a mothers last words to her son

Every day, Words With Friends shows me a “match of the day” person they say they hand-picked *just for me*, and want me to play against.

The suggestions are priceless.

First of all, roughly 50% are grandmas.

Another 20% are middleaged guys with sunglasses who reeeaaally like to take selfies in their cars.

#1 looks to be in a driver’s seat, whereas #2 is in a passenger sea– … wait, are they in the same car? 

Are they double-car-sunglasses-selfie buddies?!

I’m not entirely sure what’s happening in this photo… which one’s Jolene? Is she the too-bright one in the foreground with no face?

…also, where on earth are they? Tile floor, some kind of seating, floor-mounted computer kiosk… I’m so confused.

At least this shot makes sense.

These nice people just wanted to take a selfie with the damp pavement outside their house. I mean, hey, we’ve all been there.

At first, I thought the app was just suggesting some guy named Steve, but then I looked at the photo, and – plot twist – it appears Steve might actually be his last name.

This also raises the question of what mother decided to name their kid Tyler Steve.

…and the same goes for the mother that named her son Zyngawf 34260864.

Poor, poor Pippifuzz. They’re just a ghostly outline, doomed forever to haunt the halls of Words With Friends suggestions.

Brandon doesn’t have it much better, seeing as he’s a cloud of mist next to a bridge. At least he has a semi-corporeal body, unlike poor Pippifuzz.

Fred… Fred’s seen some hard times.

…also, yes, the Bumble wants to play Words With Friends with me. I’m flattered.

As does this dog.

As does–…

…wait… Gandalf?




Carousel | 02

Playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Character: Min Yoongi x reader (oc)

Genre/words: Angst, Future Smut/Mature scenes, Arranged Marriage! AU / 10,704 words

Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?

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Arrangements at the Worst Time (John Laurens x Reader)

Originally posted by gravitywon

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

(Collab with @midnightokieriete)

Requested?: ‘Can you do a Laurens x Reader where he’s sad over Ham courting Eliza but then he meets reader? Thank you!! 🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚’

Prompt: John is arranged to marry some woman and he’s scorned over Alexander courting Eliza.

Words: 10,000+

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Fluff, Slavery, Wedding, Historical Inaccuracies

Masterlist / Tay’s Masterlist


“Wait, what?”

“I’m courting Elizabeth Schuyler, Laurens. Do you remember her? We met at the-”

“Winter’s Ball. Yes, I recall.” John’s voice was tight, his tightened fists hidden in his coat pockets. Alexander grinned happily, unaware of his friend’s abnormal behavior.

“I’ve come to fancy her, and through our letters, she agreed to court me. We’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations.” John replied curtly. Alexander pulled John into a hug, finally noticing his stiff posture. John did not offer a hug back, just a small smile. “I’m happy for you, Hamilton.”

Alexander’s smile wavered, scanning Laurens’ face. “Are you okay, John? You seem…peculiar.” John quickly realized his demeanor, and cleared his throat, faking a huge smile for his friend.

“No, no! Please, Alexander, I am fine. Let’s go and tell the others!” John placed his hand on the small of Alexander’s back, and they began walking.

John felt his heart shatter the moment he heard that his close friend was courting someone. He wanted to hide from the world and cry his eyes out. Sadly, John had fallen in love with Alexander. It was very taboo for a man to love another man but John could not lie to himself about his feelings. It wasn’t lusting. It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t infatuation. It was love. But, John could not be with Alexander and love him publicly, as much as he wanted to. He must find a woman and marry her, just like Alexander and all the other men in the world. John must follow society’s rules or else he will find himself outcasted or, even, dead.

So, he kept all of his feelings to himself.

John and Alexander made it to the tent, Alexander excitedly telling his friends about Eliza. Laurens stood in the corner, smiling whenever he was obligated to and laughing when it was needed. As he watched, another fellow soldier came into the room, giving him a letter. He glanced over the recipient’s name and sighed.

It was his father.

He told his friends that he would be back, and walked out the tent to a lone tree that rested in the middle of the open field. He sat under the shade of the plant and began reading the letter.

Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens

Your mother and I have seldom received letters from you. It worries her that you do not update us on your predicament, although I understand why you cannot. I am on leave from my post, and your mother has special news for you.

We have found a suitable maiden for you to marry. Since you are unable to court due to your lack of caring, we have decided to find you one ourselves. She is an acceptable young woman, with interests in the arts and sciences. Your mother thought you would appreciate that.

Nevertheless, send me a letter back promptly so that we may arrange a meeting with her and her family.

Delegate of the Continental Congress

Henry Laurens

John tightened his grip on the paper, anger fuming from him. He marched back to the tent, his temper not lowering. Why did his father have to be such a-

“John? John are you alright?” Lafayette asked, looking over at his freckled-faced friend. John shook his head. Everything that happened today was getting to him, and this was the last straw.

“My father has arranged for me to meet a woman. He wants us to marry.” He growled, throwing the letter onto the ground. Mulligan stood up and grabbed the letter. He scanned it over quickly, then looked up.

“I’m sure he means well,” Mulligan said, trying to cheer up his friend. John shook his head, grabbing his coat off of Lafayette’s cot.

“When does he ever mean well?” John grumbled, fixing his outfit. Hamilton looked at him with concern, his smile finally gone from his face. John knew he was ruining the moment for his best friend, but he was just tired of everything not going his way.

First, the man John is in love with courts a woman he barely knows.

Then, his father comes up with this idiotic idea for him to marry someone he doesn’t even have the name of.

It’s going to be a long war.

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The Bastard of Winterfell

Jon Snow x Reader (second person)

1586 words

Jon Snow is nervous to meet his future wife- and even more nervous to prove himself in front of her.

A/N: My first fanfic in a while! I just watched Game of Thrones and LOVED it, so expect some GoT soon, especially Robb and Jon, my babies.

F/N= first name, L/N= last name

You shifted in your seat, pretending to be asleep as you listened to your parents whisper back and forth.

“A bastard,” you mother muttered, the word like venom on her lips.

“Ned Stark’s bastard,” your father reminded her gently. In your mind’s eye you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“She is a lady!”

Your father sighed. “She is the youngest of nine daughters in a small house. She has limited options. It’s either marry her off to some old lord who is on his seventh wife who will use her for her body, or the son of a good man who will, Gods willing, treat her with compassion.”

Your mother hummed, her arms probably crossed across her chest. “He’s still a bastard.”

You knew your father was right. It was good of Ned Stark to arrange your marriage. When he heard your father was desperately trying to find a match for his youngest, favorite daughter, Lord Stark had an unusual proposal. One your father simply couldn’t refuse.

It was even Lord Stark’s idea to have you stay at Winterfell for a few months so you could get to know your future husband; you’d only met once or twice as children when you visited Winterfell. You remembered Jon Snow being quiet and brooding; you wondered what kind of man he’d grown into.

Your eyes opened as Winterfell came into sight. At least you could find comfort in the fact that the beautiful Stark castle would be your home.

Ned Stark stood at the gate, a friendly smile on his face. He embraced you and your parents, offering you a small wink. Your stomach was in absolute knots.

He led you through the gate, where his family lined up to greet you.

Robb Stark, the most charming young man in the North, kissed your hand. He often accompanied his father to visit your home and was always kind to you. At least you would have an ally in your brother by law.

“Lady F/N,” he said with that dashing smile. “Your beauty has grown since we last met. I had assured my brother that his bride-to-be was lovely, but I must admit, my words did you no justice.”

You blushed. “Thank you, Lord Robb.” You continued down the line to the very end where-

“L-Lady F/N.” A pair of nervous brown eyes searched yours. “A pleasure to see you again.” Jon Snow glanced towards his brother, who gave him an encouraging nod. Jon kissed your hand gently. “I, er, look forward to getting better acquainted.” A pause. “With you.” Another pause. “My lady,” he added quietly.

A small smile escaped your lips. Jon Snow had grown to be a handsome young man, with curly black hair you wanted to reach out and touch. Though Robb’s confidence was definitely attractive, there was something sweet to Jon’s nervousness. You liked it.

