It was illegal to change ones name for hundreds of years, but the law was changed thanks to the campaigns of Grizzlefink von Logllamadachshund, who succeeded in 1899. She never changed her own name once it was legal, she had campaigned on behalf of her friend Martin Smith, who wished to be Martin Jones.
Every single person has an extraordinary story. We might all think that we are unremarkable, that our lives are boring, just because we aren’t doing ground-breaking things or making headlines or winning awards. But the truth is we all do something that is fascinating, that is brave, that is something we should be proud of. Every day people do things that are not celebrated.
—  One Hundred Names, Cecilia Ahern

generallkenobi  asked:

I'm sure other people have already sent asks about this but I'm sure that while plenty of people are happy to have a relatively mundane sounding nickname, there are plenty of others who come up with the most ridiculous nicknames. Like, some little shit probably thought it would be funny to call herself Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way or Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All

YES one hundred percent hahaha

anonymous asked:

Now that the ask box is open again, I want to ask if you do soulmate AU's? If so, could you write an AU that you have the first words your soulmate says to you printed on your wrist. And that the words Tsukishima has on his wrists is something really negative. How he would react when he would hear his soulmate say those words. (Is this understandable? I feel like this was really confusing)

A) Soulmate AU’s are the reason I’m alive
B) Get ready for insecure Tsukishima Kei because that’s how I write this nut + this fits so perfectly for my headcanons of him I’m bawling y’all

Golden, silky cursive down the muscle on his wrist. It would’ve been so beautiful, if not for the words they said.

“You’re a failure.”

Words appeared during puberty, the peak of your hormonal blossoming. They started out faded, barely noticeable, and as time progressed, they became bold, powerful, the center of every pubescent teens sad, hopeful life. The very moment the faded gold ink first began to bleed into him at thirteen years old, Tsukishima Kei already knew he was beyond fucked. At thirteen years old he was lost, Jean Louise Finch in “To Set A Watchman”, discovering the bitter, cold truth. At thirteen years old he wasn’t ready for love, the only love he ever had washed down in the drain along with any jubilance he had left. At thirteen years old with the constant reminder of absolute pessimism lingering on his wrist while other boys fawned over sweet subliminal messages of infatuation, Tsukishima Kei lost himself more.

At fourteen years old he ripped himself apart. The gold ink that bled into his pale, scar shaven skin was still prominent, becoming brighter each time the flesh was bruised. He tried, he really did, to make himself the image of perfection. Knowing that one day, the person who he was to be tied to for eternity would think of him as a failure was just another weight onto his already collapsing being. Yamaguchi hit puberty later than he did, he peaked right after the first semester of their third year of middle school, and as he began to grow, the turquoise tangent on his wrist grew too. “Don’t be upset, I could name one hundred things I admire about you” it read, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder how Yamaguchi managed to be so fatefully tied to a woman of wisdom while he was anchored to a pit of pessimism.

When he was fifteen years old, he couldn’t take it anymore. When high school came, the hype of soulmates did nothing but erupt even more. Outside of volleyball, the only thing his volleyball team ever seemed to talk about was soulmates. Beautiful, funny statements in soft purples and reds and blues, they were all so lively yet Kei couldn’t wonder how his statement out of all of them was colored bright gold. As the year went on he grew tired, the eerie message doing nothing but causing him grief. He couldn’t help but dread recalling midterms, when all that went through his mind when he was studying is the cute gold calligraphy of ‘failure’. Yamaguchi found his soulmate, a lively one from a rival school, a kind, wise hearted soul just like Yamaguchi always dreamed. His friends, or acquaintances, as he liked to put it, we’re falling in love and finding themselves left and right, and by the time spring arrived and every first year on the team found his soulmate, even standoffish Kageyama who couldn’t talk to a female for his life, he drew the conclusion that he might as well be alone forever. That thought was ridiculous though, he knew it. He still had well over seventy years of his life left, and six years left of education, so not finding his soulmate in his first year of highschool would definitely not render him lonely. Although, he felt like it. He felt alone, and it made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like a failure just like those bloody golden words on his wrist prophesied.

