does anyone even remember this game

IMAGINE: Zombie Apocalypse!Tom AU

I MAY MAKE THIS INTO A SERIES! IF IT’S LIKED ENOUGH IT’LL HAPPEN! BUT FOR NOW THERE WILL ONLY BE ONE MORE PART CONFIRMED!

Warnings: Lots of death mentions!!!!!, blood, family death mention, swearing, gun use

Words: 2465

Prompt: I watched the walking dead lol

THE MONSTERS AMONG US

   The world surrounding you was silent besides the crunch of dead leaves under your feet as you walked. The forest was still today. The brisk autumn air chilling your bones, running shivers up your spine. Next to you was Georgia, an amber haired teen who had some how survived the last year by herself inside of a gas station. She held a large dew-drenched map in her bony hands, the colours of it reminded you of your old bedroom. Pink and green and any pastel colour. When the world was sweet and innocent. When you were sweet and innocent. In your hands was a beloved shotgun your father shoved at you just before he died.

   Death was a common thing nowadays.

   It started with a virus. A simple cold- at least that’s what everyone thought at first. It turned into something more disastrous, monstrous, perfectly evil. When the high fever broke and the vomiting was gone the world was hungry; hungry for brains, flesh, human meat. Anything that had to do with blood.

   And the world just took and took and took anything it could grab its hands on. Cities were destroyed. Families wiped off the board. Sunlight didn’t feel so warm anymore, and neither did the sound of music. Every thing now was either dreary, dark, or dead. You wished you were dead. You didn’t want to see the carnage anymore. You didn’t want to hear the screams of innocent people in the distance, how your heart wrenched to help them but you knew better. Helping people would get you killed in a gruesome way that you couldn’t dream of, never wanted to dream of. But there was something that pushed you to stay alive.

   It was like a video game your brother played in the basement. But only this was reality and there were no do-overs, no second life’s, no restarts. Once you’re dead you belong to them. You don’t even remember anything and neither does anyone else when you turn, but you all have the same instinct for blood, flesh, and brain.

   You watched it happen your younger brother, how he was one of the first to go. Later, as it got worse and the world was slowly tearing apart, your mother caught it. Six hours and then she was one of them. Six hours and the person who you loved and cherished was gone. It’s been two years since their deaths.

   You hadn’t had the chance to see it happen to your father if there was even anything left of him. You were stupid enough to convince him to join a group, thought it would be safer, that you could start a new family. You thought you could trust them. You were so stupid, so, so stupid. And your stupidity got your father killed, the only family you had left.

   The group had ditched you to save their own skins when a swarm of the dead came in. He gave his life for yours, along with his stolen shotgun. It weighed heavy in your hands, a broken promise to a girl from her daddy that he’ll always protect her.

   You clenched your jaw in anger, feeling tears pricking your eyes. You blinked to keep them away. Be strong, be fearless, and move on, you chanted to yourself. Some days, the mantra was the only thing that got you out of your sleeping bag.

   “Uh..” Georgia’s voice filled your thoughts. You stopped walking, fingers clenching around the shotgun as you faced her.

   “Uh?” You pushed with raised eyebrows.

   “I think… I think we’re lost.” Her voice was small.

   You tried your hardest not to snap at her.

   It’s been two days since the both of you’ve eaten. It’s been two days since Georgia decided if the both of you took a shortcut through the woods it would lead to a suburban area. Food, there was a promise of food.  Your stomach gurgled at the thought. Another broken promise.

   “What do you mean you think we’re lost,” You growled through clenched teeth.

   She looked to you, fear flashing in her hollow green eyes. “I-I don’t know where we are…”

   You opened your mouth to yell at her, to let out the pent anger that had been raging inside of you for days. But it wasn’t worth it. Half the forest would hear you if you did, and that would create some unwanted friends. A strong blow of wind pushed through the trees, they groaned and swayed side to side as if they were waving. The air promised winter. Winter was more deadly than the dead.

   “Georgia, Georgie, sweetie.” You began. “How long have we been lost for?”

   “A few hours.”

   “What?!” It came out louder than it was supposed to. You winced, your hands hot on the gun and eyes immediately darting to the trees around you for any sudden movements.

