a life full of holes

I’m so happy that our boy with his hair like stars has a birthday on Tanabata

ok but honestly what would i be without bangtan

One More Day

Word Count: 4k

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Author’s note: So I wasn’t going to write this because I’m not into mafia!aus but since you’re my first request ever I decided to do it. I hope you enjoy it. (The fic title has nothing to do with the story. I just wrote it while listening to One More Day by Sistar on loop.)

“Mister Min”

Yoongi was snapped out of his reverie to see his men looking at him expectantly and a little bit confused. He realized he had gotten caught up in his thoughts again, this time right in the middle of a briefing. He looked at the photographs lying on the table in front of him, seeing the faces of the men who had presumed to move into his territory. He felt sorry for them, he really did. They were still kids, and in their youthful brashness they thought they could defy him and survive.

“Give them one last warning and if they refuse to leave, get rid of them.” The stupid bastards will probably stand their ground and that will be the end of them. He may feel sorry for them but life doesn’t look kindly to idiots and if he didn’t finish them off another person will, at least he’ll be merciful.

The men nodded their heads in understanding before one of them, Jimin, spoke up, “There is one more thing, boss.” He said then looked at the ground nervously, and just like that a shift seemed to settle heavily in the room. Yoongi waited for Jimin to continue but he didn’t look up. In fact all his men were now uncharacteristically timid, every one of them avoiding his gaze.

“Oh for fuck’s sake” It was Namjoon who finally spoke up, “You all are a bunch of pussies. It’s ___. We’ve lost her.”

“You’ve what!?” Yoongi slapped his hands on the table and stood up. There it was, the reason he had been distracted all day: You, his lovely, delicate wife. Namjoon who was just ridiculing his fellow members was now flinching and shifting discreetly to hide behind Seokjin.


Keep reading


Susan awoke suddenly and stood up. She was under a tree, the tree where she’d left Narnia forever. Yet this tree seemed… Realer somehow.
“Susan?” A slightly accented voice asked from behind her. She turned and saw…. Caspian. She hadn’t seen him in so long and he looked just the same. She momentarily thought she must certainly look old to him, but then thought it must be a dream.
“Caspian?” She questioned, allowing herself a smile. “Is this a dream?”
“ ‘Fraid not Su. Turn around.”
Susan would recognize that voice anywhere, even before she turned around.
“Peter?” she whispered faintly. Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged him tight. He seemed realer than before too.
“Susan!” Lucy attacked her with a hug. “Susan, you’re here!”
Susan held Lucy tight. She was alive. Lucy was here. Lucy was full of life, not at the bottom of a cold hole.
She saw Ed last, though he’d been there all along. “Welcome home, sis.” He said pulling her into a hug.
“Welcome to Aslan’s Country.”

Winter holidays were great since we got a chance to play all the video games we missed out on! And frankly, we’re suckers for some good old stuff and resident evil 4 turned out being one of the neatest games ever! Like, so neat, we played it twice!
And maybe half the credit should be given to Leon because I’ve never seen a boy so pretty, fighting off plagued monks and running away from huge stones. 10/10, guys, 10/10.



  • It was not the accident that gave me humility, it was the Ancient One’s teachings and going through a rigid training. 
  • Mordo isn’t my sidekick, I was his sidekick. 
  • Mordo wasn’t exasperated, I was exasperated.
  • Christine is not my girlfriend. 
  • Christine is not exasperated, she was worried.
  • I’m not a genius, I’m someone who studied very hard and who deserved everything I conquered.

Those memes are full of holes. People just…banalized my entire life to compare me with another guy because of the facial hair.

Is Quigley Quagmire a liar?

Every self-respecting Snicket fan has entertained the theory of a deceiving, villainous Quigley Quagmire at least once. In honor of this cherished tradition, the Snicket Sleuth is now proud to present a variation on this idea.

The character is suspicious and mysterious; however, it’s not that easy an accusation to prove. Quigley has numerous occasions to betray the Baudelaire orphans throughout the story and doesn’t seize them. And, although the stories he tells them about his life after the Quagmire fire are full of holes, his allegations are largely confirmed by other characters (Kit Snicket, Captain Widdershins, etc).

More reasonably, we can therefore assume that Quigley is not a liar per se. He could, however, be guilty of retaining important information from people who need it the most. He may have a variety of motives, but he seems to do it mostly out of shame. Quigley’s past actions may indeed have (unwillingly) caused Jacques Snicket’s death. Let’s start our trial after the cut.

Keep reading

Zutara Week 2017, Day 7: Starlight

@zutaraweek 2017, Day 7: Starlight

This morphed into something more angsty than the original version of this idea…If I have time, I might write a happier starlight-themed thing, but for now, have a serving of pain, if you please. There are hints of Kataang and Maiko in here because it’s meant to be set in the “canon” universe, but I decided not to tag the other two ships…especially because I know it’s Kataang Week right now too, and I want to be respectful.

