my experiences with overwatch characters
  • genji: despite all the 'i need healing' memes, they're usually pretty nice. they know the entire team is watching and waiting for them to crash and burn
  • mccree: either spawn from hell or just here to have a good time (usually the latter). will probably try to say hi at the enemy spawn
  • pharah: very friendly. will almost never get their ult to go off but won't be salty about it. thanks healthpacks
  • reaper: KINKY. either cursed as shit or will say hello to anything and everything. anyone that mains reaper has dreamt of him crushing their head between his monster thighs
  • solider 76: VANILLA. it's okay though, most people want to fuck him but can't explain it
  • sombra: definitely only here to have a good time since she's basically useless until the devs give her a monster buff. if the player spams the boop voiceline you will hear that noise in your nightmares forever
  • tracer: very high chance they're gay. very high chance one of the enemy team will switch to tracer because they're annoying
  • ana: absolute sweethearts who will risk life and her other eye to keep you alive. secretly enjoys watching the person she's nanoboosted lose their fucking mind trying to make the most of it though
  • lúcio: again, really sweet. unless they're on ilios in which case he's public enemy number one and even if he's on your team you shoudn't trust him
  • mercy: probably picked healer because everyone else picked genji and hanzo. alternatively, a masochist. if the pistol is used a lot they probably mained medic in TF2 and don't fear god or death
  • zenyatta: most likely play competitive too much. another top tier picks for gays but they probably have clinical depression
  • symmetra: [flicking teleporter on and off] welcome to my reality welcome to my reality
  • reinhardt: in the top three most likely to say hi in spawn. please get behind him
  • roadhog: this one is skin dependent. normal roadhogs are like your weird uncle but roadhogs with the islander or junkenstein's monster skin are maniacs and will hook your entire ancestral line across the map
  • winston: i've only ever seen like three. cryptids
  • zarya: tied with tracer and zenyatta as a pick for gays. a good zarya will take your bullets and shove them back up your ass at mach-1 speed
  • d.va: the chaotic good of the universe. probably has play of the game before the match has even started
  • bastion: probably tried to play bastion in competitive once and that was enough. anyone that places him on that elevator thing in hollywood is a scorpio
  • hanzo: they take skirmish way too seriously
  • junkrat: THE CHAOTIC EVIL TO D.VA'S CHAOTIC GOOD. the sound of a riptire is actually an effective tactic to kill the enemy team irl because half of them will have a stroke out of stress
  • torbjörn: lava eating machine. all of them are cursed and i'm personally afraid of him
  • widowmaker: 57 shots, 1 kill. if they're using the odile skin they're probably a straight male
  • mei: fuck you to hell

i’d like to know where any of the “gabriel reyes is the boss from hell” stuff spawns from because have you listened to his actual voicelines? yeah he sounds kinda rough but like 1/3 of his lines are dead guy puns and one is him purring “haven’t i… killed you somewhere before?” like its the worlds best pickup line. gabriel seems like the kinda boss that lets you stop by a pizza place on the way back as long as you get extra breadsticks. he seems like the kinda boss that’ll let you skirt around the deadline bc he knows you’re exhausted and nobody ever turns anything in on time around this place anyways. made the blackwatch uniforms armor and whatever the hell else you wanna wear, he doesn’t give a damn.

JACK is the one with the “you didn’t make the cut” and the “thats SIR to you” lines like ???? how yall always getting this backwards

Can you imagine bickering and fighting and in the midst of that struggle ya kinda realize ya have a crush on your mortal enemy and realize how close y’all are to one another. 

Zim’s gonna just drop him at some point… 

HDL respecting Donald as much as you would expect from 10-12 year olds is so uplifting to me. It’d be perfectly fine and dandy if you had any of the triplets resenting their uncle for how much he tries to protect them, but you don’t get that impression from any of them.

Are they happy with this insane level of protectiveness? No. They’ve made it obvious in the first episode’s first five minutes, but they’re never mean about it. They’re never rude about, or above/beyond rude about it. 

Their attempts at adventure are escape attempts; there’s no way around that. But I believe they know Donald truly does have their best interests at hear.

Lets be real if Louie didn’t think Donald didn’t care he wouldn’t have told Webby, “She’d be worried sick.”