   Georgia’s voice cracked as she spoke in a whisper, “I.. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want you to get angry.”

   You scoffed. “Me? Angry? I’m upset now because we’ve wasted more time when we could be eating. Georgia… we’re gonna starve if we don’t find food. Please tell me you realize that, right?”

   “I get, (Y/N)! I get that we’re lost! I get that we haven’t eaten for days!” She screamed. “Don’t treat me like a kid!”

   Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.

   “Shut up,” You whisper-yelled grabbing her wrists tightly.

   “(Y/N), let go of me!” She yelled, slapping your shoulder as you continued the death grip on her wrist.

   “Shut up, Georgia. Shut! Up!” You pulled her in close, faces inches apart.

   You could smell her breath, something that was surprisingly minty fresh. You squinted at her mouth, noticing that when she opened to whine that there was a piece of white gum on her back molars. You gasped.

   “Are you stealing my gum?”

   “No!” Was her first answer. “Yes.” Was her second answer after you squeezed her wrist again, digging your nails into her grimy skin.

   “What did I tell you about-”

   She interrupted you, her body going still. “(Y/N)…”

   “Hey, don-”

   From behind you, a groan sounded. Everything in your body locked up, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. The groan came again, this time longer and more urging. Your throat became dry as you whipped around. In front of you were ten maybe twelve of dead corpses shuffling towards you and Georgia.

   “We’re fucked,” Georgia said after catching her breath.

   You froze in fear, watching them inch closer. You could smell the decaying bodies on the wind that whipped your hair around your face. You stared at them as Georgia tugged on your arms, screaming your name and telling you that you had to go.

   They were close, and your scent was the only thing on their minds. If they even had minds. Your chest heaved up and down as your breathing rapidly changed. Georgia was right, you were fucked. And you were going to bed dead in a moment if you didn’t move. But there was something entrancing about the dead. Hw they moved, how their heads cocked to the side at every sound.

   The sound of a gunshot rang beside your ear. You jumped out of your haze, hands instinctively raising and covering your left ear. You twisted in shock, leaves and wet dirt spewing about your feet. Georgia held the shotgun, her face clenched in such fury and fear that you knew she was gonna fire again. Without a second thought you grabbed the shotgun from her hands, then her wrist, and then you ran.

   Stupid, stupid, stupid. Firing a gun in the valley would welcome more dead. Not only that but you used ammo, precious ammo that you’ve been saving for something important. If you hadn’t stalled you wouldn’t be in this situation.

           Running, you felt like that was the only thing you knew. Under your feet, you felt your sneakers suck against the mud from the past days of rain. Icy wind kissed your flushed cheeks. You pushed harder, hearing more moans coming from behind you. How they kept up, you didn’t know. It only made you run faster despite the piercing in your lungs created. Alive, stay alive.

   “(Y/N)!” Georgia called your attention. You skidded to a stop to see her turning down a hill, her hair vanishing out of sight. For a moment your heart leapt in fear for her but she called out for you again, “We can lose them at the river!”

   With a sharp glance, you stare down the dead that had multiplied in numbers. The river. Your father’s voice echoed through your head, run. With a grunt you took off after Georgia, leaving the walking dead behind you. As you went your scarred hands slapped and scrapped against trees and sometimes hit the cold, wet ground, as you tried to keep balance. There was no room for error.

   The hill was steep, full of trees and overturned leaves from where your companion had run. You followed her footsteps, eventually finding yourself alone at the bottom of the valley, a thick, strong current river inches before your toes. If you hadn’t slowed down you would’ve been in the frigid water and been swept away to who knows where. Hypothermia and you’re dead.

   An eery silence filled your ears. There was no groaning from the dead, no calling from Georgia, just the wind caressing against the towering trees. You took a moment to watch the orange and deep red crinkled leaves twirl through the air, most of them landing either around you or in the grey twisting river.

   “Georgia?!” You dared to call out. You heard your voice laced with terror and discomfort echo throughout the valley. A few crows flew out of the tops of the forest around you. They cawed, filling in the silence. “Georgia..?”

