constant failing

Sitting down to work and suddenly hearing “Hey, you’re not busy, can you-” from the doorway

Originally posted by slytherin-bookworm-guy

Don’t think about Clarke fondly watching Lexa and their daughter nap, don’t think about clarke filling her sketchbook with drawings of the two people that give her heart a reason to beat, don’t think about Lexa being the huge push-over parent and Clarke having to constantly chastise her two warriors, don’t think about Lexa cherishing every single moment she has with the two of them because she just doesn’t get enough hours in the day to be Lexa and not Heda, don’t think about Clarke soothing away her worries at night, don’t think about the insecurities they have as parents, don’t think about their constant fears of failing their natblida, don’t think about all the angst and arguments that arise from that, but definitely don’t think about how their worries were for not, how their daughter is the perfect combination of the two of them, how she ends up being the most compassionate and cunning commander the earth has ever seen, how she never let’s anyone forget how her mother’s saved the world ten times over, but whatever you do, definitely don’t think about all the wasted potential this show threw away, just don’t do it.

Drabble Part 2/5

A/N: It’s so strange… I’ll be writing something super sad one second, then something super fluffy the next. Drabbles are weird. XD

Words: 3440

11. (Arno Dorian)

It was a grueling truth, the reality that you may very well die. You looked down at your crimson stained hands, the heat of the thick liquid contrasting with your rapidly cooling body. Death was holding you in its crushing grip, dragging you down, and somehow you were still holding on. Because of him, you realized. You were holding on for Arno.

“Just a little while longer.” He rasped, his feet heavy against the stone rooftop as he shifted you uncomfortably in his arms. Every movement had you crying out, jolting the fiery pain to life. If it wasn’t for the startling fear in Arno’s eyes, you were positive you would’ve already been amongst the dead. But you couldn’t leave him. Your head lolled against his chest, eyelids heavy as you began drifting off. “No,” Arno’s shout startled you back into semi-consciousness. “I’m not losing you today, you hear me?” A hum left your parted lips as you held onto him tightly. Just a little bit longer… “Please,” he begged, the wind whipping against your face as he sprinted even faster, pushing himself to the max. “Don’t leave me like this.”

“Arno,” you choked, your vision swimming. You just needed to hold on… Just… His worried voice was drowned out by the blood rushing around your mind, your heart slowing in your chest. Maybe if you just closed your eyes…

12. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you back as you jumped. You fell into his hard body, both of you hitting the ground painfully.

“What?” You seethed as quietly as you could, your eyes flickering between him and your target as you stood back on your feet, dusting yourself off.

“You can not go yet.” He explained as if it made total sense to pull you back from the man who was in perfect position for your blade.

“I need to go,” you argued, pointing down at your target. “If he moves, it will be too hard to find another place to strike. Now is the perfect opportunity.”

“Have you learned nothing?” He hissed, hand tight on your white robes. “What would you do after you had taken his life?”

“I would run there.” You pointed to the stacked boxes that stopped about halfway to the top of a nearby building. “Then I would wait in the hay cart on the other side of the building. After I can scale that building and move along the rooftops silently and efficiently.” You stated dryly, knowing that there was nothing for him to argue. Unfortunately, he was stubborn.

“And what if you get caught by them?” He gestured to two rather large guards waiting by the exit of the alley you were in. “You could not fight them off.” Ouch.

“Are you questioning my ability, Altaïr?” Your voice was laced with annoyance, his haughty tone doing nothing to quell your anger. You’d trained for the majority of your life and you were confident in your abilities.

“That is not what I meant.” He backtracked, hands held up in surrender. “I only mean that you could get injured or worse.”

“That’s part of being an Assassin.” You retorted, watching as his jaw tensed beneath the shadow of his hood.

“Just,” he paused, almost as if he didn’t think he should finish, “be careful.” Half of your mouth tilted up in a smile, a hand pulling your hood down to obscure your face.

“I always am.”

