Person: What’s Your Type

they should invent a new type of "staying in bed for 2-3 hours after you wake up repeatedly opening and closing apps on your phone" where it makes you feel awesome and energized and emotionally fulfilled

I actually think there’s something incredibly apt about ursa having had a passion for theatre. performance & performativity are at the crux of these fire nation ideals—of the inherent glory of monarchy and its subsequent ostentation, of imperialism and the need to spread the fire nation agenda and aesthetic, of having power for the sake of power. ozai is also a performer. he revels in having an audience. think of the arena in which the agni kai is held, think of the intimidation of the throneroom, think of his entire plan to raze the earth kingdom to the ground. it’s the aesthetics of fascism and the performance of power that make him so intimidating, so infallible and unquestioned. and his children emulate that too. zuko and azula are always performing, trying to project an image of power, when deep down, they are terrified. azula uses acting, costume, makeup to finally take ba sing se, a previously-considered insurmountable achievement. (and it is worth noting that kyoshi herself used facepaint as a way of projecting power & confidence—which she learned from her family of opera performers.) zuko tries his hardest in book 1 to seem intimidating, and does his best impersonation of ozai to do so. no doubt ozai got it from his father, and azulon got it from his. imperialism relies on symbols and a projection of power (“fire nation first” / “spread the glory of the fire nation”) but of course, the fire nation is not inherently superior to any other nation—that notion is propaganda, an artifice; it’s all theater.

reblog if you think sign language should be taught as a language in schools.

reblog if you think

sign language should be taught as

a language in schools.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly.”

— Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë,

no matter what happened today, you:

are loved

deserve to eat

are needed & valued

should take care of yourself

have a future

will be okay

Another Love - tasm!peter parker x f!reader (1/3)

a/n: here is part one of three for my April Au.

warnings: historical inaccuracies abound. views mimic those of the time to the best of my ability. those being the need for an heir. but medieval king!peter is a feminist. i swear by it.

cross posted on ao3.

NEXT CHAPTER

*

“i wanna take you somewhere so you know i care, 

but it’s so cold and i don’t know where.”

- another love; tom odell.

*

You didn’t know how you got here, and yet a part of you had prepared for it all your life. As you stared out at the crowd in the beautiful hall, your wrist tied to King Peter’s, you fully realized the immensity of your situation. A Queen to a country not your own—married to a man who barely looked at you during the vow exchange. The priest standing beside you on the dais spoke so many words, but none of them reached your ears. You could only focus on the way your hand bleeding hand presently tied to King Peter’s throbbed like a beating heart, echoing the way your mind screamed at you to be anywhere but there. 

Bound to a man who barely acknowledged your presence as he swore fealty to you. Promised to love and cherish you as your husband. To never venture from your bed chamber—to provide the kingdom with an heir. Created with love, or at least the people of the court hoped for that. 

You knew this was only an arrangement. A marriage bartered like mere goods at a market. Your country intended to supply Ayelandia with goods to sustain them through another brutal winter after a time of war. Mere politics, disguised by a charade of a wedding for the people to fawn over. 

As if anyone cared. 

Keep reading

make me choose ↳ niles crane or frasier crane (asked by anonymous)

we used to curse whole bloodlines for less than this

self care is writing a fic that you’re literally the sole target audience for

Weasley Family Dinner

Modern!George Weasley x Reader 

Plot: You and your fiance George get ready for and go to family dinner at the Weasley house. (Takes place in modern times, and does not feature magic or the magic world.)

Author’s Note: My first post, so feel free to message me with requests, compliments, or any criticisms you might have. All are appreciated! Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“George, have you seen my phone?” you called out to your fiance of six months. 

“On the counter, love,” he replied without taking his eyes off the soccer game on television. You grabbed your cell phone off the kitchen counter, then thanked George and kissed his cheek. 

“We’re going to your parents’ as soon as the game is over, so you’d better be ready,” you warned. Molly was not happy with the two of you the last time you were late to family dinner- she’d gone on an hour long tirade and forced both of you to apologize to the entire family for pushing back their dinnertime by a whole 15 minutes. You still shudder even thinking about it. 

As the match came to an end, you and George said goodbye to your pets and headed outside to your car, preparing for the hour’s drive to the Weasley household. 

The home George had grown up in was nothing special; unfortunately, his family had more children than they could really afford, but they managed. Their home was far off in the country and was quite large, equally as rundown, but full of love and laughter. And you loved every bit of it.

Mere seconds after pulling into their driveway, George’s twin brother Fred stepped outside the house to greet you both.

“Well, well, well...look who managed to make it to dinner on time for once,” he smirked. You gave him a light punch to the arm in retaliation. 

“It was one time!” You exclaimed. “And after what happened last time, I’ll never be late again! I still have nightmares!” Fred and George gave the same chuckle, and the three of you headed inside to say your hellos to the rest of the Weasley clan. Once that was finished, you entered the kitchen to see if Molly needed help with dinner. Based on her frantic chopping of vegetables, you assumed the answer was yes, so you grabbed a knife and started chopping carrots to go into the stew she was making. 

“Oh, thank you, dear. I’ve been trying to get Arthur to help me, but he’s off talking Harry’s ear off about who-knows-what,” she rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Men, right?”

Between the two of you, the vegetables for dinner were all chopped in record time, and before you knew it, dinner was ready. Everyone took their seat at the table, and (as usual) all hell broke loose. Food was being passed around from person to person, hands reached across the table to grab the salt and pepper, and the chatter was loud enough to rival that of a rock concert. 

You and George caught up with all of his siblings and their significant others, including one of your best friends, Hermione. Within minutes (to no one’s surprise), Mrs. Weasley interrogated you about your wedding plans. 

“Surely you have a date in mind, (Y/N).” She continued, “And I say the sooner the better!” 

“Actually, Mum,” George interrupted, “we were thinking about next spring.” You nodded, smiling at George. He smiled back in return, his sweet, freckled smile. 

Molly Weasley, also grinning, could not have been happier, and at this moment, neither could you.