Maybe I'll get better at it one day

let’s face it — we are far from being the perfect lovers for each other. maybe if we disagreed a little less it, would work better. or maybe if we had a little less rainy days than sunny ones.

i mean, we lose a little love for each other when we fight. right? right? right? no.

i don’t get how we are wired. i really don’t. because i am stubborn as fuck and you are impulsive as hell. still, this ice and fire mix well, and create something better each time.

but what if you spew more ice and i blew more smoke? maybe we could smile more than we cry. it’s so dark here but some way the light comes through. it doesn’t stay for long but it’s enough. we are enough. right?

—  crooked love.

anonymous asked:

im sorry but who are watanuki and doumeki?? i am drawn to all of your sufferong and want to be part of it :0c

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They’re two of xxxHolic’s protagonists!!!! Look something like this

I’d tell you to give the series a go if you’re into magic and spirits and life lessons and crying and suffering and soft gays that never become canon in full CLAMP style, and you could just watch the anime and leave it at that if you wish (minimal suffering in that one), but if you actually want to understand something out of the story not only it’s better if you read the manga, but you also need to read Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (another CLAMP manga) since the resolution of the two stories is deeply tied

it’s your choice! Just know that I highly recommend both series 👍

Day 2: Confessions

Rapunzel: I refuse to believe a have lisp.
Jack: I love your lisp.
Rapunzel: Sure you do…
Jack: What do you love?
Rapunzel: About you?
Jack: Not necessarily. In general.
Rapunzel: Well… I love paints made of white shells. And your voice, especially. Oh and Hazelnut soup! What about you?
Jack: hm… You.

anonymous asked:

I'm so frustrated because all of my art combined has only 15? maybe 20 notes. It makes me so upset because i work so damn hard on my art for hours on end; sometimes spanning days, and in the end it feels like it amounts to almost nothing. And sometimes i'll think to myself "maybe the reason no one's looking at your art is because your art isn't worth looking at"

yeah the sad thing is that sometimes it takes a really long time to get your art noticed online :( but persevere!!! it doesn’t necessarily mean your art isn’t good. you just gotta keep at it!! and the more you draw, the better you’ll get, and then even more people will wanna look at your work! so don’t give up!!

I’ve never understood when people say that a fictional thing (a book, a show, etc.) has changed their lives.

A little over a year ago I wasn’t feeling great. I’d just finished a three year writing course at university, and a combination of essay writing about books I’m mostly not interested in (and ruining the ones that I am) and teachers saying that you have to get your work published in literary journals and apply for competitions because publishers won’t even want to touch your work if they can’t recognise your name. I loathe essays, and I don’t write literary fiction, the only kind of fiction this country seems to be interested in. I was losing the passion for the only thing I’d ever been passionate about, and the one thing I’d ever been half decent at.

Almost ten months ago I was becoming depressed. I couldn’t find a job - in editing, in writing, or even in hospitality or retail - and the government decided that if you want to be getting money for them you either had to be studying full time or applying for 20 jobs a fortnight. I’d only finished studying and there was nothing else that caught my interest, and there’s barely 20 jobs to apply for every two weeks, and that’s with me living in a well populated, urban area (I’d hate to imagine what it’s like for people living out in the country, where there’s five stores and nothing else unless you want to drive for half an hour). And of course coming into this depression was making the heaping amount of anxiety I already have much, much worse.

I was just losing the will to go on as I was, and I was mostly doing it for my friends and family.

At the end of my course I started reading Skulduggery Pleasant and my god, it was the best thing I’d read in three years. It made me smile, it made me laugh, it made me cry, and it made me went to throw the book against the wall (but I’d paid like $20 for that book, so I couldn’t). It made me remember all the reasons I love reading and writing; to illicit such emotion is an amazing skill to have.

This made me feel great about writing, and I began my own novel as part of nanowrimo 2015. As of today I’m in the rewriting process (second draft), and the first draft had approximately 40,000 words; the most I’ve ever written for any project.