13. (Ezio Auditore)

You sighed heavily into the shining, noon sky. Rome was bustling below, the yells of merchants and buyers alike ringing throughout the heat of day. Pulling both knees to your chest, you watched as men and women prepared for the event to come. You really didn’t want to go to this ball, but your father hadn’t given you much of a choice. There was a sudden change in the atmosphere; where the sun had once shone, a shadow now cast over.

“Ezio,” you greeted stiffly, not bothering to look up at the Assassin.

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, taking a seat next to you. You sent a half smile in his direction, your hands playing with your white robes.

“I needed time to think.”

“For the ball,” Ezio nodded, his muscles tensing. “What happened to your date?” His voice was bitter, a scowl on his scarred lips. That gave you pause, your lips turning up in realization.

“You’re jealous!” You laughed, his scowl deepening at your accusation.

“I am not.” He argued. Continuing to chuckle, you stood up with your hands on your hips.

“You, Ezio Auditore, are jeal-” Your sentence was cut off with a squeak as your back hit the stone tiles roughly, wide eyes looking up to Ezio.

“I am not jealous.” His eyes were like fire, burning every bit of your body they went over. He jerked you up, dropping his mouth against yours vigorously. You moaned against the heat of him, his tongue thrusting in between your lips at the movement. Everything suddenly felt too hot, his hands roaming all over your body with determined curiosity. When he finally felt satisfied, he stood up, leaving you lying on the ground and breathing heavily. You followed his movements a moment afterwards, watching him curiously. He hadn’t moved, instead observing you as his fingers slid along his lips, almost as if just realizing what he’d done. You wanted him, needed him to repeat his actions.

“Jealous,” you breathed, laughing as you took off across the rooftop. You didn’t even have to hear his steps heavy against the stone to know he was following.

14. (Shay Cormac)

The hand on your hip wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the one you wanted. The blue eyes shining beneath the lights, crinkled up as he laughed, were not the ones you wished to stare into. The crisp accent that sounded whenever he spoke wasn’t the one you needed to hear. But it didn’t matter. Shay wasn’t there, and even if he was, he would never think of you the same way you thought of him. He was too guarded, too untrusting to allow you that close to him. A soft groan left your parted lips as you tried to tune into the conversation once again. He was talking about trading stuff, at least you thought he was. He could also be talking about his family. You hadn’t the slightest, and honestly, you couldn’t care less. You were scanning the area, your eyes attempting to adjust to the overly bright lights. They really did try too hard at these things. That was when you spotted the dark gaze, looking to you with more intensity than you’d ever seen before. You wanted to call to Shay, but you were cut off before you could start by lips upon your own. It took you by surprise, prompting you to stand absolutely frozen for a whole minute. It wasn’t right, the person you wanted more than anything not being the one moving against your lips. By the time you actually realized what was happening, the man had been thrown off of you by your leather clad savior.

“Shay,” you breathed, watching him intently. He ignored the gasps of the crowds, picking you up with a stiff arm beneath your legs and one behind your back. His movements were swift and silent, that of a trained killer. Your eyes were on his jaw, clenched with tension. Despite how angry he seemed to be, his hands were still holding you as gently as possible. “Shay,” you ground out, trying to understand what he was doing. He slammed you against the side of the estate, keeping you trapped in between his arms while his knee came up to rub in between your legs.

“You’re mine.” He growled, hands working furiously on removing your clothing. You shivered, whether from the actual cold or Shay’s expression, you weren’t entirely sure.

15. (Shay Cormac)

The clatter of your sword hitting the stone reverberated throughout the night sky, weighing down on the two of you like you were carrying the world itself. Your eyes were heavy, reality finally dawning on you. No matter what he’s done, no matter how long he’s been away, you can’t hurt him. You dropped your head, your arms laying limply by your sides.

“I can’t,” you whispered, not daring to look up to him. “I won’t,” you stated louder than before. His leather boots groaned against the cobblestone as he walked towards you, the sound of metal on metal as he re sheathed his blades. A heavy, warm hand rested on your shoulder, prompting you to look into his dark gaze. His eyes were shining with pain, hurt etched across his expression.