He drove himself to move away at nineteen. He hadn’t found anything in his eighteen years in Japan and he hoped, and prayed there would be something for him beyond the borders of the familiar. So, he set off for Cornell, an Ivy League college in America. It was risky, it really was, even if he was the top of his English class. They had a good multicultural scene over there, he was told, and for some reason, that just dragged him in further. His wanderlust grew and grew the more and more he looked around into the vast world in front of him and by the time he was already settled into Cornell, he just wanted to pack his bags and travel somewhere else again. He couldn’t though, at least not until junior year. Cornell was treating him nice, a cosy establishment in the middle of nowhere and honestly, it reminded him a bit of home. If you traveled to the highest point on campus all you could see was miles of rolling hills and maple trees, crows flocking through the air at the break of dawn and the familiar chill down his spine in the winter. Although through it all, he still hadn’t met his soulmate. His brother encouraged him to still have hope through it all.
“I didn’t find my soulmate until senior year, you still have time!” He would say, but Kei would just shake his head.

He was in his junior year of college and he was presented with an opportunity of international education, an opportunity every college student hoped and prayed to have. He was going to Copenhagen, and he knew exactly why. Out of 196 countries and tens of thousands of cities, he chose Copenhagen, the heart of a freezing Nordic wonderland. It was said to be the happiest place on earth and to be frank, there was nothing Tsukishima needed in his life more than an optimistic habitat. So, as soon as the second semester came, he didn’t waste a minute hopping onto that plane.

At first, Copenhagen was weird.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just unfamiliar. It was far too optimistic, streets lined with bars and old woman walking dogs, college students in beanies smoking weed on apartment balconies. Everyone carried an “I don’t give a shit” vibe and just as Tsukishima thought he would maybe, finally meet his soulmate, he was shut down. Everyone in this city seemed to be far too nice to utter such a thing as the thing on his wrist. He was ready to give up.

It was Friday morning and Tsukishima wanted to die. His roommate was already up, playing loud, headache inducing music from his side of the dorm. As much as he’d hate to admit, he got himself drunk last night, well really, his roommate got him drunk last night, it was the bastards idea to buy three crates of beer for a small frat party. He sat up in bed and groaned, not even attempting to hold back his displeasure.
“I didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight, Kei.” His roommate snorted, turning off his music to slump next to Tsukishima’s bed frame. “You want a water or something, buddy?”
“Don’t call me a fucking lightweight, I had eight beers.” He rubbed his eyes harshly, not sure if the stars he saw were from the rubbing or the alcohol that still lingered in his system. “But yeah, the water would be nice. Thank you.”
Tsukishima really hated himself in that moment. He was never one to be late for classes, never one to drink on a school night. Tsukishima Kei was never, not once in his life, ten minutes late for an eight o'clock class on the other side of campus. Although today, he broke the lucky streak.
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered to himself, mustering up all his willpower to get out of his bed. His knees wobbled underneath him as he wasted no time getting dressed, chugging an entire water bottle in second, and throwing the empty container right back at his roommate.
“Don’t pee yourself out there, dumbass!”
“Fuck off, Mathias.” Was his reply, slamming the door behind him and immediately regretting his decisions from right now and the night before. Everything hurt, absolutely ached, and he began to wonder if perfect attendance was really worth the torture he was sure to endure in the next two hours. He pushed himself though, because skipping out would just mean that he was a failure.

