#she was just in a silly goofy mood

[sometimesraven]

Sometimes I think about how the Twelfth Doctor said “one more lifetime won’t kill anyone” and then Thirteen committed several murders, three genocides, and also half the universe was wiped out just to get to her, oh and also Gallifrey was wiped out again bc of her origins

[milk459]

Jinx my beloved 😪💙✨

[definitely-a-god]

Lockwood: I don't have the ring. We don't travel round with it. We're not insane.

Lucy:

[grisha-crows]

“leigh bardugo’s books have no mistakes-“

[wildbluesorbit]

Bodyguard Rosie - A Series

Step. Away. From. Papa.

Oop! Sorry, Papa!

I'm still watching you, pal.

[thegayofus]

but have you considered that she's my silly little dude (she murdered half of seattle)

[vomitworld]

What's a beavers favourite salad topping?

BRANCH

[nicawlette]

❝ Any problem can be solved with a simple ❛ it is what it is ❜ and when that doesn't work, an ❛ it be like that sometimes ❜ does the trick. ❞ Therapy??? LMAO In this economy??

[ineed-to-sleep]

Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do

[jfleamont]

Lily trying to explain her crush on James to the girls

[targetacquired]

"The "goodbye, caroline" voice line implies that she was actually a ditzy secretary"

SHE WAS JUST MAKING A SILLY JOKE!!

[dimitrscu]

“My brother did this?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“The racist one.”

“……Which one?”

[caliburn-the-sword]

imagine if regina realised she wanted kids like 18 years earlier and accidentally adopted emma swan. how fucking funny would that have been. she goes to ALL this effort to ruin snow's life and then ends up raising her daughter

[adhd-merlin]

I love that moment during Arthur and Gwen's first picnic when Arthur goes "stay stil!!" and Gwen is like "is it bandits?? :O" and then Arthur lies back on the blanket and says "a wasp :)" with that little self-satisfied smile like. he was just being goofy. 'twas just a silly joke. that's so precious to me do you understand

[mappingthesky]

i know you want it (baby you can have it)

a short lil angsty borderline smutty blurb featuring it girl! nymphia and borderline girlfailure pj…enjoy

“Why not?”

Nymphia has to hand it to Jane - she’s persistent. Persistent enough to follow Nymphia to the back of the bar, undeterred by Nymphia’s first half-hearted rejection, or the two other women she’d danced with since then. She’d hoped she would be. 

Nymphia lets her eyes linger. Jane is all cheekbones and dark hair, light eyes rimmed with kohl, full lips pulled in an unsatisfied pout. She’s got the sort of face that can take girls down with ease, the sort of gorgeous you can’t say no to, the breed of effortlessly attractive that should relieve her of having to try too hard. For whatever incomprehensibly flattering reason, she’s trying hard anyway. Nymphia didn’t need to hear the stories to gather that Jane doesn't do this: take the kind route, the chivalrous route, the route that involves drinks sent from across the bar and polite nods and putting up with Nymphia’s teasing act. It’s a serious approach, the right approach, the ‘I wanna do more than fuck you’ approach.

“No, really,” Jane crosses her arms, and just for a moment Nymphia thinks she catches a glimpse of it in the way holds herself - what frustration might look like on Jane. The straightening of her spine, the slight tilt to her head, the narrowing of her eyes. It’s a start, but Nymphia wants more. “Give me one good reason.” 

Up until now, Jane has been a little too tolerant of Nymphia’s teasing act, a little too compliant, a little too forgiving of her accismus. It’s charming, really, that she’s willing to put up with so much, but Nymphia doesn’t need her to. In fact, she really wishes she wouldn’t. It’s part of why Nymphia is dragging this out so long - she wants to see what happens when she pushes her. She wants to see Jane break, wants to become the aftermath. She knows she can, she just has to get her there.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Nymphia feigns annoyance. It doesn’t need to be completely convincing, just enough to keep Jane on edge. “I’m not sure you’re my type.”

Jane raises an eyebrow, like she knows Nymphia is lying. Maybe she does, maybe she’s just playing into it. Then again, maybe she just really wants Nymphia.

“What’s your type?” Jane bites.

Nymphia shrugs. She’s setting the scene, spelling it out for Jane in her own little roundabout way. It’s a test, and she wants her to pass it. “I like a girl who looks like she could throw me around.”

