Dear Fandom Arseholes,

I dunno how to do this lol but I'm gonna post a link to a petition to try and keep Disney from trademarking Loki and other norse gods because they aren't simply trying to trademark the MCU versions but also the names for the actual Norse Gods versions as well and...as a Norse Pagan it isn't sitting well with me lol so if you'd like to sign that'd be cool.

Change.org

Sign the Petition

Stop Disney Trademarking The Names of Norse Gods

Old Guys Rule

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary: With a birthday coming up, Frankie's insecurities about the age gap in your relationship start to get the better of him

Warnings: legal age gap relationship, insecurities about said age gap, mentions of children but no mentions of how they came to be in the relationship

I found this hat in a shop in Cornwall and I had to write this!

"Are you wanting to do anything on your birthday? I was thinking about booking a table down at that Italians you like and asking your Mom to watch the girls but if you have plans with the guys I can find a different day?" you looked over your shoulder at Frankie from where you had been scrolling through the booking page of the restaurant.

"Hmm? No, dinner sounds fine," Frankie answered, his head not lifting up from his phone as his face stayed firmly unbothered.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to..." you trailed off as you turned back to the laptop that was resting on the kitchen counter, not convinced by Frankie's response.

"What?" you could tell that his head had whipped up to look at yours now you had turned around, "No, dinner sounds good, yes. Thank you."

You didn't answer, instead scrolling up and down on the page for a minute as you tried not to take his response too personally. It had been a while since you and Frankie were able to go out for dinner just the two of you, finding it more difficult to get some alone time since the new baby came along and you now had the two girls, so you thought he would like the idea of a romantic dinner alone.

You could hear Frankie's footsteps pad across the kitchen floor until he was leaning against the counter next to you. Avoiding his gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the way his ankles were now crossed over one another, you filled in the booking information before closing the laptop. Without looking at him you turned in the chair to stand but Frankie's hand fell on your wrist stopping you.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "I do want to go out for dinner with you and thank you for booking the place that I like, I just-." Frankie sighed and let you wrist go before dragging his hand down his face as he let his eyes drop to the floor, "I'm just not looking forward to this birthday. I'm in my late forties now!"

"I think you're still mid-forties."

"So much better," he rolled his eyes.

"So you're not looking forward to your birthday because... you're going to be a year older? Forty-six years and thats you just realising how birthdays work?"

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing, I'm wondering why that's upsetting you. Whether or not you're looking forward to it you can't stop it."

"You'll make fun of me if I tell you why," his foot was swinging out in front of him before crossing it back over the other again.

"Maybe, but we've been married for six years so I think I'm allowed to make fun of you."

A smile was tugging at the corner of Frankie's lips when he finally looked up to you, his head leaning slightly to the side as he met your eyes. Frankie loved everything about you but he especially loved how relaxed you made him feel. Even though he wasn't in a good mood when you started talking birthday plans, instead of giving in to it you pulled him back from it. You had done it ever since you met him. Frankie could tell you, and has told you, his deepest, darkest secrets and fears and you don't shy away. You don't pull him further into the darkness; you just listen and make him feel comfortable until you help him out the other side.

"I know there isn't a bigger gap between us now that there had been when we first started dating because thats not possible but it just feels bigger now? Like, you're still able to keep up with Sofia when she runs rings around us even after you've been up all night with the baby. You don't have to hold the menu back to read it more clearly when we got out for dinner. You don't have to think about having a sore back for a week if we fall asleep on the couch when watching a movie. You don't even fall asleep when watching movies at eight at night but somehow I do!"

You let his breathing settle a little before you pulled him to stand between your legs, resting your hands on his chest.

"Is it about all these small things or is there something bigger to it?"

You tilted your head to catch his gaze as Frankie's eyes fell to the floor again, stopping him with two fingers under his chin and lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"I just worry that you don't want to be with an old guy like me," he sighed, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I'll have you know that I love that your an old guy. I fall more in love with you every day as you get older. I love that you run around enough with Sofia until you're tired because you don't want to stop. I think you're cute when you have to squint at the menu because you're too stubborn to get glasses, even though I think you would look very handsome in them. And I like giving you back massages when it gets sore because its just an excuse to get my hands on your very sexy, super hot, handsome DILF self."

Frankie barked a laugh, his forehead falling against yours as his hands reached up to cup your face.

"I love you so much, you know that."

"I do, and I love you."

