a list for her

Emilia Clarke’s Interview With The Telegraph

On being cast as Daenerys

It was in 2009 that she auditioned for Game of Thrones. The casting director had been looking for a tall, willowy blonde. ‘I genuinely don’t know what it was that set me aside. I mean, I didn’t look the part at all,’ laughs Emilia.

‘I [readied] myself, listened to a little Tupac and bowled in, obviously still a bag of nerves. But I just tried to play the truth of it.’ It may have been her sense of humour that helped her win the role – the actress read for her part, but also broke into a ‘funky chicken’ dance in front of the HBO execs.

On portraying the role

Playing the role has sharpened Emilia’s own feminist impulses. ‘It’s given me a real insight into what it feels like to be a woman who stands up to inequality and hate. And as she [Daenerys] has become more empowered as a woman, you can’t hide any more,’ she says. ‘You are adding to the voices that are going to make people realise an equal society is what we’re aiming for.’

Her struggles with some aspects of fame

‘Airports are a constant source of fear,’ she admits. ‘When you’re in a really public place and someone asks you for a picture, then suddenly you get people who don’t know who you are, or really care, come up and join in. Then it gets kind of freaky. Because you’re like, “It’s just me. I’m by myself, feeling outnumbered.” It’s overwhelming.’

Thoughts on Naples

‘I’ve been to Italy before, but not Naples,’ she says. ‘It was all locals in the advert, which was even funnier because it was so authentic. I think there were a lot of out-takes with me like, “What the hell is going on, this is so cool!” I feel Dolce & Gabbana is [for] girls [who] are at ease in their own skin,’ she says. ‘They have a frivolity and a femininity that I can relate to… It fits really well.’

The Final Season of Game of Thrones

‘We have a very strict social-media ban this year because people need to stop spoiling it for everyone,’ she says, pouting slightly. ‘It’s really frustrating.’ Even Emilia doesn’t know what’s planned for her character.

‘They’ve written a number of different endings,’ she says. ‘So none of the cast know what the actual ending is. If there’s ever a leak of any kind, don’t believe it because it’s probably not true.’

No matter how it ends, Emilia seems deeply sad for Game of Thrones to leave her life. When asked how she’s feeling about it, she simply frowns and says, ‘emotional. It’s a big one.’

Current Goal

Her goal, lately, is to take more time to be herself. She and her best friend – the actor and writer Lola Frears (daughter of director Stephen), with whom she’s also writing a script – have been working their way through a list of 60 influential movies given to her by Solo screenwriter Jon Kasdan. The most recent: All About Eve.

Star Wars

The project remains shrouded in secrecy – all Emilia can say is that her character is ‘really cool’… ‘My brother was a huge fan, and I wanted to be like my brother in every way,’ she laughs. ‘Sometimes he does the clapper before my takes [on Game of Thrones]. I’m always like, “Don’t f— it up!” It gets very unprofessional very quickly.’

Perks of her success

‘I can provide [financially] for my friends and family,’ she says. ‘Genuinely, that’s the best thing. Knowing that everyone I love is going to be fine. It sounds like a real Oprah Winfrey sob story, but it’s very true. It’s incredibly empowering as a young lady.’

All I Want For Christmas Is You.

A Feysand Christmas Fic. (AU)

@runesandfaes thanks for being my beta. love you loads. @cassiancalore​ I wrote this because I see you following your passion inspite of the schedule we “health people” set for ourselves. You are an inspiration. ❤️

Feyre decided it was time to be proactive.

It was their first Christmas together. She had made a list of things she intended to do to make this a memory they’d cherish forever. She had given him a miniature of their family together. He had loved it so much that it now stood proudly on his desk at work. Knit gloves in the colour of his eyes, socks that did not match, a bottle of vintage wine that she had requested from Mor - the resident booze expert. They had decorated the tree the night before and it now stood in the corner of the family room.

Today she was supposed to cook. She thought hard before adding this to the list of Christmas traditions. Her cooking skills were abysmal. Baking was an entirely different playing field. Nevertheless she decided to give it a shot. Because…Christmas.

