az and Rhys staring at their oh so beloved mates all evening,” Cassian say with a shrug, then a grin. “I’d like to see a mate bond stand against you in that.”

“You’re an idiot.” Nesta scowls, flushed scarlet and feeling far too flattered for someone possessing as much dignity as she does. Heat stirs in her stomach, and she feels an all too familiar itch between her legs. It’s the same every time. Stubbornly ignorant, ignoring the give away signs, she tries to hold onto the anger she’d walked in with. “Are you saying that if we were mates, you’d still betray me for a woman wearing this- this costume?”

She knows she stands no chance the moment Cassian’s smile appears. It’s a species she’s only ever seen north of the wall, unknown to humanity. An animal smile. Predatory. All too sinfully delicious. “Nes,” Cas whispers, his soft voice deadly with that wolfish grin, the one neither gentle nor demure. “Are you really so jealous of the mating bond? Of Rhys and your darling sister? Old Azriel and dear Mor?”

Leaving his change of clothing behind, he crosses to her, still shirtless, trousers unbuttoned, dark skin still sluiced with sweat. “I’m not jealous,” Nesta says. She’s on edge, her muscles coiled and tensed, but it’s not pure and known like her anger is. She almost feels sick with it, heady. “I don’t envy them when they pine and fawn over each other. Being helplessly bound to another appeals little to me.” He draws close and slips a hand around her waist, but she pushes a hand to his chest, keeping him back. “Were you my mate, however,” she says, fixing his gaze with hers, “you would look at no one else. You wouldn’t be able to breathe if I so much as entered the room.”  

“Oh?” Cas says, and his small smile alone is enough to reignite Nesta’s anger.

“You’d be even more of a mess than you are now,” she says, and there is no kindness in her tone, it’s all bite and it makes that itch between her legs spread deeper, to her bones. “You think you’re such a strong, immortal warrior, bat boy? You wouldn’t be able to think about anyone, anything but me. It wouldn’t matter how pretty or young or gifted those trainee girls of yours are. I’d own you.”

She’s breathing heavily, and almost without noticing it, she’s moved her hand up to wrap it around Cassian’s neck. Her grip isn’t enough to cut off his airway, but she can feel his pulse thrumming beneath her thumb and forefinger. He looks back at her, boyish smile gone, eyes so soft, so open, that she forgets to breathe for a moment. “Nes,” he says, so honest it breaks her heart, “You already do.”

It’s the same as it always is when they try to argue. Her outrage is unmasked, revealed to be something far more dangerous because it makes her weak to him, and willingly so. She has been conditioned to despise how easily she melts beneath his kisses as he nuzzles into her neck, but even the guarding walls of The Ice Queen can’t hold Cassian at bay. She doesn’t know how, but he’s so achingly comfortable to fall into, so full of heat that she forgets what it is to be cold.

He’s not gentle long though; they never are. His teeth, sharp and strong amongst the blurred heat of their skin, nip at her collarbone, the shell of her ear. “Don’t bite me,” she scolds him, though she laughs at herself. “I’m mad at you. You’re supposed to be groveling.”

“Apologies, my Lady.” His voice is rough and close in her ear. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You never can,” Nesta says, as she looks at him for too long, like she’s still scared he’ll disappear, like they’re back in the war. He knows that look, knows how she feels, and responds by shoving her rough back against the wall, pinning their two bodies firm against each other, so he’s all there, all around her. She grips him back, grasps the muscled thickness of his neck, and rests their foreheads together for a moment of peace amongst the passion. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

anonymous asked:

Hey! Hopefully this is okay? But you could you please do an RFA+V+Saeran comfort a reader with Nightmares? Thank you so so much!!! <3

Of course it’s okay! And ahhh thank you to everyone who followed me, I woke up this morning to 30 followers & 50+ notes on my first hc post, thanksss ❤


Yoosung :

  • With how clingy he is while sleeping, there’s no doubt he’d immediately wake up if his s/o was having nightmares or if they woke up in a panic because of one.
  • He’d be worried but he’d also be extremely sleepy since it takes some time for him to wake up completely – he’d be a bit slow to understand what happened at first and will be confused as to why they’re awake so early in the morning.
  • Once he does though, he’ll fuss over them and do what his mother did when he had nightmares as a kid; put extra pillows under their head, cover them with two more blankets, he’d bring them some hot chocolate and bring Lisa so they can cuddle with her; he’d even sing a lullaby if they asked him.


