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Ray-Ban Sunglasses

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Ray-Ban Sunglasses

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For Your Eyes Only

Requested:No Pairing: Draco x reader Warnings:None A/N: Somewhere between OotP and HBP. Draco trying to save you, his girlfriend and half-blood, from the war and himself. It’s general so any house can read. General 4AM angst. Inspired by and loosely based on the song “If I Could Fly” by One Direction. Also, this is my first ever Harry Potter fic/imagine sooooooo I hope you like it??

***

“Please, don’t go.” You whisper softly, trying to keep the tears back. You don’t understand the change that came over him over the summer. Last year, you and Draco were the “it” couple. You made him a better person, everyone said it. You saw the side of him no one else saw. The kind boy behind the mean glare. The sweet words behind the malicious comebacks. The love inside his hostile exterior. He was so much more than everyone thought of him. And it pained you to see him so distraught. You knew he wouldn’t leave you on his own accord. Even being a half-blood with your dad being a muggle. He knew and he didn’t care. He met your family last year at kings cross when you said goodbye for the summer.

“Don’t you see, Y/n? We’d never work out anyways. It’s better to leave now than to hurt more in the future.” You can read him easier than your favourite book. Behind the ice he’s trying to produce in his eyes you see how much it’s hurting him.

“No, Draco. The time I spend with you is worth more than hypothetical pain! Don’t you see how much I love you?” The tears you tried so hard to hide officially spill over soaking your cheeks. You hear his short intake of breath and you see his pale hand automatically coming up to brush your tears away before he goes back to his cold, stoic, form.

“Don’t you see how this is hurting me?” He states, “how I am hurting and this is absolutely killing me?”

“Then why!” You scream at him, looking up at the dark star-filled sky. The astronomy used to be your favourite spot. It used to be a place where you could come and relax on warm nights in Draco’s arms. Recently, it’s been cold and bitter.

“Because I love you.” He pauses, seemingly trying to find the words to say, “And I don’t want you hurt.” You look back to him and take in his face. His pale features have gotten seemingly translucent. His eyes, which used to be so full of life and happiness and even the glint of mischievousness you fell for, are now empty, sad.

“What’s going to hurt me?” You breathe out in exasperation.

“Do you really not feel it, Y/n? There is a war coming. And if I could I would take you far away to a little home where we could hide away and I’d come home to you everyday with a smile on my face. I’d give up absolutely everything for you. I let down my walls and opened up to you. I showed you my heart. This summer, being away from you wrecked me. You know my scars, my hopes, my fears, my dreams, my wants, my goals, my everything. When I’m away from you I lose half of myself. You are the only person that truly knows me.” He looks into your eyes and you see the pain he’s hiding at this very moment.

“I still don’t understand, Draco. Why are you running from me?” You bite your lip, memories from the past year flooding through your memory. The sneaky flirting, the study dates, the hand holding, coming out to your houses and the entire school, cheering him on during quidditch matches, and dates at Hogsmede. Everything that suddenly seemed to be irrelevant in his mind.

“I told you, y/n. You’re not safe with me!”

“But why not?!” He grabs your face and pulls you to him, his lips pressing on yours and your arms going around his body as his warm temperature feels good compared to the chilly air that’s been blowing around you. He releases you and backs away.

“You know everything about me and I love you. But it’s too late. And I want you safe more than ever. And me leaving will help you.” He grabs his left sleeve and pulls it up to reveal a dark black tattoo on his inner forearm. He whispers the same sentence he said after your first date when you asked if he was always nice. “For your eyes only.” The realisation of the mark hitting you a few seconds after.

“Draco…” You grab his arm, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, his eyes pooling with tears he’s been holding back. No more words come between you for the seconds that follow that feel like years. You grab him and pull him close to you in an embrace and he doesn’t move, shocked that you didn’t run away screaming. He pulls you closer once he recovers and you both fall to the ground, entwined in each other.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He whispers in the silence. You feel a tear dripping onto your forehead, this broken boy who was born into a bad family, wasn’t bad. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be better than his father. You had known about his family from one of your many drunken nights together. He wanted to get away as soon as possible so he didn’t end up like them. And it hurt you that the boy you loved so much would forever be branded by his parents beliefs. You move your arms from around the back of his neck to the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs wipe away stray tears and you look him in the eye.

“I know. I don’t want you to leave. I’m not running away. I know you. I know who you really are. I’ve seen the real you with my own eyes. Even if I’m the only one that sees it I will stay by you. And we can fight together. I’ll give everything, if you let me.”