   You continued walking, deciding to walk down the river until you could find a safe way to cross. You wished to your lucky stars that there would be an abandoned bridge or a sturdy log that would allow you to find the other side of the river. And once you did find a safe passage, your next mission would be finding Georgia.

   You stuffed your shaking, mud covered hands into your stiff pockets, the fingerless gloves with pulled strands did nothing to keep the chill off your brittle bones. The pit in your stomach grew larger the longer you walked, the hours that passed, the more by groaning you heard and avoided, taking different paths. Georgia not only had the map, but she also had most of the food as you decided to carry the sleeping bags and weapons. If neither of you found each other by nightfall, you would both be royally fucked.

   It was now nightfall, and your bones ached with each step. You didn’t dare to call out for Georgia anymore, but you continued to look for the amber headed girl. In the dusk light, you watched your breath curl from your lips. A warning that it would be a long night and that winter was coming.

   Hours later when the sun was gone and the moon took place in the starlit sky you were wrapped in two sleeping bags, huddled up on a thick branch of a gnarled oak tree. For the last half an hour you’ve been dozing off, head leaning against the bark, rope tied around your waist you didn’t fall off halfway through the night. You woke up to the sound of rustling, which made your eyes snap open and body go rigid.

   Completely silent, you shifted to be able to see what was going on below you. Before climbing up the tree you had set a string full of garbage you found littered throughout the forest in a five-metre circle around the tree. A trip wire, something you learned from the group you were with a while back. With shallow breaths you held onto the large hunting knife you’d taken from a corpse last week. It had come in handy for close range attacks if you were brave enough.

   Then you saw it. The flash of clothing beneath the moonlight. There was greasy hair, amber and a dark chestnut, both shimmering so bright. Your breath fell short when you saw that it was Georgia and that she was limping and being supported by another person not too far from you. You couldn’t tell if she was conscious or not. You exchanged the knife for the shotgun, your oily forehead softening with fear. You pushed past it, knowing you’ll never forgive yourself if you didn’t jump down to save your companions ass.

   So you did. You left your pack in the tree, shotgun clutched under your armpit as you jumped to the ground, then leaned against the bark for shadow cover. You waited, waited to see if Georgia and who ever it was would stumble over the line of string garbage. You waited.

   The sound of clanging and muttered curses was like music to your ears. They were in front of you, on the ground. It was a man, you noticed a familiar accent as he cursed the god that reigned in the sky. But there was no sound from Georgia, not even a soft whimper as she hit the muddy ground. You walked forward, squaring your shoulders as the muzzle of the gun was pointed towards the stranger’s head. You cocked it, the moonlight pushing through the trees, cutting shapes and patterns across his face. He twisted his body to see who was pointing the gun at him. His eyes, hollow but filling with fear, started from the ground, then dragged up to your shadowed face.

   You could see every curve of his face, the way his mouth was agape at the sight of the gun, how his left cheekbone was covered in mud and a few spots of blood. Just like you, he was grimy, hair greasy, clothing reeked.

   He was quite handsome, to say the least.

   You didn’t have time to think about that. Maybe in another life, where everything was normal and you were happy. Where you didn’t run for a living. Where you smelt like flowers or wore fresh clothes, or actually smiled. Smiled like he did just then when the moonlight shifted across your face.

   “You must be (Y/N).”


tagged: @midtownhoe , @hufflepuffholland , @suit-lady, @homecunnings, @hollandaised, @tomsh0lland, @softspidey, @quacksonbitches, @sixtiesholland, @thebucckybarnes, @tbholland

PAUL: It was unfortunate for Julian. I’d been fortunate to be around a lot of kids. I’m from a big family so your cousins would dump a baby on you and you’d know you have to jiggle him on your knee. You couldn’t go, ‘Oh no, I’m scared of babies!’ You had to jiggle it and you became good at it. I used to like playing with kids a lot. One of my enduring memories of when the Beatles first hit it and we were very famous, you’d go to people’s houses and they’d say, 'Would you just say good night to the kids? Would you? The babies won’t go to sleep till you do.’ So I’d always go up and say, 'Good night, sleep well.’ I enjoyed it, it was a very calm, fulfilling role for me. I’ve enjoyed being a parent, just never had a problem with it, touch wood. I’ve had problems with parenthood, like anyone does, but my mind was never set against children or kids, they never frightened me, whereas I think they did with John, even his own son.