“I seem to recall a young dark-haired boy who was never without his sword,” you said, noting that he still held your hand. “Do you still practice the whole day long?”

Now Jon smiled, a small, shy grin. “Indeed, I do.”

Down the line, Robb piped up. “Perhaps after lunch you would like to watch us practice, my lady?”

You nodded. “I would like that very much,” you called back. You turned back to Jon. “If that’s fine with you, that is.”

Jon nodded. “Very fine, my lady.”

“Good.” You gave his hand a small squeeze and released it before following Lady Stark to your room.

As you entered the castle, you glanced back. Jon was standing in the same spot, staring after you, as Robb chattered excitedly in his ear.

You sat beside Jon at lunch, noticing that he barely looked at you. Your stomach sank. Across from you, Robb cleared his throat.

“So, my lady, what do you do with your free time?

You looked up at Robb, who stared at Jon pointedly.

“Oh. I read. I ride. Some needlework.” You looked down the table at the eldest Stark sister. “Though I have heard Lady Sansa’s needlework is true art. Perhaps she could help me improve my own?”

Lady Sansa smiled graciously. “I would love to.”

You turned your gaze to the younger sister. “And Lady Arya, I would love to learn to shoot properly, if you have the time. I have been told your skill surpasses that of any of your brothers.”

The girl’s face lit up. “I would love to!”

Good. More allies in your new home.

After lunch, Jon excused himself to grab something from his room, promising to meet you and Robb in the yard.

Robb offered you his arm as you headed out. “I apologize for my brother, Lady F/N. He… well honestly he is a little scared of you.” A small smile played on his lips. “Not that I can blame him. You are, after all, his future wife.”

You nodded. “I must admit, I’m nervous as well. I barely know him.” You smiled at Robb. “But if he’s anywhere near as kind as you and your sisters, I know I will be very happy here.”

Robb nodded. “Aye, he is. A bit… glum, at times. But very kind,” he assured you. “And before lunch he admitted to me that you are the loveliest creature he ever laid eyes on.”

You felt yourself blush. You opened your mouth to reply-

“What’s this I hear the bastard is marrying himself a lady?” a voice called out.

You and Robb turned as a lanky young man approached you. His eyes traveled up and down your body.

Robb sighed. “This is Theon Greyjoy, our ward. Theon, this is Lady F/N L/N. Jon’s intended.”

Theon’s eyes had yet to find your face. “Hello my lady,” he finally said, the kiss he planted on your hand lingering far too long. “I am looking forward to getting to know you.”

You took a step back. “Thank you.” A mop of curly black hair caught your eye. “But if you will excuse me, I believe I see my future husband.” You broke away from Theon and took Jon’s arm. “Jon, I am very excited to see how well you wield a sword.” You smiled sweetly at him.

He looked a bit taken aback. “Really?”
You nodded. “Really.” You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Theon spoke up. “I’ve an idea.” You and the brothers turned to look at him. “A duel. You and me, Snow. Winner gets a kiss from your little lady here.”

The color rose in Jon’s cheeks. “I-”

“What the matter?” Theon challenged. “Scared I’ll kiss your bride before you do?”

Jon glanced at you. You could tell he did not want to back down in front of you. “Fine. Grab your sword.”

Robb led you out to the yard, helping you perch yourself on a fence. “Not to worry, my lady. Jon is a fantastic swordsman. Your lips are in safe hands.” He smiled at you and lowered his voice. “And make sure to cheer him on. He’s always wanted a pretty girl cheering him on in a duel.”

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to cheer him on to victory.”

The two young men came out, ready for combat. Jon glanced your way. You smiled and gave a small wave.

“Good luck Jon!” you called out. A smile tugged on your future husband’s lips.

“Nicely done,” Robb murmured beside you. “I do believe my brother is blushing.”

You giggled in response. You could definitely feel yourself falling for the bastard of Winterfell as you watched him wield his sword. He looked confident and strong as he swung his weapon this way and that.

“Go Jon!” you called out, clapping.

He turned his head to look at you, a proud smirk on his handsome face. Theon took the opportunity to take a cheap hit, knocking Jon to the ground. He held his sword to Jon’s throat.

“I do believe I win, Snow,” he claimed smugly. He sauntered over to you. “And now for my prize.”

You grimaced and looked to Robb, who looked at shocked as you felt.

“That was a cheap shot,” Robb finally choked out. “You know in a fair fight Jon would have slaughtered you. He was nervous in front of F/N!”

Theon shrugged. “That’s life, m'lord.” He turned to you. “My prize.”

You looked at Jon, who still lay on the ground, looking utterly defeated. You could feel the embarrassment radiating from him.

“Here’s your damned prize,” you muttered. You barely brushed your lips against Theon’s cheek, then jumped down from your post. You walked over to Jon, who slowly sat up as you approached.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady,” he muttered. “If I hadn’t gotten distracted-”

You smiled as you knelt beside him. “I’m glad you got distracted.” You took his hand in yours as he looked at you, puzzled. “You getting distracted by me was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “Really?”

You nodded. “You know, I think second place deserves a prize too.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose. “Oh you do?” He glanced behind you at the other boys, who looked just as surprised.

“I do.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips gently against his. You could feel his smile pressing against yours as his hand rose to pull you closer. He finally let you go and pulled back. A large smile spread across his face.

“I think I’m gonna like being married,” he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

Part 2

the truth we didn't know

pairing: junkook x reader

genre ft. au’s: angst + royal au + hanahaki au

word count: 8.176

authors note: just wanted to say a quick thank you to my wonderful friend @taexquila for being so kind and for beta reading this mess you are so amazing i cri

summary: “Grant me strength to endure this torture, grant the prince strength to endure this agony.” And grant, God did not. Since the higher upper had so many more plans in mind.

The atmosphere was almost chilling as Prince Jungkook lazily trudged through the thick mass of the pearl white snow in nothing more than a silk black frock coat made with the finest of silk moths, a pair of suit trousers which was already starting to cling around his ankles and beige ankle boots. Lifting his head up, he aimlessly watched the tree’s lean and whisper, with a thin sheen of snow adorning them they looked like regal figures entwined in an intricate dance. Although there was a thick canopy of of gelid leaves bordering the woods, the snow still fell in slow, unretiring movements onto the uneven ground.

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Sirius Black / Leaving home

Requested from the prompt list, 5, 10 & 17, by a wonderful anon. I’ve written something else similar to this, where Sirius experiences some family drama so check my super cool masterlist if you’re into that!

Sirius Black was slamming doors. Every door he came across was slammed. He slammed the bathroom door. He slammed his bedroom door. He slammed the kitchen door, the drawing room door, the cabinet doors, every door he could find, really. 

Sirius Black had been slamming the doors of Number 3, Grimmauld place all week as he smoldered in an unhealthy pot of resentment stirred by his oh-so lovely family members as they carried out their Christmas jubilee.

He of course, did not want to be spending break here, surrounded by the worst kinds of people when he could be anywhere else. 

He had received a grand total of three holiday vacation invites and had declined each one on behalf of Regulus, who he couldn’t have stomached leaving alone.

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Just a Little longer (Bruce Wayne x Daughter who is a small child! Reader)

Schninner: So I made a little sad piece last year about a mother and her son, and today I thought, “Hey, I could rewrite it to make it about Bruce and his daughter!” The reader is about six or five in this story. So here it is! Hope you like it guys!

P.S. I Promise I will work on requests soon! I just got really motivated to write this one today!

(Reader is Female)

Key: [H/T] Hair type/texture

Warnings: It’s a sad piece… sorry!

Word Count: 438

Master List

“Daddy, why are we out here?”

The little girl asked her father, as she lazily played with the silver ring on his index finger, sitting sleepily in his lap.

Bruce Wayne, her father, lovingly wrapped his pale arms around the small child, enveloping her into a hug, His gaze tore away from the star freckled sky and onto the small held in his lap.

“Because, sweetheart, I wanted to spend more time with you.” His voice low and comforting, filling the child with ease.

The girl looked up to him with her large [E/C] eyes, “I know daddy, but why here?”