This is another one I have vague ideas to turn into an actual full AU divergence fic one day, but for now, just a one-shot.

Summary: Katara comforts Zuko after the death of Iroh.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11647131

Dimness had fallen over the courtyard, the deep night sky casting blue light against the warm glow of torches and shimmering across the surface of the turtleduck pond. Katara could see him sitting at the edge – the Fire Lord, still and silent and staring at something she could not see. Zuko.

“You’ve been out here for hours…” she started, he voice gentle and prodding. (Are you okay? goes the line, the natural course, but Zuko was not okay – words weren’t necessary to figure that out.)

No response came. No response was needed.

The grass was soft as her knees hit the ground beside him, one hand tentatively resting on his back. She could feel the knotted tension in his muscles and the way their strain gave way to her touch in silent acceptance, though his eyes never left the rippling surface of the pond. Katara watched as the starlight stretched and twisted around the turtleducks, shimmering and settling and swirling again.

Keep reading


YA LIT MEME: ( 9 | 10 ) series or books — The Walled City by Ryan Graudin

“My life has been full of these small things. Clothes without holes. Boots that fit. My first real mattress. Chma lounging in sun slants and dust motes. New, not-molding books. Bowls of rice porridge every morning. Classes with chalkboards. Dai rumpling my hair every time he sees me and talking about how long it’s getting. My sister smiling again. The small things add up.”

A mouse (or several) gets into Q branch. 00Q please but who starts screaming like a wimp and jumps on the table is up to you! Thank you! – anon

Ehehe, I had fun. Jen.

It was almost inevitable.

Q-branch were not known for hygiene, cleanliness, or common sense. The cleaners had long since abandoned them – they felt it something of a waste of time, especially when they were yelled at perpetually for moving things a quarter of an inch, even if there were coffee stains the size of Spain – and so Q-branch had fallen into disrepair somewhat. Especially the workshop.

“… I think we might have a problem,” R reported. “Things have been… chewed on, a bit. I think the mice are back.”

Which was quite an achievement, given that rat poison had been placed more or less everywhere. Tenacious little buggers.

Q sighed. “Alright then, we’re going to have to scale things up a notch. I want full scanning in here, life signs registered and every single hole that they could get through documented and filled as required.”

R nodded, and went off the delegate the not-very-exciting task to one of the lesser minions.

Things were certainly in hand, at least.

Of course, nobody could have anticipated Bond’s response:

“Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck is that doing in here,” he yelped – yes, yelped – and scrambled away at high speed, straight onto Q’s desk. “This is a fucking government facility, how is it even possible that you…”

“… we’re more or less below water level, and this place is extremely old,” Q pointed out, smirking. “Of course we have vermin issues. It’s being dealt with, though. Where did you see it?”

It just ran over my fucking foot.”

One of the minions glanced up. “Oh excellent – which direction did it run in?”

Bond mutely pointed a finger. The minion smiled happily, and returned to whatever in the hell he was doing with a device containing a wide and imaginative array of colours. It beeped. Bond was still mostly paralysed.

“… so I’m guessing you’re scared of mice?” Q asked, not bothering to contain his still very active smirk. Bond’s lethal glare was doing nothing to dilute it. “Really? You’re one of the highest ranking secret agents in the UK, and you’re scared of mice?”

Bond’s glare was stellar. “I’m allowed to have fears, am I not?” he asked rhetorically; he seemed to finally be moving from his paralytic fear-induced state, “and yes. Mice are not my favourite things in the world, especially when they’re unexpected.”

Q’s smirk finally developed into an all-out snort of laughter. “Superb,” he grinned. “This is hilarious, you realise? And is probably going viral already?”

“I will kill anybody who distributes this information,” Bond growled. And meant it, judging by his expression.

(one of the minions sank deeper into her chair, and tried very hard to disappear).

“You can probably get off the table now.”

Bond looked at Q for a long moment.

Slowly, he sank down back to the floor.

The moment he hit the ground, he all but sprinted out of the workshop, leaving Q and the minions to burst into cackling laughter.


genre: angst, romance, marriage, divorce
characters: reader and namjoon, bts
word count: 1777


You want the divorce. Your marriage is not the same. You don’t think he loves you anymore. This is the right thing to do…right?

Part 1//

Part 2  Different

The days following Y/N’s departure from their shared life were much more painful than she could’ve imagine it would be. At first, she tried treating the situation as normal, ‘cause to her, Namjoon had abandoned her long ago before her request for the actual separation.

But everything was different.

Keep reading

How To Battle Life?

Crucial this life is, a fact we all must face. But there are some things you must bear in mind to keep up with it. 