Diligently mixing the cake batter a third time (the first turned out too soggy and the second? It could crack teeth), she went through the recipe once again.

“Butter? Check. Eggs? Check. Castor sugar? Flour? Check. ….”

After a long day at work, Rhysand was ready to go home. Feyre apparently had a long list of ‘Christmas Traditions’ to be followed. Showering gifts upon him was a part of the plan she chalked out. The thought bought a smile to his face.

Before Feyre, Christmas was not a huge thing in his family. It reminded him of his Ma and Ada- his little sister. Over the years following their death, Holiday season became a chore. Mor, Cas and Azriel always turned up at his door on Christmas Eve and they went out for dinner but nothing more. His family understood his deep rooted sorrow.

Feyre has been determined to change that. “We vowed to make new memories together,” she had said, the day she gave him the miniature. She was so proud of her work and anxious at the same time. He scoffed. ‘Like there was anything she’d do and I wouldn’t like’. The miniature was one his favourite pieces of furniture in his office.

Walking through the front door, he headed towards Feyre’s studio. He went through the hall, discarding his jacket and bag on the sofa. As soon as he crossed the hall, the unmistakable smell of something burning hit him. Was she trying to cook? This was highly intriguing. Because saying that Feyre had a culinary handicap would be putting it mildly.

He found her sitting in the middle of the kitchen that appeared mostly unharmed. With her back to him, she was staring at the charred remains of something he assumed to be a cake. Having decided that there wasn’t any immediate harm, he took a moment to appreciate the scene. Her hair was coming out of the bun and flour was liberally streaked over it. It was just too endearing. He cautiously called out.

“Feyre darling.”

She was so intent on the cake that his voice startled her. Turning towards him, her eyes immediately filled with tears. Kneeling beside her, he took her into his arms, murmuring, “Oh love, who am I supposed to kill?”

A wet chuckle. “I’ve already handled that part pretty well,” she said. “I have absolutely annihilated three cakes.”

A short laugh escaped him. Biting the insides of his cheek, he tried to maintain a somber expression but Feyre caught on to it.

“Don’t you dare! I’ll dump the rest of the flour on your head or I’ll hit you with my second attempt of a cake ! It’s hard enough to crack your head.” She said furiously.

She had such an indignant expression which got completely ruined by the flour smudged on her nose. And he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter bubbled up as he sat down while she mock punched him in the shoulder. It didn’t take her long to join him.

Lying on the kitchen floor, it took them a long time to achieve any semblance of quite as every time they looked at each other, they ended up laughing more. Trying to recover their breath, they turned to face each other.

“It was your gift for today, Rhys,” she whispered, sadness making its way back into her eyes.

Pulling her closer, he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her chin to place a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “Moyo Solnyshko. You have done so much already. It’s okay if we can’t have a cake. We could just make eggnog in the spirit of Christmas and that would make me happy because it would be with you. For this and every Christmas to come, you’d be my greatest gift and blessing.”

Tearing up, she breathed, “I love you, Rhys. I love you so much.”

Kissing her tenderly, he whispered against her lips, “I love you more.”

“I hate eggnog,” she declared as they moved to the bedroom, deciding it was best to get off from the cold floor covered in suspicious cooking ingredients.

He smiled. “Fine. We’ll try and make something else.”

“No, Rhys. It has to be cake. It’s Christmas and no Christmas tradition is complete without cake!”

“I want it to be cake” she added in a small voice.

Chuckling, he said, “Feyre darling, then let us make a cake together. What could go wrong? Besides, fourth time’s the charm”

Late into the night, Feyre looked at the product of their combined efforts. It looked promising. She had her suspicions about their success but that could wait.

Rhys was standing at the sink trying to tackle all the utensils they had used. She had not envisioned this when she set out to bake the cake. But reality turned out to be so much sweeter. Her husband was a charmer, she decided. He had turned her sorrow into happiness without her even realising it. Smiling softly, she stored this memory and thanked the stars for being blessed with such a loving man in her life.