            We’d gone on this Greek holiday once to buy an island and Julian and I spent a lot time playing around on the boat. I used to play cowboys and Indians with him, and he’d love it: a grown-up who would go, 'Now you chase me, and I’ll chase you, but after you’ve caught me, not before, okay?’ And you were totally in this mad magic game. I remember John coming up to me once and he took me aside and said, 'How do you do it?’ I said, 'What do you mean?“ He said, 'With Julian. How do you play with kids like that?’ I remember feeling a wave of sorrow coming over me, like uhh, I’d love to be able to tell you. Then I tried to give like the potted version, you know, 'Play, pretend you’re a kid. Play with him.’ But John never got it. Never got the hang of it. John was always a man. I see a lot of parents like that, still, to this day. They can’t make the break to realise that it’s great to give so much of yourself to a kid, because you get it all back in triplicate. Some people just don’t know that. John was a single child so he didn’t necessarily know that and he didn’t get much education afterwards.

            When we saw him with May Pang, I remember him coming up to me and hugging. He said, 'Touching is good. Touching’s good,’ and if I ever hug anyone now, that’s a little thing that sticks in my mind. He was right, but the thing is, I actually knew it more than John did, he only was saying it because he was discovering it. I don’t think he had a lot of cuddling, certainly not from his mother, because he wasn’t even allowed to live with her.
—  barry miles, paul mccartney: many years from now
Thoughts on Demi-Sexual Piper????

I was thinking the other night about Piper, more specifically her behavior since going off to college. I had assumed after getting past Louis she would be out there dating/going home with a new girl each week but she really isn’t?? She’s focusing mainly on her work and making new friends around town. It’s probably been two years since she’s moved out and although she does occasionally flirt with a random sim here and there, she’s never had a whim to do anything more than that.

Then I remembered how in high school Piper never got physical/flirtatious whims for anyone but Louis, and even that took YEARS (her whole life actually) to develop elope. She never messed around on the side, never even tried to kiss anyone her own age, and sure I guess you could say that’s just how the game went but… idk that’s reading like Demi-sexuality to me???

If I have any Demi-sexual followers I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

6

@fayemichaels
I post all the characters, not just who use a wand, maybe it will be a help to other users too. Not the best quality but I hope it helps a bit. (Ironical, but the poorest picture is about the new character - I mean now Sigurd, not Mel. I play on phone and its screen is narrow and the half of his wand is missing, and I couldn’t find a better picture neither on the web >__<)

ps. I don’t know where did I get the picture about Randolph. I saved it a very long ago, I don’t know when, I just found it in one of my folders, and I haven’t seen him using a wand since then. Even if he casts an incantation, he doesn’t use a wand recently, at least I haven’t noticed it (though I doubt it, I’m sharp enough if it’s about otome games :D)  Does anyone else have more info about it or remember when he uses a wand? Though I don’t think he needs a wand, he’s fckng pro :D

anonymous asked:

this is really vague but for a prompt, the gangsey meeting the foxes.

Does anybody remember this?

…Yeah. 


Anywho 

I have this hc that even though Adam could get into an Ivy League of his choice, my humble son wouldn’t go that route. So, where better to go than Palmetto State University. (For the purpose of these hc’s y’all hush and just go with it

It’s after a game that Adam and his friends get invited to a party by some Vixens. The team’s there, and that’s how Adam meets the Foxes

He and Neil hit it off. Neil doesn’t like people, and interacting with anyone other than his team doesn’t usually end will, but when he meets Adam, there’s this aura about him that piques Neil’s interest. Adam doesn’t talk much but his words mean more bc theyre so succinct and to the point and Neil appreciates that. They become fast friends and the rest is history.