Bruce turned his cool blue eyes back up to the endless night sky, resting his chin on top of his child’s [H/T] hair.

“Remember when we came out here? We used to have so much fun. You, me, and the boys. Before… before it happened…” His smooth voice hitched and now etched with sadness.

The girl, sensing her father’s distress, placed her small hands into his. His hands encasing hers completely.

“It’s okay daddy, we don’t have to talk about it.”

They sat in comfortable silence, father and daughter. Neither of them had to speak, for they already knew what the other had to say. Three simple words hung between them, comforting them as the night drew on.

It would be morn soon.

The father tilted his head toward the brightening sky with sorrow. He knew it would have to ends, he just didn’t expect it to come so soon.

“It’s almost morning sweetheart.” Bruce told his little one, his hold on her seemed to tighten.

“I know daddy.” She replied.


The sky grew lighter, a gentle orange poked through the horizon.

“You know what that means, right baby?” He asked his child.

“Yes daddy,” She said with a sleepy yawn, “I know.”

The crickets stopped chirping as the moon began to fade.

Dawn was nigh.

Silent tears rolled down his face and onto his child’s head, a muffled sob shook his chest, and his child turned to find her father’s eyes closed while lightly sobbing.

“Daddy!” She called in alarm placing her petite hands on either side of his face, wanting so badly to make the tears stop. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Because baby,” He cried softly, pulling his daughter close to him, as though he planned on never letting her go, “I couldn’t save you.”

The sun broke free from its invisible chains and basked the land in light. And the father awoke.

Back in his home. Back in his bed.

And his child, his sweet baby girl, was once again gone.

For @princemagnusbane. Happy Birthday love, and I hope you have a wonderful day and a just as amazing year.

Having to transport a rogue warlock to Idris hadn’t been his idea of an ideal end to the party. His idea had had more to do with fireworks and a demolition of the rune sculpture.

But as was expected, after Iris had been sent off, Clary and Simon left and Jace had gone away shortly afterward. Isabelle had wandered off with Alec and Maryse was nowhere to be found.

Thoughts of Alec brought to mind thoughts of the ledge and he found himself instinctively heading back to the scene of the crime. He pushed open the door, caught sight of the vast sky, the damn ledge and Maryse Lightwood, fingers knuckled on that same ledge, hunched slightly forward as she stared down at the ground.

“You take that leap and I can’t guarantee that I will act as fast to save you,” Magnus drawled.

Maryse twirled around, her unbound hair whipping around her face. She looked furious, but her eyes… he knew that look, had had that look on his own face too many times to count.

He sighed, thinking of his party theme.

Robert Lightwood, you cheating lying bastard.

“He’s not worth it you know,” he said conversationally. “No man who cheats is worth it.”

“And what do you know about a man cheating on you?” Maryse sneered. She left the words unsaid but he knew what she was thinking. That men like Magnus did the cheating and were not the ones cheated on.

If only she knew.

Magnus cocked his head and stared at her. Taking note of the sad eyes and the proud tilt of her chin. The way she stared straight at him, body tensing as she pulled her armor around herself. In that moment, she looked the exact replica of her children. Showed that they definitely got everything they are from her. Not from Robert. No. Their strength and conviction they got from Maryse Lightwood.

“More than you know. Centuries of living leaves room for centuries of heartache and heartbreak and loss,” Magnus murmured, eyes staring into the distance, unaware of the bright lights of the city at his feet. He stared ahead, seeing only faces and names, of lovers too numerous for some to count, he knew them all though. Remembered everyone of them. Lovers he’d once loved and had thought they loved him right back.

He’d been wrong.

He sighed and looked back at Maryse who was studying him with a contemplative expression on her face, lips pursed and eyes just a tad bit narrowed.

He gave a little bow in her direction and made to walk away, pulling to a stop at her softly whispered words.

“Thank you Magnus.”

Keep reading

Russian Roulette

Words: 2.4k 
Genre: Angst, Mafia!Au
Summary: Blanks and a bullet - it will only take one to die and one chance to live.


Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

A sterling table rusted and tarnished to onyx, concrete walls and floor without a trace of light. The flickering bulb swings above you, moving your shadow despite not breathing and creaking slowly like a metronome; a lullaby to your absolute demise. There is only one set of steel doors, far out of reach and even a scream at the top of your lungs would be heard by empty ears. All barring one.

A man you’ve known your entire life, dark hair and stone, cold eyes; more of a foe than ever a friend.

A suitcase sits on the table between the both of you and you’re too disgusted to even touch it, fully aware of it being brimmed with dirty, green bills. It sound be enough to satisfy him.

It takes all your efforts to muster a smile but even then, it’s a smirk of contempt. You don’t know what it’s like for your lips to upturn in joy. You’ve never felt happiness before. “I think it’s safe to say that the both of us can’t leave here.”

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Once Upon A December: Prologue.

Hi! This feysand AU fic is based of the animated movie Anastasia.I really hope you enjoy it.This was suppose to be longer but I have to leave for 5-6 days and net will not be available.So,this is part one for the prologue.Next part will be up by Tuesday or Wednesday.

Thank you @illyriangoddess and @sparkleywonderful for helping with this idea.



Part 1| Next Chapter.

He looked outside through the window to search for her.It was the year 1916 and a ball was to be held in celebration of Christmas.Rhysand Chernenko,ten years of age didn’t care for such frivolous affairs.The only thing he was concerned was with his mother who was coming back from Paris.He had missed her while Rhys(as he was called by his mother and sister) had stayed back in Russia with his father and sister.

“Father’s looking for you,Rhys.”said Larissa Chernenko.His twin sister looked like he did,soft midnight blue hair with startling violet eyes and the tanned skin they shared.He loved his sister,his other half but alas,as old fashioned his father was,she was to married by the time she was eighteen and she was already betrothed to a Lord’s son.His father,Emperor and Tsar of Russia had told him many times before that Rhysand (his father always called him by the full name) was the heir to the Russian throne and he should start acting like the Prince but he longed to be free and travel the world with his mother and sister,free of responsibility.

“I’m just waiting for Mother,that’s all.”

Larissa looked at his brother and walked to him.He was standing near the window waiting for his mother’s carriage to arrive.Every year when it first snowed his mother,Selena had left for Paris and Larissa and Rhysand didn’t know why.

“He’ll get angry,you know that.”

Rhysand sighed and followed his sister to the throne room. As you walk into the palace throne room you can feel the power that emanates from the throne its self. The throne is a high back chair made of a deep dark oak finish with a red velvet cushion. The throne sit at the top of a three stepped platform which just adds to the Prestige of power that you feel. The rest of the room looks to be the same as the rest of the keep. High windows, many tapestries hang from the walls as well as a crackling fire to warm the room on those cold and dismal winter nights.There were four thrones in the room.Two,one big and one small were on the dais.Three steps below it were two other thrones which were the same size as the small throne.His father was standing near the fire place.

“Father,you called?”

“Rhysand,your late.You know that a ball is to be held today and the royal family has to be present.”

He nodded”I know,sir”

“Your mother is already here entertaining our guest.I suggest you get your sister and do the same,I will be there shortly.”

Rhys took a bow and walked a little too quickly.His sister was just outside the throne room,he grabbed her hand and ran to the ball room.Larissa laughed behind him.They entered the ball room and it was full of life.

Paneled ceiling from which two chandelier hung,vertically opposite to each other.Four huge French windows could be found in each corner of the room and one of them window brought moon light which illuminated the ball room,further more.The floor was made from the finest marble and was checkered.Tapestries of Tsars before his father were hung in this room.

Larissa ran down the stairs and squealed as she saw someone.Rhys followed her down to see his cousin,Morrigan or Mor as she liked to be called.Larissa engulfed her in a hug and they started chattering away but Rhys cleared his throat.Mor smiled and tightly hugged him.

“You couldn’t live without hugging me,Cousin” Mor stuck her tongue.

“Oh please!You’re the last person I wanted to see.”

Mor shrugged and started talking to Larissa.Rhys saw his mother and ran to her with open arms.Selena,his mother hugged him as tightly as she could.