While he wants to live and be free to do cool things, he doesn’t want his uncle to worry or cause him any unnecessary stress. It’s safe to say Louie has lied to Donald occasionally about his whereabouts (after school/at the house boat), but he does it so he won’t get into trouble and so Donald won’t worry. 

Again, this is Donald Duck we’re talking about here. So the stress and worry is coming anyways. Sorry man.

But Donald has their respect and love, and it’s obvious this is a two-way street where both ends are receiving what they need.

HDL were originally created for comedic purposes, so I get that they were Donald’s hell spawn nephews that you sometimes wanted to smack upside the head for the pranks they pulled. You knew they loved each other, but their familial love was only reserved for special occasions like the Christmas specials. It was secondary.

Having their familial love up and front, a primary attraction to the overall theme of the story along with being part of their central characters is really refreshing. It’s a story about family. It’s great to see that the boys have graduated from Donald’s hell-spawn nephews to his sons and legitimate characters in their own right. 

Another cool part is that I think the boys are going to learn a lot about their mom, but also a lot about their uncle and the life he lived before they were born. It’s difficult for kids at young ages to reconcile that their parents were completely different people (or that they’re people at all) before having kids. 

5 Tips For Clogging Your Drain To Keep Whatever Is Trying To Come Up Out Of It At Bay

When you’ve got something trying to claw its way out of your drain, sometimes it can be too expensive to pay someone to clog your sink for you. Try out some of these tips instead!

1. Only use red hair to clog your drain: The last thing you want to hear while you’re trying to brush your teeth in the morning is the sound of long talons incessantly tapping at the inside of your drain pipes, longing to escape from your walls so it can insert its eggs into your cat like a spider wasp. One simple solution to push back the abomination that keeps trying to pull itself up out of your drain is to go ahead and shove some red hair down your sink, but make sure you ONLY use red. The clump will naturally act as a barrier, and the growling thing down there seems to be afraid of red hair, while black hair does nothing, and blond hair gives it strength.

2. Yell down your sink for the beast to leave you alone: Sometimes the best way to clog your drain is with your voice. The unknowable nightmare in your sink may not understand English, but if you get your face right into your sink and sternly shout phrases like “I don’t like it when you live in my drain!” or “Please stop rattling the pipes when you reach your sexual climax in my plumbing!” it will understand from the tone of your voice that you are not playing around, which will hopefully lead it to shrink back to whatever hell it spawned from.

3. Try sacrificing a plumber into your sink: It’s hard to think about anything else when the beast under your sink keeps reaching its hand up to steal your toothbrush off the top of the sink then scurrying back down the drain. One easy solution is to invite a plumber over, slit their throat, and let their blood gush out into your sink. The little drain-dweller will hopefully take the blood of a plumber as a peace offering, and will realize that you are not an enemy but a follower. Upon that realization, maybe, it’ll respect you enough to stay on its own turf. This tip is extra-effective if your plumber is also an ordained priest.

4. Don’t shove any electronics down there because whatever’s down there has the intelligence to figure out how it works: You might think that throwing something down your drain that’s a little more durable, like earphones or even an old cell phone, would clog up your sink so bad that you wouldn’t hear another banshee howl from whatever the fuck is down there. But, this crawling gag reflex is not stupid. If you drop any kind of electronic down your drain, the creature in your sink will undergo the process of evolution so rapidly, it will develop inventions humankind could never fathom and use those to free itself from your sink and threaten life as we know it. So putting electronic devices down there: a big no-no!

5. Know when it’s time to just give up and move: Sometimes you can try as hard as you can, you can follow all the rules, but at the end of the day, the unquenchable thing in your sink ends up winning. There’s no shame in accepting defeat, packing up your things, and leaving your place. Hopefully, you won’t have the same problem in the next place you live!

