I'm Not Yours, Dear
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aparnasworld:

傷の手当@朔かご by

紫織

usbport:

I respect bees more than I respect white men in positions of power

When you are 13 years old,
the heat will be turned up too high
and the stars will not be in your favor.
You will hide behind a bookcase
with your family and everything left behind.
You will pour an ocean into a diary.
When they find you, you will be nothing
but a spark above a burning bush,
still, tell them
Despite everything, I really believe people are good at heart.

When you are 14,
a voice will call you to greatness.
When the doubters call you crazy, do not listen.
They don’t know the sound
of their own God’s whisper. Use your armor,
use your sword, use your two good hands.
Do not let their doubting
drown out the sound of your own heartbeat.
You are the Maid of Untamed Patriotism.
Born to lead armies into victory and unite a nation
like a broken heart.

When you are 15, you will be punished
for learning too proudly. A man
will climb onto your school bus and insist
your sisters name you enemy.
When you do not hide,
he will point his gun at your temple
and fire three times. Three years later,
in an ocean of words, with no apologies,
you will stand before the leaders of the world
and tell them your country is burning.

When you are 16 years old,
you will invent science fiction.
The story of a man named Frankenstein
and his creation. Soon after you will learn
that little girls with big ideas are more terrifying
than monsters, but don’t worry.
You will be remembered long after
they have put down their torches.

When you are 17 years old,
you will strike out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig
one right after the other.
Men will be afraid of the lightening
in your fingertips. A few days later
you will be fired from the major leagues
because “Girls are too delicate to play baseball”

You will turn 18 with a baby on your back
leading Lewis and Clark
across North America.

You will turn 18 
and become queen of the Nile.

You will turn 18 
and bring justice to journalism.

You are now 18, standing on the precipice,
trembling before your own greatness.

This is your call to leap.

There will always be those
who say you are too young and delicate
to make anything happen for yourself.
They don’t see the part of you that smolders.
Don’t let their doubting drown out the sound
of your own heartbeat.

You are the first drop of a hurricane.
Your bravery builds beyond you. You are needed
by all the little girls still living in secret,
writing oceans made of monsters and
throwing like lightening.

You don’t need to grow up to find greatness.
You are stronger than the world has ever believed you to be.
The world laid out before you to set on fire.
All you have to do
is burn.

jaeger-delta:

mediamattersforamerica:

The internet’s most beloved geek Wil Wheaton calls out misogyny in gaming, and confronts the men who attack him for doing so. Incredible. 

EVERY DECENT MALE GAMER SHOULD BE DOING THIS UNTIL THIS SHIT STOPS

EVERY

SINGLE

FUCKING

ONE

OF

YOU

Would you mind if I requested a cute Laxana picture with Laxus proposing to Cana please? :)
Anonymous

princessheartfilia:

Ref: {X}

Sorry it took so long! Laxana isn’t one of my top ships so this took a bit more effort and I kept it simple but I hope you like it!

remembering embers

his-braveheart:

Summary: ”She dreams, some nights – of the ash and the dust, and the starless sky overhead.” Rose Tyler, from one life to the next. Doctor/Rose, reincarnation fic.

Ships; Doctor/Rose. All Doctors, technically, but there’s heavily implied One/Rose, Three/Rose, Nine/Rose, and Other/Rose, for those of you who are familiar with that backstory.

Rating; All ages

A/N: I posted this before, as a link, but decided to repost because let’s face it, links suck. Ffnet can suck. And I have a computer again, so I can do these things now. Hope you guys enjoy my take on the endlessly hashed/rehashed reincarnation trope. There will be an Ichabbie edition (for all you Sleepy Hollow fans) sometime in the future. Probably.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who!

________________________

summers and winters

through snowy decembers

sat by the water

remembering embers – willow, jasmine thompson

________________________

This is it, she thinks, the burning feeling lingering just under her skin. The universe aches and sings under her touch, stardust spinning, supernovas and black holes and everything and nothing colliding before her eyes.

She breathes deep. Somewhere, sometime, a wolf is howling and she knows. This is it.

The first life.