By the time he arrived he was thirty minutes late. People were gawking at him, obviously taking notice of how he looked like an absolute wreck. He knew his eyebags had to be atrocious, but he was hoping and praying that he didn’t look like the walking dead. He took a quick seat in the back of the room, hoping that once he sat down people would lose interest and forget him. They did, one or two students still making nasty remarks a few rows in front of him. If he hadn’t cared so much about his reputation (and his mother’s money) he would’ve thrown his textbook at the back of their heads. The girl next to him fidgeted, scooting down the bench slightly to get away from him. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable, and part of him wanted to feel a bit guilty for her. He probably still smelled like alcohol, he thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He snorted, once he caught her eye and got his things situated. Tsukishima didn’t know why he thought a self deprecating joke would lighten the mood, for her eyes just widened and looked down at the laptop in front of her.
“Oh, sure, you’re a failure.” She commented back, her sarcasm blatantly evident. She pointed towards a pile of papers on her desk and said something else, but Tsukishima had short circuited far too long ago to process the words she said next.
His whole life was a misconception. Six years of acceptance and self consciousness all derived from one, big, misconception. She was the one to bring the words on her wrist to his attention. Small, blocky orange writing stating “I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He still couldn’t process words, his wrist feeling as if it were burning. His gut was roiling and he absolutely couldn’t believe the horrendous irony this situation reeked with. The professor kept talking, droning away about the history of a long dead African tribe, but he didn’t care.
“I don’t think you realize how much these words have made me hate myself these past few years.” he muttered into her ear, breath shaky and languid from the adrenaline rush he experienced.
“I don’t think you know how worried I’ve been for you these past few years.” She replied, her fingers absentmindedly running over her wrist. “I thought I’d meet you on a bridge.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well, I thought I would.” She shrugged, nudging his hip and motioning him to collect his things.
“Let’s get out of here.” She implied, already shoving her laptop back into her purse.
“But I just got here.” He argued.
“But I just met my soulmate. C’mon, nobody’s going to think you’re a failure.”

olivia colomar is a fantastic name and if it turns out to be actually her name then I wholeheartedly accept it

but also no offense to zarya and lynx, but don’t tell me sombra doesn’t have at least a dozen totally legit absolutely true one hundred percent real names ready for people to find after just the right amount of laborious digging, bc she’s, well, sombra


Thought Of The Day - Incarnations

This may just be me, but bear with the idea for a moment.

Lately, I have seen some discussion about what are being called “shards”. Short version, they’re shards or pieces of a great angel– Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, etc.– that have appearances or memories apart from the “original” angel. And there is a divided belief as to whether or not they’re “real”.

I have a proposition on this, and it’s a bit… heretical. Maybe problematic, depending on who you ask. But like I said, bear with me.

What if its similar to the concept of “paths” seen in gods?

The idea is that a god can incarnate into as many forms as they have names. Odin can be a god of wisdom in the form of Fjölnir, a war god in the form of Gunnblindi, or a trickster of sorts as Gizzur. With an estimated one-hundred and twenty-one names, Odin takes many, many forms.

Epithets were more common in ancient Greece, where supposedly the gods came in multiple forms and functions, and could even become separate beings to fulfill the roles if a prayer came from multiple mortals at once. So you could have, say Apollo Helius to bring light while Apollo Acesius healed the sick. Same god, same origin, different ability.

Now, in application to angels: I’ve heard of at least Gabriel having a handful of different titles. Hero of God, man of God, strength of God, etc. Using Greek as an example, there could be a Gabriel Apestalménos (Messenger Gabriel), a Gabriel Íroas (Gabriel the Hero), a Gabriel Ischyró (Gabriel the Strong)– the possibilites are as endless as their names.

What if– just what if– it’s the same concept? What if each “name”, each title or epithet, can be administered to a different angel? What if it’s a form of honouring an angel?

Just a theory, though. What do you all think?

Daily Hadith

Bismillah Walhamdulillah Was Salaatu Was Salaam ‘ala Rasulillah

Narrated Abu Huraira (Radi-Allahu 'anhu):

Allah’s Apostle (Sallallahu 'Alaihi Wa Sallam) said, “Allah has ninety-nine Names, one-hundred less one; and he who memorized them all by heart will enter Paradise.” To count something means to know it by heart.

Bukhari Vol. 9 : No. 489

anonymous asked:

Werewolf au for jerza?

It’s Halloween Eve in the town of Magnolia. The entire city feels alive and excited. No one, however, could possibly be more excited than Erza. Besides Christmas, this is her favorite holiday solely because of how much decorating she gets to do. Nothing gets a girl into the holiday spirit like a candy cane or a jack-o-lantern, ya know? But nothing gets Erza into the holiday spirit like a cake from the local bakery. Unfortunately for her, however, the baker didn’t get to finish it until the end of the day. That leaves Erza to walk home at dusk (which she wouldn’t normally mind doing, but a full moon hangs in the sky.)