His lips found yours, pressing a soft kiss to them. Just as his mouth opened to push his tongue into yours the sound of tiny footsteps running into the kitchen pulled you both away.

"Mama, Papa!" the voice cheered as Frankie leaned down to swing Sofia up, groaning as he did so.

None of what you had said to Frankie was a lie. You truly did love him more and more every day.

As time went on it had been kind to Frankie. He had fought off his demons for the most part, nightmares only sneaking in every so often, and it showed. He carried a lightness with him, not being weighed down by his past anymore. His eyes crinkle at the side when he smiles, which he does more now than ever. His face has filled out a little more in a healthy way. His jaw is also covered in a patchy beard that now has spots of grey that you love the most even if Frankie doesn't believe you.

❀❀❀

You let Frankie lie in on the morning of his birthday, getting the girls up and ready so you could have a lazy breakfast together before you dropped them at their Gran's while you and Frankie go out for dinner. After sorting out a breakfast, having to start again after Sofia wanted to help and ended up spilling the batter over the countertop instead of in the pan, you carried it upstairs with the girls in tow.

Frankie was already waking up as you opened the door, his face lighting up with a wide grin when he spotted you balancing the baby in one arm and carefully carrying the tray in the other as Sofia carried bags of birthday presents.

"Happy birthday," you and Sofia chimed with a small gurgle coming from your side.

"My beautiful girls, thank you!"

Frankie lifted Sofia onto the bed with the presents, settling her into his side, before taking the tray of pancakes from your hands. Once it was safe on his lap he lifted his head, catching your lips in a kiss, before you sat across from him.

You managed to get through breakfast before Sofia had spoke about opening the presents again and once the tray was placed on the bedside table you got to opening the gifts. With baby girl back asleep and placed on Frankie's chest, Sofia pulled the paper off them more so than Frankie, handing him the opened presents as he thanked you all. Once all the presents that were on the bed were opened you leaned across and pulled another from your bedside.

"One more," you smiled knowingly and Frankie narrowed his eyes at you as you handed him the small bag.

He snaked his arm from around Sofia, holding baby girl close to his chest as he put his hand inside the bag and pulled out a hat.

"Oh a new hat, thanks babe I love-" he stopped when he read the front, looking at you with a grin on his face.

"What does it say?!" Sofia asked, pushing her head in front of her Dad's to see the cap he was holding.

"It says Old Guys Rule!" you exclaimed.

"Because Dad is old," Sofia flung her head back in a fake laugh that bellowed around the room.

"Is that right?" Frankie tickled her sides until she was giggling for real and her head was lying next to her sleeping sister's on Frankie's chest.

"Dad is old, but he's still cool isn't he?" you reached across and pulled Sofia onto your lap as she nodded.

"How does it look?" Frankie pulled it onto his head, a little wonky as he was only working with one hand with the other resting on the tiny body on his chest.

You and Sofia both put your thumbs up and you laughed.

"Four out of four thumbs up!"

"Thanks babe," he chuckled, lifting his hand to settle the cap a little tighter on his head.

"You're welcome, you look even more handsome today. Forty-six suits you," you winked and he smiled.

Yes, Frankie was getting older but he was becoming happier and healthier and you were falling more in love with him every single day.

//

Permanent tag// @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday

Doesn’t it make you feel bad to be so full of hate?

Like, don’t you see how you people give feminism a bad name?

I’m genuinely curious. I’m not trying to start an argument here, I’m just curious if you people know how.. hateful you people sound. If that’s even a good enough word to describe it.

You know whats hateful?

Hateful is when a ten year old girl gives birth to her uncle's child

Hateful is when a teenage girl is hooked up to a feeding tube, because everyone told her it would be better if she starved herself

hateful is a woman face covered, her eyes covered, her hands and her hips all all of her humanity hidden as if her existence were impure , hatred is prohibiting her from feeling the sun on her skin

hateful Is when men look for confirmed raped and murder victims to jerk off too

hateful is when the top search in pornhub is incest, pedophilia and rape, hateful is when men orgasm to women being choked, sodomized, while crying

hateful is the 80,000 women killed a year, for the crime of being women

hateful is b*tch c*nt and wh*re being the last things a girl hears before shes is brutally taken out of this world, hateful is laughing these words off as not a big deal

hateful is mutilating the genitals of a five year old girl, hateful is watching her squirm and cry while you cut her up, thinking about the feelings of the man who will rip her open

hateful is forcing a woman to give birth, hateful is turning a human being into an incubator, hateful is prohibiting women control over their own fucking organs, their own fucking lives.

hateful is rape.

hateful is women only having 'equality' and rights, in 8 countries. on earth, total. out of 195.