“Oh my darling boy!How I missed you so.”

He hugged his mother even tighter.No words were needed for no one knew the love a mother and son shared.This moment was ruined when he was pulled out of his mother’s embrace.Rhys glared at Larissa’s back.She was strong,he’ll give her that.

“I missed you so much,Mother.” Larissa said.

While Mother and Larissa were talking,Rhys’s eyes landed on a girl about his age.He couldn’t see her face only her hair which was brown-gold in colour.As he was about to follow her,his mother put her hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got something for you,both of you.”

She pulled out two boxes from her purse.One was black and silver and the other sapphire and silver.They were instantly enchanted.

“These are music boxes.For both of you.”

nonpersone  asked:

hey are u still taking request for the prompts? could u please do an enjoltaire with “Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.”? u write fantastically btw!!

Thank you!

“It’s been two days and I already feel exhausted and stayed back far later than I’m supposed to. I’ve got two massive deadlines due at the same time because Julien decided to up and quit on Monday with absolutely no notice-”

“Fucking Julien.”

“I know. So instead of just my work-”

“Which is a large amount of work as it is-”

“Thank you, yes it is- on top of my work I have to cover his workload too until they hire somebody else- which they haven’t even started the process of doing yet, and I’ll probably have to work through the weekend.”

Grantaire chuckled, his hands elbow deep in soapy water as he passed another dish to Enjolras to dry. “Yeah but when do you not do that?”

“I’m not talking about an email here or there or taking a few phone calls I mean I’m actually going to have to spend my entire weekend locked up in the bedroom writing.” Enjolras sighed as he put stacked the dry dishes away. “My mothers going to be so passive aggressively mad, She wanted me to come over for Sunday brunch as well. I’ll just have to tell her next weekend instead. That conversation is going to be fun.”

Grantaire merely nodded, his shoulders going slightly tense as he pressed his mouth into a thin line. He seemed to be thinking heavily before he spoke next. 

“So am I invited to brunch?” He said tersely.

“Please don’t start.” Enjolras pleaded with a sigh. “I don’t want to fight, this day has already been the worst.”

“Fine.” Grantaire said, his tone clearly implying that things were not fine, as he threw the remainder of the dishes back into the sink with a heavy clash and began to stomp towards the bedroom.

“Grantaire, please-”

“10 months, Enjolras! It’s been 10 months and I still haven’t even met your parents! People have grown and had babies in the span of our relationship and I still haven’t met your parents- who live 5 fucking streets away!”

“It’s more complicated than that!”

“Well then what is it? Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?! Of course not, how could you even think that?”

“Because not only will you not let me meet your parents, but it turns out you haven’t even told them about me!”

Enjolras suddenly became very quiet. His face grew clouded and sheepish and when he next spoke his tone was embarrassed. “How do you know about that?” He asked quietly.

“I wasn’t snooping.” Grantaire said crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. He’d dropped his volume, but the bitterness in his tone remained. “Last week you left yourself logged into your email on my laptop and a notification came up from your mother- asking if she could set you up with somebody because she was sick of her beautiful son wasting his youth on being single.”

Enjolras looked down to the floor. “I want to explain.”

“Please do.”

Enjolras gestured towards the couch, and Grantaire reluctantly followed him, his arms still firmly crossed as he took a seat.

“Look,” Enjolras paused, choosing his words carefully. “The person my mother wanted to set me up with is a woman.”

“What?” Grantaire asked, his surprise bypassing his anger as he uncrossed his arms. “Wait, are you not-”

“No, I am.” He shook his head with a short, sharp laugh. “In fact, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve come out to my parents. It’s just- it’s like they go temporarily deaf whenever I bring it up. They talk about the weather or their friends and completely brush past it. When I remind them, they pretend not to hear. And it’s been fine- well not fine, it’s been hard, and hurtful and frustrating but I’ve learned to accept it and live with it.”

Enjolras took a deep breath before continuing, “They’ve always had plausible deniability. They can live in their little world of denial and still think of me as their perfect son, but if-when I bring someone- you, when I bring you to meet them, they can’t deny it anymore. And- and I don’t think it’s going to go well.”


“Look, I love you okay? You know that. I’m not ashamed of who I am either and I’m not ashamed of you. But as much as they hurt me, I still love my parents, and I don’t think I’m strong enough or ready to completely cut them out of my life just yet. And I know that the moment they can’t deny who I am anymore, that’s exactly what I’m going to have to do.”

Grantaire was quiet and looking at Enjolras intensely. He finally moved his hand over to Enjolras’ and clasped it tightly. “Okay.” He said.

“Okay?” Enjolras asked, strained.

“Yeah. I understand. Take all the time you need. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said with relief.

“You really should have told me though. It would have avoided a lot of arguments.”

“I know,” Enjolras said with a sigh, “It’s just embarrassing though.I can stand up to strangers but not my own parents? People would say I’m a coward-”

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them. You’re not a coward, and the worlds not that black and white. Most importantly- you’re human, Enj. You’re allowed to be complicated. Don’t hold yourself to such a high standard.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said sincerely, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Question. When you are ready and I do meet them, am I allowed to wear my ‘Fuck you, you Fucking Fuck’ t-shirt?”

Enjolras laughed and wiped away a small tear. “Only if you wear a nice jacket, too.”


Ted Bundy’s mother Louise was one of his staunchest supporters during his trial for serial murder, and continued to support him while he appealed his death sentence on Death Row. She took every opportunity to stress her sons good qualities, saying to reporters “Ted has always been very thoughtful, the best child a mother could wish for. I used to worry that he would forget Mothers Day, but he always turned up with a gift.”

Bundy was permitted a final telephone call with his mother the night before his execution. Through tears, he told her he was sorry for what he had done. Louise Bundy’s last words to him were: “You will always be my precious son”

In Love With The Idea Of You - Royalty AU (Lin X Reader) Part One

Okay, This was for @hamwriters Write-a-thon challenge: Day One, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I was down and out most of the week. I wasn’t even going to bother but @gratitudejoyandsorrow was being her awesome self and convinced me to write it anyways… (Just a side note, guys, she is totally amazing…just saying)… Oh and please let me know what you think…I can leave it just as a one-shot or if you think it should continue…. So, without further ado, here is “In Love With The Idea Of You”.

Word Count: 2628

Warnings: Umm…Major fluffiness and I warn you now….tissues are advised.

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I am in love with a girl who paints words like sunrises and
My eleven year old cousin isn’t allowed to know
“She just won’t understand”
You say “Think about the children”
And I tell you that I am
I am thinking of the little girl who has just learned that the word for her kind of love is
Not allowed to be spoken because it leaves a bad taste in the mouths of those who don’t understand
I am thinking of the little girl who has just learned that her kind of love is
Not allowed to be seen or talked about or shown in storybooks because people like us don’t get the happy ending
I am thinking of the little boy that is figuring out he’s a boy, but his mother won’t let him
Stop wearing dresses because “You’ll grow out of it soon enough” because
They always think we’ll grow out of who we are like our love and our genders are
Skins to be shed and regrown
I am thinking about the teenage girls who dream of soft lips and think they aren’t allowed to want that
I am thinking about the children who pour through books searching for a translation to prove that God doesn’t hate them
I am thinking about the ones who live in a place where their love is a prison sentence and
Their gender might get them killed
I am thinking about the children who are told that they are monsters unfit to even
Use the bathroom in peace
I’m thinking about the children who sent their families panicked goodbye texts
Last words filled with love before they were
Shot to death in a nightclub because
Someone decided that our love makes us worthless
“Children need a mother and a father” well I’m thinking of my mother who
Started beating me when I was thirteen years old and my father who
Never stopped it
I’m thinking of the father who has Girl On Girl Action bookmarked on his phone but who
Disowned his son for being a daughter
I’m thinking of the mother who wrote nsfw slash fanfiction in college but who
Kicked her daughter out of the house because she likes girls
I’m thinking of my girlfriend and how she softens the air around her and how
Your children would be lucky to know her at all
“Think of the children” I am
I’m thinking of the children who are learning that our love is something to be hidden and
Ashamed of and avoided around family dinners
That our love is uncomfortable and inappropriate and wrong
Tell me again, that We Are One Love
Tell me again, that you will rally behind us
Show me again, what happens when you tell the world that we shouldn’t be seen
—  Fuck Your Parental Controls
Imagine Ivar challenging you out of jealousy.