But of course we still need to fast forward a bit. There’s this whole, like, six months filled with some kind of depression and some awful anxiety and that one time I had a job for like a month but it made the whole thing worse and let’s skip over that part.

Let’s skip to now. Because of Skulduggery Pleasant I remembered my passion for my life’s craft. And if I’d never started reading that book and writing my novel, I’d never have applied for a screenwriting course at another uni, which we’ve been told is extremely difficult to get into; there’s countless applications every year, and there’s probably about fifty people in the (first year) class; I was part of the mid-year intake, and there’s ten of us, maximum.

Without Skulduggery Pleasant I wouldn’t be writing a novel I adore, or planning another one for this coming nanowrimo. I wouldn’t be planning my own show and slowly tapping away at the pilot, and I wouldn’t be planning two more with a friend I’ve made in this course that I’m enjoying so much more than my other one. I don’t know where I’d be.

I’ve never understood when people say that a fictional work has changed their life but now I do, because Skulduggery Pleasant has legitimately changed mine for the better.

anonymous asked:

Saw this quote // "Bad day baby boy? Hop onto my lap sweetheart I'll make it feel better" // could you do a grinding scene where Dan comes untouched? maybe innocent at first then he gets all whiny? Thank youu

(sorry about the order)

✨ Phil knew Dan better than anyone else did. He made sure of it.

✨ He knew by his expressions and body language when he was upset, and now was one of those times.

✨ They were watching a movie, but Dan wouldn’t cuddle him. He was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, arms crossed and his face contorted into a pout.

✨ “Dan?” Phil muttered softly. He didn’t answer.

✨ Phil scooter closer, and Dan glanced up.

✨ “Danny,” Phil whispered in a sing-song tone, his lips pulled into a grin. Dan pressed his lips together.

✨ Phil scooted one more time, poking Dan’s knee. “Did I do something wrong, bear?”

✨ Dan’s eyes flickered up at the nickname, his cheeks tinted pink.

✨ “No,” he said finally, sighing and letting his head fall onto Phil’s shoulder. “Just a bad day, is all.”

✨ “Yeah?” Phil asked, sliding his hand against Dan’s and intertwining their fingers.

✨ “Mhm.”

✨ “C'mere,” Phil muttered, grabbing Dan by the hips and pulling him up so he was straddling him. He brushed his fingertips over Dan’s thighs, making him shiver.

✨ Dan slid his arms around Phil’s neck, kissing his cheek and letting out a breathy giggle.

✨ Phil grinned, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend, and slid his hand under his shirt.

✨ “So pretty, baby boy,” Phil whispered against his lips, knowing how much Dan liked the pet name.

✨ “Mmh, thank you Philly.”

✨ Phil glided his hands down Dan’s back, brushing over the curve of his ass and gripping the flesh. Dan gasped quietly.

✨ Phil kissed all along Dan’s jaw and down his throat, kneading his ass in his hands. Dan whined softly.

✨ “You’re so pretty, princess,” Phil mumbled against Dan’s skin. “Making such pretty noises for me. You’re my pretty baby boy.”

✨ Dan whimpered, bucking his hips involuntary and Phil could feel his hard on through both of their jeans.

✨ Phil smirked, gliding his hand over Dan’s back and slowly sliding it into the back of his pants, pinching his bum. Dan instinctively rutted forward to escape, whining from the stimulation and clinging to Phil’s shoulders.

✨ Dan rolled his hips again, moaning and burying his face in Phil’s neck. Phil continued kissing and biting down the boy’s neck while he grinded down on him, listening to his soft noises that drove him crazy.

✨ Dan moaned softly against Phil’s neck, biting down and - god damn, Phil could cum from just that.

✨ Dan was rolling his hips, grinding on him and rutting against him continuously now, and Phil could feel how hard he was. He thought about helping him out, but kind of wanted to see how this turned out.

✨ He found out only moments later when Dan let out a soft moan, biting Phil’s shoulder and coming in his pants.

✨ Phil ran his fingers through his boyfriends hair while he came down, still breathing heavily, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

✨ “T-Thank you,” Dan muttered after a minute, looking away, embarrassed.

