book to give

anonymous asked:

Voyager is by far my favorite book so I give no fucks for what comes next. For me they can end the serie after it and would be a bless this fu**** fandom coming to an end! The friendships I made because of it don't depend of this mess. We are far beyond people that are only linked by liking these books, the show and these actors which the only interest in us, it's clear now, is to get fame, new jobs and our money to their charities.

I give way to many fucks about what comes next because A BREATH OF SNOW AND ASHES! How can you say some shit like that?! Gah! You are going to jinx it…. Take it back 🔪

If I have to go on virtual dress up picnics with no food with the trash bag for the next few years, so be it. Worth it!

I must see:

“Kill them all,” he said to Fergus, his voice still calm.

AND…..

She took one huge breath and her body relaxed all at once, going limp and heavy like a dying hare.
He held her, both arms wrapped around her as though to save her from drowning, but felt her sink away all the same. He wished to call out to her not to go, not to leave him alone. She vanished into the depths of sleep, and he yearned after her, wishing her healed, fearing her flight, and bent his head, burying his face in her hair and her scent.
The wind banged the open shutters as it passed, and in the dark outside, one owl hooted and another answered, hiding from the rain.
Then he cried, soundless, muscles strained to aching that he might not shake with it, that she might not wake to know it. He wept to emptiness and ragged breath, the pillow wet beneath his face. Then lay exhausted beyond the thought of tiredness, too far from sleep even to recall what it was like. His only comfort was the small, so fragile weight that lay warm upon his heart, breathing.

AND THIS:

“You must continue, for their sakes—though you would not for your own,” he had whispered, Fergus’s face pressed into his shoulder, the black hair wet with sweat and water, cold against his cheek. “Tu comprends, mon enfant, mon fils? Comprends-tu?”
I felt his throat move as he swallowed.
“See, I kent ye were dying,” he said very softly. “I was sure ye’d be gone when I came back to the house, and I should be alone. I wasna speaking to Fergus then, I think, so much as to myself.”
He raised his head then, and looked at me through a blur of tears and laughter.
“Oh, God, Claire,” he said, “I would have been so angry, if ye’d died and left me!”

AND….

“You gave her … tenderness. I know you did.”
He turned to me, suddenly, and my face was pressed into his coat, the cloth of it damp and rough on my skin, my tears blooming in tiny warm patches that vanished at once into the chill of the fabric.
“Oh, Claire,” he whispered into my hair. I reached up, and could feel wetness on his cheeks. “She said—she wished to keep ye alive for me. And she meant it; she didna mean to take anything for herself.”
I cried then, holding nothing back. For empty years, yearning for the touch of a hand. Hollow years, lying beside a man I had betrayed, for whom I had no tenderness. For the terrors and doubts and griefs of the day. Cried for him and me and for Mary MacNab, who knew what loneliness was—and what love was, as well.

ANNNNND…..


“Knew you’d come,” I whispered into the linen of his shirt. He reeked of fire: smoke and pinesap and scorched cloth, and the bitter tang of turpentine. Reeked of stale sweat and horses, the weariness of a man who has not slept, who has labored all night, the faint yeasty smell of long hunger.
He held me close, ribs and breath and warmth and muscle, then put me away from him a little and looked down into my face. He had been smiling since I saw him. It lit his eyes, and without a word, he pulled the cap off my head and threw it over the rail. He ran his hands through my hair, fluffing it out into abandon, then cupped my head in his hands and kissed me, fingers digging into my scalp. He had a three-day beard, which rasped my skin like sandpaper, and his mouth was home and safety.

This:

“I love you,” he said, so softly that I barely heard him, close as we were.
I lay still for a moment, feeling the stone grow warmer in the palm of my hand. Surely it was imagination that made it seem to throb in time with my heart. Where on earth had he gotten it?
Then I moved—not suddenly, but with deliberation, my body sliding slowly free of his. I rose, feeling light-headed, and crossed the room. Pushed open the window to feel the sharp touch of the autumn wind on my naked bed-warm skin, and drawing back my arm, hurled the tiny object into the night.
Then I came back to bed, saw his hair a dark mass on the pillow, and the shine of his eyes in the moonlight.
“I love you,” I whispered, and slid under the sheet beside him, putting my arms around him, hugging him close, warmer than the stone—so much warmer—and his heart beat with mine.
“I’m none so brave as I was before, ken?” he said very softly. “Not brave enough to live without ye anymore.”
But brave enough to try.
I drew his head down to me, stroking the tumble of his hair, coarse and smooth at once, live beneath my fingers.
“Lay your head, man,” I said softly. “It’s a long time ’til dawn.”

This is not a goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go.
I love you, T.
—  Message In A Bottle by Nicholas Sparks
Dear TS,

Solve all your problems with one concert. Please book a massive venue and give out all the tickets for free. Book every possible media outlet to cover it, make sure it’s broadcast - and available for free - on TV, online, on vlive. Promote and advertise the shi*t out of it, leave no stone unturned -

The boys will take care of the rest. 

Then, just sit back and watch their star rise to where it belongs. 

Do this. You unthinking, short-term gain, pirate numbskulls.

Sincerely (hoping you don’t f-up again),

BABYz 🌹

10

Hard to argue with that logic.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

(Thank you to the MANY lovely people that recommended this scene from Deathly Hallows!)

Meeting your soul mate is like walking into a house you’ve been in before - you will recognize the furniture, the pictures on the wall,the books on the shelves, the contents of drawers: You could find your way around in the dark if you had to.
—  Jandy Nelson, I’ll Give You the Sun
Gay books you should READ

you over there! you want to read gay books? YA gay books? good, here’s the must must MUST read books, and when you read one let me know eh? any ways enjoy!

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Silent by Sara Alva

One Man Guy by Michael Barakiva

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Gives Light by Rose Christo

Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

Tales from Foster High by John Goode

Half Bad Books (Half Bad, Half Wild, Half Lost) by Sally Green 

Totally Joe by James Howe

After School Activities by Dirk Hunter

The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight by Jeff Jacobson

Haffling by Caleb James

The Red Sheet by Mia Kerick

The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune

Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

Boy Meets Boy by David Leviathan

How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

When Ryan Came Back by Devon McCormack

Hero by Perry Moore

Teeth by Hannah Moskowitz

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

Play Me, I’m Yours by Madison Parker

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reid

The Hammer of Thor by Rick Riordan

The Hidden Oracle by Rick Riordan

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

So Hard to Say by Alex Sanchez

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

Freak Show by James St. James 

Ray of Sunlight by Brynn Stein

(In)visible by Anyta Sunday

366 Days by Kiyoshi Tanaka

Because You’ll Never Meet Me by Leah Thomas

Fan Art by Sarah Tregay

Suicide Watch by Kelley York

if you have any questions need help picking something else, want to tell me about a book, really anything send me an ask I’m open 24/7 don’t be shy 

Maybe, I just ask for too much.
Maybe, I give too much expecting the same in return.
Maybe, I should stop being disappointed when I’m alone again.
—  Excerpt from the book I’ll never write// Maybe…
FMA art book 3 giveaway

I’m giving away the third Fullmetal Alchemist art book! 130+ pages of delightful Arakawa art.

To enter the giveaway, just reblog and like this post, and I will use a random number generator to pick a winner. Multiple reblogs will not be counted. I will ship to anywhere in the world. A small doodle will be included. 

The winner will be picked January 20th, book will be shipped shortly after.  

Happy New Year folks!