we are only children

When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.


I don’t. If we hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have seen. You have to see it to know. Now I know. The dragons are my children. They’re the only children I’ll ever have. Do you understand? We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. And we’ll do it together. You have my word.

hey. DONT draw nsfw art of in a heartbeat. theyre kids. children in highschool.
but not only that, we finally have this one bit of representation that focuses on the romantic aspect of a gay relationship. im so, so very tired of the sexualization of the lgbt community. let us have this one thing. please.

So what you’re telling me is that the lieutenants are okay 👀👀👀👀 


I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back. I wish we’d never go. I don’t. If we hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have seen. You have to see it to know. Now I know. The dragons are my children. They’re the only children I’ll ever have. Do you understand? We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. And we’ll do it together. You have my word.

Popular headcanon: Nursey starts shit to upset Dex

Reverse headcanon: Dex does the lion’s share of the shit stirring.

Dex: Hey is that your notebook?

Nursey: Please do not touch my things.

Dex, who has no sense of boundaries, already leafing through it: Yeah, what?

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I don’t think that kids need a father and a mother necessarily. I think they need male and female role models. But I don’t think that means that we shouldn’t have kids because we’re two guys. We don’t encourage our children to only play with Barbies. But if our son picks up a Barbie doll and wants to play with it, okay. Parents need to be more accepting of who their kids are and less concerned about who society thinks they need to be.
—  Neil Patrick Harris
Proving her wrong

the reader and Ivar are childhood friends and she finds out what happened between Ivar and Margarethe and proves to him she was wrong plus puts Sigurd in his place about tormenting Ivar  

warning: smut/fluff it gets explicit and VERY light BDSM and some cussing


Ivar x reader


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When they accidentally imply marriage

Anon Asked: Hi hi can I get a fluff reaction where bts member accidentally imply marriage to s/o then gets embarrassed about it? Like says something like “at our wedding” or “when we get married”

Hope you like it! - Admin Chimin 

Namjoon: It was around midnight and you couldn’t go to sleep, luckily for you Namjoon was there to make everything better. You two started talking about the future you both had in mind and something slipped up…

“I want a small wedding, only with the boys of course, your friends, my parents and your parents” he smiled sweetly at you.

Your eyes went wide, of course you were excited that he plans to marry you. But for some reason I don’t think he knows what he said.

“You want to marry me?” you blink, sitting up.

“Of course I want to marry you! You’re my girl after all” 

Originally posted by nikatato

Seokjin: You were out on a walk with your boyfriend, the leash in his leading to the small pug huffing and puffing along Han river. “This is where I want to get married, I wonder how many people we can fit here..” that simple sentence stopped your heart. You two both stopped walking, he turned to you looking like he was gonna throw up.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it like that”

“Of course I’ll marry you” you whispered and grabbed his hand to keep walking.

Originally posted by seokijn

Yoongi: You and Yoongi were playing with Holly whilst the rest of the boys went out to eat. You were playing tug of war with her as Yoongi admired you from his seat on the couch.

“I’ve decided that when we get married, I only want small dogs so our children won’t be in fear” he laughed to himself.

You stopped tugging at the rope and stared at him, only blinking twice. He looked up at you, questioning why you were looking at him

“What did I say?”

“You’re already planning our wedding?”

His eyes went wide, Did he really just say his thoughts out loud?

“N-No Well I was…Just saying” 

Originally posted by jimiyoong

Hoseok: “You know Jagiya when we get married, we’re gonna have a big wedding” this would come out of his mouth once a week. It would be so neutral to him because he believed that you really were the one.

Originally posted by ttaegiis

Jimin: You were getting ice cream with him at a convenience store on a hot summers day, you didn’t know if he meant it or if it was due to dehydration.

“Lets have an ice cream cake on our wedding day” His eyes went wide as you two both walked out of the store.

“Deal” he smiled at your answer and kissed your forehead.

“Jimin its too hot”

“Right, right”

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Taehyung: You were at your friends talking and gossiping, having a good time. You opened snapchat to see a video from Yoongi. Curiously opening the snap you find the camera pointed at Taehyung who looked half asleep.

“Tae, what did you just say?” You heard Yoongi laugh while the other boys laughed as well.

“I said I’ll beat your ass” Tae mumbled causing you to laugh.

“No the other thing, about a wedding” your heart stopped at the mention of a wedding.

“I said I wanna get married at sunset” he mumbled again.

“Why?” you heard Jungkook laugh, asking him.

“Because Y/n looks really good in that light”

Lets just say a couple hours later he was more then embarrassed but he kept denying the fact that he actually said that.

“I did not say that!”

Originally posted by jimiyoong

Jungkook: This boy would reveal his secret wedding planning to you when he was black out drunk when you two decided it was a brilliant idea for you to go to a club.

“Y/n, hear me out. Listen, I want these drinks at our wedding”

The next morning you remembered perfectly but he didn’t.

“Y/n stop talking about drinks” you were teasing him about how much he drank the previous night.

“Even the ones that you want at our wedding?”

Originally posted by jeonbase


Watch: These adorable kids in China performed a full-fledged live-action version of Mulan’s “Bring Honor to Us All”

Apparently, there’s a show on Chinese television that involves children re-enacting scenes from famous movies. We only know that because these kids absolutely crushed a live-action version of “Bring Honor to Us All” from Disney’s Mulan.