✨ “Of course. You’re so beautiful, god, I love watching you cum.”

✨ Dan blushed even harder, and Phil chuckled.

✨ “Sorry you had a bad day, babe.”

✨ “It’s okay,” Dan said, slowly getting up from Phil’s lap. “I think you just fixed it.”

Okay, okay, okay, I have this headcanon that if aerith and Zack lived, that they had a nice little home and live a quiet life, but as time goes on aerith’s ribbon starts to deteriorate and when it finally rips she cries and Zack feels really bad. So, to make her feel better he buys her like ten different ribbons and she uses only certain ones for different dates.

Eventually, Zack builds her a ribbon organizer. Aerith loves it so much she cries.

Okay just stay with me…

Then, when they eventually get married, he buys her a special ribbon for her on their wedding day. Years later they have a daughter and when she gets married, aerith ties it in their daughters hair for something old and Zack buys her a special ribbon to tie into it.

I want you to pick me. But I know, if given a choice, you’d choose her. You two have history and things in common. I’ve only known you for a year, if even that. I want to get to know you better. I want you to pick me. And maybe it won’t be today or tomorrow, but one day. I look forward to that day.
—  10:36pm thoughts// you, you in the back, no not you! you

Things we lost to the flames
Things we’ll never see again
All that we’ve amassed
Sits before us, shattered into ash

We have to live a life of no regrets.

One thing I’m positive about in this life, is that it gets better. The pain, the tears, the hurt, it will go away. Maybe not completely, maybe one day, you’ll be sitting there staring at your coffee, and he’ll walk in. And it will hurt. It will hurt to the point that you have to run to the bathroom to hide your tears after he said hello and smiled like that year meant nothing to him. That the fact that y'all are no longer together means nothing to him. Or maybe every time you see him and her together, you’ll break. And your parents won’t understand, and your older brother who never liked that guy won’t understand, and your best friend won’t understand because her first boyfriend is still her boyfriend, and he’ll be her last boyfriend. But, they can still lend you there ear. They can be a shoulder to cry on until, until it gets better. Because, when it gets better you’ll know. You’ll know, because when you see them at that cafe where he took you on y'alls first date, and they’re all cuddled up in the big booth in the far corner. You’ll wave and smile. Maybe you’ll even walk over and greet them, ask them how they’re doing. And when they tell you just how great they are doing. You’ll be happy. But sometimes, it will still sting. Like when he proposes to her, when they get married, when their first child is born. But, you’ll move on, and the pain will become a distant memory and reminder of what you used to have.
—  c.c.

((Not sure if I mentioned this before, but this Shiro will be leaning more towards the jpn version than eng version in his personality. There’s a long list of differences that I would love to make (and probably over analyze in the process), but at the end of the day it’s definitely much better than his jock personality in eng version… Not that the jock personality is bad, but it gets a little tiring.))

Sups can be hard to draw, so sometimes I like to draw crappy blue circles inside them to get a better idea of how their weird marshmallow forms work - just in case it helps anybody else. :>

Serious artist strikes again. (Wip)

I have this headcanon where Solas keeps a journal full of random field notes, daily thoughts, etc., but everything is written in Ancient Elvish. My Lavellan, who drank from the Well of Sorrows, finds it amongst Solas’ things in the sanctuary after he leaves. She turns to a random page:

Days such as these are arduous. She looks at me, violet eyesagainst a sea of white, and smiles. “Ma’arlath,” she says. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,”I reply, and I mean it. In that moment I wonder – would it truly be so horrible to tell her? Would she not accept me as I am? Perhaps. But I am undeserving of such kindness. I treat myself to these idle fancies – no, there is more to this than just that. She is more me than just that. And yet, I cannot bring myself to speak the truth. How many times have I sat beside her and felt the truth clawing its way up my throat? I want to let it out; it wants to be let out, but I cannot. After so many years of mistakes, I cannot afford another. Ma serannas, vhenan. You deserve better.