Fast forward to final championships that year and Adam goes to every Foxes game now, but he invites Blue, Gansey, and Henry bc they hadnt been too far away and Ronan didn’t mind coming down to visit

The Foxes win against the Trojans and theyre on top of the world, every last one of them, bc they know for sure that they are a /good/ team that plays fair and well and wins bc they can and not bc they have a point to prove

ahem 

a win means celebrations and the foxes/vixen clan along with all of PSU dont disappoint, and well, bc Adam and Neil are so close Neil texts Adam and asks where he is when he doensn’t see him near him, and then Adam brings his squad over 

and at this point everyones kind of adopted Adam bc if he were at all athletically inclined, he’d make a great Fox, but that doesnt mean he isnt welcome amongst them, esp when they’d gotten the chance to get to know him better

anyway 

he introduces the team to his friends and the gangsey is kind of awestruck as to how Adam managed to become so close to /The Foxes/ and well

Henry’s fangirling over p much everyone but he and Allison hit it off p quickly once the initial introductions are over with 

and I know yall like the idea of Gansey and Kevin bonding over being history buffs but pls consider - Gansey being able to keep up with Kevin, drinkwise and Kevin being horribly impressed when Gansey can hold a conversation with the same amount of alcohol in his system as Kevin who is literally about to pass out then and there 

Ronan and Andrew. Just - I…oh boi, ok. 

They hate each other, not in an Andreil way, but like…they both exude this aura of danger and either of the are fiercely protective of their respective families and they dont trust the other

But Adam and Neil get along so well, and they are so similar that once they get past the initial wariness around each other they bond really well over knives and cars and their boyfriends 

iliknnvlkfjk let me live you idiots

also for your consideration Blue and Dan’s relationship? the absolute badassery they both exude and revel in my feminist daughters not about to put up with anyones shit 

also imagine the wonder  on everyones faces when they meet a girl shorter (as short as??) than the twins  

also consider Blue on Matt’s shoulders bc WHY NOT 

LOTF Characters in Middle School

Ralph: The entire Navy Seal meme, every day, fluently. Mediocre grades. Flies by socially with little more than good looks and a decent personality (as long as you’re at least a 5 or a 2 named Jack)


Jack: Has been in choir since DAY ONE, calls theater kids losers, hates the jocks not for any valid reason other than a personal vendetta that he, himself, cannot play sports for shit. Not even just because he’s skinny, but also because he can’t follow someone else’s strategies and blows away with a slight breeze.


Simon: That weird kid that never says anything, even in group projects. But when he does? It’s super weird and cryptic and you can tell he’s trying to be friendly and helpful but how the /fuck/ do you know that. If there’s a ‘write about your favorite animal’ prompt in English you know he’s the kid raising his hand asking if bugs count


Maurice: He’s the kid that sits in the back and makes girl moans really loudly. Owns a fidget spinner, but doesn’t need it. “U dare me to do that?” “Dude no-” (does it). Calls himself a pro gamer, but his entire gaming experience consists of COD, Minecraft, and coolmathgames4kids.


Roger: Edgelord. He doesn’t say anything to anyone unless you knew him since before he was the devil. Draws pentagrams on the desk in pencil. Claims to have been in more fights than he can remember, and won all of them, but has never been in a fight. He cuts the tails off of lizards and kills bugs. He can usually take it or leave it, but the second ANYONE, even the teacher, says leave it alone so someone can take it outside, it becomes his life mission to crush that bug. Makes death threats over the smallest jokes. Basically, he’s /that/ kid.


Piggy: Teachers pet. Always has extra lunch money for cookies and chips. Straight A’s. He has friends, but it’s just people who don’t like him or are 5th graders who just think it’s SO RAD a mIDDLE SCHOOLER wants to be their buddy. Says Ralph is his best friend but every time he does you just see Ralph shaking his head somewhere in the background. Always. Even in his own home, you can almost see the reflection of Ralph in the windows, denying it. As if even in spirit he rejects Piggy’s intimate friendship.


Sam'n'Eric: “Where’s the homework.” “I’m Eric” “Oh, sorry, (steps to the desk next to him) Where’s the homework?” “I’m Eric.” “??”

i’m still getting shit for that paid mods post.