Erza has never seen a werewolf with her own eyes before. She never even believed in their existence, really. But then the news of a werewolf in London spread throughout the world, and there’s been a sighting just a few towns over. Erza has tried her best to ignore these, though, because surely they’re just like Bigfoot, right?

Erza’s thin black leggings provide no protection against the cold air. Luckily, her brown furry boots provide just enough. She regrets wearing a skirt so late in the year, but in her defense, none of her pants were clean. Erza pulls down her grey sweater just a bit more, and she adjusts her cape’s hood so that it hides more of her face. She refuses to make eye contact with anyone, lest they end up attacking her. She had never felt more unsafe in Magnolia than this very moment.

That’s when Erza comes to a crossroads, literally. She has two choices; go left and take the longer route, or go right and take the shortcut through the woods. Erza purses her lips and turns to the right. Her house is just on the other side, which means she can either go through them or around. She glances up at the full moon that lights her path.

Erza reaches the edge of the woods. She pauses, looking around her in all directions. The wind howls and its force seems to push her inside. She walks down the twisted dirt path, squinting from the lack of light. Stupid trees, Erza thinks to herself. She trips over a tree root but manages to catch her fall. Her heart race increases and the feeling of being watched settles on her back.

She starts to speed walk her way down the dirt path, occasionally losing her balance or flinching at the sound of snapping twigs that she steps on. It gets harder and harder to breathe, and her chest begins to ache.

There’s a howl from her right. Erza turns to see a wolf standing on top of a hill in the distance, big, white, and mean looking. She tenses up and begins running away at top speed. She can’t even see because of the darkness, but she trusts that whatever God exists is watching over her. She clutches her basket close, because no way in hell is she letting that thing go without a fight. Erza spares a glance behind her to try and see, and the wolf’s red eyes are quickly closing the gap between them. She screams and trips over a fallen tree branch.

Adrenaline kicks in and somehow, she is able to see. Erza swings the branch and hits the wolf on its head. It shakes for a second and growls, showing off its nasty yellow teeth and foul breath. Erza swings at it again, but the wolf grabs the stick in its mouth. It bites her wrist, but she kicks the wolf away. She shuffles backwards on her butt and aims the branch like a sword. “G-get back! Now!” She cries and waves it around. The wolf lunges at her for the final kill. Erza’s eyes widen in horror.

Suddenly, a smaller blue-grey wolf jumps over Erza’s head and tackles the big white wolf. They bite at each other’s necks and scratch each other. Finally, the smaller wolf bites down on the other’s tail, making the white wolf run away. Erza had been too paralyzed in fear to move during the fight, and she’s too afraid to move even now. She holds the stick in front of her and tries to catch her breath.

The wolf stares at her, making no attempt to move. Erza stares back, also making no attempt to move. Suddenly, the wolf isn’t a wolf anymore. It shifts into a tall man with dark blue hair and a long scar over his right eye. His brown eyes are the same shade as Erza’s. Her eyes trail down his bare chest and stop at the hem of his pants before she snaps them back up. The blue haired man smirks at her blush.

“Forgive me for startling you. You looked like you could use a hand,” the werewolf says. He extends a hand. Erza cautiously takes it, and after they shake, he pulls her onto her feet. She practically falls into his chest, but the man catches her just in time. “I’m Jellal, by the way.” He lets go of her arms and takes a single step back.

“Erza.” She picks up her basket and opens it. Her cake is ruined; it’s broken into pieces and frosting is everywhere. She locks her jaw, trying to hide her disappointment. Erza just had her life saved; she can’t be anything less than grateful. Who knows, if Jellal hadn’t shown up, her body would’ve ended up looking even messier than her cake. She looks up to see that Jellal had taken a step forward to look inside the basket, too.