“I don’t want you to die. I can’t lose you, y/n.” He is pleading you with all the strength he can muster. “You’re a half-blood. You’re not safe.”

You close your eyes and place your forehead against his. Both of you just breathing and basking in each other’s presence under the moons glow, thinking about what exactly you’re going to have to fight against in the near future. You open your eyes for a small moment to look at the innocent boy under you. This broken boy who deserves everything in the world who just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. His eyes flutter open and he meets yours once more. You whisper a soft comforting thought to him, “I don’t give a damn, I will fight for you. For us.”

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Person with hat: Excuse me, sir (falls over)

Person with trumpet: (Starts playing “Taps”)

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Character: Legolas Fandom: LOTR/Hobbit Word count: 425 Translations: ♡Lle naa vanima♡ 《You are beautiful》 ♡Amin mela lle♡ 《I love you》 Legolas the Prince of Mirkwood. The elvin boy who your brother went on a wide search throughout middle earth to destroy the one ring. The elf whom your heart desired to the ends of the earth. Your husband. The day he asked you to marry him was as clear as day. The fateful day your brother was crowned king of gondor. The sun shine bright as the cheers were heard all over the grounds as the parting was just getting started. The long lovely dress flowing gracefully down your body fitting it perfectly. The small diamond encrusted tiara wresting gracefully on your (H/C) hair that was flowing down your back. A content smile placed on your lips as the hands of your elf creased the small of your back, your hands placed softly upon his broad chest. The coronation of your brother had just been held. And you felt safe and happy, not being on your toes at all points because of orcs and being able to let your hair down and be the “gracful” princes your mother indexed you to be one day. Yet the dress was absoulty stunning, you were not the definition of graceful. You loved the feeling of a clean cut of the sowrd being swung across the back of a fithly off scum, your scars all over your body showed that the title of best ranger and fighter was well handed second to you, next to your brother of course. You were snaped out of your thoughts by the soft kiss placed in your head by Legolas. Your lips formed a smile and you lifted your head to look at his baby blue eyes that became a normal to see every day. “Lle naa vanima.” He whispered. “Thank you darling.” you said andplaced a sweet kiss on his lips. “(Y/N), I've loved this last year we spent together, yes it was full of pain and sorow and wasn't ideal but you made it much easer to keep hopes in my vains. Amin mela lle. And I want you to be by my side as my warrior princes for ever. Would you do my the honor of marring me?” He was now down on one knee a ring in hand and his eyes full of hope. Your heart was flutring and your head was spinning. “Yes, my love.” You whispered and cupped your hands over his cheeks and kissed him gently. "Amin mela lle.” You said softly. And know here you are two years later holding your beautiful baby boy in your arms, your Prince sitting next to you his fingers grazing your forarms. This was your life now. A mother, a wide, a warrior princes.

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Character~ Thranduil Fandom~ Hobbit Word count~ 369 (I do not own JRR Tolkien's work) Image~ mine http://www.polyvore.com/m/set?.embedder=14225169&.svc=copypaste-and&id=197482672 It was a beautiful fall morning and you were sitting on the stone bench under the beautiful trees that leaves were that lovely color of red. The laughs and squeals of you caused by your 4 year old son Legolas could be heard for miles, as his father chased him around the garden. "Mummy! Save me from Ada!" Legolas screamed and jumped into your arms laughing as you started to tickle him. Thranduil walked over with that smile you and your son only got the opportunity to see. He was about to say something when a loud horn went off causing Legolas to jump slightly. "My lord! Ocrs on the border a large number we need you!" A guard yelled from the doorway. Your heart started beating fast and your hands became sweaty. Thranduil looked at you with soft eyes before kissing Legolas's head. "Stay safe, my queen." He yelled behind him as he ran. "Ada!" Legolas yelled tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you ran through the castle to the underground chambers created to be a protection against a war or battle close to the castle. The doors locked behind you and maids rushed to your aid. Legolas clung to your gown as you sat on the cot, rocking him back and forth. You heard his breathing die down. You looked down to see him asleep, still gripping onto your hand. You smiled very softly. You could feel the cold wetness fall down your cheek as the tears came faster. You were scared beyond scared for your husband. It felt like days you had been down there. Legolas was reading with a little elven girl when a loud baby was heard and feet were pounding down the steps. Legolas moved behind your legs bidding from the intruder. The maids quickly moved and you saw it to be Thranduil. Legolas moved quickly and ran to his father, who lifted him in his arms and hugged him tightly. He walked quickly over to you and crashed his lips on yours. "My (Y/N), my queen." He mumbled into your neck. "I love you Thranduil." You mumbled. "And I you." He whispered.

