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@rowen-lefay
Black cats are lucky. (via leahweissmuller)
MAN [IN THICK ACCENT]: Black cat bring good luck. Not bad luck. I have black cat - See, him face - And I am not dead today: Good luck!
“See him face”
I sure fucking do see him face
Him face
Reblog him face for good luck in 2021
Reblog him face for good luck in 2021 (2)
Reblog him face for good luck in 2022
Always reblog him face.
It really is wild how people who don't understand what consent is really do not understand what consent is. The idea that they're supposed to know how someone wants to be treated, and err to the side of caution or even ask if they aren't sure is absurd when you genuinely do not understand the concept.
"What, you need consent for everything these days?" Literally yes. And not just these days, but always have and always will.
"Do I need consent to kiss my wife in the morning? Do I need consent to shake someone's hand after a business meeting? Do I need CoNsEnT to braid my daughter's hair?"
Yes, yes and yes. A neurotypical person of reasonably passable social skill should have the ability to either instinctively understand when their touch is welcome, or logically conclude when their touch is socially expected. If you truly, literally, genuinely cannot tell whether your own child delights in you playing with her hair or merely endures it, then yeah, maybe you shouldn't touch anyone at all, ever, before you learn how to do that.
"Do I need consent to make eye contact with strangers on the street? Do I need consent from everyone on board before I get on the bus?"
Okay now you're just throwing a tantrum because someone told you 'no'.
Even those last two questions are hilarious because guess what - even if accidental, eye contact is mutual. If someone looks away, that is them no longer consenting to eye contact, and if you grab their head and force them to look into your eyes that would in fact be a violation of consent! Multiple, actually! And by riding a bus, you are in fact implictly consenting to ride with other people, who are doing the same with you, so you already HAVE their consent. In fact, if you are disruptive or violent, the bus driver can REVOKE consent by kicking you off and/or other passengers can revoke consent by disembarking.
So yes, in fact, everything involving other people requires their consent in some way, shape, or form. That's what forms social mores and folkways! This is the very basis of society! A mix of explicit and implicit consent.
So yeah, they're throwing a tantrum from being told no, and also ignoring sociology 101 while doing so.
do you ever catch yourself thinking of something so weird and fucked up that you have to stop mid-thought and your face is
our thoughts aren’t always from us. Sometimes random thoughts are our brain trying to process and understand concepts we’ve heard from other people. Your reaction to that thought shows your true feelings on the subject
this actually makes me very relieved
if you’re tired of natasha romanoff’s entire characterization being reduced to “badass lady who can kick ass in high heels and red lipstick” by the fandom clap ur hands
Grab a marker and write something on my muse! ( Anywhere over my muse's body. )
-writes 'go to sleep you're drunk' in Chinese in your forehead-
Doing a survey. Reblog if you are a "Just Wing It" role player. No planning or plotting is needed. Nor permission to make a starter just for you.
My muse pins yours against the wall and whispers seductively in their ear "Fuck me hard~" how does yours respond?
..........if Barton put you up to this I will change Fury's background to one of Clint and our dear director, lip locked, with the caption 'you think you can handle me?'
okay loki but this is your LAST CHANCE I MEAN IT THIS TIME
thor every single fucking time (via thorithorson)
okay so i’ve done a thing … it’s mostly whyihavetrustissues fault, and it’s my first time ever ever attempting a chaotic neutral character (seriously… lawful good is like my thing) so … come play if you’d like
How bad of a thing are you talking...... (I'm trying to imagine Jasper Sitwell actually intentionally doing something chaotic and all I can see is the Howling Commandos laughing at him when he tries to smoke a cigar)
I really love your blog :) I know from personal experience it's a pain in the ASS to write a good OC that actually belongs. My ask to you is do you find the challenge in writing fanfiction for your character or roleplaying? I already have several OC plots planned and I'm trying to decide weather I want to post them as roleplays or fanfiction. Really need your advice, your writing and ideas… both FANTASTIC!!! Cheers.
I find there is more challenge in finding a way for the character to fit into the natural flow of things without feeling forced. With roleplay this can be done by working with someone else, but when you're working on your on, you have to pay attention to how everything you say flows and can be perceived. Personally, I find the fanfiction one easier because I've been doing it for significantly longer than roleplaying and with roleplays you have to find another to participate. With fanfiction too, the nice thing is that you can use it to establish who your character is and their interpersonal relationships with other characters. So ultimately, the question is, what do you want to achieve? If you want to further establish who your character is, fanfiction is a better way to handle that. The post I recently made (between Rowen and Loki) could turn into a roleplay or it can stand as it's own story and a second roleplay between Rowen and, say Sitwell, could be posted separately continuing the story. The challenge with OC's is in making sure you keep them in character and don't bend them to make events happen the way you want them to that day rather than how they should. Fanfiction is nice for learning for yourself who your character really is. Sometimes, they have quirks you don't even realize they have until you write a few stories with them.