Jellal frowns. “Your cake is ruined. If you’d like, I have extra time and no problem walking you into town to get a new one,” he offers 

Erza blinks. The offer of going on a (hopefully) romantic walk with a handsome stranger is more than appealing, but there’s one problem… He’s a werewolf! She can’t trust those monstrous creatures! But then again, this werewolf saved her life… Maybe it was just to eat her himself. She smiles and slowly shakes her head. “Thank you, but I just want to go home.” She turns around and walks away.

Jellal jogs to catch up and be at her side. “I understand you’re afraid of me. I’m not like other werewolves, though. I remember what it was like to be human. I want to be human again, even though it’s impossible. But that won’t stop me from acting as gentleman-like as possible. That includes not letting pretty women walk through dark, werewolf filled forests by themselves.”

Erza looks away from him to hide her blush. Her chest begins to ache again, but it doesn’t scare her this time. The butterflies in her stomach make her feel excited and anxious, not at all afraid. She narrows her eyes, unsure of what to say. She looks back at Jellal, who is watching her with a small smile on his face. “You must say that to every lady you see,” Erza responds.

“True, but I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Jellal says. His tone is so sincere that Erza can’t help but blush. She looks at the ground and gently grabs his hand. She can’t see it, but his face lights up with happiness. He looks at her hand and frowns, seeing a tear in her skin. “It’s a little late to ask this, but did that wolf hurt you?”

Erza blinks, suddenly remembering that she had gotten bit on her wrist. She holds it out to him. “Will…will I turn?” she asks softly.

 Jellal licks his lip, unsure of how to reveal the answer. He looks at her and frowns, which is all Erza needs. A tear falls from her eye, so Jellal pulls her into a tight embrace. He rests his head on hers, rubbing soft circles on her back. “It’s not that bad, really. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise.” Erza nods. They walk to her house in solemn silence.

 When they reach the edge of the woods, Jellal stops. He looks down at her. “You know, being a werewolf isn’t all bad. There’s lots of pros.”

Erza snorts. “Name one.”

 “I could name hundreds, but most importantly, you’ll get to spend a lot of time with me,” Jellal says with a smirk. Erza smiles and gently punches his arm with her uninjured hand. They share a quiet laugh and continue walking into town. They stop by the bakery and get another cake, much to Erza’s enjoyment. They also pick up some extra sweets to enjoy and pass out to trick-or-treaters. Halloween the following night is fantastic–Jellal and Erza have the most realistic costumes of the entire town.


Hello, anon! Thanks for sending me a request!

I’ve never written a supernatural kind of thing before, so forgive me if it’s not that good >.<

Thanks for having patience with me. I’m not quite on my feet yet and the stress keeps piling on, but writing does give me joy to get through the day.

Everyone is welcome to send me writing requests! As long as it is a fandom I am apart of, I’ll be more than happy to complete it! Send a ship, a prompt, and wait for me to drabble!

Learning that the women of Philadelphia were raising a fund to clothe soldiers, he [Lafayette] sent a contribution of one hundred guineas in the name of his wife, ‘who heartily [sic] wishing for a personal acquaintance with the ladies of America would feel particularly happy to be admitted among them on the present occasion.’ Nor did that gesture misrepresent Adrienne in any way. At about that time Adrienne described herself as ‘a good American’….
—  Lafayette In America by Louis Gottschalk, Book 3, pg. 91. 

anonymous asked:

Do you have any perjasico (percy, Jason, and everyone's favorite small gay Italian) headcanons? (Friendship or romantic)

yaaaaaaaaas boo

- Leo calls them the Big Threesome. Percy is so for this, Nico litterally doesnt care, and Jason STRONGLY DISAGREES

- They spend practically all their time together. They roam the camp like a small pack of dogs, getting into trouble together and training all the little kids

- Percy teaches Jason and Nico how to skate board. Or, at least he tried. Nico gets it just fine, Jason is a disaster on wheels. Luckily he can bail out just by flying off the board.

- VIDEO GAME NIGHT. Smash Bros is taking more seriously than actual warfare with these three. Nico literally always wins and they have no idea how because he came from a time when video games didnt even exist??

