i want to hit those children

Shameless Imagines 3- The future (Lip x reader )

Paring:Lip x reader 

Requested: No, This just came to me

Discription: After a day of babysitting you and lip are laying in bed when the topic of the future comes up and you both talk about what you want, with each other

Warning: just a lot of fluff 

Words:1053

Originally posted by lipgallaghersaysfuckyou


You laid in lips bed, which at this point had kinda felt like yours as well, you had spent so much time here it felt like you lived with him. Which honestly neither of you minded. Lip never wanted to be without you and you didnt want to leave him so it worked out.

You and Lip had spent the day watching Liam, which honestly you loved. Besides the obvious fact that you got to play with toys and watch disney movies lip knows you secretly love but the fact that he was so amazing with Liam and it made you fall for the boy even harder. 

Seeing him with Liam made you think about the future, with him in it. You had grown up wanting a family, with a big house and a loving husband, most importantly raising amazing kids and loving them with everything you had, to be anything and everything but your parents and that was your goal, to be everything to your kids, to be an amazing mom and nothing like your own.

“Hes all tucked in and sleeping. He told me to say thanks for an amazing day with his favourite girl and that I better watch out because he could take you. My 3 year old brother is gonna take my girl” Lip says taking off his shirt and lighting a smoke. A huge smile spreads across your face as you scoot down to the end of the bed, criss cross apple sauce next to your extremely hot boyfriend and take his smoke.

“Today was a pretty great day” You smiled passing the smoke back and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“This is why I love you, other girls would expect dates and flowers and things I cant afford or don’t have time for with everything in my family going on. But not you, you offer to help me. You are more than happy to sit and babysit with me all day, and laying in bed cuddling is so much better than going out” He saig bringing his lips to your forehead.

“I would babysit with you anyday everyday for the rest of my life. I don’t need expensive things that makes you have to work your ass off to afford, I don’t mind helping out your family because I love you and Im not going to let you suffer in doing it all by yourself, we are a team lip” You said. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see a smile on his face. 

When you and lip first started dating you were so fucking scared that it would just be a hook up, that he still had feelings for Karen and that in the end you’d be left heart broken. That was over a year ago and after lip telling you many times “This is so much fucking more to me than sex Y/n, I want this, I want you” and him staying for so long you allowed yourself to open up to him, allowed yourself to love him.

“Hopefully one day we won’t be babysitting, they will be our little ones running around” He said standing up going to change into shorts before coming back to lay down with his babygirl.

“You think about those things? Like the future?” You asked, kinda shocked if you were being honest. You thought about it all the time, you just didn’t think lip did.

“All the time actually. Before you I wasn’t like this, girls didn’t stay over, I sure as hell didn’t tell them I loved them and cuddling wasn’t something we would be doing. But now you staying over is almost an everyday thing and when you aren’t here I don’t sleep. I love you and Ill tell the whole world and I don’t feel complete without you in my arms so, looks like Im a changed man” He laughed at the end causing you to laugh, lip wasn’t the the boy who sat with you and blurted out his feelings, he only did it sometimes which you were okay with but when he did it made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Tell me what you think about” You said placing your head on his chest as his arms were wrapped around you.

“Well, as college is next year Im hoping to make it through and get an amazing job, You living with me of course. Im hoping I impress some rich people and get a really good paying job. Once we save enough money I will buy a huge piece of land and me and your brothers (Milkovich brothers) we will build you the house you’ve always dreamed about, adding as many rooms as we can and filling a few of them with the beautiful babies we make” Lip had described a future you had wanted so bad.

“I want that more than anything.. Seeing the way you are with Liam makes me want that with you so bad one day. I want my children-” You were cut off by lip.

“Our, you said mine but if you even think for a second that we won’t have that future together you are wrong.. You are my end game y/n. You are my first and last love and we will have adorable babies” He said, kissing the top of your head after, you had millions of butterflies and it was so amazing to hear him say those things.

“I want our adorable Gallagher-Milkovich babies to have the life we didn’t. No hitting, no yelling, no sadness and no brokenness, just love. Just us” You told him telling the truth. That right there, was all you ever fucking wanted.

“If someone ever hits my child I will get Svetlana on their ass faster then I can get Mickey on their ass. Our kids will never grow up having the lives we did and you will spend the rest of your life remembering that we aren’t our parents” He told you moving your head to be able to kiss you, he needed too. He needed to feel the love he felt once your lips connected to his.

“We are a team Lip, you and me and one day little ones” 

“We are a family Y?n” He said before you closed your eyes and fell asleep with the biggest smile on your face.

Hockey Medical Staff Thoughts

  • ‘Is it too much to ask for no injuries for one night?’
  • 'Hahaha, come on Jim, this is hockey.’
  • 'Ah shit, someone is down, who is this?’
  • 'People don’t appreciate how hard it is to run across the ice in tennis shoes. Its really hard, mkay?’
  • 'Oh good, blood on the ice, that’s great.’
  • 'Oh Jesus, okay, don’t panic, don’t look at the teeth laying on the ice.’
  • 'No, really, I don’t particularly want the teeth from the– alright ffs give me the damn teeth.’
  • 'Like we can just pop those back in.’
  • 'Goalie is down, goalie is down, please don’t be a groin.’
  • 'Don’t fall, don’t fall, run fast but don’t fall.’
  • 'Yes you have to come out of the game, you’ve just been hit by a puck, out you get.’
  • 'You’re leaking blood, you can’t stay out here, you’ll frighten the children.’
  • 'Oh ffs, how hard is it to keep your stick out of someone’s mouth?’
  • 'Oh, he’s got tape on his teeth from someone’s stick, how delightful.’
  • 'This towel is going to do absolutely nothing.’
  • 'The game is almost over, no injuries so far, this is oka– are you shitting me? There’s 20 seconds left in the period.’
  • 'No coach, I can’t tell you how the player is doing, I’m currently holding his forehead together.’
  • 'The goalie lost some teeth… How even. What am I supposed to do? Glue them back in?’
  • 'Alright, last three minutes of the gam– oh fuck, duck, duck, DUCK!’
  • I’m so ready for the off-season. I want a vacation.’
Unfaithful: This Day (Bill Skarsgård)

Part 5

She ran as fast as she could to the washroom. Bending over the stark white porcelain, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the water below, gripping the sink counter with her hand. She didn’t even think there was anything left to throw up, she had been sick so often the past week.

At first she thought it a side affect of all the stress she was dealing with, but it was happening every day. It hit randomly, while she was typing away at work, watching television at home and most dreadfully, when she was walking home from Victoria’s after their wednesday wine night. Throwing up in the streets was not something she planned on getting used to.

She wasn’t daft, she knew what could likely be warranting her sickness. It scared her more than anything. She knew that there was a high chance she was pregnant with Bill’s child, in the days leading up to their breakup they were having even more sex than usual. She couldn’t help but be frustrated, of course it had to be now that she was pregnant, not when they were happily together.

She stood slowly, not trusting her own feet and feeling a bit lightheaded, and flushed the toilet. The sick, vile feeling invaded her mouth, causing her to fill up a glass of water from the sink and wash the ickiness out. After swishing the water in her mouth, she spit it into the sink.

She looked into the mirror in front of her, both hands clasping the marble counter, before leaning forward, placing all of her weight on her palms and looking down. So many emotions flooded through her, but most importantly, she had to know.


She had scheduled the day off work on Friday, knowing that whatever the test said, she was not going to be able to work.

Victoria had no idea, neither did Tyler; she had told no one. It was like one big secret, if no one else knew about it, maybe it didn’t exist. But it was time to face the facts, and it was that exact mantra that lead her to the nearest Apotek Hjärta, a Swedish drug store, that morning whilst shopping.

She had surveyed the whole store beforehand to make sure Bill nor any of her friends or family happened to be there, she couldn’t have handled that. Luckily, it was almost empty. She began to scan the shelves, looking for the pregnancy section.

The word ‘CLEARBLUE’ on a small package caught her attention immediately. She picked it up and examined it, reading “Only test that tells you how many weeks” and “Over 90% accurate.” It seemed as good as any.

With the package in hand, she strode to the cash, preparing herself for the awkward conversation that would surely come. She could already hear the pre-congratulatory praises, well wishes, goodlucks and the expression of childish joy of knowing someone else’s secret. Yet when she reached the checkout, she felt relieved.

A gentle looking old woman greeted her with a smile that deepened the wrinkles around her lips. She had her ivory white hair pulled into a classic clipped updo, only a few wisps of her white hair hung by her ears, and she wore a cream knit button-up sweater over a purple and light grey collared blouse. Her blue eyes were filled with such kindness that she couldn’t imagine feeling any more comfortable.

She gave the older woman a genuine smile in return, feeling momentarily relieved of all worries, then placed the pregnancy test on the counter.