________________________

Ashes and gold.

It’s all she sees. The gold lingers in sparks beyond the edge of her vision, as the ash falls from the sky like snow. She shudders, not from cold, and folds in on herself. They’re dead, she thinks, all of them. They’re all dead – there was nothing she could do to stop it.

It hurts, and she’s so tired. Too tired to cry, incidentally – all the tears had been wasted before, in the blurry nights beforehand, on her husband and her children, her family.

All dead now, she supposes.

Rassilon, a voice inside of her snarls, voice laced with bitter blame, and she stamps out the animal inside, forces the beast into submission. Not the time, she thinks. It’s far too late for fighting, and she is too weary, too old for bloodshed, despite the youth of her face.

The ash continues to fall. The screams echo in her ears. She thinks of her family, burning. She looks up at the sky, too dark for stars, and meets two very blue eyes instead.

Her slowing heart speeds up again, just the tiniest bit. In panic, in fear, some faint glimmer of hope. The wolf inside rumbles threateningly.

She expects death – a finishing blow. Instead, his hand touches her cheek, and his eyes are so sad, so regretful. He’s on the other side, she knows – one of Rassilon’s men. But she thinks he might be a good person, underneath.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs.

She believes him.

She opens her mouth to tell him so – but she’s so tired, and the wolf’s lost all her strength. She surrenders to the silence and the exhaustion, unfocused eyes slipping closed for the final

(first)

time.

They called him the Other.

His eyes were so blue.

________________________

She dreams, some nights – of the ash and the dust, and the starless sky overhead.

They feel more like memories, though, than dreams. She thinks of the reincarnation theory, a thesis one of the Academy’s older graduates had fussed over, some time back.

She sees him in glimpses, here – black hair, angular features, eyes so blue it aches. She knows him, she thinks. Or had, once.

Hadn’t she?

She doesn’t get the chance to find out. She dies, far too young, by the hands of a virus that eats away at a Time Lord’s regenerations.

She thinks of the reincarnation theory.

Thinks about testing it out.

________________________

She catches the eye of a stranger on an asteroid bazaar in the fifty seventh century. She should be preoccupied right now, running from about seven of the royal guards from the main planet, all waving sharp weapons around and threatening to bring her head back to their king but really, she’s just annoyed, now.

She jumps a vendor’s cart and topples it over as she does, so the guards will be busy, even for a little while. She feels a bit bad, doing it, but hey, a girl had to survive.

That’s when she sees him. He’s watching her with all the interest of someone who’s most likely thieved before. She knows her kin, can tell by the way he’s not just watching, he’s observing, almost appraising her.

She flashes a grin.

Wonders why he looks so familiar.

________________________

She’s a waitress at a dingy diner he frequents often, in 1970’s London.

They don’t talk, not beyond his order of coffee and her generic call of, “have a nice day, sir”. They don’t talk, and one day, after an unfortunate alien invasion that leaves a number of people dead, he notices the bubbly, friendly girl who used to bring him coffee has been replaced.

Something churns in his gut. He asks, but all he gets from the boy who brings him his coffee is sad eyes and an awkward silence.

He takes a breath.

Closes his eyes.

________________________

she always remembers something

There was the fire again, last night. Maybe tomorrow she’ll dream of the day it snowed ash.

it’s not always him – sometimes it’s just her, and time whispering past her in waves

She could recall days and nights spent, turning over the images in her head. A life lived alone on a distant planet a million years and miles away.

she still remembered him – those haunting eyes, not always blue, but always, always there, in her dreams

(in her memories)

Today is her nineteenth birthday, and there’s something in the air, something that’s so close to breaking –

It feels like a storm.

________________________

The storm comes in early March, when she’s pressed up against a wall at Henrik’s –

nothing special here, not this time; no super genius, no thief or queen or pirate – just Rose and she’s about to die

He grabs her hand, and something shoots up her body, something she’s been waiting years and years and years for.

Fingers curling involuntarily, she turns her head, wide eyes meeting –

sad eyes bad eyes a multicolor coat and question mark umbrella a cravat and a recorder and a scarf and a bow tie, once

Blue.