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So Google does math for you??

division

square roots

dividing percentages

IT EVEN FOILS

beautiful.

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No more dick talk, can we talk about food?

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THIS IS JUST FUCKING FAKE!! IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOUR IN A THREATING SITUATION CALL THE COPS NOT POST ABOUT IT IN SOCIAL MEDIA!!! LORD LEARN SOME COMMON SENCE AND GROW UP AND PUT YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES ON!!!

Dear Strange Man on the Train,

At 11 o’clock at night, you moved across the train car to sit far too close to two girls about half your age so you could interrupt our conversation to tell us how pretty we are. We said thank you, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a second time to say that you didn’t want to bother us, but we needed to hear it, how pretty we are. We said cool, thanks, have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

You interrupted us a third time to say you wouldn’t say anything else, you didn’t want to bother us, you just had to let us know. We said have a good night, and went back to our conversation.

This seemed to perplex you. You came all that way across a train car to bestow upon us this life altering knowledge - the fact we were pretty - and all you got was a polite thank you? You grumbled about gratitude, about how you better not end up on facebook, were we putting you on facebook? Why was my friend looking at her phone? Was she putting you on facebook? All you’d done was tell us we were pretty.

At this point, my friend says, “Sir, we’re trying to have a conversation. Please don’t be disrespectful.”

This was when you got angry. Disrespectful? YOU? For taking the time out of your day to tell us we were pretty? Did we know we were pretty?

“Yes, we knew,” says my friend.

Well, that was the last straw. How dare we know we were pretty! Sure, you were allowed to tell us we were pretty, but we weren’t allowed to think it independently, without your permission! And if we had somehow already known - perhaps some other strange man had informed us earlier in the day - we certainly weren’t allowed to SAY it! Where did we get off, having confidence in ourselves? You wanted us to know we were pretty, sure, but only as a reward for good behavior. We were pretty when you gifted it upon us with your words, and not a moment before! You raged for a minute about how horrible we were for saying we thought we were pretty, how awful we turned out to be.

I took a page out of your book and interrupted you. “Sir, you said you wouldn’t say anything else, and then you kept talking,” I said. “You complimented us, we said thank you, and we don’t owe you anything else. It’s late, you’re a stranger, and I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve tried to disengage multiple times but you keep bothering us.”

At this point, our train pulled into the next stop. My friend suggested we leave, so we got up and went to the door.

Seeing your last chance, you lashed out with the killing blow. “I was wrong!” you shouted at us as we left, “You’re ugly! You’re both REALLY UGLY!”

Fortunately, since our worth as human beings is in no way dependent upon how physically attractive you find us, my friend and I were unharmed and continued on with our night. She walked home; I switched to the next train car and sat down.

So, strange man, I know you’re confused. I don’t know if you’ll think about anything I said to you, but I hope you do learn this: when you give someone something - a gift, a compliment, whatever - with stringent stipulations about how they respond to it, you are not giving anything. You are setting a trap. It is not as nice as you think it is.

But you’ll be happy to know that when I sat down in the next car, a strange man several seats over called, “Hey, pretty girl. Nice guitar. How was your concert?”

“Thanks. Good,” I said, then looked away and put on my headphones, the universal sign for ‘I’d like to be left alone.’

“Wow. Fine. Whatever. Fucking bitch,” he said.

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Preach!!!!

I’m not okay with modern feminism.

To be honest, I would rather kill myself, than call myself a feminist. 

I’m fed up with people calling eachother sexist, meninist or whatever. I think it’s gross, and close minded.

Most feminist think that women are not equal, or should I say “equal enough”. But let me tell you something: Noone is equal.

 We all have to fight to reach our goals, and some people have to fight more than others. You don’t have to work as hard as a poor man in the middle of nowhere, and there are many women who are in a better situation than you are. They could be richer, or just have a better relationship with their family or friends.

Someone starts for zero, someone from 10. 

And if you think that society is holding you back because you are a woman, then you are wrong. You should fuck off, and start doing what you want. If you’re determined enough you can reach your goal, and your gender is not going to matter. 

Keep going. Do something big. 

Feminism should be a bunch of people, both man and women fighting against domestic abuse, real oppressing and  female circumcision in other countries.

Feminism shouldn’t be about a bunch of tumblr girls crying about cat calling, or the guy who checked out their butt or boobs. (I’ve never seen a guy complain about me checking out their butt, btw) 

Please, let there be someone who agrees with me. 

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