The lady took the package and smiled, looking up at her with a gleam in her joyous eyes.

She smiled half-heartedly in return, biting her lip to keep her emotions inside. She’s right to smile, this should be a happy occasion. I should be thrilled to possibly be pregnant with my lover’s child. Yet it was not that simple, and her weak smile showed that.

The old lady saw that her smile was not one of happiness, but that she was filled with sorrow.

“What are you thinking, Dear?” she spoke.

Even her voice sounded angelic, sweet and pure. She knew that no one else could be a better console.

She placed on hand on the counter and ran the other through her hair, eyes turning glassy.

“I think I know… in my heart. I feel so alone and I don’t… think I’m ready,” she managed, looking into the woman’s blue eyes sadly.

The lady placed her wrinkled hand on top of hers and gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“There are always options, remember that. Things will turn out in whichever direction you choose,” she promised.

She wiped her eyes with her free hand, sniffing before looking back at the woman.

“I… I loved him and… we’re not together anymore,” she explained, her voice shaking, “He… he was unfaithful.”

The lady felt greatly for the young woman in front of her, she looked so melancholy and nervous to learn the news of her possible pregnancy, something she should be excited about, not dreading. Unbeknownst to the young woman, the old lady knew almost exactly how she felt.

“My husband slept with someone else a long time ago. I had just had our first boy, Maklolm. He came home one day after work and told me he had been with his secretary. Dear, I was so upset that I took our baby boy and went to my parent’s home without saying a word!” gaining a smile from the young woman, “But after a while, we spoke and I decided to give him a second chance, because in all of the years we had spent together before the incident, we loved each other more than anything.”

The young woman was still processing everything, the older lady did indeed have a similar story to hers.

“And you’re still together?” she asked softly.

The older woman gave her an affectionate smile and nodded, “For fifty-five years.”

Her story hit home with her, for all the years that she had been with Bill, he had never shown interest in anyone else, had loved her deeply and told her that she was the only woman he would want to bear his children. He had been as committed to her as she was to him.

“It’s so fresh, raw. It hurts. I… I can’t help but wonder why I wasn’t good enough,” she confessed, and it was the first time she had spoken those words out loud. While half of the struggle was the act of cheating, she kept thinking about why he would do it in the first place, which lead her to that conclusion; she wasn’t good enough for him.

The lady squeezed her hand again and looked into her eyes, “It always does at the beginning. Time will help you heal, or maybe you’ll decide that he isn’t the one for you. Either way, you are worth the world, Dear.”

She couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else, in spite of everything. No, she only saw herself sleeping with Bill, marrying Bill and growing old with Bill. There was nobody else.

“You will know what to do when you take the test, whatever the result,” the lady promised, “And if you need someone to call, just look up ‘Agatha Lindberg’ in your phonebook.”

The young woman placed her second hand over the lady’s that covered her own, giving it a small squeeze.

“Thank you for everything,” she said earnestly, looking at the lady with an abundance of gratitude.

The lady smiled again, those gleaming, kind eyes on display again, “Anytime, Dear. You’ll know what to do.”


She avoided a call from Bill, most likely to firm up their dinner plans for the night, on her way home. In no way could she handle hearing his voice leading up to what she was going to do. If she wasn’t pregnant, it would be foolish to tell him so, and if she was, she didn’t know what she planned to do. She couldn’t bear to think of Bill’s reaction; he would never be angry, he always pressed her to start a family, but he couldn’t possibly be happy with it in everything that was happening. More than that, she was scared to tell him if she didn’t chose to keep it, she would rather do it alone and keep that secret forever.

The elevator ride up to her floor seemed excruciatingly slow, it was taunting her.

When she finally made it to her apartment, she knew that there was no point in wasting time. Time wouldn’t change if she was pregnant or not, it would only make her worry about the result more. So she unknotted the ties on her jacket, slipped it off and dropped it on the stool along with her purse.

She headed to the bathroom with the test in hand.


She swore time moved slower. The tick tick of the clock became almost unbearable.

Everyone said that the result would appear within three minutes, this gave her up to three minutes of full-fledged worry.

Tick tick.

She held the test in her hand tightly, eyes bearing blinking as she stared down at the grey reader.

There was only two options, the test would read ‘Not Pregnant’ or ‘Pregnant’ and tell her how many weeks along she was. She assumed that she couldn’t be more than two weeks pregnant if she were to be.

Tick tick.

Her body was rigid.

Tick tick.

Time stopped.

Pregnant.

She screamed, loud and out of sheer terror, her hand went numb and she dropped the test unconsciously. Her eyes were wide, pupils heavily dilated. Fear coursed through through her whole body and she couldn’t stand anymore. She slipped to the cold, tiled floor and leaned against the wall, arms curled around her legs which were pulled into her chest.

She cried into her legs, tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt everything all at once, and she was completely alone.

She sat huddled in a fetal position, one that her own baby would soon take.


It was late afternoon when she decided that a walk down by the water would do her good. It would only be more destructive to stay in the apartment alone with her spinning thoughts; fresh air would be nice.

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her black wool coat and closed her eyes, feeling the gentle breeze fanning over her exposed skin.

She felt different. She looked the same, but it was the knowledge that there was something growing inside of her, her and Bill’s child, that made her feel unreal. She placed a hand over her stomach, knowing that she wouldn’t feel anything, not a heartbeat, kick or bulging stomach, but that something was there.

She strolled to the black iron railing that overlooked the water and held onto it, leaning slightly forward as the wind blew her hair back.

Unbeknownst to her, Bill had been calling and leaving her numerous text messages. Ten voicemails filled up her lock screen, along with worried, frantic and almost angry text messages. He had no idea what she was going through, he only thought that she was flaking out on him. Maybe she was nervous or scared to talk to him, yet those thoughts filled him with hope; if she felt that way, it must mean she still cared. He hoped she wasn’t ignoring him out of pure hatred.

Her phone kept ringing and buzzing for twenty minutes. That was until, Bill decided to take matters into his own hands.


They had just returned from Stellan and Megan’s after a long night of celebrating Kolbjörn and Alexander’s birthdays, since they are only a day apart in late August. The night consisted of a fun cake for the young Skarsgård and lots of drinks for the older one.

She headed straight to their bedroom, ready to change into her slip and relax. She entered their walk-in-closet adorned with dark, rich wood and unzipped her dress, allowing the smooth fabric to slip down her body and pool at her feet. Grabbing a hanger, she picked up the fallen dress and rehung it before placing it back onto the rack. She discarded her underwear into the laundry hamper.

She had just finished putting on her white slip when Bill appeared in the doorway.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked, leaning against the mahogany wood of the doorframe.

She sent him a smile, “I did. I absolutely adore little Kolbjörn. Yourself?”

She looked incredibly nonchalant whilst she bent down, one hand on the wood counter, to take off her heels. He always felt something deep inside of him whenever she mentioned his younger half-brothers.

“Yes, it was a good party,” he agreed.

She strolled across the room and stood on her toes to place her heels back in their place amongst the other countless pairs.

When she turned back around, she wondered why he was only standing in the door and not getting undressed.

“Ossian is especially fascinated by you,” he noted.

She nodded in consideration, “I suppose so, he’s a wonderful kid. Your father and Megan did well.”

She had a hunch to where he was going with this conversation, the topic of his younger family tended to always go in the same direction. He knew that she loved them, and hoped that they could have little Skarsgård’s of their own to enjoy.

“Do you ever think about it?” he wondered, causing her to look into his eyes.

“I do,” she said, voice quieter than a moment before.

He slowly advanced on her, eyes watching her closely.

“When will we try?” He asked her.

He was standing so close to her, only a sliver separated them. She placed her hands on his upper arms, running them down to his wrists where he took her hands into his. His eyes proved that he was serious this time, they should come up with an answer.

She opened her mouth, yet nothing came out. She knew that he was simply waiting for her word, he would take her when ever she told him that she wanted to try. It felt like a lot of pressure to be the one deciding when they would begin.

But she felt ready.

Meeting his gaze, she squeezed his hand, “Now.”

His pale eyes widened in disbelief, she had always told him that she was not ready.

Yet he pressed his lips against hers in a moment of passion, he was so undeniably in love. He was overjoyed that they would finally do this, have their children of their own. She continued to amaze him.

She responded with an equal amount of passion, a bubbling feeling of excitement deep in her stomach; they were doing it. She reached to undo the buttons of his black dress shirt hastily. He broke the kiss to take her hands in his and look her in the eyes.

“Are you certain?” he asked, wanting there to be no regrets between them. He would continue to wait if she told him so.

She gazed up at him with parted lips and he brushed her hair back. Her hands ceased all movements on his chest.

“Make love to me.”