"Run!"

She does.

something ageless passes over his eyes, something she’s seen but never up close

She takes his hand and lets him lead her down the department store to a new kind of forever.

She doesn’t let him let her go.

firelorcl:

i scare people lots because i walk very softly and they don’t hear me enter rooms so when they turn around i’m just kind of there and their fear fuels me

emissary-architect:

this is the soppiest thing I’ve ever written I’m so sorry

Inspired by x x and the original post from Michelle

Ava’s demon Mythology AU

Ava/Odin

He sat alone by the tree, sighing to himself while thickly calloused fingers flipped through his journal aimlessly. The hood on his cloak was pulled over his head as he fingered through his old entries. His scythe sat propped up against the tree, blade glimmering in the light.

Being a reaper wasn’t exactly a popular job. But it wasn’t like he needed company in the first place.

Read More

blamedorange:

FT/Tangled AU where bald people get oppressed for having no hair in the kingdom of Hairona and princess Flare is the key to giving people hair but Mother Ivan wants to keep her for himself so he locked her in a tower

but anyway the princess meets Jura a wanted person for the crime of being bald and they have adventures and were happy but Mother Ivan’s minions chase after them but Jura defeats them

soon they stumble upon mother ivan but Jura defeats him too and eventually they find out that mother Ivan was actually bald also and they learn that he uses Flare’s magic hair to live so mother ivan dies which means Flare is finally free!!! but Jura’s baldness causes him to die as well but she cuts her hair to activate her magical hair plus true love’s kiss (on the head) so Jura’s hair grows and they lived happily ever after

egibbo:

takeonecurtaincall:

lastgreattimewhore:

the-loki-initiative:

lastgreattimewhore:

if lucifer needs someones consent to enter their body then so do you

this is the best rape argument i have ever heard

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dayzies-s:

tan-fit-healthy:

letsdeadlyfart:

bluedreamsx:

slaveoftheflesh:

xsorrowxlightx:

trumpetnista:

rarely-pure-never-simple:

thecornercoffeeshoppe:

hickshannary:

small-and-misunderstood:

Saw this somewhere else and felt the need to post it cause no one else ever really tells you this stuff

My mom never really noticed. She noticed when she was breast feeding my little brother and blood started coming out instead of milk. 

My mom said she felt and saw a little lump in the shower. She was lucky enough she found it at stage 2

My mom had a mammogram. The radiologist thought the spots were just regular calcium deposits. 

Turns out it was triple negative breast cancer that had spread to her lymph nods. Mastectomy, radiation and chemo saved her life.

This could SAVE a life.

dont be embarrassed to reblog, this post could be life saving

Signal BOOST and pass it on. I had a breast cancer scare before (luckily it was just scar tissue…) and information like this kept me calm and collected at the doc’s.

As a cancer patient myself, who found my own cancer through a supposed LARPing injury last year, i know how scary it is and how important it is to catch it early. Please spread this around!

listen to ur boobs

its all in the boobs

hoW MANY TIMES AM I GOING TO REBLOG THIS ! SORRY FOLLOWERS , #sorrynotsorry

Always reblog! 

REBLOG,THIS COULD SAVE SOMEBODY!!! DONT BE EMBARRASSED!!!

B

susemoji:

youmirroredsea:

zeebadee:

dervlaaaarghhhh:

videohall:

Goat gives it all it’s got

give it all you’ve goat

yeeeeaaah

Fjshakcushevdugknagco YES

I love baby goats

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girldoesnothing:

tonidorsay:

note-a-bear:

lifeislikeabadrpg:

georgetakei:

Your Wednesday earworm. I’m such a teas. http://ift.tt/1mY32Ax

[image: the Bigelow tea flavor “Sweet Dreams” with a post-it below it that says “are made of teas”. The entire image is captioned, “brew am I to disgree?”]

And now this is stuck in my head

I travel the world for the perfect tea
Everybody’s looking for Darjeeling

Some of them want to infuse you

Some of them want to be infused by you

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sli206:

I’m in a shipping phase, don’t judge me 

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hanichorange:

Flaming arrow \0/