Still facing towards the sink, he asked, “ What’s on your mind darling ?”

He had somehow caught her staring at him. Sneaky.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about thanking Azriel for all the instructions he handed out through the phone.”

“He is the most competent one at baking after all.” He replied, unrepentant.

Laughing, Feyre walked to him and patting him on his back she said, “Next time my dear husband, let’s see how you would do without the help from the Master.”

A/N : ‘Moyo Solnyshko’(- My Sunshine) is a Russian endearment I came across in another book. In my imagination, I keep seeing Rhysand saying sweet things to Feyre in different languages just because he liked the sound or the significance of it.

The Kids Don’t Wanna Come Home Pt 2

Summary: Older Sister of Veronica Harlow a child killed by IT. Can’t deal with anything anymore.

Notes: Part 3?

TW: abusive parents, suicidal thoughts, homophobia, brief mention of sexual assault (Not detailed)

If you want to be on the tag list HMU

Part 1



Originally posted by shitposting-tozier

She thought it was her fault. She was wrong so so wrong. The Losers glanced at each other. How had no one seen this. They tried to think of any friends they could drop her off with. Not because they were repulsed or anything they just didn’t understand.

Richie looked at the girl, she had folded into herself. “Hey, come on get up.” Richie said. He bent down offering his hand. She looks at it, and takes it. Richie pulls her off the ground. “Are you hungry?” All the Losers brace themselves for a horrible joke.

“A bit, why?” She’s holding the locker tightly. Tears still wet on her cheeks.

“Let’s get you something to eat.” Richie is walking with her ahead of his friends.

“Is he ok?” Bev asks.

“Um… I don’t know.” Eddie says. The six of them follow Richie and Y/N.

“Do you like Skee-Ball?”

“Well, yeah.”


Originally posted by tozierbraks

Ben and Bev are whispering to each other while Y/N sucks on the straw of her slushie. “I have something else you could suck.” Richie says.

“Richie!” Eddie shouts, Stan rolls his eyes, and Mike punches him in the arm. Richie shrugs and winks.

“In your dreams.” Y/N says with a wink. Richie smiled. He couldn’t help it. Her come back wasn’t original, but it had been cute. She gave him a small smile and he felt like jelly.

“Every night darling.” Richie retorts. She laughs a bit and sets something on the table. The locket. It’s gold heart shimmering in the light.

“What are we gonna do?” You ask. Richie smiles and you can’t help it he’s so cute.

“Well there’s Skee-Ball, Pac-Man, a bunch of stuff.” Richie waves his arm around.

“Let’s do something then.”

“Can you do me?” A beautiful laugh floats through the air.

“She needs somewhere else to stay.” Beverly concludes. The boys look at her. She huffs and rolls her eyes. “She has a look in her eye. She might try again.”


“R-richie has t-the ho-house t-to himself.” Bill supplies.


“You’re gonna get caught.” Richie laughs. The attendant at the arcade is asleep at the desk but that doesn’t mean anything. You’re perched on top of the Skee-Ball game.

“No I’m not!” You say there’s a smile on your face that makes Richie feel fuzzy.

“Hey we’re leaving.” Stan says looking at the two of you.

“Help?” Richie stands on the ramp and helps you down. Your faces are inches apart.

“Hurry up!”

“Really Stanley?”

Originally posted by heckingfinn

Richie couldn’t help but be amazed. There you were in his couch, in his blanket. You hadn’t wanted to stay with Richie at first, but these Losers were a convincing crowd. Their convincing involved ice cream so you were on board. It was around 2:30 am. Richie glanced at you.

“Are you ok?” He asked it was barely a whisper. You were staring at the TV.

“What were you afraid of?” A whisper passes through your lips. Richie looks at the TV.

“A clown.” He mumbles, he had ignored thinking about that day. The scar on his hand reminding him everyday. A small laugh leaves your lips.

“Mine, was him.” Your eyes are closed. Not peacefully but scrunched together.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“I need to tell someone.”