Expedition to Sol2487-3 Pt.3

Still shocked from the total annihilation of our ship and half of our crew, whereas another one was grievously wounded and at death’s door, we retreatet into the field again.
That pitchblack winged avatar of doom wasn’t alone anymore. Hordes of them circled in the sky and stalked through the shredded pieces of our ship, scavenging the mortal remains of our crew, of our comrades, of our friends.
And there was nothing we could do about it. Even with full force, our weapons would barely harm even one of those sick bastards, let alone drive the whole flock away. So all we could do was accept, retreat and reconsider our situation - or going nuts, like Üprrkl, a Pjörecian scientist under command of Dr. Proaxl.
“We’re done for! We all gonna die! Abandon all hope, for there is no chance we’re gonna make it! Our ship - gone! Our supplies - gone! Our respiratory systems - at 35%! Our…”
It was my first mate Xato Nexgrra, who attended to him. Calmly he put his weapon away, crawled over to the shivering, babbling formerly rational man. He sat down before him, showed an understanding glimpse. And hit him full throttle with all fifteen of his whip like limbs right in his face.
The scientist, completly taken by surprise, obeyed speechless while rubbing his left face knob.

Dr. Proaxl made a harrumphing noise - how exactly, without a throat, has kept me riddling ever since. I apologised to her.
“I’m afraid one of the ship operating squad under my command laid a hand - or fifteen - on one of your squad members. It shall not repeat.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t apologise. I wanted to thank you, Xato Nexgrra, for I would have slapped him myself if I had arms. It’s no help giving in to despair. We have to focus on surviving, and first in securing treatment for Loxxar Kraes. We were able to stop the bleeding for now, but he indeed won’t make it if we can’t prevent an inflammation of the wound and stop his pain. It’s at dangerous levels right now.”
“J-just leave me behind” coughed the wounded soldier, and it seemed to drain all virtue out of him.
“NO WAY!!!” I had to hold back an emotional shivering, for it was not my words alone, but nine out of ten of us said it in chorus, even the lower ranks went all out and ignored military discipline to decline his demand. Alone Üprrkl didn’t say anything and I didn’t care whether it wasn’t his opinion or he just had accepted to shut the hell up.
Loxxar Kraes barked stertorously and closed his eyes, but his mime told me he felt proud and gratefull of his men and the rest of us.

“Allright, we can’t stay here, we have to move to find shelter, maybe supplies or even medicine. The road is out of the question, those flying spawns of hell would tear us apart. That round fluffy thing from before was at least peaceful when we didn’t try to touch it’s food. So through the woods, it is. Praxx, Rae’krotar, you both carry Loxxar Kraes. Dr. Proaxl and her squad around you, and Xato Nexgrra at the back, Lsrl Krck and Koarl cover the sides, I’ll take the lead. I’d say we follow the course of the road, maybe we find the sentinent life form and can request their help. Weapons alltime at the ready! Let’s go!”

Our formation ranged carefully through the terrain. After some distance, Dr Proaxl closed op to me.
“Loxxar Kraes is a fine soldier. Not many could endure this level of pain that long. But we have to hurry.”
I didn’t answer, just grumbled for myself.
The doc’s nebulous body touched my arm and immediately her voice rang inside of my mind: “Do you believe it would be wise to force contact to this world’s inhabitants?”
Under normal circumstances, this violation of my personal space would be considered grievely rude both in military and social ways, and if this would be any other day, Dr. Proaxl would be the last person in the whole universe who would nonchalantly cross that line. But this was not normal, this was not every other day, and we were not a IFPS ship’s crew anymore, we were cast aways, brothers and sisters who shared a gruesome fate.
And I realised immediatly, she only asked me in mind so the others couldn’t hear it and fuel up their doubts and latent despair.
“Have we any other choice?” I thought.
I didn’t get an answer.

Time was against us, in more than one way. We all knew that Üprrkl had hit the nail on the head. And any stand - the IFPS’ standardized unit of time - brought us nearer to the end - of whatever it might be. We swapped our positions, so everyone had once to carry our wounded companion, but it did’t help the fact all of us grew hungry and tired and slowed down.