Zen :

  • He’s so worried omg his s/o will be the one who has to calm him down because he’ll make a mountain of it; he’ll ask what was wrong, if they had trouble breathing, if they also had psychic dreams like him..
  • Once he’s alright, he’ll wrap his arms around his s/o and whisper comforting words in their ear before singing a lullaby to get them back to sleep.
  • After they’re asleep, he’ll probably spend an hour brushing their hair and trying to make sure they’re not about to have another nightmare again, he feels like maybe if he watches over them, he can protect them from bad dreams.


Jaehee :

  • She gets a little motherly when she wakes up to her s/o trembling from a nightmare; she’ll hold their shoulders and gently hush them, telling them it was just a dream and that everything was fine.
  • She’s not the very talkative type but she’d try to talk to her s/o about anything that came to her mind so they could think of something else and hopefully feel a little better.
  • If they didn’t want to go back to sleep, they’d make mug cakes together and watch tv until they fell asleep – when it’s morning though, Jaehee will spend hours on her laptop trying to find ways to help her s/o so they wouldn’t have nightmares anymore.


Jumin :

  • He won’t wake up right away but if his s/o tries to leave the bed or if they start crying, he’ll be up in seconds. However, he’d be at loss as to what he’s supposed to do to help them since he’s not used to this. He’d just hold them and wait in silence so they can get over whatever happened in their dreams.
  • He’d get them a glass of water and ask them if they want to take a relaxing bath with him, especially if it was an especially bad dream and they woke up sweating and shaking; he’d sit behind them in the bath and gently wash their hair, nuzzling sleepy kisses in their neck until they tell him what’s wrong.
  • If his s/o let him, he’d get an appointment with a doctor so they could get medication or a therapy depending on why the s/o has nightmare.


707 :

  • He doesn’t really sleep at night so he won’t be in bed most of the time his s/o has nightmares but he checks up on them all the time, especially after learning the troubles they have when sleeping.
  • He’s not the best with serious stuff but he hates seeing his s/o distressed and his priority would be to put a smile on their face again. He’d do what he does when he has his own nightmares : build a massive blanket fort, watch funny vines and eat a bunch of stuff. He’d wear a fluffy onesie what a loser and be their cuddle fluff-wearing man.
  • He’d have trouble leaving his s/o alone for the night because he’d be worried in case they had another nightmare; he’ll get some sleep with them and wake up early to finish his work.


V :

  • He’s a light sleeper and wakes up every time they have a nightmare. He doesn’t say anything, he already knows what’s wrong and he’ll just rub his hand on their back until they calm down.
  • He’ll just tell them that he’s there if they want to talk about it but otherwise, he’ll go to the kitchen and come back with a glass of water or a cup of tea before lighting a candle on the bed side table.
  • He won’t let them go back to sleep until they’ve relaxed. He’s willing to do anything they want, be it looking through the photographs on his camera until morning because they don’t want to fall asleep again or hold them in his arms, tracing patterns on their shoulder as he kisses the back of their hand until they’re too tired to stay awake.


Saeran :