Hateful is making god, the creator male, hateful is making very system of belief around women as a resource, women as second to man, women as a birth giver and nothing else. hate is removing women from the divine and the powerful

hateful is male criminals in womens prisions, hateful is solving their rape with condoms, hateful is letting it go on, hateful is sacrificing women's safety for male egos, hateful is destroying rape shelters, hateful is defining women by front holes and uterus havers, hateful is mutilating them when they dont conform, hateful is young lesbians being groomed to sleep with men, lest they're bigoted. hateful is defining women as a sex doll, as a gender role, as femininity, as a personality.

hateful is menstrual huts, hateful is letting women die of hunger, poison and cold, hateful is saying menstrual blood makes them impure, inhuman. hateful is saying being a woman is karmic punishment.

hateful is driving needles up a baby girls skull, its drowning her in milk, its leaving her out for the wolves. hateful is seeing a girl be born as a curse, its killing her upon sight.

hateful is binding a seven year olds feet. breaking her bones, and smashing them together, its locking her up, never be able to walk or dance, will never be able to play, for men, for men to fuck her, for men to own and want her. an object, a status symbol.

Hateful is purchasing a womans body to use, as a toy as an object, hateful is seeing a young girl, starving, and putting your dick in her mouth, hateful is defending this, hateful is purchasing rape, hateful is advocating for it.

hateful is removing women from history, hateful is writing your name over their accomplishments, hateful is to ban them from reading from writing, from learning, from being human, hateful is never letting a woman touch the world, hateful is locking them up, never to be seen or heard

hateful is burning her at a stake, hateful is lobotomizing her, hateful is locking her up, its the straight jacket, the asylum.

hateful is cutting her open, is shaving down her bones, is injecting poison into her face, oil into her lips, inserting silicone into her body, its sucking out her fat with syringes. trimming her stomach, burning her skin.

hateful is demanding were nice. hateful is demanding that we smile. hateful is being annoyed we dont care about your fucking feelings while were being brutalized, hateful is pretending feminism has anything to do with 'looking good', hateful is coming here pretending youre innocent to ask why im not sucking your fucking dick while talking about the dehumanization of four billion human beings, souls, people. WOMEN.

you know whats not hateful? calling this shit out. I feel great, I felt the best I've ever felt being so 'hateful' about the hatred of women. I no longer look the other way, I no longer rack up my brain for explanations, and excuse, I no longer get caught up in the performance of being nice and giving feminism a good name and instead focus on getting shit DONE.

if you wanted nicer women, you shouldnt have fucking killed them. now shut the fuck up and stop pretending you ever gave a shit about women and feminism. people like you are happy to jerk off while the world burns as long as you 'look good' while doing it.

Die.

ghosts

—CHAPTER THREE: happy

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist 

a/n: okay wow, this was at 3k when I promised it two weeks ago and now it’s 5.7k. just a slight continuity warning: this whole series is kind of a ‘fuck you’ to the narcos timeline bc I can’t remember when they were in Medellin or when Connie left and came back all relative to everything happening with Carrillo so don’t hate me, I’m going to make it work out I think

also just a general thought – to everyone who responded so well to the last two parts, your enthusiasm is what made me get this part done and edited, tell your fav authors you love them whenever you get the chance ! it makes a difference :)))

The day had been sort of a daze. 

By the time the sun had set gently behind the horizon, muting the sunlit sky into hues of lavender, you were already a few drinks deep, laying back on the front steps of the complex. Time was passing, the seconds turning to minutes, turning to hours, playing out so beautifully in the sky overhead with clouds and colors floating, changing with every breath, and you weren’t moving. You just couldn’t find the energy. 

Not to take a picture, not to flip through the diligently kept journal in your lap, not to do a damn thing but drink. It wasn’t a solution but at this point, it didn’t seem like it could do any more damage. 

The lavender grew darker. The soft orange of the streetlamps ignited up and down the length of the barely busy street. Windows that had previously welcomed the temperate afternoon breeze shut to the aching chill that blew in with the gradual fall of the blanket of dusk over the city. Glasses and bottles clinked with a cheer of ‘salud’ in the small restaurant down the street, couple’s arguments behind closed doors leaking into the street, the roar of a motorcycle’s engine being cut short as the chastising slap of a mother knocked the poor boy in the adjacent alley out of his confident bluff. All the little things. 