'Tis The Season: Day Five - One Day, I'll Have a Lawn Like That

Day Five!<3

1 2 3 4

The motel, luckily, is one of the less skeevy ones you’ve ever experienced. The beds are comfortable enough, no weird stains or smells… a solid seven out of ten. Even better, right outside, you can see the town’s magnificent Christmas tree.

A gorgeous, twenty foot, illuminated figure that towers over the town square, shimmering and sparkling. If you were to get closer, you’re sure, the scent of pine would envelope you.

Maybe I’ll find an excuse to go on a supply run. In that direction.

“Still pining over that tree?” Dean asks, spreading local newspapers out over one of the beds. You look over at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Was that meant to be a pun?”

He grins, shooting you a playful wink, “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes, folding your arms and walking over to the bed. You sit down, crossing your legs and reading through the articles, populated with more information than you’d found before.

“What have we got?” You ask, glancing up. Dean shrugs.

“It seems like stuff’s really weird at the moment.” He offers, handing you a smaller article, “This one… it suggest comedy killings.”

“Research says that there’ve been zero comedians born or died here, the carnival hasn’t been for about thirty years, no recorded disasters, nothing to suggest someone killing people in ‘silly’ ways.”

You frown, “Are you sure we’re looking at a spirit, then?” You offer, “Maybe a demon with a sense of humour, maybe even a trickster? A real one, this time.”

“Or not.” Dean mutters. You shrug.

“I don’t know, but I think the way it’s looking, we’re going to have to look at some other options.” You glance at each of the brothers, “Don’t you think?”

“Sure, but that’ll mean more work.”

You roll your eyes, sighing, “Nothing’s ever easy for us, haven’t you noticed?”

Dean sighs, “Let’s start looking, then.”

“I think we should start getting out there.” Sam tells you both, “They’ll talk to the feds. Then we can see if there’s been anything weird going on, even local media warps things to their advantage.”

You nod, “Let’s do this.”

Half an hour later, you’re all in FBI mode, climbing out of a car and making for the first witness’ house. You, however, are stopped in awe as you take in their front lawn. It’s littered with pretty decorations, still lit from the night previous. They twinkle in the morning sun and you can’t help but gasp.

“One day,” You say out loud, but not particularly aimed at anyone, “I’m going to have a lawn like this.”

Sam chuckles, giving you a gentle shove towards the house.


“He was here one day, and gone the next,” The woman sniffles, pulling out another fresh tissue- the third in the past minute. “I just… the guy seemed so jovial but I’m sure it was him.”


“It was just so sudden.” The guy tells you, eyes glazed over, “The man was so happy, funny; friendly. But it had to have been him.


“I just… she was here one day, so bright and beautiful,” The mother whispers, “And the next… stone cold, lying on a mortuary slab. I don’t get it.”

“There was this one guy,” The father adds, “He was just traveling through town, he went out with her and some friends. He seemed nice enough, but I’d put my money on him.”


Three descriptions later, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You inform the guys, and the three of you jump into action. There’s an abandoned warehouse about a mile out of town, and that’s where you head.

As soon as you walk inside, however, it’s incredibly different to the worn exterior. Lavishly decorated, the building is fit for a prince.

“We know you’re here!” You snap, voice reverberating over the marble walls. A figure steps from the staircase, the all too familiar, mischievous grin slipping onto his face.

“Hey, I heard someone was celebrating Christmas- without me!”

gallifreyburning  asked:

For the doodle prompt: Time Lord Victorious and Saxon!Master? In any sort of situation really -- sharing a soda, battling for dominance over the universe, arguing over who gets the tv remote, I'm not picky. :D

For some reason this was the first thing that came to mind in response to this picture 8D


Since I have fallen for vilfaras aka commanderrockhard wonderful Eruri Dragon AU idea I have produced some crappy things. Levi as a Dragoon/Dragon rider and Erwin as the Dragon himself of course. I’m going to pester Vil until she makes a nice background post or writes a fic I swear to god. I need this in my life.

Sketchy, messy but hell with it. I do feel painfully my lack of scanner.

If I manage to get my hands on one I’ll try to upload it in better quality along with the rest of things….maybe.


nothing but a mere illusion