With that, he pulled her flush against his body, reached to lift her into his arms, and strode back to their bedroom.

They always had a great sex life, but that night was different. He made slow, deep love to her, both of them thinking about the child that could be inside of her once he came.

It was much more than sex.


It was just past six when she decided to make her way back to her apartment.

She felt guilty about ignoring Bill, knowing that surely he must have left her a few calls and text messages. But she hoped he would get the message, she wasn’t interested in seeing him that night. If she wasn’t pregnant, that may have been different, but she was and she could not face him. She could not go through a whole dinner keeping that massive secret from him, it would eat her up.

The doors of the elevator slid open slowly.

She looked down as she unknotted the ties of her jacket, focussing on undoing the knot she had made.

It was only when she rounded the corner that she looked up.

Leaning against the wall beside the door of her apartment was Bill.

She wanted to cry.


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Work in progress

I just literally type this in Notes. So, uhm, this is more like a draft(?) and definitely needs more work, a plot, for starters. A title and an ending. This idea just won’t let me sleep, I had to get everything down while it’s still in my head. It’s unbeta-ed. I’m gonna have to come to this post and do massive amounts of editing. But… without further a do, my first ever GoT/Jonsa fic:

*******

Someone was trying to freeze them to death, was the first thought that crossed his mind after seeing the barely flickering fire left on the hearth. Not the warm welcome he had foolishly wished for.

The North will always be cold, but more so now that every Northern lord who had sworn fealty to him had turned their backs against him. Not at all surprising. These fickle minded lords. But it hurt to see Arya and Bran and Sansa standing on the other side as he told them about Eastwatch and the dragons and how this was their only option. Their only hope of survival. Surely they will understand if he didn’t care too much about titles. What’s the point of being King in the North when the Army of The Dead is just but miles away from the Wall. The possibility of the dead walking within the walls of Winterfell terrified him like nothing else.

“So you let your sister confer with the Northern Lords without you?”

Jon lets out a soft sigh before turning away from the fire to address Daenerys, careful not to set her off. Their relationship was teetering on a brink of something. He just wasn’t sure where it will lead to. But he had seen her angry and defiant. He could not risk offending her. Not when her dragons could be so easily summoned.

Winterfell has enemies beyond the wall. And now he has brought with him another enemy. An enemy no one in the North can even dream of fighting against.

Death and Fire.

“I am no longer their King, your Grace.” Jon didn’t miss the slightly raised eyebrow at the sudden formality in his voice. “Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell. It is her right to talk to the lords.”

“They will not rebel? She will not ask them to?”

“She won’t.”

“Sansa is not like that.”

Tyrion and Jon looked at each other, before looking back at Daenerys who was giving them a small knowing smile. “I hope I will not have to wait any longer to finally meet the highly esteemed Sansa Stark.”

Jon shivered at the way Daenerys said her name. The cold fingers of a premonition wrapping around his heart.

She wouldn’t dare. Not when she was a guest in this house. Not when she knows that these are his people. His family.

She wouldn’t.

But…if it ever comes to that…he has a promise to keep and he will keep it no matter what.

—-

“Jon was chosen by his people to become their King. And his first responsibility is to protect them. He has decided that to do so, an allegiance between the North and the Targaryens must be formed.”

She stood there, tall and proud and regal. And scared. But only he knows that. He could tell by the way she lifted her chin, her hands tightly clasped in front of her.

He wanted to stand beside her, reassure her, but the moment she had entered the room, she had given all her attention to the Dragon Queen. Not once did she look at him, or even acknowledged his presence.

He had hurt her. The pain of knowing that he had given away not just the North but her freedom as well…it was ten times worst than any stab wound he had ever received. She would never forgive him. Probably never talk to him ever again. A slow death that will last a lifetime, but if it would keep her, and Arya and Bran alive, then he’d still bend the knee.

“That is good to hear. That is very smart of you Lady Sansa.”

“As all allegiances go, the North has a few requests.”

The Dragon Queen raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“We have decided to send all the Northern and wildling children South, taking them as far away from the coming war. All the women who have decided not to stay here and fight will accompany them.”

“Again, another wise move, my Lady.”

Sansa barely acknowledged the compliment, instead she continued, squaring her shoulder, “we would need ten of your ships, your Grace. For we plan to send the children with the grains that we were able to save. We understand that there is a severe shortage of grains in the South?”

Tyrion coughs nervously as Jon takes in a deep breath, gritting his teeth. That was still a sore topic and he was certain it was something Littlefinger had conveniently told Sansa about.

Daenerys merely tilted her head, her face showing no emotion. Which makes Jon even more anxious.

“We will not be sending our children to the South only for them to die of hunger. We are also willing to share the grains if needed.”

“And where do you plan to send them?”

“Half will go to the Vale, escorted by Lord Royce and Lady Lyanna Mormont.”

Jon couldn’t help the surprised sound he made. Sansa glanced at him. “Lady Mormont has agreed?”

Sansa’s lips curled up slightly, “she did my Lord. I have convinced her to. She will be the children’s guardian and who better make sure to guide northern children than her? Perhaps she can even inspire some courage into Sweet Robin.”

From the corner of his eyes, Jon saw Tyrion’s head suddenly snap up, as though realizing something, “and the other half, my Lady?”

“They will go the Riverrun. I heard there are but few men, if any, left at the Towers. My uncle Edmure, Lord Paramount of the Trident shall keep them safe.”

“Ah. My Lady, I am — you have rendered me speechless, not only by your kindness but most especially by your wisdom”

Sansa gifts Tyrion with her first real smile. Jon could not help but look at Tyrion and Sansa, his heart clenching. Something - some form of understanding had passed between them and Jon couldn’t understand why it made him feel so…bereft.

Daenerys cleared her throat, “I can see why the Northern people love you.” Her voice was cold, her eyes even colder and Jon fought the urge to step in between them. “Any other demands, my Lady?”

Sansa tilted her head, looking confused, “As Queen of this realm, I had thought that it would please you protect the future of your Kingdom. It is not a demand, Your Grace, merely a request for you to keep the children of your allies safe. I would be sorry to let the Northern Lords know that no ships could be spared…”

“My Lady, we will have to discuss how many ships we can spare, please kindly give us some time…”

Sansa triumphantly smiles at Tyrion once more and Jon had to clench his hands into tights fists to stop himself from grabbing Tyrion and shaking him by the neck. Instead he concentrated on staring at Tyrion long and hard, hoping to convey some sort of message. Something like, ‘stop staring at Sansa that way! Like you’ve just seen her for the first time in your life, you little devil!’

Tyrion didn’t seem to notice.

“You heard My Hand, my Lady. We shall let you know once we have decided. You may go.”

Sansa visibly bristled. To be ordered to leave, in her own house, in the room where their father, Lord Stark, used to hold council. Jon winced. He had brought this upon her.

“One last thing your Grace. If you may.” Sansa turned to face Jon, and Jon, completely unprepared for the blueness of her eyes, the hardness of her face, took a small step back.

“Sansa-” her name came out choked, his voice a wretched whisper, an apology, something raw, something he could not name.

“As your last act as King in The North, you shall legitimize all Northern bastards. They shall take the name of their great houses. When this war is finally over, there will be no more Snows left in the North.”

Stunned, Jon could only stare back at her, not sure what this meant. She could not be doing this for him…to finally be a Stark. A legitimate son…Jon opened his mouth to speak, his heart painfully slamming into his still bruised ribs. “Sansa I…”

But she had already turned her back and was now addressing the Dragon Queen. “That is all, Your Grace,” and without another word, back straight, head held high, like a true Queen, she walked out of the room, silently closing the door.

“Oh seven save us, what had happened to her?”

Jon couldn’t understand what Tyrion meant. Not when everything inside of him was a chaotic battle. He wanted to run after her, grab her, make her look at him again. Tell her how sorry he is to have done the unthinkable, how he could barely live with himself knowing how this betrayal had hurt her - their family. He wanted to be angry at her for being angry at him, because how else did she think he could defeat the Night King without dragons? He wanted to crush her in his arms and do even more unthinkable things to her…

“I will not allow…” Daenerys had stood up, pacing the room.

“You have to. Or it would be tantamount to sentencing those poor Northern and wildling children to their deaths.” There is a lightness in Tyrion’s voice, his eyes crinkling. As if he had just told a jest.

“Why are you smiling? And you!” Daenerys turned towards him, her eyes flashing, “do not just stand there like some..some love sick fool!”

Jon felt as though he had been hit physically. Like a slap. He could feel his whole face heating up. “What are you—I am not..!”

“She has played well. You have to give her that. Who would’ve thought, Sansa Stark, playing the Game of Thrones.”

