you cannot even begin to know

LoT 3x07 atomwave headcanon

so this episode was freaking amazing. i am having all the mick feels rn which i cannot even BEGIN to describe coherently! but there was something at the end of the episode that struck me as odd. you know when they’re sitting around eating lady johnson’s pecan pie? all of the team seem to be sitting around the main table in the middle - except ray. he’s sitting off to one side, at a table for two, alone.

ray, the most enthusiastic about being part of the team, is actively not sitting with the team? but then i looked closer. while most of the legends are drinking champagne, ray has a bottle of beer. and - wait. there’s another bottle of beer on his table for two. in front of the empty chair.

for a closer look:

HMMMMM. WHO ELSE ON THE WAVERIDER DRINKS BEER OH MAN THIS IS A TOUGH ONE. and who is currently brooding alone in the kitchenette?

SOMEBODY GIVE MICK A HUG DAMMIT

so why would ray be sitting at a table for two with two bottles of beer? my highly atomwave-biased answer would be: he’s worried about mick, about how he’s coping with having confronted his father in vietnam, and wants to keep an eye on him, wants to try and talk to him, make sure he’s alright. bc you KNOW nate will have told ray everything that happened out there. and lets be honest, mick doesn’t look like he wants to be here, with the team, celebrating. even tho, hello, food is one of mick’s favourite things in life. he still looks like he’d rather be somewhere else. it would be just like ray to give mick one of those bright smiles and convince him to stay, just for a slice of pecan pie, and a beer.

IN SUMMARY RAY LOVES MICK I AM IN SO DEEP HOW DID ATOMWAVE DO THIS TO ME???

Things I appreciate about Joan:

  • Their beanie has a name
  • The beanies name is Marco
  • They’re very clever and rational
  • They help co write the Sanders Sides
  • And it’s so good as we all know
  • Also they help direct it
  • They’re really freaking funny
  • Big brown eyes
  • How dramatic they were when they played Roman
  • HOW DONE THEY WERE WHEN THEY PLAYED LOGAN
  • Has a doggo
  • Into theater
  • PUNS PUNS PUNS PUNS
  • And for the record I generally dislike puns but Joan’s are funny not lazy
  • How overdramatic they can be while acting and how much it contrasts the rest of their personality
  • Super smart
  • Writes heartfelt songs
  • Just a super cool bean with a beanie

Things I appreciate about Talyn:

  • Okay I cannot get over their hair how do they keep it that vibrant how did the hair even get that vibrant to begin with
  • The pink to blue eyebrows like they’re so good with makeup
  • artistic
  • Expresses amazingly with fashion and style
  • THE MOHAWK THOUGH
  • Loves loves loves their cats (I think there’s more than one cat at least)
  • “…aspects”
  • Very reserved
  • But undeniably adorable
  • VETAL MIKING
  • So shy but would probably talk for hours if you got them onto their favorite subject
  • Smiles shyly
  • Easily startled
  • WHEN THEY PLAYED VIRGIL
  • Also when they played Roman and said “I AM FRAIL… AND BREAKABLE”
  • smol
  • Filmmaker
  • Knows how to lucid dream
  • Helps edit sanders sides and again as we know it’s so good
  • Occasionally wears Marco

Things I appreciate about Dahlia:

  • Super insightful
  • like basically a dream wizard?
  • Funny
  • appreciates puns
  • I don’t know a lot about her but I appreciate her a lot

Things I appreciate about Valerie:

  • SINGS LIKE A LITERAL DISNEY PRINCESS
  • bubbly and sweet
  • all of the bloopers from the Valentine’s Day video
  • just all of them
  • funny
  • I don’t know a whole lot about her but
  • YES.

Things I appreciate about Terrence:

  • Oh my god first of all Terrence as Patton I laugh so hard every time
  • him singing Birds on the soundtrack to Ultimate Story Time might be the prettiest thing ever
  • I hope someday that show tours again and I get to see it because I’ll bring tissues just for how that song makes me feel
  • when he played Roman and sang a Disney song
  • funny
  • I don’t know a lot about him either but he seems like a cool dude

Things I appreciate about Marco:

  • is a beanie

All this to say that I appreciate Thomas a lot, but I don’t feel his friends get enough appreciation, so. 

Please help me find someone else with my rare conditon

My name is Valerie, I’m a teenager, and I’m chronically ill. 

I’ve been sick for a decade now, and unfortunately, I tend to get all the rare and ~special~ disorders. Because of this, I currently have doctors in nine cities spanning across five states. I battle six chronic conditions, and balancing them is a daily struggle, but I’ve managed. 

But my newest condition has turned my life upside down. It’s called Recurrent Subacute Thyroiditis (RSAT) and most doctors will never see a case of this in their lifetime. I luckily have found a doctor who has least seen a few cases of this before, but I am the youngest person she has ever seen with this condition. 

RSAT is an inflammation of the thyroid that causes overactivity, leading to high heart rates, trouble breathing, low blood pressure, dizziness, chest pains, insomnia, fatigue, hair loss, and muscle weakness. The overactivity lasts for about 2-3 months, and then the thyroid flips to inactivity, leading to lethargy, extreme fatigue, depression, low body temperature, and slow heart rates. The inactivity lasts for 2-3 months, making this a 4-6 month condition. I’m currently in the middle of my second episode, and my first episode was just two years ago.

I am terrified. This condition has caused me to be rushed to the ER twice. This condition has rendered me so dizzy and dropped my blood pressure so low that walking is a hazard and I am in a wheelchair. This condition has prevented me from attending school since the end of October. This condition can occur again, and there is no telling when or how often. 

I’ve scoured the web, posted in countless Facebook groups, analyzed research, and even scheduled a conference call with doctors in another country to try to get some answers. Not only is there no information on it, but I can’t find anyone else with it (and due to HIPPA laws, my doctor is not allowed to connect me with the other cases she has seen). I have support from my friends and family, but they cannot even begin to understand what this is like. 

I am alone in this right now, but I know the internet is a powerful place. I’ve seen other kids with rare conditions find support and/or answers, and I thought I might as well give it a shot. Please, please - even if you don’t have this condition, even if you don’t know me, please reblog this and spread this around. I just need to know that I’m not alone in this. Even finding one person who has this would make the world of a difference.

Thank you in advance. Those who know me best know I absolutely hate asking for help, but I can’t do this alone anymore. 

Therapy is not defeat

It is, I suppose, an easy thing to see; humans revere thought and the mystery of sentience, and before they understood how the body worked, they saw that capacity for selfhood as being merely captured within it. But times have changed, and science has come to the fore. We now know that the brain is a lump of meat, that thoughts have physical configurations, that electrochemical signals can be vulnerable to the smallest of things - even microscopic bacteria.