“He was never there. The first time he showed up, I was six. Ronnie was two. We used to share a room. We did back then. He’d come into the house. Screaming and hollering, looking for money or a place to release his rage. When I was six, my mom never let him hurt me. I could hear her cry, him hit her, and then her screams. I tried to stop Veronica from hearing, but the walls were paper thin. He showed up more when I was older. Mom had gotten weaker, she didn’t fight back as much. She got mad at me. Throwing glass bottles at me, hitting me, anything. Now Veronica was four. Once my mom tried to hit her. I grabbed her hand and told her as long as I was around, no one would touch Veronica.”

Richie’s moved over, now he’s holding your hand.

“Then that night he showed up. They were asleep but Veronica was scared. She had wet her bed. I’d been doing our laundry for a while now. I stripped off her sheets and put them in our washer. It was quite. Veronica wanted to come with me, I hadn’t let her. I told her to lock the door and wait for the password. It was zebra. That was her favorite animal. I had just started the washer when he came down the hall. He looked at me and threw me around. Hit me a few times demanding money. Then when I wouldn’t tell him where there was any he threw me into a wall. He got tired and left the house. I went back to Veronica and she curled up in my bed and I held her.”

You gulped and Richie pulled you closer wrapping his arms around you.

“When I was twelve, I got mouthy with him. I had seen him, coming down the driveway I had locked Veronica in my room. It had all the money is two had saved. I told I would take her out of this town. He opened the screen door it was summer time. He kept yelling at me, demanding money, I told him we didn’t have any. He grabbed me by my throat and lifted me off the ground. I could barely breathe. He said, ‘If you ain’t gonna me what I want I’ll do what I do to your whore mother.’ Veronica didn’t listen, but I’m glad she didn’t. I had been cutting watermelon, she grabbed the knife and cut him with it. He ran out of the house.”

You seemed to curl into yourself smaller. Like the ending was the worst part.

“That summer she said she wanted to play outside. Our aunt who I live with now, she’s only 24. She was going to be coming over. We were going to live with her on the nice side of town. In her big house with her husband and her dog. I told Veronica, I told her, she could go as long as she got flowers. Then she went outside slamming the screen door behind her. I could hear her giggling then she was gone. I told her I’d protect her Richie. I promised her.”

Richie holds you closer, if it’s even possible. He kisses the top of your head. “You have me now darling.”


Tag List: @dcdoesmemes

Things I am Here For(TM) in the new RWBY Ep

A comprehensive list in no particular order:

  • Kali holding her own and needing nobody to come save her
  • Blake pointing out that effectiveness “doesn’t make it right”
  • Blake demonstrating raw physical strength by being able to pin Ilia down
  • Ilia, our currently only canon lgbt character, not being forever deemed a villain and getting a much-deserved chance at redemption
  • Sun being just as willing to forgive Ilia as Blake is
  • and most of all


365 Days

Here’s something I wrote for the anon who gave me the following prompt: “Maybe you could write another one where Amelia is brought into another hospital and as she’s not responsive at first, Owen who’s still listed as her emergency contact is called. Only he arrives too late and the doctors there have already given her opiods, which she will not be happy about.”

I hope this is something along the lines of what you had in mind, anon!

365 Days

As Owen pulled his dinner from the oven, he heard his cell phone ringing from where it sat on the kitchen counter. He sighed. It had been a long day in the ER today, and he really didn’t want to have to take whatever call this was. He had really been looking forward to relaxing for the rest of the evening. He sighed heavily as he grabbed the phone off the counter before answering, “Dr. Hunt.”

“Dr. Hunt, this is Ruth, a nurse at Seattle Presbyterian Hospital,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. Owen was about to ask a question, but Ruth continued to speak. “I am calling because you are listed as the medical power of attorney for Amelia Shepherd. She has been admitted to our emergency room, and we would like you to come here, if you are able, to make decisions in her care.”

“I’m on my way. What happened?” Owen asked, already shutting off the oven and jogging to grab his jacket and shoes.