Jon shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“The North seems to be bending the knee now, but when the time comes, when the war is over, The North WILL demand their independence. And if we refuse…”

“They will have the Vale and The Trident - who will also be thankful for their grains.” Tyrion pointedly looked at Daenerys. “Yes, Sansa Stark, has out played us.”

Jon wanted to disagree, but he finally realized what Sansa’s demands were. An assurance that whatever happens after the war, when winter is finally over, The North will rise and once again claim what has always been rightfully theirs: their freedom.

Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 11

Originally posted by sugaglos

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (M), Part 11 

Author’s Note: X is a link to music or a clip which matches with the scene, another X with no link at the end means to end the clip.

Word Count: 5847

Warnings: Smut (in later parts), Blood (in later parts)

    “Congratulations, you have another son, your majesty.” A squirming young boy was placed in Taekgeun’s arms, he gazed down at his new child with such love,

Keep reading

You can Run ( void!stiles smut )

author : wantstobeastilinski
pairing : void!stiles x reader
warnings : this is literally just sin, hair pulling, cursing, spanking, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it children )

My heart was racing as I rushed down the halls of the abandoned house. My bare feet hit the pavement and I didn’t dare look over my shoulder, knowing he would be right behind me.

Those eyes that are so much like my friends, the ones that would make me do anything. But, when its Stiles, not romantically. But with this..this thing taking over his body, it could make me do whatever it wants.

“Come on, little one. You think you’ll get away from me?"His voice sent chills to my spine, but I didn’t stop. I had to get out.

"Ah ah, just remember, the longer you run, the harder the punishment.”;And that’s when I stopped, closing my eyes. I would be dying tonight.

You must be wondering, (Y/N), how the hell did you get yourself in this situation? Well, I needed comfort, and went to my friends house, who is currently possessed by an evil yet hot ancient Japanese spirit, because he gives the best cuddles. I’m surprised that with everything that goes on in Beacon Hills, I haven’t died, because I don’t think anything through.

I feel a hand wrap itself through my hair as my head is yanked back. I hit a strong shoulder as the familiar scent of Stiles fills my nostrils. He smells like mint and fresh rain, and it used to calm me, but now, it’s causing my heart to race.

“There we go, little one.” His husky voice sends shivers down my spine and I gulp, closing my eyes.

His free hand moves up my side as his lips find their way on my neck. I let out a whimper when he sucks on my sweet spot, and a dark chuckle escapes him.

“He sure doesn’t like this.” He mumbles. Before I can ask what in the hell he is talking about, his hand slips under my shirt and I let out a squeak when his icy cold fingers touch my skin.

His hand slides up to my breasts, and even though there is fabric separating us, I let out a sigh of pleasure as he gropes them.

“W-what are you doing?” I whispered, not trusting my voice completely. He lets go of my hair and turns me around, looking down at me with cold eyes. Instead of the normal joy and happiness, mischief and evil is filling them.

“I told you, if you ran, you would get a punishment.”

All of a sudden, I am thrown against the wall and his hands are on my hips, pulling my ass into his. I whimper and close my eyes.

He quickly pulls down my skirt and I can almost hear the smirk on his face. “Such a pretty ass, little one. But it’s quite pale, don’t you think, Stiles?”

Before I can give him a sassy remark, his hand comes down on my ass cheek. There is only a little bit of cloth covering my ass, but that area still burns. I let out a scream and close my eyes.

“Oh, shush little one, it’ll feel better in a moment.” He coos, rubbing over where he just spanked. After another moment, his hand comes down again, and this time I let out a whimper as arousal goes straight to my core.

He continues spanking me, and every time his hand comes in contact with my ass, I slowly get closer to the edge.

“Well, from the look on your face and the wet spot on your panties, i would assume you enjoy this?” He asks, and I quickly nod.

I knew it was wrong, but it felt so damn good. The only thing on my mind was his cock pounding into me roughly. I let out a moan at the thought and he pulled my hair again.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, little one.” He demands, and I let out a gasp as he pulls my panties to the side, letting a finger run over my folds.

“Y-your cock in my p-pussy.” I finally get out. At my words, he slips a finger into my heat, a moan escaping my lips.

“Well, go on.” He states, his voice full of lust and desire.

“Y-you fucking me so h-hard, making me scream your name.” Moans are slipping past my lips as he adds another finger, scissoring inside me.

My legs are trembling and my eyes close. “Does that feel good?” He coos, speeding up slightly. I nod quickly, my mouth forming an ‘o’ as I near my release.

Just as I am about to fall over the edge, he pulls his fingers from my core, and I let out an impatient whine.

He chuckles and lets go of my hair. “Patience, little one. Even though I want to please you, I have another to worry about.”

He turns me around and lifts me up against the wall. My hands find his hair as I smash my lips against his, the lust finally taking over.

He groans against my lips as I tug at his hair harshly, a smile forming on my lips. I hear a zipper being pulled down and whimper, wanting him to fill me already.

My prayers are answered as I feel his tip slide between my folds. My eyes open and I let out a long moan. He bites his lip and I take in the scene, imprinting it in my mind.

He suddenly slams into me and I let out a scream, arching my back as the sudden intrusion makes my walls clench.

“There we go, little one. Enjoy yourself. Show him just how good you look on this cock, how much it pleasures you.” I didn’t even comprehend his words completely as I tugged at his hair.

“Faster.” I said breathlessly, looking him in the eyes. “Please go faster.”

He smirks evilly. “As you say.”

He picks up his speed, moans falling from my lips as a few grunts escape his. I clench around his member, moving my hands from his hair to my shirt. I tug it off and move to my bra, groping my breasts through the material.

“Look at that, Stiles. I’m making her feel so good, making her feel the way you wish you could.” His eyes shine with lust and desire, and I whimper as I buck my hips.

“I-I’m gonna…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, due to the fact the coil in my stomach breaks, sending me through waves of pleasure. Screams pass my lips and I move my hands back to his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

Void doesn’t even falter in his movements, taking in my every move. “There we go, little one. Cum all over my cock.” He whispers huskily.

Once I fall down from my high, I expect him to stop but he speeds up. “What are you-”

“Shut up!” He yells and I flinch. “I’m going to fuck you as long as I want, little one. And all you are going to do is let me and cum when I say so.”

His words go straight to my core, turning me on even more. I nod and move my lips to his jaw, sucking lightly.

Grunts fall from his lips as I feel my high slowly come again. I grind down on him as best as I can, trying to get him and I both to our releases.

“You feel so fucking tight. Such a great pussy, too. Want to be buried in you for forever.” He grunts in my ear.

“Please make me cum again.” I whine. And he does just that, moving one finger to my bundle of nerves. He works over it as I scream out.

“Let go.”

At his words, I let the pleasure swallow me whole again. My eyes roll in the back of my head as my juices cover his dick.

I can tell he is close by the way his cock twitches, and I smirk.

“Please cum in me.” I whimper, biting my lip. He groans and moved his head to my neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic. Soon enough, I feel his hot liquid shoot inside me, coating my walls.

Once he is done filling me up, he bites at my neck and pulls out of me. He lets me fall to the ground and I curse loudly, covering my face.

He looks down at me, a dark smile on his face. “Do clean yourself up, little one. We have things to do.” With that, he turns and starts to walk out.

Just before he is out of sight, his voice echoes against the walls.

“Stiles says hi.”

This is almost copied word for word from a conversation I had with @thenutofroyalty (with some additions of quotes and things) but here we go… 

If you think about it, all of Sansa’s hardships have been leading her to become a great queen.

1. She faced an arrogant, entitled ruler with no care for the common people in Joffrey and this made her more compassionate for those in lesser positions. It taught her to see past perfect appearances to what mattered underneath. She became aware of the injustice of those in power, and living under Lannister rule made her see just how the common folk felt about an unworthy ruler who used their power to intimidate and threaten. 

Sansa: I thought they were going to kill me. 
Shae: They thought so, too.
Sansa: He hated me, the man who hit me. I saw it in his eyes. Hated me. He never met me before, but he wanted to hurt me.
Shae: Of course he did.
Sansa: Why? Why would a stranger –
Shae: You are everything he will never have. Your horse eats better than his children. It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead.
Sansa: I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the king more than any of them.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted her his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again. – ACoK

2. She faced a hardened and cruel matriarch in Cersei, who tried to teach her that fear was the best way to rule, and it made her see that in fact, it was better to rule with love and to be loved by the people, that to be a good queen was to be a queen of the people. 

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. ‘If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.’ – ACoK

3) She also saw that in Margaery. Although two-faced and conniving in her way, Sansa only ever saw the good in Margaery and perhaps it was pretense, but she still saw a future queen who looked after the common folk. 

Margaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. – ASoS

4) She married a cruel and sadistic ruler in Ramsay and learned of loyalty and the true spirit of the North. In her darkest moments there, she found strength in that part of herself. She found strength in the North, in Winterfell and in being a Stark.