  • He has his own nightmares so he understands how they feel and I don’t think he gets to sleep much either so he’s probably already awake when they wake up from their nightmare.
  • He would softly press his forehead against theirs until they calm down and then, he’d talk about his own dreams to persuade his s/o to share theirs with him; he’s never had anyone to talk to about the things keeping him awake, and he’s tired of keeping everything to himself so he’ll want to share his thoughts with them – even the bad ones.
  • He’ll hold their hand and put some background noise to help them sleep, he likes the sound of rain hitting the roof and waves crashing on the shore – it calms him down – so, he’d download one of those apps that lets you choose and combine sounds like these.
Promptis imagine for my chocobabies
  • Prompto and Noctis are laying beside one another in the tent. Ignis was sleeping behind Noctis, and Gladio was at their feet. The tent was filled with the sound of their breathing and Gladio's snores.
  • Noctis feels a bit of movement beside him in the middle of the night that shakes him from his sleep. He opens his eyes slightly and realizes it's Prompto. He's whimpering, and mumbling a bit in his sleep. He almost sounded like he was in distress. Noctis sat up, and put a hand on Prompto's shoulder.
  • Noctis: Pss... hey... Prompto... hey. Wake up.
  • Prompto jolts out of sleep in a bit of a panic. He was panting as if he had been running from something. He makes eye contact with Noctis.
  • Without a word, he leaps at Noctis, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He hit Noctis with such force, it knocked him on his back. Ignis moved a bit, readjusting himself. He didn't wake up miraculously.
  • Prompto: Noct... hah... hah... you're here...
  • Noctis: yeah, where else would I be?
  • Prompto nuzzled Noctis' chest.
  • Prompto: I... I had a nightmare... I was... I was running in darkness... and I couldn't find you... I couldn't find anyone. It was awful. It felt so real... thank you for saving me from that place. I couldn't get out.
  • Noctis furrowed his brows as he placed a hand on Prompto's back. He began to rub it to comfort him.
  • Noctis: It was just a nightmare. You're ok. That's the 3rd one this week. Something on your mind?
  • Prompto grew silent.
  • He took in a deep breath.
  • Prompto: .... Noct.... you... you wouldn't understand.
  • Noctis: What makes you think that I won't understand? Try me.
  • Prompto lifted his head from The prince's chest, and looked him in the eyes.
  • Prompto: I ... don't know where I would be... if it weren't for you, Iggy, and Gladio. I feel.... I feel like I would be ... drifting. Lost in darkness. You... you have no idea how much... you mean to me... Noct.
  • Noctis' eyes softened as he hears the blonde's words. He lifted his hand to meet Prompto's cheek.
  • Noctis: I think... I have a pretty good idea. I bet... it's as much as you mean to me.
  • He smiled
  • Noctis: Don't ever worry about being lost... or alone. As long as I'm breathing, I'll make sure that you never feel that way. Promise.
  • Prompto parted his lips a bit, feeling the warmth of Noctis' hand on his cheek. His heart was racing.
  • He couldn't believe his ears.
  • Prompto: you... you mean it?
  • Noctis chuckled softly
  • Noctis: Yeah. Now get some sleep.
  • Prompto smiled so hard that it hurt his cheeks. He couldn't contain himself. He leaned down, quickly, and pressed his lips to Noct's.
  • Noctis was shocked, his eyes wide
  • Their lips parted...
  • Noctis: Wh... what... why'd you...
  • His face was flushed
  • Prompto laid back down and fell back to sleep. Not a word.
  • Noctis laid there, staring at the roof of the tent. He could still feel the lingering feeling of Prompto's lips on his. His mind was buzzing.
  • He didn't sleep a wink that night.

anonymous asked:

Prompto with a really insecure fem!S/o? Like they really don't like how they look and are always asking him if he really loves her and thinking what does he see in her?

A small drabble for rubyreddemise because she had a nightmare and asked for a little Prompto fluff. It’s a little bit of hurt/comfort, but Prompto is just too sweet and wHY CAN’T WE HAVE TEN

“Do you really love me?”

The words completely broke his heart. Prompto gaped at you, unable to come up with a reply to what you were saying. His tongue felt dry, and he couldn’t seem to locate his voice.

You glanced at him from your spot on his couch, silent tears blurring your vision. “I just don’t know what you see in me, Prom. I’m not beautiful. I’m not a super model. I’m not…I’m not anything.”

Prompto violently shook his head and grasped your hands. Your eyes met his and you saw a whole mess of emotions—anger, hurt, disbelief—welling up inside.

“How could you say that?” he asked, a little louder than he intended. When you shrank back, he bit his lip. Quieter this time, he said, “You are the most incredible person I have ever known. When I met you, do you know the first thing I thought?”

You shook your head.

“I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on. I figured you were out of my league. And then when I spoke to you for the first time, I knew I was right,” he chuckled distantly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you. How could I not?”

You laughed too, but it was derisive. You shook your head, bringing your knees to hug against your chest. “I’m just being stupid.”

“No,” he stated. “You’re not. Look, babe, I know what it’s like to not be happy with how you look.” He hesitated a moment, and then seemed to decide something in his mind. “Wait here.”

Prompto got up and went into his room. You heard him shuffling around, unsure of what was going on. He returned with a handful of photographs, most of them looked to be about five or six years old.