Thought is not magical. The goo in your skull is not unique and has no significance by itself. What makes you special is the one-of-a-kind arrangement of all these atoms that compose you, and how they all harmonize to produce consistent traits that can be defined as “you”. So please, let us demystify the brain, the mind, or thought in general.

Let us acknowledge that the brain is a physical capsule and is a part of your body, that it can lose optimal functioning due to diet, activity levels, and medical conditions like disease. Let us acknowledge that it can atrophy from lack of use. Let us agree, nay, insist that it can become fixated upon certain habitual thoughts, comforts, stimulus. It can become addicted. The brain is a physical thing with physical rules.

You would not fill your own cavity, or examine your own eyes when they begin to fail. You would not screen yourself for cancer, or perform your own appendectomy. You cannot work on your own brain, the smallest reason being that you cannot use that brain to work objectively upon itself. That is simply stupid.

You can hire a contractor with training and experience, someone who can treat the trauma, the repetitive thoughts, the invasive feelings, at the same time as they treat your physical effects. They can help you see yourself from the outside, help you over those blocks you did not even know you had.

Mental health is not something with which a few broken people deal. Mental health IS physical health, and anyone with a body ought to be receiving help and guidance with it. There ought to be magazines devoted to obsessive thinking, just as there are for nutritional health, advice on how eating can improve cognition, what illnesses can change how the mind functions. Skepticism of your own thoughts should be as skillfully taught as is mathematics. Deciding how and when to tell your brain to shove off, ought to be the foundation of this culture.

It is not a failure to seek assistance with the maintenance of your meat-ball. It is actually perfectly rational, sensible, and utterly essential. Anyone who thinks otherwise is afraid of what they may find lurking within them, or simply does not grasp the concept. It is not defeat. People who attend therapy are not broken. Just because it is “a tiny problem” doesn’t mean you should not bother to address it. Time and chronology mean nothing to the memory, that holds all worlds as one and all moments as the present, and therefore, trauma is never really gone.

There is nothing, NOTHING at all dismal about therapy. In fact, you deserve an award for being good to yourself, for taking ALL of your health, in its entirety, seriously. You are not “half-assed”. You mean business.

That is the opposite of defeat.

So last week, for the humble price of $17, I ordered a copy of the original script of The Room from Tommy Wiseau’s website, which was a thing I did not know existed until like… a week ago, and anyway, it came today.

I knew TW wouldn’t let this kind of thing get out the door without some kind of personal touch, but I had no idea just how far he’d go.

For those of you who might be having a tough time reading it, it says: “to: Kraig, May all your dreams come true, love: Tommy Wiseau.”

He even went so far as to date it, BUT WE’RE NOT DONE.

He also included a shirtless headshot as soon as you open the thing up.

And last but not least, a pair of underwear with his name emblazoned on the waistband.

I cannot even begin to process all of this but yeah if you ever want to get the original, even more absurd script of The Room now you know what you’re getting into.

anonymous asked:

bucky tell us a story about darcy

darcy lewis goes drinking with thor.

that alone should be enough to send your imaginations spinning off to wild places, but that, my friends, is only where our story begins.
it is also something you should know, just in general, in case you happen to encounter darcy lewis.
she’s tazed a god twice, and she goes drinking with thor. on a regular basis.
the first time thor wanted to go drinking after i showed up, lewis was there too. and naturally, if thor was going out so was she. neither of them knew us newbie avengers well yet, but being sociable sort of people, they invited us to tag along. scott immediately agreed, but sam was caught up doing some beta testing in the labs with tony, and said he would catch up when they were done.
so darcy, thor, scott and i went out drinking.
fun fact about thor: it takes him approximately one million alcohols to get drunk, but once he’s there, he likes to sing. preferably epic ballads of victory in battle, but he’s pretty much game for any catchy song that will get a bar excited. that being the case, lewis and thor’s go-to midgardian bar is a karaoke joint.
im sure you begin to see where things are going wrong.
fun fact about darcy lewis? she can also hold her alcohol, but cannot carry at tune. like. at all.
that doesnt stop her from singing, mind you. gotta respect a lady who knows shes terrible but enjoys herself anyway.
scott apparently loves karaoke. i dont know why that surprised me, but it did. even more surprising? hes not actually that bad, although like 90% of his song choices were bruce springsteen. no clue why. anyway, thor was delighted by having a buddy who was not only willing but able to sing with him, and after scott got over his star-struck-ness they had a pretty great time.
it was a good thing that thor and lewis went to that bar on the regular, because im sure any place that hadnt been prepared for them would have kicked all of us out. as it was, they finally booted us out the door after a rousing rendition of ‘wrecking ball’ had most of the bar on their feet. and broke two tables.
(thor apparently settles his tab there in asgardian gold, so no hard feelings from the bartenders.)
the night was young and all of us had enough booze in our systems that we decided to catch a cab back to the tower and see if we could rope anyone else into some shennanigans. thor was buzzed at least, which for thor means his voice is even boomier and his gestures are more expansive–you gotta be ready to duck. scott was drunk, no question about it, and that was probably why theyd wound up singing wrecking ball in the first place. scott’s a cheerful if floppy, “ i love you, i love all of you guys, i love everyone in this bar ” kind of drunk, and was mostly travelling by merit of being wrapped around thors bicep. i was a little buzzed myself, and lewis had had nearly as much as i did. remarkably, she seemed to be chugging along pretty well, some weaving and slurring aside. the lady lives up to her god-tazing reputation.
anyway, we got out of the cab at the tower and started making our way to the doors. scott had partially detached from thors arm and needed extra support, so i was helping keep him from capsizing while lewis trailed a few steps behind the three of us, making color commentary of our three stooges act.
and then out of nowhere, she just…yelled.
all three of us whipped around as quickly as three drunk superpeople can, just in time to see darcy lewis dish out what looked to be a pretty dang textbook perfect roundhouse kick to the chest of some poor guy.
the guy went down. lewis went down too, because the kick had totally overbalanced her. thor and i dropped scott and ran over to help.
which was when sam sat up and said ‘that was a hell of a kick’
because apparently hed finished up his testing and gone out to catch up with us, made it partway down the block to call a cab, then saw us getting out of our taxi. he jogged back–not being particularly stealthy, but we were drunk–and put his hand on lewis’s shoulder to get her attention.
lewis, having pretty poor vision even sober, and worse vision when drunk and without her glasses, just saw some big male figure who’d popped up out of nowhere and grabbed her by the shoulder.
so naturally she kicked him in the chest.
she apologized profusely, but the rest of us thought it was pretty funny. and sam was impressed the next morning when he discovered that she’d left a visible footprint on his chest.
darcy insists she has no idea why she did it. or where she learned to kick like that.
the rest of us have just chalked it up to mysterious darcy lewis powers.

playing with fire

*gif credit to owner @jungkook-gifs*

pairing: you x Jungkook 

themes: idol!jungkook, friendswithbenefits!au, older!oc, older!jungkook

warnings: swearing, slightly smutty, angst, fluff

word count: 9.8+k

summary: they say friends with benefits never works. fun turns into feelings and everyone gets hurt. you and jungkook are no different to the stereotype. jungkook is in too deep for comfort and you’re not sure if you can return what he wants. after all, he is a sought after celebrity and you know the consequences of playing with a little too much fire.