“I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home. And you can’t frighten me.”

“Welcome home, Lady Stark. The North remembers.”

5) She was under the care of a manipulative, calculating and selfish man in Petyr, and through him, she learned how to play the game and navigate politics from one of the best politicians in Westeros. She learned how to better observe people, anticipate their moves and the necessity of cold pragmatism in ruling and appeasing alliances. 

“I’m a slow learner, it’s true. But I learn… When you brought me back to Winterfell, you told me there’s no justice in the world, not unless we make it. Thank you for all your many lessons, Lord Baelish. I will never forget them.”

All of the hardships she’s ever gone through, all of the lessons she’s ever learned because of them, they are all leading her to become a true queen of the North, the kind that’s written about in songs and stories, which is funny in its way. Sansa always wanted to be apart of those songs; she’s always wanted to have her beauty sung about, but it won’t be her beauty that’s renowned in history. It’ll be her heart, her mind and her strength and resilience as the North’s first queen in thousands of years. 

This is where Sansa’s story will end. It’s all led her here. 

Originally posted by fangirltrashbaby

theguardian.com
I'm sorry, I can't face being a doctor any more
My family and I won’t survive the junior doctor contract financially or personally – I’m giving up


I thought about whether to post this here. I try to be positive about medicine, because there is much to love about it; it is an amazing opportunity. I don’t want to scare off those of you who still have hope. Each generation can make a difference.  However, there are real problems which jeopardise the commitment people have to their calling.

The most demoralising part of medicine for me is how hard it hits colleagues. When you see so many talented, dedicated people for whom medicine is a calling question if they can do it or feel like they must leave, it is heartbreaking.

I find the most frustrating comments to articles about medicine to be the ones questioning people’s sense of vocation. Because many of the people commenting might never know the heartbreak of having something you are passionate about ripped away from you. It is visceral.  When people feel they can’t do the job they love because it makes them mentally or physically unwell, the decision to walk away is NOT easy.

When people leave the job they gave blood, sweat and tears to, for DECADES, because the system has become so twisted that the dream job has become a nightmare, it is NOT their fault. It does not make them a worse person, and it doesn’t mean that they didn’t (or don’t) care about the job.

A vocation is about passion. It is about doing something you love, because although it is difficult, you feel fulfilled and alive doing it. It is not about being a martyr; suffering should not be an integral part of following your calling.  There is nothing glamorous or noble about being trampled on by employers or forced into unsafe conditions. In most sectors, workers are encouraged to assert themselves and demand to be treated fairly and paid what they are worth. They are told that if they work hard and demonstrate their value, this will be recognised. Yet, when it comes to workers in the public sector, many  comments focus on how ‘cuts have to be made’ or ‘workers in X sector have it bad, so you should too!’ and that ‘they shouldn’t be in it for the money’.

Public sector workers, in particular, are held to a completely different moral standard than the rest of society, and that is unfair. We have as much right to be happy. As much right to be paid fairly. As much right to safe and humane working conditions. As much right to our concerns for our wellbeing being respected.

Staying in a job that makes you miserable, which does not treat you fairly, or doesn’t pay enough for you to be able to keep doing that job, is against your intersts and should be against your self-preservation instincts. Each person deserves to be happy, and that includes working in an environment which allows this. You are not weak for looking to be treated well.

For many of us, walking away is so hard, precisely because medicine was their calling. They were prepared to do so much, and they did so much, to do the job they loved. But it wasn’t enough. They left because the ache of leaving the job they were passionate about was less painful than the constant agony of being trapped in an environment which turned the job they love into a weapon against their wellbeing.

Friends, I salute every one of you. Every one of us who considers leaving, or leaves because it becomes unbearable to stay. You are stronger than many people will ever know; don’t let anyone tell you that you weren’t dedicated enough. Whoever you are, and whatever you are facing, I’m proud of you.

Creepypasta #1160: Nothing Can Stop The Rain

Length: Short

Most other kids my age love the rain.

They see it as something to splash around in, or as a lullaby to put them to sleep. But for kids like me, the rain is no fun at all. For kids like me, the rain is evil. And today, the rain is finally coming to get me.

Ma and Pa have no idea why I’m so scared of the rain. They’d never believe me if I told them. Adults never believe kids. All I want to do was crawl under my bed and wait for the storm to end. But I know that won’t help. Running away from home is my only hope.

Nothing can stop the rain.

I bolt out of the backdoor, backpack slung over my shoulder, and hop the fence. Every few seconds I look up at the grey, darkening sky. I’m so scared. The thunder is loud, like a growling beast. If I could just reach the bus station, I could get on a bus leaving town. The rain’s anger couldn’t reach me there.

My skin keeps expecting those first drops. Dissolving. Erasing. Cleansing the world of troublemakers like me. I know that the rain wants to punish me, the way it punishes all naughty children. The faces of my poor, long-gone friends flash through my mind with every lightning clap. There’s no way I’m going to let the rain catch me.

Nearing the bus station, I spy just what I want to see- a waiting bus! Just as I feel the first raindrop hit my neck, I make it onboard.

“Close the door and step on it, mister!” I shout at the confused-looking driver. There’s no one else left to get on, so Mr. Driver listens to me, and we take off. Looking out the back window, eventually all I can see is a waterfall pouring over the town. It looks so far away from here- like a painting.

Phew. That was close.

Yeah, I know raindrops are just normal water. They can’t melt down bad children. Duh- I’m not stupid. But the rain can do other things. The rain is a big tattletale. It likes to wash up secrets.

Secrets like the graves I buried my friends in.

Credits to: GuyAwks

Snape Appreciation Month Day 20: A Scene You Wanted in the Movies

(there are a few, so hold on)

- the riddle snape wrote for his part of the trap
- snape refereeing a quidditch game
- snape on a broom
- his face when lockhart suggested asking snape for a love potion
- his snarky comment of getting rid of the threat (snake) to harry during dueling club
- im torn between wanting the scene with black in poa to follow the book (thus showing the audience how petty sirius was, letting an unconscious snape hit his head in every beam in the tunnel for laughs) and keeping him conscious for the witty banter and to protect children from a werewolf
- didn’t dumbledore say snape conjured gurneys for all the students and brought them to the hospital wing? that. i want that.
- two words: grey nightgown
- “if you are prepared. if you are ready” “i am” ft. snape looking lowkey terrified
- every and any moment of snape goading sirius and vice versa that took place in grimmauld place
- that argument of who would teach harry occlumency
- a more detailed version of those lessons
- snape’s worst memory in full detail thanks
- harry’s detention where he found records of his father doing shitty things and his attempt at apologizing on the behalf of his father(that did happen right?? or was this just one fanfic too many??)
- harry being upset about the memory and voicing his concerns to remus and sirius, which would have added depth to his character (my boy hp literally cares about everyone)
- did anyone ever mention that snape had indeed checked up on sirius?
- more details on the scene in spinners end
- him teaching defense against the dark arts
- “ghosts are transparent”
- the counter course to sectumsempra was supposed to be sung and quite beautiful
- that comment he made about potter having the guts to use dark magic in such an offhand tone, like drag him
- roonil wazlib
- “i know what a nickname is, potter”
- “i am the half-blood prince!” scene needed to be more dramatic imo
- snape using the portrait of phineas nigellus to keep track of the children
- “dont use that word”
- him begging voldemort to let him find potter
- “look….at….me…”
- it just feels more intense than “you have your mothers eyes” ya feel?
- every single detail of his memories. every single word spoken in that chapter
- “severus snape was never yours! he was dumbledores!”

tl;dr: any time snape as much breathed should have been in the movie

i’ve been trying to figure out what i want to say about wonder woman and it’s this, in that moment where diana was young and watching the other amazons train and she wanted nothing more than to be able to train with them, to be a hero, it hit me the hardest because how many times have we seen a super hero movie with a man, how many times even as children we watched their moves and wanted to do what they were doing but we were resigned to watch the women on the side be a love interest. when i saw her, small and determined, i felt like her in that moment, but it felt even better because she was watching beautiful strong women, and the way those scenes were filmed, the amazons were brutal but their fighting looked more choreographed, more practiced, it was so smooth and fluid it almost looked like dancing, in those first few minutes diana was young, i was too again except this time i was watching women and i finally got to feel what it’s like to want to be that fearless hero, i finally got to feel it and knowing that feeling can’t be taken away, it’s the best feeling 

anonymous asked:

What do you think they'll do with the immortality thing? One of the showrunners said it'll cause some stress for Alec, which is understandable I think, specially since this is Alec's first ever relationship. But I'm still nervous

“Magnus,” Alec whispers, his voice easily faltering.