“Look,” he handed them to you with shaking fingers. You took them curiously, and examined them. They were all of him—but a younger Prompto, shorter and much chubbier, looking into a mirror with a camera flashing in the reflection. You flipped through them and saw as he progressively got thinner and thinner, until you saw a thinner, teenage version of the man who was sitting in front of you.

You looked back up at him, at a loss for words.

“I hated myself,” he said quietly. “Thought I wasn’t good enough to be Noct’s friend because of my weight. So I starved myself, made myself run every day just so that when I finally felt like I was ready, I could go talk to him. The thing is,” Prompto took the photos back, looking at the chubby, younger version of himself. “I don’t think Noct cared either way.”

“Prompto…”

“What I’m saying is,” he sighed, putting the photos down and taking your hands in his. “I love you for who you are. All your imperfections. All the things that make you, you. Look,” He lifted his shirt, showing the streak lines on his belly from where he’d lost the most weight. “I even have stretch marks too.”

He poked at his belly with a goofy little grin and you couldn’t help but laugh. You quieted down though, giving his hands a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Prom,” you said. “I just can’t help it sometimes, you know? You’re just…I just see you as this perfect guy, always so happy and so thoughtful, and I don’t know if I can ever measure up to you.”

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that about me,” he joked before settling on a more serious tone. “But I just want you to know that I’m not perfect, either. But if you love me the way that I love you, whatever imperfections I have don’t bother you. Just like how your imperfections are part of why I love you so much. You’re human. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

You let a tear roll down your cheek, and Prompto was quick to wipe it away.

“You’re allowed to feel sad and insecure. Hell, I feel that way all the time. Have you seen Gladio’s arms?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. He grinned.

“I don’t want you to be perfect,” he murmured as he pulled you into his arms. “I just want you. All of you, all the time.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, and saw how he looked down at you. His eyes were so warm, so devoted. You leaned up and kissed him, feeling all of his love pour into you. He pulled you into his lap and held you close, your lips never parting from his. When you finally came up for air, you tucked your head under his chin and he rocked you against his chest.

“Be patient with me,” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, your breath still a little uneven from crying earlier. “Please?”

Prompto kissed the top of your head, gently running his hands up and down your back. “Babe, you and I have got all the time in the world.”

anonymous asked:

Hii Bonneyy, How are youuu?? I don't know if you are taking requests but if you are, could you maybe do a little one shot where Juvia and Gray find out that Juvia can't have childeren??? I love your work by the way, you're incredible!!!

Hello, dear! I’m fine, thank you! And yes, you can send me requests, but sometimes the muse doesn’t get inspired, sadly. Sometimes she does, though, like now! Thanks for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I wrote. <3 

————————————————————————————–

Gray kicked himself internally while he wandered over Magnolia trying to find his wife. He shouldn’t have let her walk away on her own, she was so upset and told him she needed some time and to be honest, he did too, after the news they had that day.

It was still a bit fuzzy inside his head, the doctor’s talk about intrauterine adhesions and trauma confused him. He knew their profession was dangerous but he never thought there would be such consequences.

Earlier that day they went to see a doctor; after two years of marriage they decided to try and have a child. To make sure everything was alright, they got the appointment, which turned into a nightmare not too long after. Apparently, Juvia couldn’t carry a baby because of adhesions in her uterus caused by some trauma during their jobs.

Gray couldn’t remember the last time he saw her so shaken up – Juvia had always been energetic, positive and downright happy most of the times, so happy she usually managed to bring Gray back from any downs.

If he were true to himself, Gray never thought he’d get married and have kids while growing up. It was such a foreign thought for him that he grew used of being on his own when he wasn’t with his friends. Juvia changed that: she changed everything.

Juvia made him happy, happier than he ever thought it was possible and it was enough for him. He didn’t need anything else, but she did. Her heart was so big, she had so much love inside her she just needed to shower someone else with it so, she talked to him about trying for a child.

He knew he’d love their children as much as he loved her and after a few weeks wondering if he’d make a good father, he finally told her they could try. Oh, she had been so happy. Absolutely glowing until they found out the reality of their plans.

“Come on, Juvia.” He whispered, trying to find her and walking towards the park – he had gone to Fairy Tail but she wasn’t there so he tried another places she enjoyed going.

Finally, by the kid’s playground, Gray spotted the lovely blue shade of her hair. She was seated on one of the benches, watching the children and their parents as they played.