“Let’s rest. It’s no use if anyone of us broke down. 20 stands to regain some stamina.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have something to eat?” asked Koarl.
“I ain’t gonna touch those grains!” yelled Rae’krotar.
We had seen some shadows of what might be those fluffy round beasts or any other lifeform of this planet. But since those shadows didn’t bother to come closer to us, we had no mentionable encounter since the disaster with our ship. And we intended to keep it that way, so we took some detours to avoid getting too near to any scattered grains crossing our path.
It was Üprrkl. Xato Nexgrra’s slapping had shut him up for quite the time, but eventually he started to murmur his “we gonna die, we gonna starve, we gona suffocate” again and no one had the virtue to slap him again - at least hard enough so it would have any effect. So we decided to ignore him.
“Just what the heck is your probl… oh.”
“Seems like we gonna be the food.”
Behind our backs, two glowing yellow eyes glanced through the long shadows of the streaks. As I could recall, they were even bigger than that winged black bastard’s ones, and both of them starred at us simultaniously, frontal. The black pupils were narrow slits, and in the cornea we could see our own reflections.
“Those eyes are aligned to create two overlapping fields of view, capable of exact depth perception. It’s a predator!” proclaimed Üprrkl. What an unnecessary piece of information. As if those fangs and claws wouldn’t be self-explanatory. The body of the creature, probaply even bigger than the black flying monsters, huddled up, not in a defending way, but to prepare for a jumping attack. Even if you could only assume the whole size - most of it was covered by the shadows - one could tell the attack was imminent.

Suddenly, the earth shattered.
“KI…KI…KI..HE…KI…KI…KI…” It was a deafening noise, followed by an earthquake. And another one. And another.
“Those are steps!” screamed Üprrkl. Oh I began to hate his constantly uttering of the obvious.
The monster ceased preparing his attack and looked up to the sky. Up to it’s full size and coming one step into the light, it was so frickin’ huge it could have swallod one of us at whole. But there was something even more frickin’ Xaleates damn huge bursting through the tops of the cultivated grass: A giant! A frickin’ gigantic giant! With a head taller than a mountain and limbs longer than our former ship’s supply tunnels, with five appendices at their ends, forming grotesk claws like parts of construction site vehicles.
The gigantic limb reached for the “smaller” monster’s neck and pulled it upwards. The “little” monsters hung like a sack, obviously devote to its unavoidable fate.
The giant lifted the monster to its breast and hold it firm, then it threw its glance onto us. Parallel eyes! A predator like nothing comparable in the universe!
“OH… IT… U…! I… SA… UR… SHI… CRA… AN… TRY… TO… HE… U… BUT… U… WE… GO…” growled the giant. We were to frightened to move just a single limb, let allone run away. Only Dr. Proaxl - who hadn’t limbs - could move. And she went straight up to the giant, levitating right to his head.
“No! Doctor!” I screamed, but she ignored me.
The giant stared at her with wide opened eyes, studiing its prey to the fullest.
Dr. Proaxl had now reached its head, passed the enormous jaw with teeth big like daggers, meant to crush anything between it. Then she went straight for a single prominent knob in the middle of the giant’s face - and touched it.
The pupils of the giant widened vastly as Dr. Proaxl entered its mind.
“Oh, what pleasant surprise!” her voice chimed down to us. “It’s this world’s  sentinent inhabitant. It’s willing to help us. And it’s a pup.”

You ever notice how PLAYING overwatch ruins overwatch characters for you?

Before: Awe, she’s chubby and cute

Before: He’s so dopey looking and cute! what a precious dirt boy!

Before: So strong and dignified!

Before: Oh she’s so cool! she’s like the flash!

Before: The best baby boy! he’s just an innocent bot!

Before: Cunning, looks unassuming but has an edge.

Everyone in the fandom seems to have realised that Jack & Sam already have a connection. And that what we are going to see fold out over the coming episodes is Sam empathizing with Jack, doing his best to be a role model. And maybe we will see some true kinship emerge between The Boy King of Hell and the Spawn of Lucifer.

But I think it goes a little bit further than that. How does this paternal, nurturing Sam translate to the rest of the characters? I think we are going to see a full mirror of the Winchester dynamic from earlier seasons, so bear with me this is going to get crazy.

So we have our two beautiful boys, Sam  & Jack. Both born to tragic circumstances and with the weight of destiny behind them.

The angels orchestrated Sam (and Dean’s) conception to start the apocalypse, and likewise Lucifer planned Jack’s birth - hinted in 12.23 “I look around and I could do so much better […] Apocalypse 2.0″.