“She’s been in a car accident,” Ruth replied. “We can give you fuller details of her condition when you arrive.”

Owen felt numb as he hung up the phone and raced out to get into his truck. A million scenarios raced through his mind about what condition Amelia could be in, and he just had to know what happened. The entire drive to the hospital was a blur of terrifying thoughts and prayers that Amelia would make it out of this situation alive.

Owen ran from the parking lot into the emergency department of Seattle Pres, only stopping at the desk to breathlessly say, “Owen Hunt here for Amelia Shepherd.”

“Right this way,” the triage nurse said as she led him back to exam room 11. “This is Elise, the nurse taking care of Amelia,” the triage nurse said as she gestured to the woman in scrubs who was staring at the monitors above Amelia’s bed and making notes in her chart.

“What happened?” Owen blurted out as he turned to face Elise, not even bothering to introduce himself.

“You must be Owen Hunt,” Elise guessed. When Owen nodded she continued, “Amelia was in a car accident. She was injured pretty seriously. Her left arm has a compound fracture, she’s got 2 broken ribs, one of her lungs collapsed, and she has quite a few bruises and scratches. She’s asleep right now, probably from the meds we’ve given her. When she wakes up she’ll probably be a little disoriented and feeling pretty rough. We expect her to make a full recovery, though.”

After determining that Amelia’s injuries were serious and painful but not life-threatening, Owen asked the question that immediately came to mind: “What drugs did you give her.”

“We’re giving her some fluids and some morphine for the pain,” Elise replied.

Owen’s eyes went wide. This is what he had feared. “She has opioid use disorder. Please take her off the morphine,” he said.

“Sir, I understand that you are her medical power of attorney and have the right to make medical decisions for her, but I don’t think you understand the kind of pain she is in,” Elise said, and Owen felt like he was probably going to start throwing things if she continued to speak in such a patronizing manner. “Her injuries caused her to lose consciousness at the scene, and she’d wake up in quite a lot of pain if we took her off her pain meds. It’s not good for a person’s body to be stressed like that when it’s trying to recover. I know it probably seems like a bad idea to give opioids to a person with an addiction, but it is in line with protocol to use necessary means to control a patient’s severe acute pain.”

Owen was seething. “I am a trauma surgeon. I am the chief of trauma surgery at Grey-Sloan. I have triaged and treated soldiers with multiple gunshot wounds and shrapnel all up and down their bodies when I was deployed in the army. I think I understand severe pain, ma’am,” Owen bit out. If the situation weren’t so serious he would’ve laughed. His quiet, even, steely tone exactly mirrored the one Amelia took when she was pissed beyond reason. She would’ve made fun of him for it if she could hear him right now.

As Elise sputtered for something to say in response, Owen continued to speak. “I know that it’ll hurt like hell when she wakes up. She’s dealt with pain like that before. She recovered from brain surgery without any opioid painkillers. She can do it. However, the pain of relapsing is something that utterly broke her the last time it happened. I wasn’t even there to see it, but I know that she can’t deal with that again. So I’m telling you, as her medical power of attorney, that you need to disconnect the morphine drip from her IV immediately.”

Elise barely managed to squeak out a “Yes sir,” before disconnecting the drip and hastily retreating from the room, leaving Owen alone at Amelia’s bedside. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, the emotions were starting to hit hard. He was relieved that the injuries weren’t life-threatening. He was angry that he hadn’t been there earlier to stop them from administering the morphine in the first place. He was concerned about what Amelia would think and feel when she knew that she had been given an opioid drug. He was hopeful that she wouldn’t wake up for a while. Perhaps it would be a little easier if she wasn’t awake to consciously experience the effects of the drug.

15 minutes later

Owen whirled to face Amelia when he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. Now that he was facing her, he could see that her eyes were starting to flutter open. He let out a heavy sigh. The morphine wouldn’t have worn off yet, so Amelia was going to be awake for the high. He didn’t have time to think much more because her eyes were open now and she was staring confusedly at him. “What happened,” she asked as she began to glance around the room. “Where am I?”