- Every Halloween they do their costumes as a set of three. Last year they were the Power Puff Girls with Jason as Bubbles, Percy as Buttercup, and Nico as a very distraught and angry Blossom

- Percy and Jason like to bet about who can do things better. Literally anything. Eating, fighting, racing, interpretive dance, who can eat a whole pizza the fastest etc. Nico always just plays judge for these random tests of skill

- They bounce off each other when their caught in a fight. All using each other’s powers to their advantage, all working together, theyre amazing together. Theyre unstoppable

- Piper or Annabeth or Hazel have to keep a vigilent eye on the boys. If they look away for more than five minutes it is very likely that something will have caught fire and at least one of them will have a broken leg


[some romance-ish headcanons as well]

- When they sleep together, Nico sleeps in the middle with Jason and Percy practically crushing him and he wouldnt have it any other way

- Jason is classically sweet, takes them out on their anniversary, red roses and picnics in the park, the kind of wonderful boy you bring home to your parents and he brings fucking cookies with him

- Percy is more unconventional and on the fly about romance, spontaneously cooks dinner because the other two had a hard day, graffitis their names on a major landmark, awful but amazing at the same time

- Nico is unexpectedly romantic, theyre always so sure he wasnt listening only to come home to find that not only did he remember valentines day, but he got Persephone to fill the whole appartment with flowers and arranged a trip to paris for the weekend

- Together, the three of them are never bored. Theyre is all these small sweet gestures in between grand displays of affection and they all feel so loved and at home when theyre together

- Percy and Nico beg Jason to let them get a dog. He says he doesnt think its such a great idea at first, what with their crazy lifestyle and the fact that none of them are super responsible. But then the next day he comes home with a small golden retriever puppy in his arms. Percy comes up with a hundred and one names for it within an hour, but Nico suggests ‘sparky’ and despite Jason’s protests that becomes the dogs name

- Three strong children of the Big Three means monsters constantly sensing them when theyre together. They spend most days fight shit off just on the walk home. Despite all the wards put up around the home, every so often they find themselves taking down some big ugly in their living room. They spend many a night patching each other up in the bathroom, Nico sitting on the counter, Jason crouched on the floor sifting through their first aid kits, Percy half asleep in the tub. Its hard. They get hurt a lot. They know its dangerous to all live together outside the safety of camp, but they want to be together more than anything. They wouldnt have it any other way.

lmao i love these fools i feel like they would be fucking ridiculous and amazing together platonic or not??

Have You Seen Me?

(Word Count: 1668)

I started geocaching a few years ago in an effort to gain a new hobby. I needed something that was so drastically different from my usual that it would never overlap with my ex or any of his extracurriculars so this was perfect. Geocaching is like the adult version of a scavenger hunt. You get a location via GPS coordinates with small clues and then you go there and find it. That’s really all there is to it.

Usually there is a small box hidden at the spot with a log inside for you to sign and enough room to leave a token to prove they’d made it. I say usually only because sometimes the box gets removed or washed away during a flood or any number of other reasons. That’s part of what makes it fun, the mystery. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it ain’t.

More than once I found the geocache box with a figurine inside or some penny tokens. There was a time I opened one and dropped it with a squeal because there was a realistic toy spider stuffed inside. But usually I’d forget to bring something and simply sign the log. I had an app on my phone that allowed me to check off recorded geocache locations and over time I’d completed a few. My tally was at 82 when it happened.

Keep reading

To Perrin’s eyes, the moon was nearly as good as the sun, but right then he wished for pitch blackness. Rand’s face was drawn and twisted, the face of a man who wanted to scream, or maybe weep, and was fighting it down with every scrap of his fiber. Whatever trick the Aes Sedai knew to keep the heat from touching them, Rand and the Asha’man knew, too, but he was not using it now. The night’s heat would have done for a morethanwarm summer day, and sweat slid down Rand’s cheeks as much as Perrin’s.

He did not look around, though Perrin’s boots rustled loudly in the dead grass, yet he spoke hoarsely, still rocking. “One hundred and fiftyone, Perrin. One hundred and fiftyone Maidens died today. For me. I promised them, you see. Don’t argue with me! Shut up! Go away!” Despite his sweat, Rand shivered. “Not you, Perrin; not you. I have to keep my promises, you see. Have to, no matter how it hurts. But I have to keep my promise to myself, too. No matter how it hurts.”