So, we already know Sam is going to bond with Jack. See the potential for him to do good, while also understanding that he is just a kid. Nurture as opposed to Nature. Which sums up the brothers rather beautifully this season. Sam who arguably was made to be evil, but the love for his family overcame his nature. And Dean who was made to be a vessel of heaven, and yet he sees himself as a killer. He doesnt argue when Ketch calls him a killer because he genuinely believes that is what he is, and no amount of love or good intentions can save him.

When Dean suggests killing Jack after the showdown at the Jail, we see that Sam (who has already started flexing his independence from Dean in S12 finales) is not going to agree to that and will likely defy Dean if he tries to. Sound Familiar?

Like when John wanted to kill Sam because he had the potential to be evil, and even tried too force Dean to do it. Which obviously Dean refuses despite his history of family loyalty. Would Sam choose Jack over Dean, like Dean chose him? Probably not. However we do have one giant klaxon to illustrate just how far Sam might shift if pushed:

In the entire 12 seasons of Supernatural, Sam has NEVER killed an Angel. It is always Dean or Cas who lands the angel-killing blow. Which seems right, both Dean and later Cas have no faith in heaven or God. But Sam always was the first to pray, the more devout brother. Can everyone remember how awestruck he was meeting an angel for the first time, or even God?

And yet here in episode 1 we have him avenging Jack within seconds. Killing the angel without blinking, when he has managed to avoid doing so for a decade.

Originally posted by charlie-bradcherry

Meanwhile Dean stands by and lets it happen. Lets the angel who he hates kill the nephil he hates even more. And maybe, even goad the angel to finish him off after that; because if we are having a ‘who Dean Winchester hates more competition’, Dean always gets first prize and a pity party to celebrate.

Its clear that this is just one death too many for Dean. He has finally met his upper limit. But why did Cas’ death this time around shake him, more than any others? It could be the body? Usually Cas tends to go out with a bang (sorry), so you could almost pretend he has just woooshed off somewhere. But it’s pretty hard to believe that lie when you are wrapping your best friend’s body for the pyre.

Originally posted by weeklyspn

The flashback that we see in Dean’s nephilim sanctioned nap is the key I think. We have the happy bonus trauma of losing Mary again, in a flash of flaming light, echoing back to her death in S1. Mary’s death and Cas’ were both needless and made Dean feel powerless. As a child Dean couldn’t save his mother, and he couldn’t save Cas. Cas who would have been fine if he had just stuck to the plan. Hadn’t gone after Lucifer in the AU. But you can’t think ill of the Dead, can’t blame them; so you blame yourself instead. If only I had …

That is what this season is about, stripping the boys back to the bone. Yes they are the Famous Winchester’s, but what do they have? One parent gone, one missing, allies sparse on the ground, no angels to heal them, no king of hell to bargain with. Just balls to the wall.

I think the early part of this season, at least until we get Cas back we are going to see a lot of Dean / John parallels and Sam taking the mantle of protective older brother. 

Sam is going to be the one teaching Jack, helping him find his way in the world, just like Dean did for him. We know that Dean is too numb at this point to do anything other than put one foot in front of the other. Notice how Sam explains what to say at a funeral, while Dean just stares into the flames? It is Sam who takes Jack to see his mother’s body, because he knows how much that will mean to Jack. How important it is for him to see his mother one last time, something Sam never thought he would have until very recently. 

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

Dean is on autopilot, as we often see him when he is grieving. This is probably why we are seeing Dean rush back into case work. It is hinted that Sam stays home with Jack for now. And there we have our perfect picture of the shift in their relationships. Dean, like John is rushing out to deal with some MotW while Sam stays home to look after Jack. Because Dean and John, with their gruff personas and compartmentalizing only have one way of dealing with grief: got to keep busy with the monsters outside so you are too tired to see the ones when you close your eyes.

JDM has hinted that he would like to return to Supernatural, with his busy filming schedules it is unlikely we could win him back for good. But it would be a great way to culminate this growth and development with the Winchesters if we could have one episode, where Dean can make amends with John (much like the Mary scene last season). Hopefully giving Dean some kind of closure or just the means to understand that they can’t and don’t need to perpetrate the endless cycle of death and resurrection. Because although we don’t want to let the brothers go, we also don’t want them to suffer all the pain and betrayal that comes from them putting survival of each other above everything else.

relentlesslygayy  asked:

Just wanted to ask how trash bag is doing? Also does he have a new name now or na?