Request for @ z808z

Summary: You are a shieldmaiden trained by Lagertha. Björn sees you as a sister and when you get to Kattegat to discuss raids with the rest of the brothers you notice who jealous Ivar becomes of your relation with Björn. And that is something he wants to prove himself over and challenge you to a fight.
Words: 1962

Hope you all like it! If you have a request, don’t by shy to ask. I don’t bite. ;-)

You brushed the sweat from your forehead with your sleeve before taking your sword back in your good hand and facing Björn again. You didn’t liked it when he tried to make a point, in this case you not worthy of coming on raids with him. He just stood there, with a little grin on his face, his body twice the weight you had and dubble the experience. “If you can defeat me y/n, than maybe.” He said again. It didn’t maked you angry, he was the brother you needed, protective, always looking out for you. Maybe he wasn’t your real brother, Lagertha kind of adopted you in the family, but for you he was your real brother. And that brother didn’t want you to join him on raids. You learned from Lagertha that you couldn’t react in anger of emotion, so your calm steady body was your best weapon against him. You attacted again, the sound from metal against metal pulled more people together to watch. Björn was Ragnar oldest son, everybody admired him, here and even in Kattegat in the present of his four brothers. You held your eyes on him, ducking under his arm and tackeling his foot that threw him out of balance. Your sword hitted the inside of his other knee and he felt. You threw yourself on him, your sword against his throught while your body sat on his chest. You smiled triumphant and petted him on the head.
“Can I come now?” You asked. He pushed your sword away and grabbed you by your middle, almost throwing you over the grass. You landed on your stomach and he had your arms in a grip that caused you pain.
“Björn enough.” Lagertha said. Björn petted you back and stood up, you followed. Lagertha stood with Astrid by her side among the other people. You looked up to Björn who smiled in proud.
“I think she’s ready.” He announced.
“You think?” Laughed Lagertha while she walked over to you. She laid her hand on your cheek, running her thumb over it. “You are even better than me when I was your age.” She said. You blushed a little by the compliment.
“I learn it from the best.” You replied. Without Lagertha and Björn you wouldn’t stand where you stand now.
“It is your decision Björn.” Lagertha threw him a promesing glance.
“I will go to Kattegat, see who wants to come of my brothers.”
“Can I come with you?” You asked. You didn’t get that much to Kattegat, it was like Lagertha liked to keep you a secret from Aslaug.
“Sure.” Nodded Lagertha, she kissed you on the forehead before leaving.

It was rather late when you and Björn arrived in Kattegat. But how dark it may be outside, everybody recognized Björn immidiatly. You both left the horses with some man en walked over to the great Hall. From where you stood you could hear all the amusment that was going on inside. You walked after Björn and stood still beside him when he opened the door. The people felt silent for a moment, your gaze went over the people looking for a familair face … and that face sat on the throne, Aslaug. She looked at you with that uncertainty that made you smile a little. Björn gave you a grin before walking over to his brothers who all sat around a table. “Brother!” Said Ubbe while standing up for a greeting. When he pulled back from Björn he gave you a promesing smile. “Look at you y/n. You grow more fierce every time I see you.” He winked. Hvitserk gave you a cup of ale while Björn sat down. You nodded towards Sigurd and then looked over to Ivar.
“Ivar.” You greeted him. He narrowed his eyes a little while you sat down on the chairrest of Björn’s chair.
“Why is it that you keep her all to yourself Björn?” Ivar asked right away. From all the brothers he wasn’t afraid to say his mind. You let your elbow rest on Björn his shoulder, narrowing your eyes in the same way Ivar did.
“Yes, why is that Björn?” You asked laughing.
“I keep all the good stuff for myself.” He replied without hesitation. You started laughing and drank from your cup. They had all their doughts about you, not knowing the full story and three of the brothers were rather carefull with you around Björn.
“We only hear good thinks, never saw it.”
“I would shut your big mouth little brother before she wants to make a point.” Björn warned his youngest brother. Ivar was not intimidated by that, he looked at you, grinning.
“I loved to see you try that.” He challenged you. You looked at Björn who only nodded. You looked back at Ivar, showing him your cup before drinking the rest of the ale.
“What brought you here brother?” Sigurd asked after a while.
“I want to go raiding again and I’ve come to see which of my brothes want to come.” He announced.
“Is she coming?” Hvitserk pointed at you.
“Maybe.” Björn answered in doubt, you slapped him on the head.
“Yes I’m coming.” You said to Hvitserk.
“You up for this y/n?” Ubbe asked you challenging.
“When is the last time you saw a shieldmaiden in action?” You asked them as if they were idiots who knew nothing about the subject.
“Last week, in bed.” Ubbe Laughed. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.
“But I will come on the raid.” Hvitserk nodded while looking over to his mother. You followed his gaze, Aslaug nodded towards him and gave you a small smile.
“I think mother is afraid of you y/n.” Observed Ivar way to loud. Aslaug gave her youngest son a smile but she didn’t replied on the words. “She doesn’t bit.” Ivar smiled.
“Ubbe, you’re in on the raid?” Björn asked finally. Ubbe looked in his cup and shook his head.
“I stay here, protect mother.”
“Me to.” Sigurg followed. Björn didn’t asked Ivar and beside the fact he was already jealous, he grew frustrated to.

You followed a trail that leaded into the woods. You didn’t wake up from anything so you were late for a change. You stopted your horse between some trees on the edge of a little open space. The brothers were already there, drinking and fighting. “There you are.” Björn said while walking towards you. You pulled yourself a little away when there flew an arrow right in the tree next to you, Ivar smiled at you from his seat. You pulled  the arrow out and jumped from your horse. Björn embraced you with one arm, pinching you against his chest.
“Goodmorning to you to.” You smiled, almost choking because of the force he put in it. Hvitserk and Sigurd were sparring with each other so you walked over to Ubbe and Ivar. You held his arrow up.
“If you want my attention you just have to ask Ivar.” You smiled friendly. He leaned a little forward to you while wispering.
“There is a lot that I want from you y/n.”
“Then you gonna have to ask it verry politely, maybe I grant your request.” You winked. He looked at you with those narrowed eyes, slightly amused by the fact you fooled around with him. You watched towards Hvitserk and Sigurd, observing their movements.
“You think you can handle those boys?” Björn jokes. You looked up at him with a devilish smile.
“I can handle you, Björn Ironside, why you think I can handle them.” You pointed towards the brothers. Ivar drew his sword and pointed to you.
“Come on y/n, afraid to loose from a cripple.” He challenged you.
“This will be interesting.” Laughed Björn. He drew his sword and gave it to you. You balanced it in your hand, took a good grip before you turned to Ivar.
“What do I get if I win?” He asked.
“Maybe I grant you a request.” You answered. His eyes grew more impatient, intense even. You already knew his weak point and it weren’t his legs, it was his anger, his emotions. You attacted as first, the sound of the metal from your swords against each other maked you smiled. You thought that Ivar would be easier, because of his legs but that was a mistake. Because of that you make a wrong move, causing his sword almost slid your neck, your back against his chest. The only thing that keeps him from winning was your sword that puts a distance between your throat and his sword.
“It’s not because I’m a cripple y/n, that I’m easy to handle.” He wispered in your ear, a little angry even. You forced his sword away and turned right back to him, fend off his next move.
“I never said that Ivar.”
“You think it.” He replied with clenched teeth. You didn’t think anything, I fact … it you had to choose one of those brothers it would be him or Ubbe. But you didn’t give him that kind of satisfaction. You drove him to the edge, cutting a piece in his arm while walking around him.
“What I think Ivar, is that you should be so angry all the time.” You said. You hearded his other brothers laughing. And that was the end of it, Ivar became impatient, let his emotions feed his attact and gave you an easy game. You used your footwork, agility and so dismantled him from his sword. You stood behind him, panting. “I like you Ivar.” You said, putting your finger against his head. “What is in here is more important than what is in there.” You pointed to his heart. You smiled concerned and turned to Björn who proundly embraced you.
“You can come on the raid.” He comfirmed. You smiled from ear to ear and when you looked over your shoulder to Ivar you saw his envious look towards you and Björn.