It was always the little things. 

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“Agent Pike, meet Detective L/n” | Marcus Pike

Pairings: Marcus Pike X Detective! Reader.

Summary: The NYPD has-been busting their asses off with a drug case leading to a big underground cartel. Turns out they also steal very expensive art, and the FBI are sent to work with them.

Warnings: Angst, Cannon-typical violence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keep reading

I love this

Reblog if Fan Fics are just as valid as Fan Art

Affirmation for writers, please!!

Likes do nothing!!

A black girl will be spending years in jail because she had a mental health crisis. PLEASE READ

Meet Saraya: she was experiencing a mental health crisis. Police came and tackled her. She is 15.

Saraya Rees is a 15 year old biracial girl from Coos County, Oregon. After being abruptly instructed to stop taking her antidepressants by a local pediatrician, Saraya went into psychosis. In her manic state, Saraya poured a small amount of gasoline on the floor. Her parents called Coos Health & Wellness in hope that that would send mental health advisors, Coos Health & Wellness sent the police. While still in psychosis, the officers arrested her, questioned her without her family or lawyers present, charged with attempted murder and assault, and sent her to juvenile prison for 11 years.

ELEVEN.YEARS.

This is not justice.

This is inhumane.

WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP:

1. Call these people and demand that she be let go to the custody in her parents.

Please call Governor Kate Brown and Senator Jeff Merkely.⁠

⁠

📞Governor Kate Brown: (503) 378-4582⁠

📞Senator Jeff Merkley: (503) 326-3386⁠

2. Sign the petition! 

http://chng.it/dPR59dnMzq

Please DO NOT donate to CHANGE.ORG, instead donate to Saraya’s gofundme. 

3. Follow @justice4saraya on instagram. You can find info on where to send her encouragement cards and get updated on progress.

4. SEND CARDS TO THE FOLLOWING (please also note card sending rules)

OAK CREEK CORRECTIONAL FACIILITY 

C/O SARAYA REES

4400 LOCHNER ROAD SE 

ALBANY, OR 97332

EDIT: PLEASE CONSIDER THESE RULES WHEN SENDING HER CARDS! The family has asked for the following when sending cards: 

-No vulgar language or cursing (she’s a child, afterall) 

-No stickers

-No metal 

- Do not use return address stickers

-No Cash

Using these things could mean Saraya doesn’t get your card. If you want to donate to the family during this very hard time, please use the GOFUND ME.

 https://www.gofundme.com/f/justice4saraya

You can also send her gifts for when she gets out to a PO BOX: 

SARAYA’S PO BOX

PO BOX 211

MYRTLE POINT, OR 97458

MENTAL ILLNESS IS NOT A CRIME. LET’S FREE OUR GIRL SARAYA!!!

Saraya’s website: https://www.justice4saraya.com/

Dad and The Dog

Summary: This. This is the plot. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Content: Absolute fluff. Dad Energy™️ Soft Din. 

“If it pisses on my floor once, it’s gone.”

Keep reading

ghosts

—CHAPTER TWO: little things

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: a little look back in time, a little insight into what’s going on, a lot of pain and angst but maybe some hope ? these two a easily carving out a place in my heart, I hope y’all are as invested as I am bc there is def more to come

Falling in love with Javier had happened pretty fast. 

It wasn’t the exact moment you saw him, but it may as well have been. 

There was a gorgeous kind of levity to him as he hid his laughter behind the neck of the bottle of beer dangling so casually from his grip, a beautiful kind of stoicism to him as the mood around the table died off and the blonde man sat beside him pulled himself to his feet, tossed a few bills down and shuddered him with a sturdy hit to the shoulder. He surveyed the crowd out of what seemed to be genuine curiosity, scanning the field just like all the single men seemed to be, but there was a reverence in the delicious color of his deep eyes, something you didn’t know how to quantify as they landed on you. There was a depth to him that words could just never come close to describing. 

Maybe it would have saved you a lot of hurt if you had turned away the second you caught sight of him across the bar, but even at his worst, even as you cradled yourself, desperate for warmth beneath the thick woven stitch of the dark tones of the afghan blanket thrown over your shoulders, you couldn’t really imagine doing it different. 

No one made you grab your glass and meet him at the bar. It was all you. 

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