Trash Bag is sort of called Pancake now (short for Murder Pancake), but only when he’s good. When he is a bit naughty it’s straight back to Trash Bag. Trash Bag and Wonka mostly spend their day like this:

Wonka’s Diary: Another day of being relentlessly stalked by the miniature black demon. I know not from which layer of hell it spawned, only that it is a miniature version of myself composed entirely of shadows, with five times my speed and unnatural agility. It can even jump onto tables! The humans do nothing to restrain the demon despite my wailing.

I am as yet unable to discern its motives. It mimics my every action, it is always behind or around me. It steals my food and toys and it is too fast for me to stop. I cannot keep track of it, yet when my focus lapses and I fall into the sweet surrender of sleep, I awake to find the demon curled around me, cleaning my head or sniffing my butt.

This mystery may forever remain unsolved.

Trash Bag’s Diary: Got onto tall thing today! Discovered what beds are for today! Learned that small screams in kitchen equal food today!

Followed Big Cat. Big Cat knows best places, best food, has best toys. Even shares!

His tail is so fun! I wuv him and will follow him everywhere.

Okay on the line of Petwatch, The McHanzos own a Chihuahua okay, they find it washed up on the side of an alley way somewhere in Dorado on a mission, it’s practically hairless has resting bitch face with a squinty stink eye, the temperament and lethargy of a cantankerous 90 yr old man and otherwise a spawn from hell. But Hanzo loves him to McDeath and is the only one he cuddles with. He and the dragons actually get along tho because they all think they’re superior to everything. Ana knits him fashionable little sweaters and McCree bought him a sombrero and serape which the dog is usually found in if left with the cowboy. His name is like Cerberus or Cupcake or something. Okay? Okay.

How I see certain breeds:

Pugs: adorable…little hell spawns that are impossible to restrain during a toenail trim
Labs: adorable idiots that shed like a mother
Chihuahuas: land shark
Boxers: the best sad puppy eyes EVER
Cockers: the worst ears EVER
Shar Pei: hives…I am breaking out in hives
Golden Retriever: cancer
Cavaliers: heart disease…:(
Shi Tzu: always look scared and surprised… at the same time
Bulldogs: a genetic nightmare
Huskies: too sensitive to function
Salukies: skinny…so freaking skinny
Border Collie: watching you…always watching you
Heelers: shy and a bit sketchy
Great Danes: giant babies
Malamute: giant babies who scream
Dachshund: Will bite and desperately in need of a middle set of legs
Westies: Cushing’s
Jack Russels: soo much energy
Saint Bernard: floor mat
Mastif: drool…drool everywhere

Promise (Robb Stark x !Female Reader)

Prompt: Hi, can i request a Robb x reader where Y/N is a true born Baratheon and has gone to join Robb, but she thinks he hates her? X Love you’re writing

Note: Requests are open for any game of thrones character, so please please please send me requests! X

(Gifs not mine)



At first you came to the Young Wolf because you knew it was the best thing you could do to infuriate your mother, but you had quickly come to respect the oldest Stark son. It had been hard work trying to convince him that you had no ill intention, but as the daughter of Cersei Lannister, you had anticipated his reluctance.

You had turned up, in a torn and muddied dress, on a half-starved horse - and you weren’t in a much better sate yourself, you had begged for him to let you stay, and he had begrudgingly acquiesced

You did everything you could to prove to him that you would be a loyal friend to Robb, as his father had been to yours. You cleaned up after his men after their victory celebrations, and treated their wounds as they lay in fields, broken by Lannister blades. You had even cooked for him when the kitchen boy was injured in battle.

Sometimes Robb would stand and watch, as you furiously scrubbed at the pots and pans left over from last night’s meal. His cool blue Tully eyes sweeping over you couldn’t deny his gaze made you feel things, but instead of taking part in his Game you would turn away.