Magnus, who’s sitting cross-legged next to him, reading some book in a language that Alec can’t decipher, looks up. He already has a smile on his face, his cheeks pink from the fire crackling in front of them. That smile quickly falls upon seeing Alec, who’s brows are stitching together and fingers rubbing together, in the way he does when he’s anxious. 

“Alexander, are you alright?” he tilts his book down so he can see Alec fully.

“It was Izzy’s birthday today,” he finally says, after several moments of tense silence.

Alec peers up to Magnus, who tilts his head in confusion. His heart tugs, his stomach lurches. 

“Yes, and we got back from her birthday party a few hours ago. Are you okay?” Magnus asks with an encouraging smile. He brings his hand up to Alec’s forehead playfully and says, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?”

Alec doesn’t laugh along with Magnus, because he cant find the strength to. He wrings his hands together in his lap, not looking while Magnus drops the book on the floor and sits directly next to him.

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” Magnus lifts Alec’s chin up with his fingers until they’re eye to eye. 

Alec’s eyes are filled with despair, tears close to spilling over onto his cheeks. He takes a couple deep breaths to steady himself.

“My birthdays soon,” he murmurs. 

“I know when your birthday is, my love. I already got you your present, which by the way is–”

“I’m gonna die,” he blurts out. 

Magnus’ fingers fall from his chin. 

“Alexander, what are you–”

“You’re immortal!” Alec yells, squeezing his eyes shut at his outburst. He takes a heavy breath in, clenching his jaw in attempt to keep tears from escaping. “You’re immortal. One day, I’m going to start aging. One day, I’m going to die and leave you.”

Magnus shakes his head, his normally refined posture slouching. He continues to shake his head, his jaw clenching, anguish painted on his face.

“I love you. But I can’t help but think about our future. I can’t stop thinking about leaving you, I can’ stop thinking about when I age and you stay the same and don’t want to be seen with me anymore, I just–I want to stop thinking about it all, but I can’t. I can’t.”

Magnus is silent, his eyes resting on his hands that lay on his legs. His thumb and forefinger rub together as he looks back to Alec, who can now see his eyes have morphed into their natural state while he was thinking. 

“Alexander, don’t you dare ever think I won’t want to be seen with you. Don’t you dare think like that,” he asserts, his voice rough. The harshness falls as he places one hands on Alec’s.

“I love you. I will always love you. One day we’ll get married, one day we’ll have children together, one day we’ll meet our grandchildren. And,” he stops, taking a shaky breath in, “one day you’ll leave me.”

The room spins around Alec, and upon seeing Magnus in emotional pain, his stomach twists. Hearing Magnus say those words feels like a blow hitting his chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“And my heart will break into a million pieces. I’ll be in agonizing pain.” Alec shakes his head, tears falling freely from his bloodshot eyes. “But I’ll be so deliriously happy, knowing that I was able to spend the best years of my life with the man I love more than I ever thought possible.”

“I don’t want to put you through that pain, Magnus. I don’t want you to regret it, or go through that, I can’t–I can’t do that.”

“Alec, listen to me,” he says, wiping a tear away from his cheek. “I will never regret the time we spend together. Loving you is the biggest privilege I’ve had in my hundreds of years of life. And that will never change.”

Alec takes no time to wrap his arms around Magnus and pull him as close as possible. 

“We’ll be okay, Alexander,” Magnus whispers into his shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”

unfinished teen wolf hp au

i wrote this literally years ago and i’m never going to complete it, but i figured i’d post it here in case anyone was interested :)


A flick seems like too much- really, there is no point with the way the wrist had to bend to accommodate the second swish. He pulls out his wand, the grey tint of mountain ash turning near silver in the candlelight of the great hall, and performs the spell without the flick, “Aureus!” His quill obligingly turns into solid gold, and he turns it back to scratch out the last instruction in the book. McGonagall does this thing with her eyebrows when he screws around with the spells, and this is going to be awesome.

“That’s a fifth year spell, you utter freak,” his bag is pushed aside onto the floor so Jackson can slide in beside him. “Wait two more years.”

Stiles grabs his bag to save it from the dirty, dirty floor and places it on his other side, “We can’t all be Charms nerds like you. Speaking of, how’d your meeting with Flitwick go?”

Jackson’s sneer turns into an almost smile, “He offered to teach me dueling in exchange for being his research assistant.”

He hits him in the shoulder with his transfiguration book, which judging by Jackson’s glare may be too heavy for that, “Shut up! That’s amazing - there are seventh years who’d kill some small children to get that opportunity.”

Jackson’s smile dims back into a frown. He glances across at the other tables in the great hall, “I’m sure those rumors will start soon enough.”

Stiles nudges the other boy so he looks back at him, “Well, I think it’s great, and well earned. You’ve done our house proud.”

He makes the face he does when he’s pleased but doesn’t want to show it and starts loading his plate with food. “Did you go to the tryouts yesterday? I didn’t see you.”

Stiles opens his book so he can get back to taking notes, “Why put myself through the second hand embarrassment? Besides, there’s only one chaser spot open, and it’s not like Ethan and Aiden are going to choose someone bad.”

“They chose you,” he points at Stiles with his fork.

He sticks his tongue out, “I’m a brilliant seeker, or at least I suck less than everyone else. Forget that, come with me to Gryffindor tryouts, that’s going to be intense. And brutal. Danny lost all of his team except for Scott and Heather.”

“All the easier to crush them,” Jackson snorts.

Stiles copies down the spell to turn a raven into a writing desk, not sure when he’d ever feel the need to use it, but that’s hardly the point. “Danny Mahealani is the nicest, friendliest person ever, except on the Quidditch field. He runs the Gryffindors way harder than twins do us.”

Jackson rolls his eyes, “Literally the last thing I want to do is watch you and McCall panting after each other for three hours. We’ll kill them in the first game, and every game after, and that’s all that matters.”

“Speaking of,” he waves across the hall, and Scott’s already scanning the table to catch sight of him. They exchange a few eyebrow waggles and suggestive hand gestures, the same system they developed when they were eight, and he starts to pack up his things. “I’m going to have dessert at the Gryffindor table, want to come?”

“No,” he says, although he’s looking a little too intently at his mashed potatoes, “I don’t actually enjoy getting detention, you know.”

Stiles hikes his bag over his shoulder, “Do you know that you don’t have start a duel every time we sit with the Gryffindors?”

“Yes I do,” Jackson scowls, “because one of those bastards will run their mouths about me, or you, and then I’ll have beat some manners into them. They could at least pretend to be civilized and say those things behind our backs. House of muggleborns, they were never taught any honor.”

“You don’t actually have to do anything when they say something about me,” Stiles points out, “and we’re Slytherins, we don’t have honor.”

“I have honor,” he stabs his chicken as if it’s personally offended him.

Stiles is pretty sure that’s the other boy’s answer to both of his previous statements, and he makes a point of sighing dramatically as he drops his bag back onto the bench. “Don’t move, I’ll make Scott come over here.”

Keep reading

Ok i bet my bottom dollar the Wayne’s go on comedy shows all the time. Bruce can hold a straight face like nobody’s business while making comedic remarks without any rehearsal. Even when there’s insulting things thrown at him, he turns them comedic, keeps himself looking like an idiot too. But if they insult one of his kids? No way they’re getting away with that.
“Bruce, what do you say to the people who think you molest your kids?”
“I do not. that is a disgusting assumption and I’m sure I’d have about any rumor about me be true, I love my children even when they’re bad, I’ve never hit them, or hurt them in anyway. Keep those thoughts to yourself, because if I hear it i’m coming for you.”

“Why do you let Tim wear dresses?”
“He wants to? Am I supposed to police that?”
“No-well, yes! Heh heh, Bruce, dresses are for girls!”
“Oh yes… I suppose that’s true, Timothy i don’t think that is appropriate attire for a young man. What else would you like to discuss, Garry? I sure think girls dresses should always touch the floor, legs are too distracting, also this is my slave, Duke, he’s been here 12 years, and Stephanie here is my 16, I mean 18 year old wife. Oh, boy, kids, I think we should get ready, the horse and carriage should be here soon and you know how Alfred feels about waiting. Cassandra, dear, that dress is too short and Harper, you’ll never get a husband with that blue hair you’ve got.”