You stayed in the woods with the boys the rest of the day. You won from Sigurd and almost from Ubbe. You filled two cups and walked over to Ivar who sat against a tree. He looked up but didn’t said a thing when he took over the cup. “Why are you so jealous Ivar.” You asked while sitting beside him.
“Why should I be jealous?” He asked in return.
“I see how you look at me and Björn.” You talked further. You looked at him, calm.
“It must be a big thing, being Björn Ironside possession.” He wispered, gone into his own thoughts. You leaned your back against the tree, Ivar looked for a moment to the contact there was between your shoulders.
“First of all, I’m not a possession, second, he is like a brother to me.” You felt silent for a moment, putting all things to pieces before you looked back at Ivar again. “Is that what frustrates you? That you want me but can’t have me?” You could be as direct in your words like him and that was something he liked about you.
“I can have whatever I want.” He grinned.
“I’m not a slave Ivar.” You reminded him of you value to this world.
“No you are not.” He repeated with a promessing look.
“But you like that, don’t you?” You asked curious. He looked at you, those bleu eyes almost catching you in his gaze.
“You’re not that easy.”
“I wasn’t born easy.” You stood up and turned towards him. “Be a little less angry and frustrated, or jealous for that matter, maybe I let you one day.” You winked and walked away, leaving him behind chuckling of the idea that maybe some day you could be his …

SQW Day 2 - Mayor Milf [MILF]

My entry for day 2 of the Swan Queen Week, prompt “MILF”. Usual disclaimer applies. Thanks for reading! 

If there was one thing Emma Swan liked about her job as a sheriff in a town such as Storybrooke, it was patrolling by car. The town was always pretty peaceful, except for the occasional teenage quibble, dog running out of their master’s garden or Leroy drunkenly wandering about, so those car rides were the perfect occasion to cruise through town, greeting her neighbors and taking in the beautiful sight that was Storybrooke’s surroundings.  

As she turned a corner, she saw a group of teenagers on the sidewalk to her left, right outside of the park. She would normally simply drive past them and wave, but something struck her as unusual. The teenagers were all standing perfectly still, too still for it to be natural. She could practically feel the tension floating around, and their immobility clearly screamed that they’d barely stopped doing something reprehensible. She stopped her car and pretended to look at something on her phone to sneak a look at the teens. There were half a dozen of them, mostly boys and a couple of girls and – Emma raised an eyebrow at this – Henry. And Henry didn’t look too pleased with whatever situation he was in: he kept shooting angry looks at the boys in front of him and his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Upon seeing her normally so agreeable son so upset, Emma decided to take the matter into her own hands and got out of the car.

“How’re you doing, kids? You’re all having fun?” She asked as she walked towards them.

“Oh yeah, we’re having fun all right, Sheriff Swan.” One of the boys said, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. She recognized him as some kid a year older than Henry, whose parents lived a couple of blocks behind Granny’s diner. The boy – Edward? Ernest? – put his arm around Henry’s shoulder, looking way too friendly for any of it to be real.

Henry hurriedly shrugged his arm off from around his shoulders and took a step to the side, inching closer to where his friends – the Zimmer siblings and Paige – were standing. He shot the boy a death glare but still remained silent.

“Come on, Henry. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Emma definitely didn’t like that boy’s tone, nor the way he was looking at her son. Her eyes met Henry’s, but he looked away before she could try to convey any kind of message to him.

“Henry’s just being shy, Sheriff. Maybe he’d like you to call his mommy?” taunted the boy.

“Don’t talk about my mother!” Henry spat out. The boy shook his head and cackled, looking very pleased with himself.

“Why, Henry? You don’t like it when we bring up your lovely mommy, Mayor Milf?”

Everything after that happened in a blur: in the blink of an eye, Henry had thrown himself at the boy and it took all of Nicholas and Ava Zimmer’s strengths combined to hold him back. The boy jumped back and one of his friends went to pat him on the back. Emma instinctively stepped up to break any potential fighting, disoriented by the fact her son had pretty much started a fight, as well as by the pleading look Paige was throwing her. Henry’s eyes were throwing daggers and he struggled for a few more seconds, until Paige went to place a hand on his arm and told him to calm down. Emma raised an eyebrow at this, but any kind of question this sparked would have to wait; she first had to keep Henry from jumping at the other boy’s throat.

“What’s stopping you, pal? Scared of your mom?”

“Shut up, Edgar! I swear, if you don’t shut up about my family your little friends are gonna have to collect your teeth from the sidewalk!”

Emma had never seen Henry so angry. She could feel him tensing up again, and she knew this time his friends wouldn’t be able to hold him back.

“Henry, what’s going on?” She asked. “Come on kid, talk to me. I don’t want to have to take you to the station for getting into a fight.” She pressed when he kept quiet.

“He… he called Mom… disrespectful names… He said… He said she’s a MILF!” Henry managed through gritted teeth.

“I’m only telling the truth! Come on, everybody in this damn town knows this! Am I right, Sheriff Swan? You must’ve noticed, I’ve seen you looking at her!”

That was when the boy – Edgar, as Henry had called him – crossed a line for Emma. She would have let the taunting slide, and she would have looked away from his obvious intention to pick up a fight with Henry, but him saying those things about Regina were just too much.

“What did you just say?” She barked, whipping around and grabbing the teen by the arm. A flash of fear came over his face, and Emma could practically see him think that he shouldn’t have said that.

“I… I said…” he stuttered, obviously anxious. Behind Emma, Paige snorted and Nicholas muttered something she couldn’t hear.

“I heard you. Now you listen to me: I never want to hear you, or any one of your buddies say anything like that about women of Storybrooke in general, or Mayor Mills in particular. Otherwise, as Henry so nicely put it, there’ll be consequences. You get that, pal? Did I make myself clear?”

The teenage boy swallowed and nodded. “Yes ma’am. Cristal clear.”

Emma smiled with satisfaction. “Good. Now all of you get out of here before I call your parents to collect you and tell them exactly what you’ve been up too.”

In a split second, the teenagers had all scattered and run off to what Emma assumed were their respective homes or another meeting spot, with the exception of Nicholas, Ava and Paige, who said goodbye to Henry and Emma before taking off, with the promise to text Henry shortly to figure out another hand out.

Emma and Henry were left alone. She put her hand over Henry’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“You okay, Henry?”

“I’m fine, Ma. Thanks.” He took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Why did you intervene?”

“I’m a Sheriff, kid. It’s my job to prevent fights.”

“I mean, why did you defend Mom like this? I figured you’d just tell Edgar to leave me alone and you’d scold me for getting upset to the point of almost getting into a fight.”

“Well, I just don’t like when people are disrespectful to your mother.” Emma was getting uncomfortable with the whole situation, and she just wanted to drive Henry home quickly.

“But why my mom? Why do you want to defend her honor like this? You’re usually not that bothered when it comes to other people…”

“Henry, I – I don’t know, okay? I just hate it when people think it’s okay to be rude to her, because they feel justified in some way because of her past actions. Also, your mother is a human being, not a piece of meat, and I seriously don’t want to think about anyone wanting to – you know – with the mother of my son, let alone another teenager.”

Emma blurted out the last part without thinking, and even she seemed surprised by her words. Henry looked startled at first, before smiling brighter than his mother had seen him smile in a little while.

“Sooooo… Are you still gonna pretend you don’t like Mom? Not even a little bit? I mean come on, Ma, it’s so obvious you like her!” Nudging his mother, he added “I think I could allow you to call her a MILF, you know.”