Sighing, Gray stepped closer to the bench and even though he was certain she sensed him getting closer – she always knew when he was around – she didn’t look away from the children. Gray sat next to her, rested his elbows on his thighs and looked at her.

Juvia had clearly been crying for some time and it broke his heart, he always hated her tears. He reached for one of her hands and squeezed it, Gray saw her lower lip tremble.

“Juvia always wanted to be a mother.” She whispered, fresh tears falling. “Since she can remember, she always wanted to have a big family, she grew up alone and didn’t want that for her children.” She sobbed. “I guess I don’t have to worry about that now.”

Gray pulled her into his arms as she cried and felt his own throat close up, feeling some loss as well. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her back, holding her close and trying to help in any way he could.

“It’s alright, Juvia.” Gray whispered. “We will be fine.”

“How?” She asked and looked up, eyes shining with tears. “I can’t give you a family.”

Gray shook his head. “Don’t say that. You and I are a family. Us and the Guild are a family. We will always be a family.”

“We were going to try to have a baby.” Juvia sniffed.

“I know.” He put a hand on her cheek. “And I know how much that meant to you. I can see it now how sad you are because of what we learned today, but Juvia… we’ve been through so much together. We went to hell and back, but we always came out of it together.”

She shook her head. “This is different. Juvia saw you were getting excited about having a baby too, it took you a while but you finally wanted it and now Juvia can’t give you that-” Her eyes widened in horror and Gray frowned in confusion. “Oh. Juvia can’t give you that.” She whispered to herself and he saw how pale she was when she let go of his hand as if it burned her. Juvia got up from the bench, eyes still wide. “You- you need to be with someone who can.” Gray didn’t like the sound of that at all. He got up and reached for her, but Juvia took a step back. “No. It’s… it’s Juvia’s fault, not yours.” The blunette shook her head. “You could still get it if Juvia’s not- Juvia has to leave-”

That’s enough.” Gray said, angrily and a bit loud, he could see some of the parents look their way in curiosity. “I know that you are hurting right now, Juvia, I know, but don’t you say another word about leaving.”

Juvia cried harder. “You could still have it. Juvia wants you to have it.”

“Do you think I want any of that without you?” Gray was exasperated and he got closer to her, not being stopped that time by her taking a step back. “Damn it, Juvia, I wouldn’t care for any of it if you hadn’t showed me I could be happy.” He put a hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder. “It took me a long time to admit it to myself and then you this, but it’s you I want. In any way, I don’t care what happens.”

Juvia hugged him. “You don’t?”

“I don’t.” Gray was well aware there was people looking their way, curious, and Gray never cared for public displays of affection like Juvia but he humored enough, but that time he knew she needed him. “And… I know it’s too soon, I know we still have to get used to what we learned today and the idea, but…” He cleared his throat. “We could still have children, Juvia.” She looked up in question. “There are a lot of children who needs a family and I think we could be that family.”

“You mean… adopt?” Juvia asked. She had so much love to give and any child they welcomed to their family would never feel in want of affection, she would shower them with love like she did to him – she had saved him from himself.  Gray, of course, would give them his love as well, like she taught him to.

“Sure.” He nodded. “I was kind of adopted by Ur. If it weren’t for her, Lyon and I wouldn’t have learned magic and I would have grown up solely focused on revenge. I needed a family and she gave me one, even if it meant having Lyon too.” Gray added and Juvia rested her head on his shoulder.

She thought for a moment. “How will we know?”

“We’ll know. We found each other, didn’t we? Or rather you found me and didn’t let go. Thankfully.” She snorted and he couldn’t help it but to feel a bit lighter at the sound. “I guess we… well, I guess we just have to find the rest of our family. They are probably waiting already.”

“Do you mean that?” Juvia looked up in hope and Gray knew there was only one answer to that question. “You are not just saying that to humor me? Truly?”

“I do.” He nodded. “I still think I’ll be a crappy dad sometimes but I will try to be a good one for that big family you want.”

“We just need to find them.”

“We just need to find them.” Gray agreed. “Do you want to go home?” He asked after a few moments. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am.” Juvia agreed. “I have a lot to think of. Or better yet, we do.” She tip-toed and gave him a peck on the lips. “Juvia will probably not be in her best mood for a while yet while she gets used to the news.”