Does your father approve of Phil?
My father is…..currently unaware of my choice in partners. I am going to keep it that way for as long as possible. He will likely not approve, but he likely won’t attempt to disuade me either.
It was hard to see him locked away in that chamber. Her father, the man who'd been in her life without being in it for as long as she could recall. The one who'd saved her life when she was attacked and nearly died. The one who'd held her as a child when she'd been sick the few times he could be there. The person she trusted to keep her safe. He didn't pace, didn't move, didn't even wince as she approached. In face, he didn't react at all. It was as if he couldn't, didn't, recognize her.
A chill shot down her spine. Was it possible he didn't? Was it possible he couldn't recognize her- his own flesh and blood? The child he'd sworn he'd always know? It was terrifying to think something, anything, could make her unrecognizable to her father.
Still, she approached. Moved towards the glass cylinder held firmly in place before her. And when she stood directly before her father as he pretended to be trapped behind thin glass that would hardly hold him if he did not wish to be there, she paused.
She needed a language to speak with him in that would not be recognized. One that she was known to be capable of speaking but which would be unique to them. Or at least appear unique enough that none would guess her words. Not that anyone was really listening too carefully- she was a level 9 clearance translator talking with a terrorist. Whatever she said that he said, it would be taken at her word. She was supposed to make him feel more at ease and encourage him to explain himself. His silence since his imprisonment was disheartening. Not that it would be hard to fake it if he refused to explain- she had no honest clue why he was doing all of this. What reason did he have to attack the Earth when he was in line for the throne of Asgard?
"Prionsa Loki," greeted Rowen softly, settling on the modern variation of Celtic Gaelic. It was slightly different from the language she had been raised with, but it was similar enough that her father could understand it.
Loki blinked at her words as if his mind was struggling for a moment to process her words. Then his eyes focused, narrowed, glanced up and down her form. It took a moment longer than she felt it should have, but recognition bloomed over his face. It was followed, rapidly, by a flash of horror. He covered the look almost instantly though, so rapidly that she only saw it because she was his blood. Only recognized the horror for what it was because she had witnessed that look cross his face on occasion before.
He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again and looked towards the cameras positioned all around. Catching himself and settling his expression towards a more neutral one, his eyes returned to Rowen's own with a calm aloofness. It would have felt unnatural if she couldn't see the fear churning in his eyes. Still, his voice was low as he spoke, picking up the Celtic lit she'd grown up hearing from him. "What are you doing here?"
"I work here," stated Rowen quietly. "My name is Agent Rowen Le Fay. I'm a translator. I've been asked to speak with you concerning your intentions."
"I think I have made my intentions clear," remarked Loki off-handedly, his eyes shooting towards the cameras again. His voice dropped further, to the point of little more than a murmur. "You should not be here. Your life is in danger here."
"I'm aware of the dangers," assured Rowen softly, keeping her voice even. Sighing a bit, she tried to convey her distress over what he'd done through her eyes. "What we are struggling to understand is why."
"Why?" whispered Loki, his brow furrowing. Horror was seeping back into his expression though, along with a deep-rooted anger that sent fear bolting down her spine. "Because Earth needs a steady hand to guide its growth."
"That isn't all," stated Rowen quietly. "If it were, you could have taken the Earth long ago." Her eyes swept over his form, searching for some clue to why this was happening.
The anger was thrumming through him like a bass drum. She'd seen him in this state only a handful of times before, and every time her mother had soothed his anger until it was no longer volatile. Now though, she could see him edging towards a violent anger, likely the same form that had driven him to tear her attackers to pieces. The anger that drove him to turn those who'd dared touch her into little more than smears of red across the forest floor.
"There is more to this," stated Rowen simply, meeting her father's eyes. "Why are you doing any of this? You are the next heir to Asgard, what reason do you have to take Earth?"
"To prove I am no monster," growled Loki, stepping straight up to the glass. "To prove to Odin and Thor that I am just as worthy to rule as they. To prove his lies cannot change the fact that I was destined to rule."
"Who's lies?" questioned Rowen, her brow furrowing. Who would dare to lie to her father? Who could trick the God of Mischief himself? "Where is this coming from? Where- where did you disappear to?" Stepping closer to the glass, she dropped her voice further, fear leaking into her voice. "What happened?"