“Your son is so spoiled! He gets whatever he wants! You should discipline him!”
“Hey, that’s not true! Dick has plenty discipline, right, Dick?”
“I’m not talking about Dick!”
“Well, Tim also is well-behaved.”
“Not Tim either! I’m talking about-”
“No, Duke’s fine! He’s still getting used to the new environment, all the kids start out like that!”
“Not Duke either!”
“Well, I only have 4 sons. 5, actually.”
“What are you talking about? You only have 4- oh. Well, you shouldn’t have so many children if they’re so hard to keep track of!”
“You see, I knew exactly who you were talking about the first time, I just wanted to bait you. Make you change your mind before you said something stupid, before I wrecked your ass,”
*any children there slide back because Bruce doesn’t cuss*
“Damian is a good boy, he may not be the friendliest but he’s good. He has hard times talking to people because he grew up in a harsh environment. That doesn’t make him bad.”
“I wasn’t saying that, I-”
“Yes you were. I know this because I know my children and I know what the media thinks of my children. I can keep tabs on all of them, I know their next step before they’ve even figure it out, I don’t even flinch when they experiment, because I love them no matter what gender they are, no matter what sexuality, no matter what race. This is more than any other rich parent does for their hundreds of adopted orphans from Africa, those kids get neglected because they’re up there for the attention. I’ve seen this, people in Gotham adopt kids to be like Bruce Wayne, to be like me, then they steal the spotlight because they’re kids are perfect, are forced to be perfect. You know what? Huh? My kids aren’t perfect. That’s why you hate them. They’re diverse, not on purpose, not to show i’m a good person, but because I choose who needed me. They literally came to me. I don’t go to a random orphanage and say ‘that ones colorful, let’s try that out!’ I pick them when they’re boosting tires from my car, when their parents are dying right in front of me, when they’re all alone in the world, falling apart right in front of me, because I don’t believe in coincidences, and there’s no way in hell anyone’s going to pick up these kids after I leave them where they’re standing. Because Gotham’s a bitch, and its rich is corrupted. They buy an entire island full of kids, and say their done, but that’s just the fucking beginning. I know my kids aren’t perfect, but they’re good, they’re disciplined, they aren’t forced to smile, and they’re genuinely happy. That’s all I fucking need, your opinion doesn’t matter, it only helps to fuel my anger. Are you done here or do I have to prepare myself to start yelling?”

One Love Manchester

So some of my friends on here might have noticed, some might not and that’s okay. Lately I’ve been pretty absent-minded, not only because of uni and personal stress. I don’t know how many of you are like me not only in the K-Pop fandom but are also part of the Ariana Grande fandom (Arianators), yet in the end it’s not really important to be because it affects us all, fan or not. 

You might guess by now what I’ll be talking about - the Manchester Attack at the Ariana Grande concert. I’ve been thinking about making a post about it since it happened and wasn’t sure whether to do it or let it be but my poor friend Paula has to keep handling my emotional self, bursting out into tears every few days, so maybe this is going to help me deal with all of this a little bit better.

I myself have been an Arianator for about 7 years by now. Having the pleasure of attending a concert of hers in 2015 and meeting her outside of those fan-idol-meetup-situations back in 2013, leading to another conversation with her in 2014, I feel like I know her like a friend. She gives us fans this feeling of not only being a fan to her but to actually being her friend. Always taking the time to talk to every single one of us, to take care of us like nobody else would (she actually took me inside of her hotel with her just so I wouldn’t catch a cold, who else would do that?) and to show us every single day how much we mean to her. She loves us like friends, not like fans who spend their money on her and that’s what makes our bond with her so special. 

Ariana is one of those people that do their best to spread love and support equality. She tells us to stand up for what we believe in, to fight hate with love instead of responding with hate, to be strong and independent and love not only each other but ourselves as well. Ariana is my biggest inspiration, she is my role model, my Queen, my source of power and self-love. Thanks to her, I started to love myself again every day a little bit more, thanks to her I started to fight for what I believe in, thanks to her I gained confidence in myself. I owe her a lot and there are no words in this world that could express how thankful I am to have her as my role-model.

When I heard the news that this attack happened at one of her concerts, my world stopped. Of course I was worried about the people being hurt. I was sick to the stomach. There were so many children at this concert. So many teenagers. So many parents who just wanted their kids to have a good time. So many lives that had been destroyed in a matter of seconds at a place that should be filled with love and laughter. Another prominent thought was “why her?”. Why would anyone want to hurt her? Her, who only spreads positivity and nothing else. I think the answer is - to hit where it hurts the most. Children were attacked because they’re the vulnerable ones, they cannot fight back. Their parents would be helpless no matter if they were there or waiting at home for them to come back safely. They chose Ariana’s concert because of those exact reason. Because she spreads love. Because she’s strong. Because she’s an inspiration. Because there would be so many children. They wanted to take her down and all of her supporters with her.

They didn’t succeed. Even though we have lost 22 beautiful human beings and many have been injured, we’re still standing strong and we’ll still be spreading love and kindness. We’ll still be going to concerts and still enjoy our lives to the fullest. These demons will not bring us down. 

Many have asked me, why I get so emotional with this topic when I wasn’t even there and I’ll try to give you an explanation. This is what I also told my best friend Paula just yesterday (I had to translate it so sorry if there are any mindless errors) but it seemed to bring my point across pretty well:

Even though I don’t know the deceased, they’re like me. They’re young people who love music. Concerts make them happy, it gives them the love they need, the air to breathe, it’s their second home. They’re parents who loved their children just like my parents love me, who were on their way to pick up their kids, ready to listen to them ramble about the best night of their life and just be happy for their young ones. They’re people like you and me that just wanted to see their idol and have a good time. Even though they’re not from my country and I don’t know them, I have things in common with all of them. With every single one of the 22 who have been murdered and everyone who is still in the hospital recovering. I can’t and I won’t let them being forgotten. I will never forget this, never in my entire life. Even though I wasn’t there, every time I think about it, I have a physical pain shooting through my heart which makes my head hurt as a consequence. It just doesn’t stop. I wasn’t there at the arena when it happened, I wasn’t even in front of the arena, not even in the same country. But my heart was with Ariana and all of the fans. My heart broke even though I wasn’t there in person.

I want to add that this is for everyone who enjoys going to concerts, who is part of any kind of fanbase - it affects us all. You don’t even have to be part of a fanbase at all, just a human with a caring heart. 

I’m not saying that every other terroristic attack on this planet isn’t bad or isn’t as bad as the attack in Manchester. They’re all horrible, no matter where they happen. It’s just that this one has affected me the most. This one hits me where it hurts the most. This one makes my heart hurt in a way that’s barely bearable because I see myself and all of my friends and family in the faces of the deceased.

I saw my mutuals on twitter looking for their loved ones or being looked for themselves. I saw them coming out of the arena completely disturbed and terrified of what they had experienced. I went through the process of looking for the missing people with them, only to find out that many of them were taken away from us. I might not have known them personally but it felt like I did. After all those hours of searching, helping and hoping, it felt like I did know them all. 

Watching the One Love Manchester show yesterday, seeing the audience standing together, sharing the happiness but also crying together with the artists, made my heart fill with joy yet with pain. So many heartbreaking words were shared with all of us, yet so many wise and motivational speeches were held that it was a mix of emotions. It’s something that I struggle to put into words, you should experience it yourself to fully understand.   

Honestly, I have no idea where I was going with this post. I just want you guys to know that you shouldn’t be scared. Keep living your life to the fullest. Don’t let them destroy beauty and happiness. We can fight against it. 

Remember the people who have passed during that attack. Don’t let their death just pass by, they deserve so much more. Here are all 22 deceased who’s lives have been taken unnecessarily due to pure evil:


Saffie Rose Roussos, 8

Nell Jones, 14

Sorrell Leczkowski, 14

Eilidh MacLeod, 14

Olivia Campbell, 15

Megan Hurley, 15

Chloe Rutherford, 17

Georgina Callander, 18

Liam Curry, 19

Courtney Boyle, 19

John Atkinson, 28

Martyn Hett, 29

Kelly Brewster, 32

Philip Tron, 32

Angelika Klis, 39

Marcin Klis, 42

Elaine McIver, 43

Alison Howe, 45

Michelle Kiss, 45

Lisa Lees, 47

Wendy Fawell, 50

Jane Tweddle-Taylor, 51


Rest In Peace tiny elephants. Ariana will never forget you and neither will I. 

Originally posted by giftvitaliana

DATING VAMPIRE!SANGHYUK

ridorii: Vampire VIXX Hyuk headcanons? Please and thank you! love u so much 💕💕

★loves you alot  

★but he’ll tease the s h i t out of you  

★he enjoys seeing you blushing 

★loves play fighting  

★so expect to be randomly thrown over his shoulder  

★or pinned against a wall  

★lets you win though

★bc seeing you smile is his fave

★low key hopeless romantic 

★once kissed you in the rain

★and when you got ill

★he was upset the entire time

★always buys you flowers 

★if he can’t hold your hand he’ll pout 

★gets v emotional after drinking from you 

★he’ll nuzzle into you

★kiss over your skin

★’i love you so much’ gets said alot

★wants to change you

★always proposes it

★just the thought of the world without you hurts him

★really likes those pranks sets for children

★there will be fake spiders put everywhere

★he’ll laugh too much

★if any of the other members of the vixx clan come near you

★he’ll get upset

★he needs all of your attention at all times

★trips you up when you’re walking

★just to catch you right before you hit the floor

★and kiss you

★’looks like you’ve fallen for me’ 

★’i hate you’ 

★’no you don’t 

nsfw from here

★says he’s a switch

★but he’ll be in charge most of the time

★the only time you really get to be in charge is when you’re bathing together 

★he’ll let you ride him  

★just be warned 

★your hips will be bruised 

★because he’ll grip them so hard

★his favourite place to have sex is over the kitchen counter

★pretty sure he has a fetish for seeing you cook???