“We’re at Seattle Pres,” he replied, reaching out to take her hand as he spoke. “You were in a car accident. You have a broken arm, some broken ribs, one of your lungs collapsed, and you have a bunch of bumps and bruises, but you’re going to be just fine.” As Owen spoke, he saw Amelia’s eyes begin to widen, and then tears started to form. She knew. She could feel it. As he watched the tears spill from the corners of her eyes, he wanted to cry and throw things and curse the awful universe that put her in this situation. “Owen, what did they give me?” she choked out.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I got here as soon as I could, but when I got here they had already started a morphine drip. I told them to take it out as soon as I got here, but that was only about 15 minutes ago.”

At Owen’s words Amelia lost what little composure she had been holding onto. “Owen, no,” she cried as her body shook with the force of her sobs. Owen was moving before he even consciously thought about it. He climbed up onto the small hospital bed, sprawled out next to her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and pulled her face to rest against his chest. Her body went limp in his arms as she continued to sob. They stayed there like that as the minutes ticked by until her tears had soaked through his shirt and her body was completely exhausted from crying. “I don’t know if I can do this Owen,” she whispered, looking up at him as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You absolutely can do this,” Owen replied as he reached down to cup her chin. “Look, I’m not going to tell you this will be easy or that you won’t have cravings because those things would almost certainly be lies. But here’s what I will tell you: I promise to be here through it all. I will come over and stay up with you any night when you can’t sleep. You can call me anytime you’re having a craving and you feel like you can’t get past it. I’ll be there anytime, anywhere. I will go to meetings with you if you want. If you want me to drop you off at a meeting and wait for you outside, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you need me to do to help you through this. You’ve beat this before and you’ll beat it again. You are the strongest person I know, and I am certain you will get through this.”

As Owen stopped speaking and took a breath, Amelia was in tears all over again. Why was her ex-husband offering to do all of this for her? She hadn’t been all that surprised that he’d shown up in the hospital when he found out that she’d been seriously injured, but the idea he just proposed to her went far beyond that. He was offering months of endless support at any hour of the day in the times when she was at her lowest. Though the universe seemed to have a knack for dealing her every possible bad hand, she felt like she had finally gotten a good one when it came to Owen Hunt.

One week later

“Owen, I’m having a rough time,” Amelia whispered into her phone as she lie awake in her bed.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asked, already moving to put his shoes on.

“No, I don’t need you to come here,” she replied. “Can you just talk me through it for a little while?”

“Of course,” Owen smiled into his phone. An hour later, Amelia was barely able to summon the energy to toss her phone onto the nightstand before rolling over and falling asleep, lulled to sleep by the easy conversation with her best friend.

One month later

“Owen can you come over?” Owen was met with Amelia’s anxious tone when he answered the phone. She hadn’t even waited for him to say anything, she’d just started talking. He was out the door and on his way before the phone call ended.

The look of relief on Amelia’s face when Owen arrived at her door warmed his heart. “I’m sorry to drag you out here,” she said, diverting her gaze to the floor. “I just thought I’d be less tempted if there was someone sitting here with me who would know if I left to go score some oxy.”

Owen put his hand under her chin and lifted her face until her eyes met his. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I told you I wanted to be there for every moment when you needed someone. That includes now. Let’s go inside.” Amelia couldn’t help but smile a bit as she turned to go back into the house. Nights like these sucked, but it was really nice to have someone to push through it with her.

Four months later

“Go screw yourself Owen!” Amelia shouted, face red and fists shaking. “Or better yet, why don’t you go screw Carina? I’m sure she’s a bit more fun than your junky raging bitch of an ex-wife!”

“Amelia,” Owen began slowly and calmly, which only contributed to Amelia’s rage, “I know that you’re trying to piss me off right now so that I’ll leave so that you can go find a dealer and get high. But that’s not going to happen, so you might as well just give up on this little temper tantrum. I know this craving is the worst one you’ve had yet, but it is not going to be the one that causes your relapse. I’m staying here with you until you’re through it. You don’t get a choice in this.”