“UHHHHH PEOPLE SHOULD GET PAID FOR THEIR WORK“ thinking it’s that simple

like none of the people defending this think just maybe that this hobby basically anyone can jump into will get flooded with a bunch a tools looking to make a quick buck off of half-assed or even stolen content due to said content being circulated as, what might as well be, microtransactions?

do they not realize how valve does nothing but profit off of this, so why would they care how bad it gets? like what happened back when it was first implemented?

does no one remember the shitshow that still is steam greenlight?

on top of all of that say goodbye to a healthy modding scene adding value to a game; now you get to pay up front!!!!!!!!!!!!

all of this can be avoided by just realizing this is exactly what payal/patreon are used for, donating to creators who really deserve the cash due to putting out something quality. why do people need big man valve controlling circulation in the first place?

the post was a joke in the first place and that article is like five months old. just shut up, god lol

Does anyone remember the Wiiware mystery dungeon games that never came out except for in japan, BECAUSE I DO! And even though I think I had read somewhere about the story being silly the game still looks cute and I always wanted to play it.(Thb I’m still kinda salty that it never came westward)

For @starkroqers for the 2nd round of the @jonsaexchange. Sorry for the lateness of this. My laptop broke lol but I hope you enjoy this

Grief is hideous.


Or the one where Sansa and Jon explore remembrance, or a lack of it.

“So, you are king now. What now?” Jon looks up at his, his eyes dark and unfathomable. They are Stark eyes, their father’s eyes but they are as strange and alien to her as Winterfell is now. She looks away, unable to bear the unfamiliarity of his stare.

They are home now. She is home but she cannot quite ease herself into this Winterfell that is not quite Winterfell. Cannot quite see past the scars on the walls and the empty space where her parents and siblings were meant to be.

“What is it that you want to do?” Jon’s voice is gentle and soft. It leaves her speechless. It has been a very long time since anyone has wanted to know her thoughts, a long time since someone even cared and Sansa in truth hates him for it. His gentleness, his care, it unsettles her, leaves her feeling unbalanced and unsure. This is not a game; this is not the game but she still cannot shake the feeling that one slip means death.



She does not know what to do with his kindness, his gentleness, his unknowable, unfathomable stare so she turns away and tells him some half-truth that does not answer the question.


“I just want to remember, Robb.” Grief wells up inside her, like a sore that never quite healed right. This is familiar, more familiar than Jon and Winterfell and even herself. She is not a girl; she is an old creature of ashes with bones that are strung together by grief. Grief is the thread that holds everything tight and she does not know what she would be without it.

She looks up at Jon, looks up, searching for the tears that should be in his eyes, searching for the grief that should be as sharp as her own, searching for the thread but all she sees is guilt. Guilt at his forgotten memories and guilt at his lost ghosts. She knows that he does not remember anything but their little sister. Knows that his silence and stare is more from lack of knowledge than grief. Grief does not clamp down on his words the same as it does for her. Grief is a forgotten thing for gods and kings.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Jon silence is hard and unyielding. It is the silence of gods. She feels her mouth twist into a sneer. She does not care if he is a god or a king or a man that was once dead. Jon Snow is a coward.

She looks away sneering, her body sore and heavy with all the ghosts and hurts that she cannot just forget. It is unfair to hold this against Jon, unfair to expect so much from him but she cannot help it.

It is a sad and lonely thing being the only one to remember and Sansa has been lonely for such a long time.

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked,” she tells him quickly, smoothing the creases in her dress, looking anywhere but at him.

“Sansa,” Jon says quietly but she refuses to look up and only goes on to speak more.

“It was folly to speak of such a sensitive subject so late. It was my mistake,” she continues steadily ignoring him.

“Sansa.”

But she only shakes her head and rises, her body heavy with her anger and hurt. It all aches. This should have all been Robb’s and Jon does not even have the mind to remember, to at least try. It is a lonely thing being the only one to remember and Sansa hates it. This is not how it should be, she thinks to herself, the injustice of it all finally sinking in, this is not what coming home should be like. There are a great many things that should not be and Sansa can only add it to never ending list of things that are so very very wrong in this world.

“It is late now your Grace, I shall retire.” Her voice is cold and sharp. She hopes it is cold enough to freeze him in his spot and sharp enough to hurt. She hopes that it hurts.