You wanted him to trust you, and if he happened to want to fuck you on top of that, then it would be an added bonus. Gaining his trust was your priority.  

You had always been a skilled seamstress, and your Septa had constantly doted over you needle work when you were younger. On the battle field, you were grateful for her tutelage. It seemed that stitching dresses and quilt work was an easily transferable skill, so you a lot of time stitching up wounded soldiers.

During your time spent amongst Robb’s army, you had formed an unlikely ally in the form of Catelyn Tully. You had expected her to hate you, as her son seemed to, but instead she had gladly welcomed you into the camp.

You supposed it was due to Catelyn’s fondness of you, and your skill with a needle, that it was you Robb was sent to when he was injured during battle.

When you first found out that your king had been injured, your heart had almost stopped in its chest, but when you saw him walking over to you, your heart rate slowed. It was his arm, he would live.

Catelyn had been fusing over him at first, batting away the other nurses, however once her son had been delivered into your capable hands, the other woman suddenly announced that she had to retire to bed. You wandered what she was up to, as you sat alone with Robb in his tent.

Once Catelyn had been gone for several seconds, Robb quickly stood up “It’s just a bloody scratch Y/N, I have important matters to attend to… if you don’t mind- “

You cut off the Stark, pushing him back down onto a chair, and he winced at the pain in his arm.

You rolled your eyes “Well if it’s just a scratch then you ought to show me, so I can dress it and be out of your way.”

You took a step back from Robb and expectantly waited for him to take off his armour. He raised his arm to begin undressing himself, then let out a frustrated groan. Just a scratch my arse you thought to yourself.

“Do you need assistance my King?” You said, in an attempt at a soft tone, though Robb would always remember it as sultry.

He let out a disgruntled sigh “It’s just a flesh wound. My men need your talents more than I.”

You blushed slightly at the complement, and began removing your king’s armour. Your nimble fingers worked fast, slipping off his breastplate and the layers of chainmail. Once he was stripped down to just a shirt and breeches you saw the magnitude of his injury.

You quickly unbuttoned his shirt, to revealing a chiselled torso. You were careful to avoid any awkward eye contact. The left sleeve of his shirt was soaked through with, and there was deep gash, going down the length of his bicep.

“Robb, you idiot what were you thinking!?” You cried “Do you know how easily wounds like this get infected?” Robb had gone a dark shade of Red, to match his hair. You quickly joined him in embarrassment as you realised you had forgotten to call him by his title.

You let out a shaky sigh “I-I’m sorry your majesty. It’s just I care a lot for you, you’re the kingdoms last hope.”

You looked down at your feet, shame faced. What if all you work had been for nought? You expected to be reprimanded, but instead you felt a calloused hand on your skin. Robb tilted your chin so that your gaze met his, and you felt a flutter in your chest.

“Lady Y/N, by birth you are Princess, you shouldn’t have to call anyone King.” Robbs voice was deep and velvety “I’ve seen how hard you work for my men, for me. Why? What does a Princess have to gain?”

Your answer was immediate. “Your trust…” You hesitated for a moment before adding “Robb.” The Northern king smirked at your informality.

You knelt beside your king, and began to clean out Robb’s wound. He grimaced as you rubbed the salt solution across his arm. He grimaced but continued to probe.

“But you had everything you could have wanted in Kings landing, why leave?”

You were threading the needle as he asked the question, and froze. These Starks could learn a thing or two about subtlety, you thought to yourself, as you tried to continue with what you were doing.

“Cersei was never fond of me growing up, and when Father died things got a lot worse, she made Joffrey look like a kitten…” you shrugged “It’s in the past now. Here is where I belong.”

You worked in silence as you continued to Suture Robbs wounds. he would wince, and mutter the occasional curse word under his breathe, but aside from that he remained stoic.

“You work fast Baratheon” The king said, looking down at his freshly sewn up skin. You smiled at the use of your surname. It felt good not to be associated with the Lannister’s.

Robbs next request surprised you “You ought to stay Y/N, I have some Wine, and you’ve earnt it after everything.”  He flashed you a slight grin, and you knew you had no chance of leaving.

You sat in one of the arm chairs in Robbs quarters, and watched as he poured two glasses of red wine. He pulled his chair closer to yours when he sat down.