Gifs: Disney Power



jon & daenerys week ★ favorite episode = beyond the wall
i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i wish i could take it back. i wish we’d never have gone. i don’t. if we hadn’t gone i wouldn’t have seen. you have to see it to know. now i know. the dragons are my children. they’re the only children i’ll ever have. do you understand? we are going to destroy the night king and his army. and we’ll do it together. you have my word. thank you, dany. dany? who was the last person who called me that? i’m not sure, was it my brother? not the company you want to keep. alright. not dany. how about “my queen”? i’d bend the knee but… what about those who swore allegiance to you? they’ll all come to see you for what you are. i hope i deserve it. you do.



Kilorn Warren - 

The tiniest pressure at my waist makes me spin, acting on instinct. I grab the hand foolish enough to pickpocket me, squeezing tight so the little imp won’t be able to run away. But instead of a scrawny kid, I find myself staring up at a smirking face.

 Kilorn Warren. A fisherman’s apprentice, a war orphan, and probably my only real friend. We used to beat each other up as children, but now that we’re older - and he’s a foot taller than me - I try to avoid scuffles. He has his uses, I suppose. Reaching high shelves, for example. 


[red queen, victoria aveyard] 

Finding out the (biological) age gap between Sans and Toriel

Alright, so it’s no secret that one of the biggest anti Soriel arguments is “BUT TORIEL IS SOO MUCH OLDER THAN SANS SHE COULD BE LIKE HIS MOM!!” 

But the thing is, as we all know Toriel does not age without her son and is thus (currently) immortal, and this is by far NOT the first Mortal x Imortal relationship seen in fiction before.

But regardless I’ve decided to try to find out a rough estimate of their biological ages and find out what the biggest possible (biological) age gap would be between the two.

We’ll start with Toriel

So, we know that boss monsters stop aging when they reach adulthood, but the question is when do they exactly reach adulthood? The first number that comes to mind is 18 however their have been studies that show that your brain actually doesn’t stop developing until age 25 and since I am going for her oldest possible age lets go with that.

Now, since Boss Monsters only start aging again once they have children, we have to find out how old Asriel was when he died, and honestly I can’t see him being any older than 12 and, again, since I am going for Toriel’s highest age we’ll use that (although I always pictured him as around 8-10).

Now it’s time for some simple math!

25 + 12 =



Now it’s Sans’s turn

This time we will be going for the lowest possible age for Sans.

Sans is a little bit harder because we aren’t given as much to go off of in regards to his age but I think I’ve figured it out.

It’s very much implied that he has some sort of scientific background and since it’s very difficult to succeed in Science without a Ph.D we are going to assume he has one.

Now, the average time it takes to get a Ph.D is about 8 years and let’s assume he went as soon as he came out of high school (I honestly think he would’ve dicked around for a couple years but again we are going for lowest age).

So, it’s time for some more math!

18 + 8 =


That leaves us of with an age gap of 11 years

… Okay, but seriously though, that isn’t all that bad and I’ve found nothing that says this age gap is inherently unhealthy.

And also remember this is only the largest possible age gap between the two so it’s very much possible that this gap may be even smaller (or that Sans may even possibly surpass her in biological age!)

anonymous asked:

Why you love Louis Tomlinson? Not the same answer of all of them like he's an angel ,beautiful and Larry is real. *rolling eyes* tell me why you truly love him

he is a beautiful angel, but.

i love him because he’s so full of kindness, and it’s been incredible to watch someone who gets most of their happiness out of making other people happy. his compassion is unrivalled; he’s constantly donating to charities and visiting sick children, a lot of which/who we only find out about through the parents or family, because he’s not in it for the attention.

i love him because of how he treats others like they’re on his level; he doesn’t get cocky or acts like he’s better than them. he’s humble and warm and makes time for everyone, talking to fans like they’re close friends. this is so important because some of those fans need someone like that to lean on, and by acting as human and touchable as he does he’s being that person for them.

i love him because he’s resilient and won’t back down from something he knows is right. he’ll rip you a new one if you ever challenge the people closest to him, and that’s really damn admirable. he’s gone through the longest rough patch, to put it lightly, but he hasn’t given up and remains strong with a spirit that just won’t quit.

i love his passion and his drive, how he throws himself into his work with everything he has. he’s overflowing with talent and has a brilliant mind and i’m so happy i get to live to see him create things and thrive. his voice is utterly unique and is still unlike anything i’ve heard. he’s definitely got some stardust in those vocal chords of his.

i gotta stop because i could go on forever, but you get the gist. i would die for him at the snap of his 28-decored fingers.

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.

I need to share what I found in my attic last night

By reddit user A10A10A10

I’m an old man living alone in an old house.  My wife and I bought it 10 years ago, just before she passed.  I don’t know how old it is.  If I had to guess, I’d say at least 150 years.  It’s your typical old house in back country southern United States, surrounded by forest and far from the closest neighbor.

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Tyler Blackburn (Lance Alvers), Jacob Wysocki (Fred Dukes), Patrick Fugit (Todd Tolansky), Fairuza Balk (Wanda Maximoff)