____

The sun is bright, almost too bright as you finally open your eyes from your deep slumber. Not only is the sun too bright, but it is also too damn hot in this room. Your vision blurs together to a couple seconds before it clears, comprehending my surroundings. A familiar sight covers your eyes and you go to stretch your body out until you are halted by a heavy entity; another body. You glance up to the left to be met with soft brown hair dangling, closed eyes, and slightly parted mouth that breathes slowly in and out. Memories flash across your mind as you remember the first time you saw the now familiar face.

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breath of spring

Summary: He works with color all day, but you just might be the brightest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
Pairing: Taehyung | Reader
Genre: Fluff; Florist AU
Word Count: 9,542
Author’s Note: I feel like it’s been so long so I’ve written something soft and breezy and cheesy and I missed it.

.

The regular nine a.m. call time finds Kim Taehyung at the forefront of the shop, gritting teeth together as he tries to balance the morning coffee along with his keys while trying to make sure his backpack won’t fall down his arm to disrupt his attempt. He barely manages the feat, somehow able to unlock and push open the front door before the coffee spills over. Both hands find their place again underneath the tray as he uses his hips to propel the door closed behind him.

Much like usual morning greetings, he doesn’t get one except for the sweet, floral fragranced scent that is as sharp and prominent as it is comforting and sweet. He’s been working here for a little more than three years, yet the sight and smell of flowers never fail to bring a smile to his face, never fails to help bring forth some good cheer to his day as he roams towards the back of the shop. He rests the coffee on the counter, slipping off his backpack to situate it in the back room, returning back to the floor to get things started before Kim Namjoon arrives. There isn’t much, just setting up the cashier and watering the plants and rearranging some bouquets that are due to be picked up first thing in the morning. Some adjustments here and there, giving the flowers a last minute spray to give it a fresh, dewy, appearance. He’s just setting down the second of five bouquets when the bell overhead jingles in correspondence to the arrival of someone new.

Taehyung looks up from his spraying, eyes lighting up as he takes in the newest addition to the shop. “Good morning!” He greets brightly to the customer, a man with a hesitance in his step, looking lost yet like he’s supposed to be here and Taehyung is well-tuned to his attitude at once. “Can I help you with something?”

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Naga Boyfriend

I got not one but TWO anon requests for a naga story. I am loving your requests guys and I will keep pumping them out.


   When you were young and your home was becoming too hard to live in you would run away, going to the river deep in the woods where you father was too afraid to go. You’d sit on the ban and throw flowers into the stream, sniffling and whimpering as you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t ok to cry now.

   As you tossed the flowers into the water one rose up, cupped in a palm of dark skin. He smiled at you, his eyes gentle as he placed the flower in your hair. You notice sharp fangs in his smile, but you’ve seen a smile more terrifying than his. You saw no danger like you had seen before. He tells you it’s alright to cry, stroking your hair and comforting you. He promises you to always be at the river when you needed him, no matter what.

   You continue to visit the river, always greeted by your new, strange friend. His slitted eyes always peering up out of the river as you run to the bank. He always places a flower in your hair and holds your hands as you tell him why you’ve run away again. You don’t think he is listening to you, but it is nice to have someone to talk to anyway.

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If I Had Three Wishes (They’d All Be For You)

When Harry Styles sets off for Provincetown, MA from his tiny hometown of Kerkhoven, MN, he’s facing an uncertain future. He’s always planned to leave, just…not like this. When he meets a gorgeous cabaret performer on his first night in P-town, little does he know how his life is about to change, or how much he has yet to learn. When they become more than just friends, Louis makes it clear he’s not looking for anything serious, but at least, Harry consoles himself, they’ll always be friends. Over one extraordinary summer, Harry learns to navigate life on his own through a journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening. But when Harry’s past tragically reappears in his life, will his friendship with Louis be able to hold on?

Explicit, 66,265

Written for the 1D Big Bang: Round 5.

Read it HERE on AO3!

Art by the amazing artist, Elliott @blueylouie . I’ve never worked with an artist before, and it was an incredible experience. Mainly, he did his thing and I just went WOW and cried a bit (a lot).


This fic has been in the works for nine and a half months. There are so many people I have to thank, I don’t even know where to begin.

So, SO many people have supported me in the writing process from the very beginning and I love you guys, so much. My Squadron, my Oop for It friends, my Larrying friends. I hope you know how much I love you and how much you have made a difference in my life with so much more than just writing.

To my advance readers and betas. To Stacy, daysundercover, a-writerwrites, femmequixotic and noeeon - you lovely, lovely people. I cannot thank you enough for your help, your support, your criticisms and the push to keep writing when I got lazy. THANK YOU SO MUCH and a million kisses to each of you.

darkempressinfinitemind asked: How did you get into freelance?

The short version? Accidentally!

Longer version? It started with a friend hiring me to ghost write their memoir (before either of us knew what ghost writing was. Also he apparently had this awesome life before he knew me and never bothered to mention it before the idea of writing a book came along. Who knew? Random happenstance). I became more confident in the idea of writing for others, and then was referred to the site Peopleperhour.com by a friend of mine, who was trying to pick up freelancing.

I applied for my first job there, and it was literally months before I got any bites. My first bite ended up paying me $3 an hour. I was desperate, so I took it. It gave me a reference, and I got a better job, and a better job, and a better job, until I had enough references to apply for REALLY decent jobs. Fast forward, and here I am with my own Wordsmithing business.

But you want advice, don’t you?

  • Find a Freelancing Website

There’s Elance, PPH, and a wide range of others. Pick one that works for you (or multiple) and start drumming up your profile there. Get samples out so people can see your style of work.

  • Get Reviews at All Costs

Get people you know to write reviews. Take low paying jobs to get reviews. Take whatever jobs you can and get reviews, because they really are everything to a beginning freelancer. I started out with a GED (not even a high school diploma) and still got high paying jobs, because no one needs to see your credentials – they just need proof that real life people have given you a test run.

Degrees and all that? They’re to prove you know your stuff; that someone has tested you and written off on it. Reviews are the internet’s new degrees; be willing to invest some time and effort into them.

  • Take Any and As Much Work as You Can

Not only for the reviews, but for practice. There’s a new song and dance involved with freelancing that you won’t find anywhere else. Big companies are paying millions on Big Data to figure out what little nuances make customers happy. You don’t have Big Data, and you’re up against thousands of freelancers just like you – you have to figure out the key to standing out by hand.