Emma blushed and gently shoved her son away. “Ew, Henry. Definitely not the kind of talk I want to be having with you!” She glanced sideways at her son, and the look of pure hope on his face made her think that, maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she told Regina about the confusing feelings she’d always had for her. Maybe.


Request(s): List 2 #8 for Murphy x reader please? ☺️  

Pairing: Murphy/Reader

Word Count: 1,100

Originally posted by mariexavgeropoulos

“Fuck Murphy why are we doing this?”

“Because Y/n. You know what happened-”

“Yes but you could be floated. What would I do without my Best friend?”

The boy hesitated, “Probably not get in trouble. Now let’s go. If you’re helping me, then come along. This is your last chance to run off.”

You sighed looking into Murphy’s eyes. “fine fine. Let’s go”

The lighter was loose in your jacket pocket. You and Murphy were sneaking around the almost empty corridors, sometimes having to hide behind walls from guards.

Murphy had hatched the plan almost a week after his mother had died. His father was floated almost a year ago for stealing medicine for his mothers flu. Soon after his mother started drinking, and would sometimes even go so far as beating him, it caught up to her. She had died as well, leaving the last words coming from her mouth as the angry words to her son about how it was his fault that his father died.

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anonymous asked:

For something deep, how about a soulmate au where marks on a persons body shows up on their soulmate and the reader has an abusive parent? Maybe with Iwaizumi?

《Before I begin, I would like to point out that this is very much different than the things I usually write. IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH PHYSICAL ABUSE, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS!!!!》

“Iwaizumi, honey, do you mind answering a few questions for me?”
“What do your mommy and daddy do for a living, sweet heart?”
“Mama’s a nurse. Mama says my dad is a runaway.”
“Does your daddy not live with you?”
“Alright… Iwaizumi, do you mind telling me how you got those bruises? Is your mommy giving them to you?”
“”Iwaizumi, I know you’re afraid, but this is a very serious matter. Is your mother giving you those bruises?”
“Then who is?”
“My soulmate.”

Out of all the nights in the year where Iwaizumi had to get a headache, he couldn’t believe tonight had to be the night. The universe knew tomorrow marked the start of the biggest volleyball tournament in his life. The universe knew he had to wake up at 4 o'clock tomorrow morning and take a jog around the neighborhood. Yet, there it was, the sickness of the head, throbbing right behind his left eye. He didn’t want to have to leave his bed this late. It was one in the morning and he knew if his mom had caught him walking around at such an hour, he’d be sent to a metaphorical guillotine. Yet the throbbing didn’t seem to want to stop, and the bottle of Advil resting in the medicine cabinet just down the hall was very tempting, and honestly, it was worth getting his head chopped off by his mother for a moment of relief.

Although, when he did manage to sneak to the bathroom, seven squeaky floorboards and a mere heart attack later, he began to regret his decision to ever get up. He didn’t have a headache, although he wished he did. He’d rather have his entire brain gut out and fried than ever have to go through this trauma again. The bruises were back. Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe. The bruises hadn’t been happening for years now. He figured her abuser must’ve gotten imprisoned, or died, or something. They couldn’t be back, this couldn’t be happening.

Splayed across his left eye was a bruise bigger than his fist, puffy and swollen and oh god, was he bleeding? His heart was hammering in his chest and the more he thought about it, the more he felt a real headache coming on. He must’ve yelled, or something, because in the matter of seconds his mother was pounding on the bathroom door, cursing something about how late it was.

These bruises he’s been getting have been causing more harm to his family than actual family affairs. “Cursed at birth” is what his mother said. “If I catch the son of a bitch who’s been hurting you and his daughter, he won’t be alive long enough for you to ever meet him!”
Though it seemed rather incredulous every time his mother said such a thing when he was a child, now, at eighteen, looking up at the familiar bruise he hasn’t seen in five years, Iwaizumi felt the same. He felt rage, fear, every cell in his body felt vile. His mother’s belligerent knocks on the bathroom door boomed louder, loud enough to wake his dog up downstairs. His dog was barking, his mother was screaming, every bang on the door sent another violent jolt through his head. It was absolutely insane, and opening the door meant having to face the bitter slap of the past.
But he did it.

The moment the door unlocked his mother stopped her pounding. Her mouth was half open, ready to mercilessly scold him. Her under eyes were dark and sunken, body limp from exhaustion. The moment she realized what was cast upon her son’s face, all her exhaustion turned to fatigue. Iwaizumi instantaneously felt guilty. He held an arm out to his mother, who only shook her head in protest.
“Maybe she ran into a door? Or a pole?” his mother croaked, unable to look him in the face.
“Ma, I don’t think so. You don’t think so either. You don’t have to lie to yourself to-”
“Maybe she got in a fight? A feisty girl would be perfect for you, Hajime.”
“Mom, stop!” Iwaizumi grabbed his mother by the shoulder, who still refused to look up from the ground.
“This isn’t your fault, Ma. It isn’t mine, either. It’s nobody’s fault besides whoever’s hurting this girl, okay? Please don’t feel guilty. It doesn’t even hurt. See?” Iwaizumi took a few jabs at his eye with his pointer finger. “It’s just a bruise, that’s all.”
“Explain what the hell you were doing looking through the medicine cabinet, then. Do you think I’m stupid?” She scolded, pointing towards the open doors above the sink.

Iwaizumi was at a loss for words. He just stood there, hands folded, waiting for his mother to continue. It wasn’t worth trying to come up with a lie to save himself. His mother did nothing but sigh, leaning her weight on his chest. This was the last thing she wanted to see tonight, and Iwaizumi felt absolutely horrible about it. Although, like he said, it wasn’t his fault, nor was it his mom’s. It was just a joke being played on him by life itself, and all he could do is sit back and watch.
“Nobody wants to see their son with bruises, Hajime.”
“I know, mom.”
“What are you gonna do tomorrow, now? Don’t you have a big game? What’s Tooru gonna say? You can’t come up with an excuse, you aren’t clumsy.”
“I can say I was playing basketball at the park and it got out of hand, or something. He’ll believe that.” Iwaizumi shrugged, taking one last look at his black eye before shutting the bathroom light off. He lead his mother back to her bedroom, where she sat down at the foot of the bed and patted at her side. Iwaizumi couldn’t remember the last time he sat in bed with his mom. Probably the last time the bruises showed up.
“Tooru’s known you longer than time itself. He’s gonna be the first one to realize what happened.”
“Not if I don’t tell him.”
“Tooru’s smart, Hajime. He’s going to interrogate you like a bitch. C’mere-” His mother violently slapped the spot on the bed next to her again. “Is it puffy?”
“Not really.” Iwaizumi huffed once slumping down. “Not as puffy as it could be. Swelling’ll probably die down by tomorrow afternoon, through.”
“Do you still remember how to put foundation on?” His mother inquired.
“I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal, Ma. I can show up to a volleyball game with a black eye. The other team will think I’m badass, or something. Volleyball isn’t a game where you have to look pretty.”
“But do you really want to go out looking like an abuse victim?” His mom yelled, grabbing his hand menacingly. She squeezed it so hard kis knuckles clacked together, and if she went any harder, he would wince.
“Mom, don’t say that.”
“I won’t say that when you realize how hard it is to be a mother to a child who’s always getting hurt like this. Do you realize how often I have to answer questions about abusing my son? Do you know what it’s like having to tell every mom in the neighborhood about my personal life? Do you know how stressful this is? The day you have kids, you’ll know. They’ll get a scraped knee out of nowhere and you’ll feel like it’s the end of the world.” His mother had gotten red in the face. Her eyes were getting bloodshot and tears welled up in the corners. He suppressed a frown.
“I’m sorry Mom.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not our fault.”
“You’re making me feel like it is.”
“It’s… It’s not…” His mother took a deep sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. He relaxed, letting her lay there until she picked her head up again.
“Before you get dressed tomorrow, let me put some medication on that, at least. It’ll help the abused chick, too. I hope.”
“Abused chick, really?” Iwaizumi groaned.
“You have a better name for her?” His mom shrugged.
“I don’t think she deserves to be called any names but her own.”
“What a sweet boy, you are.” His mom huffed. “She’ll love a boy like you.”
“We can only hope.”