Amelia stared mutinously back at Owen, struggling to come up with something to say to him. At this point she was seriously considering slapping him. She couldn’t recall ever being this irate with him before, and that was saying something considering the number of angry shouting matches they’d had during their marriage. Amelia was drawn out of her thoughts as she was slung across Owen’s shoulder. “Owen Hunt, what the fuck?” Amelia screeched as she began to pound on Owen’s back with her fists. He didn’t seem to notice as he continued to carry her down the hall. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Owen ignored her fists and her yelling as he carried her through her bedroom, opened her closet door, turned on the light, and set her on her feet in the closet. “You have three minutes,” he said calmly. “I’m closing the door and you have three minutes to change into your pajamas. So help me, Amelia, if you’re not changed when I open this door I will change your clothes myself.”

“This is assault,” Amelia yelled incredulously.

“Three minutes,” Owen repeated before firmly closing the door.

When Owen opened the door again, a red-faced Amelia stood on the other side in her flannel pants and t shirt. Owen internally took a moment to be thankful that she didn’t test him on his threat. “Alright, go get in bed,” he sighed.

“I’m not a child,” Amelia seethed. “You can’t just carry me up the stairs, change my clothes, and send me to bed!”

“Get your ass in the bed or I will put you there myself,” Owen replied, eyebrows furrowing and jaw jutting out.

Amelia stared at him for a moment before stomping over to her side of the bed, throwing the covers back, and harshly bouncing down onto the mattress. If she weren’t in such a sorry state, Owen would’ve laughed. He never thought he’d see the day when Amelia Shepherd threw a full-blown tantrum.

Amelia’s eyes went wide as Owen walked to the other side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and slid into bed beside her. “Get the hell out of my bed!” Amelia shouted as she slapped at his chest.

Owen ignored her as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “When you’re really struggling, you lash out and push people away, it’s your coping mechanism,” he said. “You push away anyone who loves you, and then you go and punish yourself. I’m not letting you do that tonight. So I’m going to hold you and love you tonight, no matter how angry that makes you. You might as well get comfortable.”

Amelia’s jaw fell open. Never had anyone so bluntly called her out before. She didn’t bother to say anything in reply as she turned her back to him, but made no move to remove his arms from around her shoulders. As Amelia fell asleep, fuming and frustrated, a tiny little part of her thought that she was really glad he was here.

7 months later

Amelia walked up to the podium and looked out at the various people in the audience before locking eyes with Owen.

“I’m Amelia, and I’m an addict,” she began. “I am 1 year sober today. 365 days without any opioids. And the only reason I’m here today is because of the red-haired guy sitting in the back of the room, my ex-husband, Owen Hunt.

He was there 365 days ago when I got into a car accident and the nurses and doctors gave me morphine. He told me that day that he would do whatever I needed to help me through this, and he has done exactly that. He has held me while I’ve cried. He has listened to my fears, frustrations, and doubts. He has dragged me, sometimes literally kicking and screaming, through this grueling process, and I can never repay him for that. 365 days ago I thought that there was no way I’d make it to today. I am so lucky and so thankful to be here. Thank you, Owen, for all you’ve done to get me here.”

Amelia stepped away from the podium and immediately made her way to the back of the room to give Owen a big bear hug. As a tear slid down Owen’s cheek as he wrapped his arms around Amelia, he struggled to think of a time when he’d ever been this proud.

Ficmas Day 14: Advent Calendars

So I kind of got behind on ficmas again…Sorry

Since she had started dating Gwyn, Diana had been on a mission to teach Gwyn as many Christmas traditions as possible. She had made a list with the Blackthorns and was slowly working her way through it. Much to Diana’s surprise, Gwyn had taken to every thing she had introduced him to with a lot of enthusiasm.