Getting as many jobs as you can early on gives you a chance to test the waters and find your stride before you’re dealing with big clients that are less forgiving of your fumbles. You’ll learn something new from every job so you really ARE the top professional you claim to be.

  • Claim to Be a Professional

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I should give you advice about being honest and doing the leg work before you get started. But they say to dress for the job you want, not the job you have. So act like the professional you want to be, not the one you are.

If you’re 18 and this is your first freelancing job, make your profile and all your correspondences look like you’re 37 and have been freelancing for 10 years (don’t lie, just be indirect. Talk like you’re older. Say you’ve been freelancing for several years, even if you’ve only been freelancing for a few months. If you’re living at home with your parents and the topic of family comes up, just call them “family;” the client won’t know if you’re a married mother of five or are talking about your dad). People will look right over you if they THINK you’re not capable, without even giving you a chance to show what you can do. If you take away that first – sometimes incorrect – assumption, your foot’s in the door and you can prove yourself.

Then after you have 300 five-star reviews and a client list as long as your arms, you can reveal yourself as 20 with three years’ experience, and people will believe you’re a prodigy. Then you’ll get hired for being the talented young professional who IS their target audience, so you’re perfect to create a product FOR their target audience.  

  • Be Ready to Put in More Hours

Once you’ve been in the game a while and have established yourself, you can make your weekends sacred with no work stuff. But before then, you need to be on call all the time. What’s going to make you stand out against the rest in the beginning is timeliness.

If it’s a toss-up between you and someone just as qualified, the client will decide on whoever replies the fastest and most coherently. Reply to messages as soon as possible. Talk back and forth on the weekends. Offer as tight a deadline as you can for every project, and if you can deliver early, deliver early. Once you have your reputation and your reviews, then you can tone it back to the same level as any other job; you work on your work days, and you’re gone from the planet on your off days.

  • Follow Your Heart – But Follow the Money First

I’ll let you in on a little secret. I hate web copy. Detest it. A client can have the coolest website idea ever, but having to don my promotional hat and describe their services to a target audience is tedious and unfulfilling as all get out. What I enjoy is blog writing, where I get to explore a concept and tell it (sometimes) in my own voice. I love product descriptions even, where I get to sharpen my description skills to be later used in fiction. But guess what? Web copy writing pays well, because it is difficult and it’s in huge demand.

Here’s a quick insider look at the market: Today, every style of business in existence needs a website. That means web designers are the key holders in a world full of locked doors. They’re making a killing, but every website needs CONTENT. They’re cranking out 15 websites a month but they’re just blank pages without some writing to make them REAL. That’s where my industry comes in, the Tonto to their Lone Ranger, to make their home pages, their about pages, their service pages, etc. so their website is a real website. So long as online business booms, web designers are Sauron and copy writers are the one ring to rule them all.

That’s where the money is. So even if I really hate web copy, I’m good at it. That’s what pays the rent, grows my business, and keeps my employees’ checks signed – giving me the financial security I need to then ALSO do things I like. Ghost writing, book editing, blog writing, working on my own stuff.

If you want to make it in freelancing, you need money for bills. But you also need money to prove to your freelancing site that you’re worth promoting. Be willing to do jobs you’re not crazy about, so you can grow to the point of having enough income to afford doing what you really love.

  • Embrace the Uncertainty

One of the hardest things about freelancing is the irregularity. One month, you’re swimming in cash. The next, you scrape by. At the beginning of the month, you only have one project; at the end, you have 10. I’ve been at this for years, and I still have a mini panic during summer when I’m sure this is the year that my career finally ends. But it never has.

The upside to this uncertainty is you’re never sure when great things are going to happen. The security of a 9-to-5 lets you know exactly how much you will make, but robs you of the chance for those surprise miracles where a massive client falls in your lap and pays your rent for four months within two weeks. 

Take faith that a slow month is giving you a chance to rest up for when that tsunami of work comes in. Having a new client every week is giving you a chance to have fun before you have one client for an entire year (which can get boring at times). Freelancing can be a science, but you still need a little faith. It keeps you on your toes, it gives you unexpected bonuses none of your 9-to-5 friends can count on, and it gives you freedom.

Breaking into freelancing is slow going at first, but so long as you’re good at what you do, you will break in. There’s seriously never been a better time in living memory for it.

Hope this was helpful!

hogwarts au in which shiro, a quidditch star who suffered a career-ending injury, returns to hogwarts to teach charms. there he becomes fast friends with allura—the arithmancy professor—and matt—who teaches herbology—and spends quality time with his cousin/adopted brother, keith. shiro had known from the beginning that returning to hogwarts would be a good move for him; he just hadn’t realized how good, until he met lance.

lance, the seventh year gryffindor prefect and quidditch co-captain. lance, who shakes shiro’s hand and says, “you are my favorite chaser of all time,” as though shiro never stopped playing after the loss of his right arm. lance, the boy who crouches down in front of crying first years and consoles their homesickness. lance, who doesn’t care about house loyalties, who buys a bag of sweets at honeydukes to send to his little cousins, who writes insightful essays, who wants to ace his NEWTs and become a healer.

it’s lance who finds shiro at the edge of the quidditch pitch, late one autumn night, broom clutched in his hand and a bout of insomnia clinging to his eyes.

“hey,” lance says gently. he’s dressed in muggle clothing, and his hands are buried deep in his front pockets. “why are you still on the ground?”

shiro’s hand tightens around the broomstick. if lance notices, he does not comment. instead, he exhales shakily, as though nervous, and starts talking about the world cup he saw three years ago. shiro remembers it—he had played it, after all—but what had been a loss for him seems like a triumph to lance.

“i made the team that year,” lance admits. “and—i hated keith, at first, because he was so much better than me, and because he knew you. so i practiced—and practiced—and practiced, hoping that i could make you proud. which is stupid, right? you don’t even know me. i mean, maybe keith mentioned me—we were rivals—but… you didn’t know me, not like i knew you, but i had to try.”

shiro doesn’t fly that night. he doesn’t fly any night that he cannot sleep, haunted by the fall no one could stop, even as fall deepens into winter and winter thaws to spring. but lance is beside him every time, their feet planted on the ground, a bubble of artificial warmth cast around them. most of their conversations are small and silly; some are deep and soul-searching; and shiro finds, as the flowers begin to bloom and the semester draws to an end, that he’s fallen in love.