Jon looks up at her, his expression pained and guilty. “Sansa, please.” If Jon were any other man, she might have thought he sounded desperate, she might have believed him to be sad but he is not like other men. He does not want her forgiveness and she does not want to forgive so instead she turns her face away. She won’t forgive him for this. She won’t.

“I’m sorry.” But she refuses to look or listen. How could he have forgotten father and Rickon and Robb? How could he have forgotten them all. Sansa knows it is cruel to think so. She half wonders if her life would be any different if Jon had just remained dead. Finally, she is not alone but she is the only one that remembers and what a sad existence she now lives?

“You can’t apologise. There’s nothing to apologise for,” she says stiffly but Jon’s expression does not change. She moves away from him, now unbearably tired, tired of everything and everyone and desperately aching for home. “Goodnight your grace,” she tells him again, her voice softer but no less pained.

“I remember Robb with snow melting in his hair.” She freezes, all the air in her body leaves her body at that one simple statement and tears prick sharply at her eyes. Longing wraps itself tightly around her heart and squeezes tight. “He was smiling, we thought we’d both be heroes.” Jon’s voice is distant and wistful, it is the closest thing to familiarity and for once the man who was raised from the dead, who is now king, is not a god; he is her brother. And she has never been so grateful for him and his presence.

“I remember Arya with twigs in her hair. She had rashes all up her arm from flower picking. Our father had never smiled so much.” Jon smiles, there is hunger in his eyes and she can see the questions in his eyes. What of Bran and Rickon and Rodrick and all the others that should be here? What about their home.

She does not say anything more though, only takes his hand and squeezes gently. Jon stiffens under her touch but does not flinch and only squeezes back. They have time for memories. She will make time.

“they’re not people”
…………this is why i’m not publishing any more off-anon messages, i’m not gonna let people like this come after my followers.

i hope this is the last i’ll have to talk about this but how can anyone support and believe that somebody like this has good intentions if this is how they treat a group of people that has nothing to do with this?

and don’t you see that in their blind hatred they’re feeling entitled to throw the most hurtful comments at a stranger that they believe to be a p*dophile (for those who are too lazy to read: I’M NOT)
nevermind that this person might have their own issues (which i’m not gonna expose so that ppl will feel sorry for me and side with me, but i just want to make people THINK) but who cares, right? they’ve done something i believe is wrong and deserve to be dehumanized and a target to my sickest fantasies.

because now that i think about it, OP has been making up sick fantasies of school shootings, z**philia and who knows what else and projecting them on me. and the difference between the violence on my blog vs what they say is that they are not consensual (in fiction the reader can consent to reading/watching or leaving anytime if they don’t want to see it, but in real abuse you don’t get a choice) and they’re thrown at me without a warning with the intent of hurting and upsetting me, shocking the crowd and inciting them to take action against me. or would any of you express disapproval for somebody else’s sick fantasies spewing out even sicker fantasies in the process?

and btw, imagining, writing, watching or reading dark scenarios, fanfiction, books, movies, tv shows is not proof that somebody’s a bad person. i dare anyone who doesn’t believe me and is genuinely concerned to ask a psychologist.

(and just to put things in perspective, ask yourself, does watching movies or shows like game of thrones make you a pervert? is the director who imagined kyungsoo in self harm, murder and child abuse scenarios (yes, kidnapping is child abuse even if it sounds worse than it looks) and casted him for ‘i remember you’ a demon? is kyungsoo who wants to experience acting as an immoral character and thinks it would be a fun experience where he can show a different side of himself a bad influence too?)

believing so is ignorant and shows that you’re not mature enough to be exposed to this kind of content so (even though most of the actual posts on here aren’t nc-17) i hope that OP and anyone who agrees with them can stay away from my blog and stop terrorizing me and my followers and obsessing over me.

don’t get confused, these people are bullies who have been making up lies and aiming comments that would be considered “triggering” at me and attempting to manipulate the crowd to support their accusations, to which i’ve already responded here saying they were false.

i tried not to read the whole “call out post” because seeing it from their perspective it was starting to get really frightening but what i remember is enough to recognize that what they’re doing something that is called performative social justice.

i know i can’t make anyone believe me but what i can do is offer my side of the story and hope that people will consider it.