“We’ll manage. You had to put up with my moody years, I think it’s time I return the favor.” Gray caressed her back. “You never gave up on me and I’ll never give up on you. We’ll do this in whatever way you want it.”

“Thank you.” She told him and she dried her cheeks before she looked up, love clear in her eyes. “I love you.”

Gray smiled and kissed her, “I love you too” he whispered –  even after years of being together, he still found it hard to say it all the times, but at that moment he knew she needed that further assurance and he was more than happy to give it to her.

No matter what, he’d be by her side like she always had been by his.

#

AN: I didn’t want this story to be sad, I wanted it to transmit hope. Of course, any woman who wants to be a mother would be upset if they discovered they couldn’t carry a child, but it doesn’t mean they can’t be mothers. There are many ways of creating a family and yes, sometimes we have to look for them instead of waiting nine months to have them. Love is what makes a family and we must never forget that.

Also on [FF.net].

Don't Tell Me What To Do

I work at what is essentially a hardware store. This particular store has a policy that all animals are aloud inside on a leash, so not only do we get dogs and cats, we also get tons of farm animals like goats and pigs and once in a while a mini horse. All the employees love it and carry treats in their pockets and management doesn’t care if we pet or play with the animals as long as we aren’t ignoring other customers and they actually encourage it because it’s good for building customer relationships

Anyways, I had a closing shift today and the store was dead. I literally only checked out 50 people, when the daily average is closer to 300, so everything was cleaned and put away and ready to go super early. My dad stopped by to say hi on his way home from work and he brought my dog with him because she loves car rides and gets super excited every time she sees me at work. So it’s 3 hours to close and I was petting my dog and deep cleaning the counters and talking to my dad and I literally had not had a customer in an hour.

Cue two guys marching in the store and messing stuff up. They walk through my dirt piles and track mud and manure all over the store and spill feed and mess up the bulk hardware. They mess up the clothes that I had just fixed and leave piles of jeans and shirts on the floor and walk all over them. They pick up a dozen bags of blasting grit (you know how when you go to the beach you find sand in your crevices days later? That’s basically what the blasting grit does) and they lug them around the store. The bags are always leaking so they leave a trail of grit through the entire store (and it’s a nightmare to clean up. It’s like glitter and sand had a child that was raised by Lucifer himself). After a couple hours they finally come up to the register and I start ringing them up. They are super rude and obnoxious and I’m trying my hardest not to lose my temper and they keep calling me ‘baby’ and 'sugar’ and standing too close and they keep touching me and being awful. All of this combined is making me super anxious, which my dog picks up on (I’ve trained her to notice and help when I have panic attacks) so she walks over and pokes her nose through the gap between the register gate and the back and whines. While I’m waiting for the guys to swipe their card I reach over and pet her nose to let her know that I’m ok and one of the guys glares at me and shouts 'Don’t you dare pet that dog! You can’t pet that dog!’ And I just lost it because wtf? I dropped my fake smile and my customer voice and said “That’s my fucking dog and I can pet her whenever the fuck I feel like it.” They huffed and left and they called the store after to complain. Fortunately my manager had seen the whole thing and he is really reasonable and knows that I never lose my temper like that ever so I didn’t get in too much trouble. He just said that if those guys came in again I had to call someone else to ring them up because they “never wanted to see my face again” because I had been so “incredibly rude and obnoxious” Cry me a river tick turds.

anonymous asked:

Hi Uncle Mod! I just have a simple, yet important think to ask. Are you okay? I feel like everyone in the world is shaken up and stressed out at the moment, and if there's one person that needs this ballooning of stress the LEAST, it's you. Plus, I had a nightmare last night in which you were anxious and sad, so I was really scared and concerned for you. Don't apolagise if you have to take a break or something, because you deserve peace. Love you!

anon??? I love?? you????

but thank you my dude my pal my friend o’ mine I have been a bit stressed and tired lately but really I wouldn’t imagine more so than everyone else- all things considered. My hands are a bit janked up at the moment so I will be slow on extras, and I’m visiting my sister next week so there might be another week without TPoH coming up (sorry) so I guess I feel bad about that? But knowing how patient and kind you all are makes things so much easier and I will try to recover so I can bring myself back up to speed. Thanks buddy.