But her favorite tradition that she had taught him was advent calendars. It seemed that Gwyn had decided to have his own take on things. Instead of having a “traditional” advent calendar, Gwyn decided to bring Diana something from faerie every single day, much to the amusement of the Blackthorns. He’d brought her flowers and various bits of food, and Diana loved every single one of them.

She loved the gifts themselves, the flowers were beautiful, and food delicious (he made sure to avoid anything that would cause any weird side-effects) but it wasn’t just that. She loved that Gwyn would make the effort to find something she would like, and would make the effort to give come and give her the gift every single day. It was just another thing on her ever-growing list of reasons she loved Gwyn. And of course, every time he came with a gift, he couldn’t leave without a kiss and a cuddle, which of course was very much appreciated.

anonymous asked:

I sincerely hope that E being seen with Louis at the wedding is another tick off her contract list, and Louis can be with his real family and friends (Niall included) until next year. If we see her again this year, I hope the artist that did last years floating cake is avail to do another manip.

i’m sure louis had an alright time regardless he’s probably one of those sops who loves weddings

anonymous asked:

Mal was killed by Maleficent and Evie travels back in time in her younger selfs body to save her and if she does that so she can tell Mal how she feels about her before she [Mal] starts the whole love-potion-plan she wouldn't mind doing so

“Don’t touch me.” The words tear past Evie’s lips before she can think about them, before she can try to control the emotions swirling through her. Just as quickly, she wonders why it matters. Why should she bother with coddling the feelings of other people, especially now? “Don’t say a word.”

The Evie of this morning would have cared about the look on Carlos’ face, the way he’s looking at her like he’s the puppy she just kicked into a corner.

But the Evie of this morning still had her best friend. Her Mal. And this Evie has lost her forever. So, caring about the feelings of others isn’t high on her priority list.

Read the rest on Ao3!!

LGBTQ+ Movies of 2016: Part 1

First Girl I Loved

Seventeen-year-old Anne just fell in love with Sasha, the most popular girl at her LA public high school. But when Anne tells her best friend Clifton - who has always harbored a secret crush - he does his best to get in the way.

Heartstone (Hjartasteinn)

A remote fishing village in Iceland. Teenage boys Thor and Christian experience a turbulent summer as one tries to win the heart of a girl while the other discovers new feelings toward his best friend. When summer ends and the harsh nature of Iceland takes back its rights, it’s time to leave the playground and face adulthood.

Teenage Kicks

Seventeen year old Miklós Varga’s plans to escape his migrant family and run away with his best friend Dan are crushed by the accidental death of his older brother Tomi. Only Mik knows the events that led to this tragedy, and he is suddenly forced to navigate his guilt and explosive sexuality to find the man he can become.

The Handmaiden (Ah-ga-ssi)

1930s Korea, in the period of Japanese occupation, a new girl (Sookee) is hired as a handmaiden to a Japanese heiress (Hideko) who lives a secluded life on a large countryside estate with her domineering Uncle (Kouzuki). But the maid has a secret. She is a pickpocket recruited by a swindler posing as a Japanese Count to help him seduce the Lady to elope with him, rob her of her fortune, and lock her up in a madhouse. The plan seems to proceed according to plan until Sookee and Hideko discover some unexpected emotions.

Being 17 (Quand on a 17 ans)

Damien lives with his mother Marianne, a doctor, while his father is on a tour of duty abroad. He is bullied by Thomas, whose mother is ill. The boys find themselves living together when Marianne invites Thomas to come and stay with them.

Don’t Call Me Son (Mãe Só Há Uma)

After discovering the truth about being stolen by the woman he thought was his mother as a child, Pierre (AKA Felipe) must deal with the consequences of his mother’s actions and must try to cope with his biological family.

I Love Her

A young street musician girl must conquer her own fears and ghosts from the past, including the social influences of Ukraine, where she has grown up, in order to admit her feelings for a beautiful deaf-mute girl.


A timeless story of human connection and self-discovery, Moonlight chronicles the life of a young black man from childhood to adulthood as he struggles to find his place in the world while growing up in a rough neighborhood of Miami.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5