“it’s about fucking time,” matt grouses when shiro confides his feelings. “seriously, i was this close to gluing you two together with a sticking charm until you figured it out—”

“i think what matt is trying to say,” allura interrupts, “is that you deserve to be happy, shiro. and if you’re happy with lance, then we support you fully.”

still, shiro is lance’s teacher for another month, and he has to remember himself. so instead of pulling lance into the heat of his embrace and kissing him until they’re both breathless, shiro decides to do the next best thing:

he waits at the edge of the quidditch pitch with two brooms in his hand instead of one, and when lance finds him—as he has always found him—shiro says, “fly with me.”

and lance does.

I have this random headcanon about the Captain Swan wedding, ok.

So Emma and Killian make up yadda yadda, the engagement is back on, and he has a long lovely talk with Charming to make amends and all is right in the Charming-Jones world. 

They get married and everyone (read: me) cries and it’s beautiful and wonderful and True Love Forever.

But then it’s the wedding reception. And while Killian and Emma and her family are all fine, whispers still persist following the drama that happened around the engagement and Killian’s disappearance. Gossip quietly tinges the party with the “well I heard he left her” and “no no no she kicked him out” and “well he killed her grandfather, I can’t believe David and Snow allowed this to happen” etc etc etc. 

And it’s probably someone like fucking Grumpy running his dumb mouth after too many beers when all of the sudden

**THWACK**

A fork jabs down, perfectly in between his fingers that rest on top of the table. 

Keep reading

(this is probably gonna be a long oneshot and once there’s more it’ll be on ao3 but for now, let me know what you think?)

There are things that Kent can handle, and then there are things that Kent cannot, under any circumstances, in any universe, even begin to handle.

As it turns out, watching Jack Zimmermann, Alexei Mashkov, Randall Robinson, and Sebastian St. Martin attempt to build a deck is one of the things that he can’t handle, because holy fucking shit.

It’s about a million degrees out, and they’re all shirtless and covered in sweat and, yeah, it’s the off season, but they’re still professional fucking hockey players, for fucks sake, and Kent realizes then and there that accepting the invitation to spend the week at Jack and Bitty’s new cottage was definitely a mistake because, really.

Except for Mashkov, everybody brought their families, and they’re all friends, and they’re all teammates, and Kent is 99% sure that his invite was a pity one prompted by the Aces losing the Stanley Cup in game seven against the Stars, and he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t belong there at all, and he can’t help but think it’s because he doesn’t.

Keep reading

So I went to see Justice League...

But before I continue, I would like to make it clear that I am not a film critic so this will be all over the place. I promise NO SPOILERS.

First thing’s first tho - When the movie ends, do not leave right away. Wait for the post-credit scene. You will not be disappointed. I was stoked. One of my favorite villains - to some who knows me will know who I’m talking about - is in this scene and I am very happy.

Now onto the film - I’ve always been a DC fan so I am a bit biased. I’m not going to say there wasn’t anything I didn’t like about the film - There is ONE THING but it’s not the acting, not the storyline, not the dialogue. Everyone’s great in the movie. Even Miss Amber Heard - She’s awesome. But this one thing I think really distracted me in the beginning but I got over it. And yes. I’m talking about Henry’s CGI :/

BUT - the rest of the film - At least to me is brilliant. Each characters I think were given enough scenes that we got to know more about them. JL in my opinion is a good base for the stand-alones coz this film made you care about each one of them. I just cannot wait for part 2.

The entire movie for me was very entertaining. I love seeing the Amazonians - And during some flashbacks, we’ll see some characters that is definitely gonna be in the next JL film/s. Definitely. 

We saw a lot of action in the trailers but I was really happy that most of the things we saw on the trailer were just BITS. There’s so much MORE especially when they are all UNITED [wink wink.]

I’ll give you this tho. All Barry scenes are both priceless and precious. He’s absolutely a favorite. He’s the one you’d want to protect ha And his scenes with Supes are my favorites… 

So, yup. It was great, it was entertaining. There’s one small detail that almost distracted me but I can forgive it coz I mean, come on, JUSTICE LEAGUE on the big screen. If you’re a DC fan, you will love it! Go get your tickets and see it! I know I’ll see it again sometime this weekend :)

Enjoy your evening everyone!!

-A

ETA: HOW DID I FORGET TO MENTION -

Miss Prince kicked a lot of asses in this movie. She was great as always.

Whipped...Boyfriend?? (Pt.5)

I want to take the time to thank my lovely @harryimaginedstories for nudging me in the right direction with this one. I was a bit conflicted in terms of which direction I wanted to take it, but she was able to settle my doubts. Thank you, love!

Without further ado…




It was impossible not to be so entranced by such a beautiful boy. A beautiful man. A wonderful human being. A decent human being, who taught the world how to be kind, even if they didn’t realize they were learning. He loves people the way they deserve to be loved, making sure to let them know it was okay. It was okay to be loved and to fall in love, that’s what we live for after all. But this boy lives for so much more. This man lives to make others happy, because that’s where he finds his own.

He’s a breath of relief, to see such maturity in a young person; it leaves others in true awe. The way he presents himself, with such confidence that could make you shrink into yourself, feel small. But he has the ability to pull you right out of that state of mind. He’ll make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. He’s kind and sensitive and all that a man should be.

It was impossible not to notice him. It was impossible not to get caught up.

And it was impossible not to fall in love.

***

He was by no means perfect though. He had a temper. He had a tendency to disregard certain things, even though he didn’t mean to. He could be the life of the party one minute, and a great introvert the next, keeping to himself in an intriguing way. He was intimidating, but he had that aura. He would make you feel like you needed to be his friend, like you needed to know him and be a part of his extraordinary life.

He had spots and blemishes on his face, but make up covered that up well. When he was particularly tired, the circles under his eyes added to that imperfection. He had a bit of a lazy eye, but you couldn’t really tell unless you were dead on staring, and even then you would most likely get lost in the icy green of them, specs of gold.

***

But they never saw him like Y/N did. They never lay next to him like she did. They never felt the warmth of his skin like she did.

They never got to experience him in the morning like she did. She took notice to it all.

How his hair was lighter in the sun. A golden brown, or maybe blonde, that had her fingers running through the soft strands with little to no notice that she was doing it. His eyes, bright and excited, crinkles on the corners even though it was seven in the morning and all Y/N wanted to do was go back to sleep, but Harry was a morning person, and plenty times she failed to lull him back to sleep after the sun rose.

The dip on his cheek prominently deepened with every laugh shared, every joke told, every happy moment lived.

His lips, just like in the photos, and how the world sees them. Pink, and enticing. The way that he spoke, the way that his lips moved and pursed around every word, it was hard not to notice.

They never felt those lips like she did. They touched her hands, her fingers, her neck. Her ears, her hair, her forehead. Her temples, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose. Anywhere but where she wanted to have them for the amount of time they were best friends. Until finally, on that glorious night, they touched her lips. After that, she experienced the gentleness of them when he’d get home from work and lay a kiss on her waiting lips. She experienced how rough they could be, pressed tight against her own after long days apart. She experienced them on cold days, or nights. And never minded when they were chapped.