★you’ll just be making pancakes for yourself

★and bang he’s got a boner

★that he’s grinding into you

★’i need to eat something’

★’so do i. so come to the bedroom and spread your legs’

★post-sex cuddles are v important

★he needs you to cuddle into him

★and let him know that you’re okay

★plays with your hair until you fall asleep

God’s Ways

This post has been some months in the offing. I’ve been wrestling with how to address such a personal encounter. Nevertheless, I will try because I think this story illuminates a very important point. 

I left the church and my parent’s home at 18. I refused to go on a mission, my parents refused to pay for college, and I was beyond done with their whole way of life. During the last year I lived with them we fought almost daily. My mom and I didn’t speak to each other for nearly two years leading up to my leaving. Things were very tense. They mounted a vigorous campaign to get me to stay, go on a mission, go to BYU - the usual TBM bullshit. I took myself out of the equation. 

While the fighting was intense we never directly addressed “the church” or “religion” or “faith.” My parents just sort of assumed I still believed and I let them go on assuming it because it was easier. I was dealing with enough self-doubt and internal change and I didn’t want to manage their reactions to such a revelation. Sure, it was a cop-out and I still feel a little shame to this day of not telling them straight out that I didn’t believe the church was true and that I didn’t believe in god. That remained unsaid. 

Jump forward nine years - now, or to be precise, January 20th, 2017. That’s right: Trump’s inauguration day. My parents just happened to be in town to attend the funeral of a family friend (Not just any friend. This guy was the second counselor to my dad when he served as Stake President. A complete asshole who appeared to be the kindest, sweetest person, but every so often the veneer would crack and you could catch a glimpse of the snake underneath). My parents called me and asked if we could go to dinner. I said yes, as things had been going fairly well between us for some time - cool but cordial. 

I made the mistake of watching the inauguration right before I left for dinner. I knew I shouldn’t have. In the car, I kept telling myself over and over again: don’t bring it up. Be nice and polite and just get through this. So much for that. 

Things were going nicely until… yep, I brought up Trump. I couldn’t help myself. I was terrified. I was having hours of conversations with friends who were terrified  - about deportation, about discrimination, about the rise and tacit approval of the alt right. I was pretty keyed up. So I told my mom and dad just that: that I was really worried about the future of our country. 

My mom and dad shifted in their seats. My dad explained that while they hadn’t voted for Trump, and didn’t like him personally, he was the president now and our responsibility was to follow him. I pressed the issue, saying that our loyalty as citizens is to fight injustice, not to accept it should it gain power. Then my dad looked me right in the eye and told me that it was “god’s will” that Trump is president. 

I hit the fucking roof. You’re telling me that god wants his children to be terrified of their leaders? You’re telling me that god wants hate and fear to rule his “chosen nation?” My dad shrugged and said, maybe it’s his way of hastening the second coming. 

At that point it all came out. I told them their religion was bullshit, a lie. I told them I was a proud atheist. I told them I look on it as a duty to seek truth and decry those who promulgate lies, like the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints. Needless to say, dinner didn’t end well. 

I cannot abide the self-righteous, hypocritical stances of the church and its followers. This is not philosophy we’re playing with here, this is people’s lives. Real lives. Not some test simulation before the real work of the afterlife begins. 

It’s been months and the thought of this conversation makes me physically sick to my stomach. Something’s broken between my parent’s and me. For good. And it is good. Because it’s based on truth. Honesty. I don’t want people in my life who care more about their belief-cloaked privilege than other people. I’m done with it.  

Listen, about that addition-

I’m reading a big mixture of salt and praise for those additional few lines of Nanaba’s that go one way or another, saying that it either adds or breaks her character.  And in reading both views, there are valid points to bring up.  Me, personally, while the scene itself wasn’t necessary and it seemed off-putting to put that as a means to make the scene heartbreaking, it really did a clever and damn good job of it, whether one likes that it exists or not.

Seems like a waste to add what is implied to be Nanaba’s childhood experiences literally seconds before she dies, right?  To add a bit of backstory only to give you so little time to actually feel proper sympathy for her?  It makes the death seem especially so unfair and cruel.  I felt helpless, honestly, and very empty because there is no redemption from that and there is no character resolution or no further info on what that could mean.  It’s entirely up to interpretation because there was little time to appreciate and really think about her character.

Keep reading

Braids

Aurora sat on the tall stool that Raine had brought into the bathroom, her legs swinging as her feet couldn’t touch the ground. It was early morning, and Raine had promised to do Aurora’s hair before leaving for school. 

It was Aurora’s first day of the first grade––so many new beginnings, and she knew that she wanted to look pretty for the start of the new school year. She wanted to look like her mom.

Raine yawned, stretching her arms above her head before running her fingers through Aurora’s soft locks. “Alright. Be good and don’t move, okay, sweetie?”

Aurora nodded. “Okay, Mommy.”

Raine got to work, parting strands of her hair and folding them over the other. Aurora smiled at her reflection as her hair was slicked back out of her face, save for her bangs, as Raine shifted the braid so that it came to rest over her right shoulder as opposed to falling down along her back.

“You look so beautiful, Rory,” Raine beamed, leaning down to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

“I look just like you!” Aurora giggled as Raine’s hands came to rest on her shoulders.

Raine’s eyes met with Aurora’s in the mirror, and she got quiet. Her smile seemed to falter just slightly, a sadness seeping into her eyes that the small girl couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Mommy?” Aurora asked, her voice quiet. “Are you okay? Did I say something bad?”

“No,” Raine replied immediately, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not that at all. Nothing bad. But…I just…” Raine let out a small sigh, giving Aurora’s shoulders a light squeeze. “Are you still going to love me when you’re all grown up?”

Aurora couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side in confusion. “Of course. How come you have to ask?”

Raine shook her head again, her eyes moving to lock onto the floor. “Because you’re going to get older, and you’re going to go through a lot of changes. We won’t be the same like you are now, Rory. Things will be different and I just need to know that even if you’re mad at me, even if we fight, that deep down, you’ll still love me like how I’ll always love you.”

Aurora spun around on the stool and wrapped her small arms around her mother as best as she could. “Of course, Mommy. I’ll always love you.”

Raine held back tears as Aurora snuggled her face into her stomach. She bent down and kissed her forehead, lifting up her little finger. “Pinky swear?”

Aurora hooked her pinky with her mother’s, and kissed her on the cheek. “I promise.”

As Aurora followed her brother out the door so that they could head off to school together, Raine wandered into the kitchen where Ignis was standing with his cup of Ebony. She came up behind him and hugged him her cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

“My love, are you alright?” Ignis asked, setting his coffee down and turning to wrap his wife up in his warm embrace. “I can sense a strange sadness in you. Is something the matter?”

Raine let out a shaky sigh. “No, it’s alright, I’ll be fine,” she promised. “It’s just that time moves so quickly these days. Our kids are growing up so fast.”

“You know,” Ignis said, running his thumb along Raine’s jawline. “Lucas and Aurora will forever be our children. We’ll always want to protect them and keep them safe from the troubles of the world. But at some point, we’ll have to let them go.”

Ignis could feel the tear leak out from her eye as it hit his skin, and he moved his thumb to wipe it away.

“You don’t have to fret about that now though, my love. Let us appreciate the time we have now, together, as a family. Those children adore you more than anything, and you have been nothing but the perfect wife and the most incredible person I could ever share my soul with.” Ignis tilted his head. “Would you grace my presence once more with your smile?”

Raine couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, her eyes sliding closed as Ignis leaned his forehead against hers.

“There it is,” he said softly, gently pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re such an incredible mother. Your grandmother and Clara would be so proud of how much you’ve grown.”

Raine lifted her head, unable to hide the tiniest sniffle that escaped her nose. “You think so?”

Ignis kissed her forehead and held her close. “I know it.”

anonymous asked:

What really, really gets me about some customers is that we will get these women who are really out of their minds. I've seen women with babies (just old enough to walk and figure out talking) and these mothers will be rude to staff AND cuss AT their child. I especially get uncomfortable whenever I see those kind of mothers hit and scream at their children in the store. I really want to say something, but I know I'd be on the receiving end of that anger too.