they say that i’m not following the rules (which i believed i was but i’ll reconsider) when everything they’ve done breaks the very first rule:

i’m not asking people to report them, or at least not yet, because they could always come back under a different username and i think it’s better to know who we should be cautious of, but i just want to say that we can’t let people like this intimidate us!! this is why i’m always speaking about certain fandom problems, like that aggressive and intolerant kind of shipping mentality that makes people very conflictive and always causes trouble if not against others within their own community (like people driving fellow shippers away with harrassment). but i try to talk in a general way and i’ve never targeted single users (some people might feel personally offended if the shoe fits though) and even when specific people have come at me i’ve never put the crowd against them, because the root of the problem is not a couple of people but crowd mentalities or social problems that go beyond our fandom.

i know OP might sounds intelligent and they & their friend(s?) have taken the time to collect “evidence” and construct a convincing argument but don’t let yourself be impressed by shocking words, consider different points of view and decide for yourself. it’s ok if you don’t like some of the things i’ve said or fic i’ve posted, they’re not meant for everyone, but there’s a reason they’re in here only. this blog is full of warnings even though most of what i post is sfw, but if people don’t pay attention to warnings and don’t use blocking tools to hide content they don’t want to see there’s nothing i can do about that. and even with all the precautions, content that might not be suitable for some people is everywhere because we can all be affected by different things, so it’s impossible for a single blog, a single movie or show to take care of everyone. they can take precautions to help, like putting ratings or warning for common sensitive topics, but that’s not a perfect formula and you also have to take care of yourself.

i tried ignoring and i blocked the hell out of this person since the first abusive comment i saw them add to one of my posts and they still went ahead and targeted me with their “call out” post so let’s hope that they can stop.

and to everyone else who’s helping spread their lies and celebrating what they’ve done against me: know that in a way you’re participating in targeted abuse too.

Number of times DA has made me think of Xiaolin Showdown: 2

DAO: When Zevran asks if Alistair is “woo-less” because it sounds like “wu-less,” which is a joke used in Xiaolin Showdown when the characters don’t have a particular Shen Gong Wu.

DAI: The final battle with Corypheus when he raises the Temple of Sacred Ashes into the air, all I can think about is a hardcore Xiaolin Showdown, in which the terrain always changes to suit the challenge, and castles and ruins rising into the air to make some kind of platform-esque challenge is a classic.

These are the things Dragon Age has left me with. I can no longer take Corypheus’s final battle sequence seriously because of this. Also, when Corypheus tells everyone to bow down before him and one random soldier shouts, “Never!” I can’t take that seriously either. I can very rarely take dramatic declarations of “never” seriously. And then the dramatic closeup of the Inquisitor and Corypheus staring each other down, and the Inquisitor has that awkward head tilt angle. I giggle.

At least for Zevran, his use of that word was used in a scene that was supposed to be comedic, so it’s fine if I find something unintentionally funny about it. Poor DAI got me laughing during a high-stakes pre-battle scene.

5

Naomi and James’ parents, Alex and Meg, run a bakery when they’re not too busy making music and it’s also the main spot where the gang likes to hang out. After all, they’ve been going there since they were kids. 

Also, a big thank you to @something-wicked-sims for letting me test some of her great talking poses that us storytellers really needed!  ❤

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ok but i need more of winter and cinder being cute cousins

  • winter never calling cinder, cinder. always selene and if it were anyone else cinder would probably care but she never tries to correct winter, its the only time the name feels affectionate 
  • winter filling cinder in on some memories she had of them as children, games they used to play, songs they used to sing, etc
  • winter being super affectionate with cinder because she finally has her back (hugging her all the time, checking in on her when they’re not together etc) ((and vice versa cinder always does the same))
  • cinder finally feeling like there’s someone from her childhood worth remembering, realizing even if her birth family was a hot mess she still had/has winter 
  • I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THESE TWO OKAY

Does anyone remember that five minute period when I’d just finished playing dragon age 2 and I was like “sure hope there’s no GIANT SPIDERS in inquisition?” Sure thought of that right now as I booted up inquisition and like the third image the game presents you with is a thousand spiders chasing you like bioware was too proud of their arachnid babies to keep secret for even longer than the character creator