They were cold, they were warm. They were hers.

He was mesmerizing.

***

And they never saw him fall like she did.

Takes a grand deal to make a great man fall, but it takes even more to lift him back up.

Countless times he’d safely look to her to make his days better, until he realized he didn’t deserve her. Not after what he did.

***

He was superman. He was untouchable, indestructible. But only to the public.

Behind closed doors. Where everything happens.

Her touch couldn’t help him that night.

Her begging and pleading couldn’t save him.

Her love could not save them.

***

What did she do?

What did she not do?

Little did she know, it’s what he had done.




It honestly can’t be any more embarrassing. She should’ve let Harry accompany her, hell; she should’ve shot him a text, or called him while she was still in the loo. And though more often than not she’s able to handle herself, she should’ve really just trusted her gut and asked Harry to meet her outside.

It’s not as bad as it could be though, and in all honesty it might be her fault. But the dress just seems too expensive and she can’t believe she ruined it. She’s almost certain she would have burst out in tears if the woman behind the bar hadn’t gone around to help her dry up, but never the less the stain is still prominent, and she’s wishing and hoping that it’ll be an easy fix when she takes it to the cleaner once they get back home.

How was she going to explain what happened. So you see, I sort of kind of maybe definitely stumbled a bit because you know, alcohol, and maybe sort of definitely bumped into that lady over there and completely drenched myself in red wine.

“Harry.”

His eyes went wide before he’d even taken a proper look at her.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper came as a shock.

She was beginning to get teary eyed because again, she cannot imagine how much this dress must’ve cost Harry.

His sigh of relief goes unnoticed, and in two long strides he’s stood in front of her.

“Wha’ ‘appened, love.”

At this moment, he really seems to have forgotten about the problem at hand, and only hopes Y/N won’t ask who he’d been talking to.

“I’m sorry. It all happened so fast and-” the words get caught in her throat.

He takes a look at the wine stained fabric, a thumb rubbing over the damp spot as if it would help clean it any.

“No, kitt'en. S'fine. Nothin’ t’ fret over.”

She wipes a stray tear from her cheek with a knuckle, a single sob huffing out.

Harry kisses the top of her hair line, a chuckle lightening the tension he’s sure she must be feeling.

“S'not funny. Aren’t you upset?” She looks up at him dolefully, “I ruined it, H.” She pinches the fabric in between her fingers, pulling at it just a tad to emphasize the mess.

But Harry can’t help but smile, “s'okay, love. I’ll buy ye’ another one. I’ll buy ye’ ten if ye’d like. S'no problem.”

He smiles wider, in attempt to reassure her that it’s not a big deal, he’s not mad. And only when he feels her relax does he shrug off his jacket, slipping each arm out before reaching behind her and settling it over her own shoulders.

“Now c'mon,” he grips the lapel between his fingers and gently pulls her closer, pecking her pout, “let’s get ye’ t'the hotel.”

***

A shower is very much what Y/N needed. The alcohol in her system seems to have evaporated along with the headache that was beginning to creep up. The noise outside has settled, allowing her to sit in bed in peace and quiet, the only sound being that of running water as Harry took his own shower.

“Have any of tha’ body wash ye’ use, pet?” It’s just like Harry to step into the shower unprepared.

“Running low, gonna have to use your own, babe.”

She wasn’t really, she always makes sure to pack more than needed when they go on trips. But she likes how Harry smells, and if denying him her own scent meant she’d be able to cuddle up to fresh, sometimes minty smelling, Harry, then so be it. He can scold her all he wants once he comes out and finds that she does in fact have plenty of her own body wash.

“Can ye’ han’ me a towel?”

Of course.

Y/N thinks he does this stuff on purpose sometimes. Whether it be 'can ye’ hand me m'towel, love’ or 'left m'loofa on the far end of the counter’, for some reason or another he always seems to forget something at shower time. Sometimes he even lures her into the bathroom with the smell of whatever bath bomb he feels like indulging in. And she’s not completely dull-witted either, nor a woman with no needs. So even though she huffs because 'Harry, really? Next time I’ll let you come out for it yourself. Teach ya a lesson and learn once you slip and fall on your ass,’ she can’t deny she hasn’t fantasied.

And she must admit she does get that tight knot just below her belly button every time she slips into the bathroom and catches a glimpse of his silhouette behind the curtain. Or a tingle, that will have her thighs clenching at the sight of him in the tub, bubbles long gone, bare ass on display. And he’ll tilt his head up and pout his lips slightly, silently asking for a kiss after she’s handed him the bath bar he oh so conveniently left on the bathroom counter. But he’d never turn over, because despite his own needs, he didn’t really know how she would react, never even tried.

“'Lo?” She’s brought out from the lusting thoughts, jolting in place before scurrying over to the room’s dresser and pulling out a white cotton towel, aware that the water’s been turned off.

“Here.” It’s cute, how she’s peeked the door open just a bit, slipping her hand in and waving the material without once looking into the room.

“Ye’ can come in, love.” Harry chuckles, body hidden behind the curtain.

“Should really stop forgetting the towel.” But he can’t help it, he always thought if it got her mind wondering, maybe it’d help ease her along. But that was then, before he’d gone and had sex with somebody that wasn’t her. Now, all he wants is to find the appropriate time to tell her.

“G'na make a note of tha’.”

Any other time she’d be quick to rush out, but right now. Right now she’s looking at him in a way he doesn’t think she’s ever looked at him. Eyes lingering, sizing what little of him she can see through the shower curtain. He notices how her bottom lips drawls out from between her teeth. And though he begins to feel himself growing, he can’t help the guilt washing over him all over again. So he breaks eye contact, and slides the curtain closed.

***

Why it took Harry a good ten minutes to finally come out of the bathroom, Y/N’s got no clue. Surely it couldn’t have taken more than three minutes to wash his teeth. When he does finally come out, he doesn’t make eye contact, instead she watches as he walks around the room from where she sits on the bed against the headboard, collecting every piece of clothing he wore tonight and hanging it appropriately on hangers.

She watches how the muscles on his back flex when he moves his arms. She watches the swallows high on his chest move to the way he breathes. She smiles at the way the damp strands stick to his forehead before he slides his fingers through and back to remove them from his eyes. She admires the stern look on his face as he fumbles to button his suit jacket, lifting it up to inspect it before hanging it inside the armoire.

Her eyes trace over his tense jaw, the dimly lit room allowing her to see the chiseled structure of his face. She bites the inside of her lip, eyes following the drops of water trailing from the tips of his hair, to the side of his face, to his collarbones, past his chest hair and down his abs before being absorbed into the white material. Her eyes linger lower, noticing how the towel hangs dangerously low on his waist, enough that she can see his happy trail.