Perrin tried not to think about the fate of men who could channel. The lucky ones died before they went mad; the unlucky died after. Whether Rand was lucky or unlucky, everything rested on him. Everything. “Rand, I don’t know what to say, but — ”

Rand seemed not to hear. Back and forth he rocked. Back and forth. “Isan, of the Jarra Sept of the Chareen Aiel. She died for me today. Chuonde of the Spine Ridge Miagoma. She died for me today. Agirin of the Shelan Daryne… ”

There had been nothing for it but to settle on his heels and listen to Rand recite all one hundred and fiftyone names in a voice like pain stretched to breaking, listen and hope Rand was holding on to sanity.


Robert Jordan, The Wheel of Time: A Crown of Swords, Page 69

Oh no, it’s fine, you just carry on stomping on the shattered remains of my heart, RJ.

Amnesia (Luke Hemmings AU) Spotless Mind!Luke: Part 1

Hi! Caryn here! Okay so I had this idea to do an AU series inspired by the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (if you haven’t seen it then you totally should). I haven’t seen anything else written like this before, so I’m pretty excited. This is the first part of the series. A preface, if you will. It’s kinda like the tattoo soulmate AU with a twist. The rest of the parts will either be from (Y/N)’s or Luke’s POV (but mostly Luke’s). I’m making this first part kind of vague ON PURPOSE to build suspense in the other parts. Don’t fret, my little cherubs. All will be explained and revealed with time.

Word Count: 985

Rating: PG-13 for some language

Summary: In a world where medical technology has come leaps and bounds, the general public now has the option to have a procedure done to erase memories if they so wish. But is erasing the memory of someone who used to be your everything really the answer?

Luke’s POV

I lay in the hospital bed, the stiff mattress pushing angrily against my spine. The whole room is so bright. White walls. White counters. White floors. White blankets. But even with the bright room harshly burning into my retinas, my insides feel dark. Heavy. Hollow. I try to ignore the only person I allowed to sit in with me before my procedure. Ashton. I can feel his whiskey colored eyes lasering in on my expression, trying to pick me apart. 

I subconsciously pull my lip ring between my teeth and try to avoid eye contact with him at all costs. He may be the only person I want in pre-op with me, but that doesn’t mean he agrees with my decision to erase her from my mind. The silence in the room crushes me.

Ash sighs deeply from the tackily upholstered chair beside my bed. “Are you sure–” 

“For the love of God, Ashton. Yes. I’m sure,” I furiously cut him off. I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but I’m really not sure if I want this. But I do know that I don’t want to feel the pain I’ve been feeling. That I caused. That (Y/N) is also feeling, only magnified by one hundred. 

Even thinking her name makes my throat tighten. 

“You don’t have to go through with this, Luke. Just because she is doesn’t mean that you have to,” his words are soft. He really cares.

I rub my hand across my stubble-covered face. “Then what do you suppose I do? Sit around and live the rest of my life pretending that I don’t know her? That I don’t exist? That we never existed? That this fucking tattoo that has been on me since birth that I share with her because she’s my soulmate was just something I thought would look swell on my forearm?” I forcefully yank up my sleeve and force him to look at the image of a raven that will forever haunt me if I don’t do this. “Because that’s exactly what will happen if I don’t go through with this, too,” my voice cracks and I feel the all too familiar burning behind my blue eyes. I hate myself for cracking.

Ashton eyes the black ink for a moment before slowly dragging his eyes to meet mine. 

“But what about the circus? Where you took her for your first date? And you came bounding back inside the house after to tell me and Calum and Michael how you scored a kiss on the cheek, but it was the best moment of your life?”

My vision blurs. “Ashton, stop,” my voice comes out as a whisper as the night replays in my mind. I remember how her face lit up when we saw the elephants lumber out into the spotlight. 

“W-what about about how when (Y/N) would come over and spend the night with you, she would always wake up and fix all five of us pancakes for breakfast? And she would put peanut butter on her pancakes, and then syrup because she said Who gives a shit about the sugar content?”