“So you guys know about my cousin, right? The shy one?” Iwaizumi stared blankly at Matsukawa as he started rambling on about something. The game was about to commence any minute now, and Iwaizumi couldn’t think about anything besides his opponents. Matsukawa and Hanamaki didn’t seem to care though.

“You mean the hot one?” Hanamaki snorted.
“Can’t agree to that, it’s a little too United States for me. Anyways, she has these crazy strict parents, or something, they never let her come outta the house. She’s here today, which is really surprising, but she kinda looks like she wants to die, doesn’t she?” Matsukawa pointed up on the balcony to a girl, earbuds in and on the verge of tears. She looked absolutely mortified over absolutely nothing at all. It took Iwaizumi a moment to actually care to look up at her, but once he did, his heart stopped.

She was only about thirty feet away from where he was standing. She looked plain to anyone who would’ve just passed by her, but Iwaizumi noticed something, her foundation. It looked all too familiar under the gymnasium lights, all caked up on the left side of her face, making it seem a lot more orange than the rest.
She had a black eye. Well, presumably she did. That, or she was just horrible at applying makeup, but the former seemed much more likely.

Iwaizumi did nothing but gape and tug at Matsukawas sleeve. “Issei, what’s your cousin’s name?” He pondered.
“__, why?”
“What school does she go to?”
“Dude, what’s with the background check on my cousin?”
“You’ll find out.” And with that, the referee blew his whistle, and the whole situation was put on suspense.

Iwaizumi couldn’t focus during the game. His heart had already been racing, knowing that just thirty feet away, could be his soulmate. He had missed two receives and barely missed a toss from Oikawa, to which he was promptly scolded with, “Iwa-Chan, what are ya, brain dead?” All in all, he felt like passing out, but he would never admit that to any of the boys working their asses off on court. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye he’d glance up, checking to make sure she was still standing there. She never looked once in his general direction, which was a real shame. If she had noticed his black eye, it would’ve made this whole ordeal twenty times easier.

The game seemed longer than any he had ever played before. They had won, per usual, jumped around in the middle of the court, slapped each other’s backs, the whole ritual. Though, he didn’t. He was happy about the win, everyone was, but something bigger was eating at his mind. Oikawa was the first one to notice this, because his arm found its way around his neck as soon as their celebratory cesspool had dispersed. He didn’t say anything, just teasingly rested his weight against Iwaizumis shoulder as they triumphed into the locker-rooms.
“Issei, get your cousin in here!” Iwaizumi demanded the moment he slammed his locker shut.
“Uh, why?” You think she’s cute or somethin’? I don’t think she even knows what a crush is, dude, so you’re pretty-”
“I think she’s my soulmate.”

In that moment, like an overly dramatic soap opera, everyone went silent.
“Is that what this is all about? You acting like the stick up your ass is up twelve inches deeper?” Oikawa snorted, trying to make light of the situation. Iwaizumi shot him a look, and Oikawa only sighed in reply. He could see the fear in Oikawa’s eyes, he had seen everything Iwaizumi had.
“Well, I’m sure she’s waiting for me, unless she bolted the minute the match ended. You can come find her with me, if you want.” Iwaizumi nodded in reply, tussling with his hair in the changing room mirror before following Matsukawa out.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think about everything his mother had said. Was it really her parents who were ruining her life, or was there a possibility she was a natural born klutz? There was no more time to think as suddenly, Iwaizumi found her standing right across from him. She had stared right into his black eye, but said nothing. Up close, Iwaizumi could see clearly that there was a spot right over her eye, the same faded purple, the same swelling on the lower lid.
“__, this is Iwaizumi. I think he thinks you’re cute or something ‘cause-” Matsukawa was blabbering on about something, but Iwaizumi didn’t care to pay attention. He hadn’t payed attention at all today. Oikawa was right, he felt brain dead. The girl standing across from him did nothing but stare, She didn’t look scared, or sad or anything. If anything., she looked content. Matsukawa had walked away a while ago, leaving them there to just stare. It was like a battle to see which one of them could address the situation first.

“I’m sorry.” Came a sudden croak of a broken voice. “I’m so sorry. It’s you, isn’t it?” Like a wave crashed upon the shore, fear hit her quick, a sudden sullen frown on her face.
“Yeah, it’s me. You have nothing to apologize for, it’s-it’s not your fault.” Iwaizumi contemplated reaching out for her, but stopped. He figured she didn’t like to be touched.
“It’s all my fault, Iwaizumi. You, I gave you that black eye!”
“No you didn’t, who ever hurt you did. Believe me, I’m not mad at you.”
“You deserved someone better than me.”
“Doubt it. Fate works in mysterious ways, __. In ways we can’t control. I have to ask you though, who’s hurting you?”

She paused, hands fiddling at her sides. Iwaizumi knew this pressure, so he just waited. He waited until she slowly creeped out of her shell, and peeped, “My father.” Iwaizumi nodded, his own hands straining in his pockets.
“Your father, oh god. __, as your soulmate, I now feel as if I’m responsible for your wellbeing. Get the hell out of that house.”
“I can’t just leave, Iwaizumi. Those are my parents, they support me and-”
“You’ll come live with me, or Matsukawa, or someone! You’re a third year, correct?”
“You’re going to college soon then, right?”
“There’s no point in you staying in that environment any longer than you need to. Pack up, leave, call the police, something! You can’t stay in that place, __. You could die.”
“They wouldn’t kill me.” She shook her head. Iwaizumi sighed, the stress build up of all these years slowly tumbling off his shoulders, but slowly building back up as something stronger. It was fear.
“They can give you black eyes, though. And broken bones and lashes. Please, listen to me. I lived with you all these years, but you never knew it. I don’t know how it feels emotionally, but I know how it feels physically. Try to get the hell out of there, __.”
“We can only hope.”


House Tyrell of Highgarden is one of the Great Houses of Westeros. It rules over the Reach, a vast, fertile, and heavily-populated region of southwestern Westeros, from their castle-seat, Highgarden. Formerly led by Lord Mace Tyrell, his mother, the indomitable Olenna Tyrell, stands as the last known member of the house. Mace’s son Loras was a noted tournament knight (and, secretly, the lover of Lord Renly Baratheon). Mace’s daughter Margaery married Renly when he crowned himself king, to cement the alliance between Renly and her father. Following Renly’s death, Margaery was then married to King Joffrey Baratheon before his assassination at his wedding feast. She was then married to his younger brother, King Tommen Baratheon. The Tyrell sigil is a golden rose on a pale green field. Their words are, “Growing Strong”.

Houses of Westeros Aesthetic - inspired by @ibuzoo

The corpse of Clarnell Strandberg - mother of serial killer Edmund Kemper - is wheeled out of the duplex she shared with her son in Santa Cruz, 1973.

Clarnell is thought to have suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder, which is supported by Edmund’s testimony of a horribly abusive parenting style and frequent arguments between mother and son. Clarnell would often taunt Edmund because of his shyness and sensitivity, and described him to her friends as a “real weirdo”. As he reached puberty Clarnell alienated him even more by locking Edmund in the basement at night because she feared he would molest his sisters.

After his discharge from Atascadero Hospital, Clarnell again began to abuse her son and refused to introduce him to the young women she met at her job at the nearby university campus. “She was holding these girls up as too good for me” Edmund later stated in an interview. Convinced he could not have a normal loving relationship, Kemper decided to embark on a murder spree instead, killing six young women in the space of a year.

On the night she died, Clarnell arrived home drunk from a party, and mocked Edmund when he tried to talk to her. “I suppose you want to stay up all night talking” were her last words to her son. Instead, Edmund caved in her skull with a claw hammer and decapitated her. After raping the headless corpse, he cut out his mothers larynx and attempted to destroy it in the garbage disposal (the machine spat the vocal cords back out in his face, which struck him as “poetic justice”). He also screamed at and threw darts at her severed head.

Despite the horrible way she treated him, Edmund claims to have genuinely loved his mother, and wept as he described her murder on camera.