A hand moves to settle between her thighs, already feeling the heat that’s worked up.

What sends her over the edge is the evident outline of his bulge, and when he turns sideways, the noticeable tent-like bump has her toes curling and thighs pressing closer against her hand.

“Harry.” She doesn’t mean for it to come out sultry, but it does and it has Harry giving her his full attention.

She’s on her knees now, walking on her knees to the edge of the bed where he’s standing at.

He can feel his breath hitch at the touch, her fingertips ghosting over the 17BLACK tattoo down to the butterfly on his tummy before she’s rubbing her thumb over the Might as well by his v-line.

Before he knows it, he’s exhaling a low moan into her mouth at the feeling of her fingertips trailing down his happy trail. They stop at the top of the cottony fabric. He forces his eyes shut when the pads of her fingers continue trailing down until her palm is against his growing erection and he’s bucking his hips forward.

He feels her smile against his lips. And it’s then that she starts a slow up and down motion, her hand working on his length.

Harry grips at either side of her hip, pressing the tip of his tongue against her slightly parted lips, and when she opens further, his tongue slips in to work against hers.

It’s been a while since he’s had a hand other than his own touching his cock, and although he’s denied of full pleasure because of the thick material around his waist, it’s better than him having to tug one out in the confines of a bathroom. 

The attention her hand is giving his cock is enough to have him in a daze. But he can feel her uneasiness still, not doing much other rather running her palm over his member, so he sets a hand over her own, squeezing it to cup over his cock, the knot in his lower stomach tightening as he detaches his lips from hers and throws his head back in pleasure.

His breathing has become jagged, eyebrows knitted in hopes to restrain the throbbing of his cock.

He feels her replace her hand with his own, and Harry can do nothing but lightly squeeze at the head.

She kisses from his shoulder, to the protruding vein on the side of his neck, and back down to the crook of it, hands trailing up to his chest. When she bites at the skin, the hand that was soothing the ache on his cock goes to her hair, and suddenly his eyes meet hers again.

“Need you.” It’s what she whispers as she presses herself closer, hips meeting his in an urge to feel him, her lips reattaching to his. This causes Harry’s hand to slip down to the curve of her bum where it meets the back of her thighs. And he’s pressing them firm against her bum, his own clenching in an attempt to press himself closer to her, wanting her to feel what she’s done to him.

She takes his body along with hers as she begins moving backwards onto the mattress until she’s completely laying down with Harry on top of her, holding his own weight with his forearms flat on the mattress. His hair, once too short, falls over the sides of his face, eyes downcast and nostrils flared.

He moves to hook a thumb inside her boy shorts, but doesn’t make any effort to slide them down. Instead, he holds it there.

Y/N starts to feel the pressing of his bulge against her mound, and her back arches when he grinds into her. The built up frustration is causing him to grip at her hip a tad too tight, but Y/N’s moan at the feeling only causes him to rut his hips harder.

Although Y/N might be a virgin, she’s not a complete saint. She’s spent countless times reading up on the pleasure that is sex. She’d often get off at the thought of Harry, hands gripping her bed sheets as she wrenched and moaned until she reached release. But she’s never been confident enough to take that big step. Not with Harry, not with anyone else she’s dated.

And she never thought it would feel this good.

Her legs hook around his waist, craving to have him closer, and he’s attaching his lips to her neck.

“Pet.” His whisper is mixture of frustration and pleasure.

All she can do is moan.

Soon enough, he’s pushing himself off of her.

Did she do something?

But he doesn’t say anything, moves to sit on the edge of the bed, trying his best to ignore the throbbing of his cock, well aware that he won’t be relishing in the pleasure of release. A hand runs through his hair before it settles on his lap. And then he’s letting out a sigh and bringing the heels of his hand to dig at his eyes.

“Everything okay, H?”

He’s waited so long for this. But he can’t. He won’t.

He needs to tell her, but where does he start.

He hears her yawn, and he can already imagine her kneeled behind him, hovering over his body.

But she doesn’t say anything, wraps her arms around his neck from and presses a kiss to the shell of his ear.

“Don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

But he does, he wants to. Just not like this.

He reaches behind to caress at her hair and presses his temple against her forehead.

“Not tonight, pet.”

She doesn’t say anything after that, so Harry stands up to walk to the dresser, grabbing a pair of briefs and making his way into the bathroom.

When he comes out, his Y/N is asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed, oblivious to the silent tears running down his cheeks.

He’s made up his mind. He’ll tell her tomorrow.

He stands at the side of the bed, looking her over, the guilt eating at him.

He manages to wedge himself in between her and the mattress without waking her, bringing her to lie against his chest, holding tight.

But the tears don’t stop.

At 4 in the morning he’s still awake, no sign that he’s growing tired. He’s trying to memorize all of her, his eyes and hands scanning and ghosting her sleeping figure.

She looks so pure. A sob racks his body, and when the next one threatens to shake him he inhales deep when he feels her stir against him.

How could he have done this to her.

After she buries her face in the crook of his neck, he closes his eyes tight, squeezing her to him one last time before letting sleep overcome him.

And though it’s a long shot, he just hopes they’ll be able get through this.

***

When Harry wakes up, it’s to an empty bed and a note on the side of mattress where Y/N laid the night before. He takes the hotel’s notepad in between his thumb and index finger.

Went out for breakfast with Lou. Giving you a Y/N free afternoon so you can hang out with the boys. Already packed for our flight tomorrow. See you later, babe!(:

Although he really wishes she would have woken him so they could eat together, Harry knows he’s got to sort his guilt out. He can’t let another day go by lying to her.

***

How did they end up here.

She knew it wasn’t gonna be anything good. From her experience, nothing good ever follows 'we need to talk.’

But she could have never imagined this. Never in a million years could she have thought those words would be coming out of Harry’s mouth.

She’s in complete shock, hands trembling and heart pounding, pounding hard against her chest and she swears she can hear it echoing in the room.

“You-” She can’t say it, she can’t repeat it, but she knows there’s no way around this.

“You slept with someone else.” She’s making sure she heard him right. She wants to believe she heard wrong, but his following words further prove that’s not the case.

“I’d had too much t'drink. I-I didn’t know wha’ I was doin’. I can’t remember anythin’. All I know s'I woke up next to h-”

“Stop.” Every word he says, hang in the air, floating in her head because no, she refuses to believe her Harry could have done this to her.

He had been stood frozen in the middle of the room after insisting she sit down, and though she was reluctant and wary, she had, the soft sofa failing to ease the growing tension.

“Y/N.” His eyes are red, fighting against his sobs to explain to her, to try to get her to understand that had he been in his five senses, it wouldn’t have happened because he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else.

“Stop.” There’s nothing else she can say. She doesn’t want to hear about what, or how it happened. She doesn’t want details on the night Harry betrayed her trust.