“Ash, please,” I can’t help the trembling in my voice as the memories wash over me.

“What about how much you loved her? What about how much you love her, present tense? Yeah, you fucked up. But dammit, Luke, you bought an engagement ring–”

Get out! Get out, Ashton!” I snarl. The words fly out from between my gritted teeth. Furious, helpless, heartbroken, hot tears spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. He doesn’t move. 

“I’m having the procedure. I’m going to forget the way she said my name. I’m going to forget how it felt to fall asleep next to her. I’m going to forget the moment she told me she was leaving me. I’m going to forget about the stupid little things that make me want to jump in front of a bus right now. I’m going to forget (Y/N). Get the fuck out of my room.”

Ashton nods slowly, taking in every bitter, rage-filled word that spews from my mouth. “I’ll see you when you get out.”

And then he’s gone.

I don’t know how long I sit inside the room just staring at the wall. Occasionally glaring down at my raven tattoo through tear-soaked eyelashes. Hating myself for hurting her. Hating her for leaving me. Hating the pain that overwhelms every single one of my senses. Hating that every single memory we’ve built over the last three years of loving each other is tainted because of my stupidity. But eventually the doctor and his fleet of nurses waltz in and cart me away to the operating room, leaving me without a white wall to glare at.

I lie on the table, all the wires and machines hooked into my arms. 

“Alright, Luke. We’re going to count back from one hundred, and you should go under pretty soon after,” the doctor’s chirpy voice reaches my ears like nails on a chalkboard as he places a mask over my mouth and nose. “Breathe in,” he instructs. I take a deep breath.

This is it. 

“One more big breath for me, and we’ll start counting down.”

Everything is about to disappear.

“One hundred.”

Her eyes.


Her smile.

“Ninety-eight,” his voice is becoming distant.

Her laugh.


I can’t do this.


Wait, I can’t do this! I try to scream out the words, but it just comes out as a groan.


Please, stop! I can’t! I don’t want to forget her! The thought rings desperately through my mind. I claw at every memory. Every snippet of (Y/N) that I can remember. Every expression, every sound, every touch.

But it’s too late. My eyelids are too heavy. My mind is too hazy. And the world around me is turning into black velvet. It’s too late.

I don’t want to forget. 

The meaning of some of their names according to the web:

Korekiyo Shinguuji – first name “"pure right”
Angie Yonaga – Last name “ a long night”
Kirumi Toujo – first name “"killing beauty/ last name “ an eastern object”
Kokichi Ouma – First name “"small luck”/ last name “King horse”
Tsumugi Shirogane – Last name “white” or “silver”
Kiibo – A pun on the Japanese word for hope 
Tenko Chabashira - first name”"rolling child”/last name “tea pillar”
Kaede Akamatsu – First name “"maple tree”/ last name "red pine”
Kaito Momota – First name "absolution of the Dipper [constellation]“/ last name “one hundred rice paddies”
Maki Harukawa – First name “demon princess” / last name “ river of spring”
Shuuichi Saihara – first name “"last one”
Ryouma Hoshi – First name “ dragon horse”/ last name “star”
Rantaro Amami – Last name "heaven sea”
Himiko Yumeno – First name “ secret child”/last name “"dream field”
Gonta Gokuhara – found nothing 
Miu Iruma – First name “ not rabbit like”

One Hundred
Hands Like Houses

For the hella wonderful Hunter x Hunter fanfiction, One Hundred, so named after the above song.  These are my three favorite scenes so far.  Mad props to the author jadedgalvanizer who I only later learned can draw much better than I can in addition to being an awesome writer with flawless taste in music.  Well, I tried and therefore no one can criticize me.

Glory (Hogwarts!AU)

In the year 2018, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry hosts the 200th Triwizard Tournament. When the three schools go head to head at the famous campus, more than just simple competition occurs. What happens when your crush, your ex, and your best friend become your competitors for eternal glory? To Camila Cabello, it’s just one big game of fuck, marry, and kill in order to win this years Cup. 

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