You had always been a very self-assured person, if you wanted to do something, you did it, like the time you stole your fathers bow, or when you had run away from your life as Princess to join the Starks; but as Robb smiled at you for the third time that night, you felt a wave of uncertainty wash over you.

How was it that he could go from total mistrust, to indifferent to… whatever this was?

“The thing is Y/N,” His cheeks were red and he was looking down at his feet. “I haven’t treated you as I ought to treat a high-born lady-”

You cut him off “Don’t be stupid Stark, everything I’ve done a base born girl would be expected to do. Birth shouldn’t come into it.”

Robb chuckled “I see why mother is so fond of you Y/N. You truly are something special.”

You arched an eyebrow “I thought you despised me? One of Cersei’s hell spawn, remember?” you said playfully.

Robb shook his head “You intrigue me Y/N, your nothing like your parents. You’re… Good, to everyone. To me.”

You shrugged, and opened your mouth to reply, but before you got a chance to speak you had been cut off.

“Y/N, when we were children you visited Winterfell, you were five and I was six. You may not remember.” You did remember, it had been the first time you had seen snow. He had taught you how to make a snowball. You smiled at the memory, and waited for him to continue.

“Well Mother reminded me when you first arrived, that when we were children, I promised I would make you my wife, and I doubt I would forgive myself if I broke that promise.”

A month later you were married, and Robb Stark had fulfilled his promise. The wedding had been small, your dress had been simple, and instead of an elaborate veil you had let the local peasant children weave flowers in your hair. It was perfect.

You had been married on camp, struggling to find a chance for a traditional wedding as Robb fought for his kingdom. With no father to give you away, you decided that the next best thing would be Catelyn Stark.

You had never seen Robb look so good, the joy radiating off him; though he insisted that all of the eyes had been on you.

You lay curled in bed with your new husband that night, you back pressed close to his chest as he cocooned around you. There was no safer place to be than in his arms.

Robb squeezed you tight, kissing your forehead “You, Y/N Stark, are beyond perfection. You were made for me to hold you.” You let out a contented sigh, pulling you furs closer around your body “And you were made to hold me.”

Father Material (Lucifer Morningstar)

Originally posted by morningstr

Pairing: Father!Lucifer Morningstar/Child!Daughter!Reader
Words: 1400
Warning(s): Uh child reader gets lost, das it.
A/N: I think I’ve only written one other fanfic (not on here) with a child reader, so this was really different to write :D. Also I love that gif^
Request: Can I have a child reader with Daddy Lucifer Morningstar like when he’s alone with his daughter he’s just the best daddy ever and when she gets hurt he becomes a worry wart but doesn’t show his worries.

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Summer Heat

Hello, I’m extremely new to this fandom. I used to write a lot of fics, blurbs, imagines and what not for the one direction fandom but had since moved on from that. Really it’s a long story of how I ended up here. But please enjoy, I’ll continue if y’all really like it.

Synopsis: A fic where you and Shawn are camp councilors and you hate his guts. Sexual tension ensues. 

Part 1 (you are here)

Part 2

Part 3


This was hell. Officially hell. It feels like fire burning through your veins and settling in your stomach. He makes you so angry, just the sight of him makes you want to throw something. He’s got that fucking smirk on his face, knowing how he affects you. You look away, he doesn’t. It’s the first day of summer camp and you can’t believe he is even here.

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anonymous asked:

Hey :) for the prompt thing - number 47 ?? I feel like that would be something Theo would say to Liam

Hey :) I used this for Day 3 of Thiam week.

(sorry my Thiam week is late, had a friend visiting)

Liam hated Theo.

He’d thought, maybe, just maybe there was some small redeeming quality about him, that somewhere deep down in his cold lifeless heart he’d be able to find the tiniest shred of humanity but no. Theo was pure unadulterated evil. He was the devil in disguise, he was hell spawn. He was a vicious, arrogant, manipulative cheater.

And he was winning.

“If you touch it I will kill you.” Liam growled. Theo’s eyebrows raised, lips curling into a smirk. Liam narrowed his eyes as Theo raised a finger to his lips brushing his tongue across it before he moved to flip through his fake money.

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