  • Self-Confidence. Always believe in yourself. The very first person who will believe in you when no one else does is you. You can have an access to an unlimited power if you’ve got a self-confidence. You may also have the skills and talents but without it, it’ll be useless. But be careful, don’t be overconfident that you’ll sound cocky and arrogant. 
  • Right Attitude. There is always a right attitude and behavior in every situation. Remember that our attitude towards something has a great impact for us to be there, to the place where we really want to be. 
  • Listen. It is very essential. Most of us talk but don’t listen. Most of us hear but don’t listen. Listen to the other party who’s talking. Give him/her a chance to explain his/her side. It shouldn’t be always you who do the talking. Sometimes, what people need are listeners. 
  • Pick your Battles Wisely. Know well who you’re dealing with. Don’t mess with people who can easily drag you out of the equation. You don’t have to move forward all the time. Sometimes, you have to take a step backward, think wisely and move two steps forward.
  • Power of Words. Bear in mind that words are so powerful. Use them wisely. Sometimes, with a carefully sewn words and proper tone of voice, you’ll get what you want. 
  • Develop Network. Meet new people. Build relationships. Don’t talk to them just because you want something in return from them. Using people is very different from building a genuine relationship. 
  • Be Proactive. Always think ahead of tomorrow. If you want success to be in your hands, think always about the day after tomorrow. Be proactive, not reactive. Always think of the worst case scenario, have contingency plans, so when they come along the way, you’re well-equipped and you can deal with them easily. 
  • Be Visionary. Always have a clear vision of yourself and what you really want to be. Look at there straight. Don’t look anywhere else which will change your course towards it. 
  • Think out of the Box. If you’re just going with the flow or contented with he mainstream, nothing will happen. Have those wild ideas. Be innovative. What we see around us are products of crazy and wild imaginations. 
  • Update Yourself. Don’t be contented on what you already know. Keep on learning. Read and read. Watch news. This is a fast-pacing century and you never know when your learnings will be outdated. 
  • Adopt to Change. Don’t resist it. It’ll be harder in your part. Remember that change is the only permanent thing on earth. Embrace it especially when it’ll do you something good, or beneficial on your part. 
  • Adversity Quotient. It is a common notion that those persons who have a high IQ becomes successful but it is not. It’t not even EQ. But AQ. Life is full of path holes. So if you aren’t tough, you won’t make it. 
  • Look in the Past. Don’t dwell in it. There are lessons from the past which can really be applicable to your current situations. 
  • Keep your Conscience clean. Do things which are legally and morally accepted. 
  • Enjoy. This is the key secret. This life is stressful, difficult, crucial and hard. So if you’ll take it very seriously, you’ll be more pressured and stressed. Enjoy. Treat yourself. Take a break. You need it. 
That’s what life is, pretty much: full of holes and tangles and ways to get stuck. Uncomfortable and itchy. A present you never asked for, never wanted, never chose. A present you’re supposed to be excited to wear, day after day, even when you’d rather stay in bed and do nothing.
—  Lauren Oliver, Vanishing Girls
To the tune of Untitled 3 by Sigur Rós

“Dear you,

And I have always meant, you.

Nothing would be the same if you did not exist.”—Sierra DeMulder

I. In meditation sessions,
you are told to be aware of your whole body,
of your hands,
your fingertips,
each small thread of nerves as it is pulled and relaxed,
the tickle of oxygen as it vibrates in your bloodstream,
the rhythm of your breath,
the waltz of tears and fluttering eyelashes.

Remember, this body is more than just a body,
or the vessel for a song,
or the ocean that is the floating of your sadness.
It is a heartbeat instrument,
this rush and gentle diminuendo,
the orchestras that live in your voice-box.
You are more than manuscript paper and rosin,
more than the creak of wood and spinning compass,
you are not the siren that bends the spirits of sailors
but the wind that guides love home,
the same wind that has reddened your face
and turned the insides of your wrists raw.

On the days you are struggling to keep
survival in your lungs, you imagine bodies of water,
the sturdy redwoods of California,
something that is so big that your hurt
can easily hide or be swallowed into.
Hope sometimes does not feel like a trustworthy life-raft,
but instead distant and full of holes.

There are beautiful things that grow even in the strongest storms.
The fear that falls in forests does not make a sound,
but provides the potential for rebuilding,
the chance to grow roots,
to draft the treehouse you dreamed of when you were a child,
to see the sanctuary of peace,
the lightning bugs rising freely in a pink and sensitive sky,
the mending of the scorched tree-rings in you chest
from all of the times you have set yourself on fire,
from all of the times you convinced yourself that you are not worthy of living.
How off this world’s gravity would be if you were not here to share this space,
the heaviness and joy of this universe,
to not have someone to spend moments with staring up at all of the stars and let our imaginations adventure like pirates or astronauts,
how the calm of our nostalgia lets us imagine a better place
instead of leaving this world completely.

II. In meditation sessions,
you are told to be aware of your whole body;
your spirit,
the galaxies in your irises,
how you are needed here despite
all of the distorted notes and sinking.
You have been creating symphonies just by simply existing.