She watched the anger bubble up violently as he spun away from the glass and turned towards the other side of the cage. His body nearly vibrated as he paced away, voice remaining low. If it weren't for her sharp hearing, she might never have heard his words. "It was a lie, all of it. Every word I have ever been told about who I am. And every word I have ever spoken to you by extension is a lie." His voice turned bitter then, but there was pain in his tone, too. He spun back to face her after a moment, eyes filled with pain. Pain for her, directed at her. "I am Jotunn, Rowen. A monster. A relic kept until it might be of use. Odin saw fit to keep this from me, all of it." There was more as well, more words spoken by her father, but she heard none of them.
Her mind was spinning, shock flooding her body. The world tilted slightly and it was only through sheer force of will that she didn't fall over. Her father was adopted? He was Jotunn and not Aesir? But then, that would make her half-Jotunn. She wasn't Aesir. She was not an Aesir. Her father was not born as an enemy of her mother's people, he was born to one of their sister species. She wasn't an Aesir. Her family had been divided, her parents forced to remain unwed and her father forced to remain away for long periods of time because of a lie.
She needed to sit down. She needed to get out of that room. She needed to breathe, think. Everything, her life...it was partially built on a lie. Her life so far had been lived under the guise of a lie that was not even aimed at her.
"Rowen!" Loki's concerned voice cut through her shock-addled mind and, for a moment, terror over-took her shock. Her father's concerned eyes met her own, and in that moment she knew he'd done something to fool the rest. Something to keep her identity hidden from everyone else. Because he was her father and the last thing he would want would be to put her in danger. He'd always protected her from his actions in the past, and now appeared to be no exception.
"Thank you for this information," murmured Rowen, her mind barely letting her get the words out. She needed to compose herself before she faced the others again. Just hold herself together long enough to face them, and then she could go crawl in a corner and shatter. Try to work out what all of this meant. "You have answered our questions well. Another agent will be back later to speak to you further."
She didn't wait for him to speak further as she turned away and headed towards the doors. She should have said something else, anything, but she couldn't force the words out. She couldn't face this reality, not yet. She needed to remain disconnected just long enough to get away from everyone else.
Maybe they would have some time down in a bit. Maybe she could have a moment of silence where she could think. She should see if Jasper still had his liquor stash. Several deep breaths later, she was stepping out of the prison chamber perfectly composed and looking as she should. But the panic and shock were still churning in her mind and she knew she needed to get away as quickly as possible. Maybe drag Jasper away, given he was the only one who would understand. Yes, dragging Jasper away sounded like a brilliant idea.
In Celebration of Father's Day, ask my muse (or the mun) anything about his/her father.
Ward facts of life 3/?
Getting mindfucked against your will by an alien sorceress for a day will earn you a slap.
Getting mindfucked against your will by a human predator for 15 years will earn you a fractured larynx.
May slapped him and fractured his larynx because he slept with her. BUT SHE WAS THE ONE WHO OFFERED. She took it personally, but she was the one who initiated it. I have to admit I didn’t expect her to act like the revengeful ex.
Would you care much if I borrowed Phil for the evening? I have a...eh... situation?
What sort of ‘situation’? He’s a bit….distracted at the moment. I don’t know how much use he will be. redrooms-rose
Well….
A mere week ago, Agent Barton thought it would be funny to spike my coffee with laxatives, though it didn’t have much effect it made me abnormally lazy. Revenge was needed, sooooooo I spiked his coffee with vodka and Viagra and now he’s foaming at the mouth crazy.
…..I think you need an ambulance and not Phil for that one. I have a spare straight jacket in my closet if that will help. Can you knock him out
I’m doing him a favor. He doesn’t like doctors. And I would knock him out, believe me. I’m worried if I do, though, he won’t wake up. Plus for my headache, minus for my ledger. But…C’mon. If Phil could just get bitten by rabid sex hungry Clint it would be the payback I need. A straight jacket would be too easy.
Payback for what, exactly? I ask only because I'm concerned Barton might not stop there. If you really need Phil though, I'll bring him over. I just need ten minutes to untie him.
Would you care much if I borrowed Phil for the evening? I have a...eh... situation?
What sort of ‘situation’? He’s a bit….distracted at the moment. I don’t know how much use he will be. redrooms-rose
Well….
A mere week ago, Agent Barton thought it would be funny to spike my coffee with laxatives, though it didn’t have much effect it made me abnormally lazy. Revenge was needed, sooooooo I spiked his coffee with vodka and Viagra and now he’s foaming at the mouth crazy.
…..I think you need an ambulance and not Phil for that one. I have a spare straight jacket in my closet if that will help. Can you knock him out?