Jane snorts, almost offended. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?” 

She’s getting pissed off and it's working for her. It’s working for Nymphia too, but she’s too determined to win this particular battle to let it on, so all she does is shrug, hum a little, act like she’s all too polite to say more.

“No,” Jane insists at Nymphia’s scoffing, stepping forward like she’s got something to prove. “Really.” Her arms are crossed, fingers clenched at her forearms, and Nymphia wants.

So Nymphia does it: she looks at Jane with those soft, sharpened eyes, drops her gaze just to flick it up again, peering up at her through her long lashes. She knows exactly what she’s doing, what it does. She doesn’t give Jane the luxury of a warning, just leans in and watches her crumble in her path. It’s somehow more touching than she anticipates, the way Jane completely folds in her wake. If she had been doubting Jane’s reverence, which she wasn't, this would be proof enough; the way Jane’s breath hitches, the way her eyes go wide. It’s not the desperate giving into desire that Nymphia would expect from back-of-the-bar encounters, it’s something more. They’re going about this backwards proving things that didn’t have to be proven yet; they’re proving that this, that they, could really work, even before they’ve proven the chemistry. Nymphia’s just getting to that part. Jane’s lips ghost open, and she nearly gasps as Nymphia comes in just close enough to-

And then Nymphia pulls away, leaving Jane a deer still dazed by the glow of far-off headlights, and actually fucking laughs at her. It’s not cruel, but it’s close, hopefully just enough to get a rise out of Jane. Nymphia has heard the stories, but she wants to see it for herself.

“See what I mean?” Nymphia hums, and Jane just blinks, still a bit stunned. Nymphia leans against the wall once more, tries to act less affected by the energy between them than she is. She wants to reach out, trace the space between Jane’s still-parted lips, just barely restrains herself. “I’m just not sure you’ve got what it takes.”

Something in Jane’s expression changes. Her jaw clenches, and her eyes darken a little, ignited with some newly-lit flame. She speaks and it’s a spark. “You’re wrong.” 

Nymphia tilts her head, leans in, tries her best to look wholly unconvinced. It’s cocky, she knows it, but she’s nearly there. Jane’s a spitfire, all she needs is someone to fan the fire. All she needs is one more push.

“Prove it,” Nymphia gives her permission. She punctuates every word, makes sure she’s unmistakable, “I wish you fucking would.”

And then the words are knocked away, because Jane is shoving Nymphia against the wall. It’s just hard enough to leave her a little breathless, and she barely has time to look up through her lashes before Jane is everywhere and crashing into her. She kisses with feeling, with fire. Her lips move with a bit of a snarl, and oh my god - it’s everything Nymphia needed and more. It’s the perfect, head-spinning mixture of hard and soft: Jane’s hips flush against Nymphia’s, pressing her lower back flat against the wall, one hand sliding gently up her side, commanding Nymphia’s body to bend with welcome authority. Her other hand finds her hair, pulls so hard Nymphia actually yelps, goes whiny and desperate against Jane’s mouth. Her grip is tough, but Nymphia gets the feeling she would let her go if she wanted her to stop. But Nymphia doesn’t, so she allows it - lets Jane to pull her head to the side and expose her neck. Jane pulls away and Nymphia actually whimpers at the breaking of their lips. And then Jane’s at her throat, punishing Nymphia with the point of her teeth, rewarding her with the softness of her tongue swirling out over her jugular, the pain pairing so overwhelmingly well with pleasure. And then Jane offers another stunning juxtaposition - says such hard things in the softest of whispers.

“You’re infuriating.” The sound, the sheer feeling of the words so close to Nymphia’s ear sends a shiver all the way through her spine. Jane nips at her earlobe, demands an answer. “Do you know that?”

Between Jane’s hand in her hair and the other at her waist and the absolute collapse of everything in between, Nymphia just barely manages to find the words. “Is it working?”

And then Jane is crashing into her again, and that's answer enough. 

[fromtheseventhhell]

Everything else aside, the idea that George would waste 34+ chapters on Arya (the 3rd highest chapter count to date) and have her be the only POV that shows up in every book just to have her story be about dying because she's too traumatized to live is hilarious. This is what happens when you don't read the book and only rely on quora and reddit metas.