Harry can see tear drops landing on her jeans, hands clasped together on her lap, making no effort to wipe at her eyes or her cheeks.

“It meant nothing and I-”

“Harry.” And the look on her face when she finally looks up at him, that look has him falling to his knees in front of her, reaching out to take her hands in his.

“Y/N, no.” His lips are quivering, the corners of them pulled down. “It meant nothin’. Ye’ can’t think fo’ a minute tha’ I wanted it. I love you. You know tha’.”

His heart breaks all the more when she bows her head back down and says nothing. She looks at their joined hands and gives his a squeeze.

“Tell me ye’ know tha’.” The crack of his voice tugs at her heart.

“M'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.”

Suddenly, it clicks in her head.

“No,” she whispers in sudden realization.

She pulls her hands away when she feels his lips rest on her knuckles.

“That day, that’s what it was. That’s why you were crying.” It’s as if it’s all come together. “You should have told me.”

“I wanted to. I wanted t'tell ye’,” he chokes on his words, “and it killed me to-”

“You’ve kept this from me this long.” It’s more like she’s saying it to herself, trying to wrap her head around how he could sleep next to her knowing what he had done.

“I wanted t'find the right time t'tell ye’. I didn’t mean for it t’-”

“Stop.”

She can feel his grip tighten on her thighs. She can’t do this. She can’t sit here and listen to his excuses.

“M'sorry for lettin’ it come this far. Pet, m'sorry. I wanted t'tell ye’. And then when I saw 'er last night-”

Is he serious? She was there? There’s a chance she might have had a conversation with the woman Harry slept with?

“Stop.” She really just wants him to stop.

“I was so scared. I didn’t know she was gonna be there. And I couldn’t have ye’ findin’ out like tha’. I couldn’t risk-”

She can’t take it. “Harry stop!” She didn’t want to yell, she’s never been one to yell. Their small tiffs never ended in yelling. But she knows this isn’t small, and she can’t be expected to keep calm.

He’s losing her, he feels it.

She brushes his hands off, pushing herself off the sofa and moving away from him to the door of the room.

“No,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes, vision blurry, so he wipes at his them harshly with the back of his hand.

“Get out.” She’s opening the door, eyes fixated on the floor.

He sets his weight on the back of his heels for a moment, head in his hands. The only sound in the room being a mix of his ragged breathing and her sobs. He stays still, but only for a moment, until he hears her faintly whisper his name.

“Please, love-” he’s quick to get up, shoulders slumped as he cautiously moves to her, feet dragging.

“Out.” There’s no changing her mind.

She’s never felt so broken before, so betrayed.

And she doesn’t look at him, not even a glance even though she can feel his stare on her.

She listens as whis breathing evens, and lets him kiss the top of her hair before she’s shutting the door behind him.

Her world’s crashing around her, and all it took was one night with someone else. She wants the floor to swallow her whole. She wants this all to be a nightmare.

But it’s real. And it hurts.

To make it clear, my thoughts and love are with anyone who’s ever experienced pregnancy or child loss. I don’t ever want to be pregnant, but I cannot even begin to imagine how horrible it must be to lose your own child. If any followers have had this happen and ever want to talk about it, our ask box is always open.

However.

This does not give anyone the right to be judgemental of people who choose abortion. Their lives have nothing to do with yours. Their choice to abort is not the same as you losing your child. You had your choice taken from you and you know how terrible that was, so why would you want to take away someone else’s? Preventing someone from aborting will not bring back what you lost.

It’s incredibly selfish to demand that others do something they don’t want to because you suffered a loss. It is the textbook definition of selfishness.
-V

luke seeing the millennium falcon arrive on his depression island: oh my gosh there she is. my long awaited Daughter. oh boy im Excited

luke: okay i think Shes behind me. i have to play this out Just right. my 100% Authentic Beige And White Tunic has to flow in the wind at a precise speed as i take off my Hood okay luke you can do this you took Theater for 4 years

luke: *turns around* my long lost daughter how ive missed y

luke: …,

eduardo saverin: mr. skwyalker…,,, pleasle……is thath you.f,……

luke: andrew garfield star of the social network directed by david fincher himself, nominated for Eight Academy Awards, Winning Three ?

luke: well andrew this wasnt the surprise i was expecting but ill take it nonetheless what can i do for you

eduardo: plfaesle….my name isn;t andrew garfie/ld its., eduardo

luke: oh silly me. my mistake eduardo, co-founder of facebook what brings you out here

eduardo pulling out the lawsuit papers out of his handbang: mr skwyalk,/er…..mark turn;ed to hte dark s;ide…,,,,he diid somethign so bad

luke: eduardo this is a serious accusation and i dont take these things lightly so if mark did something you need to tell me

eduardo: *takes a deep breath* he dil tued m;y shares 

luke: oh eduardo thats no problem im sure your shares are still in good standing with the leads of facebook

eduardo: mr. skywalker you don ot understand. you cannot even begin to comprehend. 

luke: well…what were your shares diluted down to

eduardo: point zero

eduardo: Three 

eduardo: Percent

luke pulling out his rose gold iphone 7 plus to text leia: leia sweetie i know its been a long time and theres some not chill things happening on your end but. i have a client im afraid whatevers going on with Benjamin will have to wait. goodbye

ARYA STARK & MOTHERHOOD

This clear parallel foreshadows Arya’s journey into maidenhood. The Lyanna-proxy lays out hints of Arya’s pending evolution. We already see those changes happening as Arya moves towards her maidenhood.

Both Lyanna & Arya were tomboys and in Lyanna’s case, she evolves into her beauty and femininity. Arya has often shown disinterest in such things - but as the story progresses… is Arya also growing out of that way of thinking just like Lyanna did?

It’s rather telling that Arya develops a rather obvious fascination with Courtesans while she is in Braavos. Her bias for them is continually pointed out by George. Arya appreciates their beauty and grace. Would a young Arya in Winterfell give that a second thought?

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They say third time’s the charm. And trust me, when I said that I was over you for the third time, I truly believed it. I convinced myself that the first two times were flukes ,that I wasn’t strong enough, and that then I was still in love with you, but this time… Oh, this time was it, this time I finally get to set myself free. You cannot fathom how much I yearned to be free, T , how much I wanted to believe that your eyes were just another pair of browns and your dimples just another set. How much I still want to. And I know there’ll be a fourth, and a fifth and a sixth even, and in all those times, the same words will be repeated and the same faith re-affirmed and maybe I‘ll even truly believe it every single time.
But the truth is…I’m beginning to think I’ll never get over you. Because your eyes will never just be another pair of browns and your dimples will never be just another set. And you’ll never be just another jock that plays for the team or just another jerk who knocked over my books. To me, you’ll never be anything else than the guy I first fell in love with.