“I never wanted to do this.” His voice was barely audible above the distant sounds of the city, the happy cheering only furthering the dampened mood. “I was forced to.” You lifted a hand, placing it ever so softly against his heated cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, a hand raking through his dark hair as he buried his head into your chest, wrapping you in a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” you repeated again, his hot tears rolling down your chest. You closed your eyes against the wave of emotion, holding him even closer.

“He wants you dead,” he muttered against your skin, his tears still wet against your clothing.

“I know.” And you did. Haytham Kenway had every reason to want you dead. You were an Assassin who had gotten in his way more than enough times to pose a threat. Although, you looked down at the top of Shay’s head, moonlight reflecting off the black tresses, you would never pose a threat to him. You never could; Templar or not, you loved the man.

“I love you,” he said lowly, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“And I love you.” Slowly, he pulled back from your embrace, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

“Go,” he whispered, “Please.” His voice was broken, face twisted in pain. “I can’t…” He trailed off, looking to the ground shamefully. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “But, Shay, I don’t wish to leave you.”

“I’ll find you again,” he stood a little straighter, determination lacing his tone. “I’ll find you when this is all over and I swear to you, I will make this right.” You nodded, backing away from him. “Just don’t forget me.” His voice was carried by the wind as you ran, your vision blurring with the onslaught of tears and your heart breaking within your chest.

16. (Edward Kenway)

Admittedly, you’d had way too many drinks. But hey, the suave captain sure as hell didn’t seem to be complaining. In fact, he almost seemed to be enjoying it. It’s not like you were doing anything that different than normal, you were just a little less reserved. Your touches lingered a little longer, your words purposely holding double meanings. You couldn’t help it, you were much too drunk and he was much too attractive. You took another swig of your rum, laughing at something one of the drunken crew members said.

“Hand me a little more rum, lass.” Edward whispered, his lips moving against your ear. You shivered, smiling at his wink as you picked up a tankard of rum. You placed a hand on his upper thigh, leaning across the table to hand him the drink. His eyes followed you, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he watched you hungrily.

“This what you want?” You asked, shifting more weight onto the hand on his thigh while simultaneously moving it higher. His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly, his hand taking the drink from you and placing it on the table.

“Oh, you are just asking for it now.” His voice was husky, causing you to bite your lip while thoughts of him using that tone in other, more pleasurable, scenarios assaulted your mind. He leaned forward again, all the sounds and smells of the tavern drifting away as his breath danced around your cheek. He was speaking, telling you something, but you were too focused on the smell of salt, leather, and alcohol emanating from him. He pulled back, a smirk on his face and primal intent shining in his crystal orbs. Unfortunately, you didn’t hear a word he said. Deciding to take a chance, you squeezed his thigh and sent a wink, abandoning the table in favor of leaving the stuffy pub. You weren’t certain he followed you, at least not until you felt the gentle yet firm hand against the small of your back.

17. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

Your scowl deepened at the look of disappointment in his eyes, your arms unconsciously crossing over your chest despite the ache of protest from your ribs.

“I was doing my job.” You stated curtly, moving your gaze from the Master Assassin. He was angry with you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’d only done what was asked of you; nothing more and nothing less.

“You almost got yourself killed,” he argued, a clamp sounding as he took a step forward. “You were meant to finish your target, not die.”

“I didn’t die.” You ground out, motioning wildly to yourself. You clenched your jaw at the pain that came with the action. “I’m still alive, see?”

“You were barely alive when you stumbled back here.” Both hands held tightly onto the sheets, your eyes diverting down. Maybe you had been a little reckless, but it wasn’t on purpose. You hadn’t meant to get yourself nearly killed. It was entirely an accident. “Did you ever think of how that would make me feel?” Your head snapped up, jaw dropped as he continued in the most irritated of tones. “Do you know what I’d do if you died? If I never saw you again?” He was getting more and more hysterical with each word, finally abandoning talking in favor of wrapping both arms around your upper half. “I thought I’d lost you.” You closed your eyes, softly raking a hand through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

18. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

His eyes were on you like an eagle readying himself for the kill. You had no idea what you’d done to make Altaïr so angry, but it was almost scary. Although, the intensity that you were sure was meant to intimidate you, just aroused you further. He was an attractive man; anybody could see that. But it was more than just his looks that aroused you, it was the way he acted so confidently. Unfortunately, that confidence was giving you pause at the moment. He seemed so sure about something, so angry about whatever it was. So much so that it had you thinking back to every single wrong thing you’d ever done to the man. The list was quite short and none of them happened recently, but still, something was on his mind. You were snapped out of your reverie when a hand whipped out of nowhere, tugging you into a bedroom. Your back was slammed against rough stone, eyes wide as you looked to your hooded assaulter. Altaïr’s muscles were stiff, his frame trapping you against the wall.

“Altaïr,” you breathed, not sure if you should be relieved it was him or only more alert.

“(Y/N).” His voice was strange, the underlying tension bubbling to the surface.

“What are you doing?” You inquired, watching him as his gaze moved down your body slowly.

“I’m sick of watching silently as you tease me everyday.” He growled, eyes blazing.

“Wha-” He cut you off, lips rough against your own. You were frozen, lips parted and eyes still open. Taking the opportunity, he slipped his velvety tongue inside your mouth, hands tightening on your wrists. He tasted of mint and cinnamon and tentatively, you responded to his kiss causing him to drop your hands in favor of holding your face between his palms as he explored your lips with fervor. You were practically putty in his hands, following every one of his bold movements. He didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, his body touching every bit of your own. And, you leaned into his touches, you couldn’t be more glad.

19. (Shay Cormac)

Your combined laughs echoed around the hall as you continued walking down the wooden walkway, Shay by your side. The two of you were reminiscing of past times, something you did quite often, as you made your way to your respective bedrooms. It was a rather nice inn, one that Haytham no doubt picked out. He could be a little… overly grand at times. Oh well, you looked to the Irishman with shining eyes, you’d endure anything Haytham could throw at you so long as you got to spend time with Shay. He smiled warmly back, watching you curiously as you moved to open your door.

“No, that’s the wrong- oh, dammit.” Your eyes were wide, Shay standing directly behind you. It was like everyone was frozen, Hickey looking quite mad as he looked over the woman on top of him to you guys. Your mouth was opening and closing, nothing coming out of it as you just simply shorted out.

“What the ‘ell.” Hickey yelled, glaring at you two.

“I, uh,” Shay tugged at your arm, slamming the door shut to close off the view. “Oh my God,” you laughed, a hand over your mouth as you doubled over. Shay’s chuckle was much deeper as he pulled you down to where your room actually was. “I did not expect that.” Shay was shaking his head, eyes shining with amusement.

“You shouldn’t expect anything less than that from Hickey, lass.” He laughed, warm hand on your shoulder.

“What about from you?” You questioned boldy, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Aye, you could expect more.” His voice was soft, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek gently.

“Then show me.” You challenged.

20. (Connor)

It was too hot, the sheets too uncomfortable against your skin, but you couldn’t move. Not because you were afraid of waking Connor up, but just because you genuinely couldn’t move. He had you wrapped in his two strong arms, one leg thrown over yours, and his head tucked into your neck. Not only that, but he slept like a bear.

“Connor,” you growled, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. He held on strong, his grip tightening the more you moved. “Dammit, Connor, wake up!” You yelled, flopping around in his arms like a fish out of water. You kept yelling his name, pushing as best you could from inside his embrace, but nothing seemed to be working. “Ratohnhaké:ton,” you screamed, kicking your legs around.

“What?” He questioned, one brown eye peeking open to observe you.

“Move. Over.” You replied, pushing him back.

“Keep still,” he argued, cuddling back into you.

“Connor,” you whined, continuing to move in his embrace. “It’s hot.” This time both eyes opened, his arms holding you even tighter.

“I wish to hold you.” He whispered, a red tint staining his cheeks. That took you by surprise.

“I’m still going to be right here.” You shrugged, watching him curiously. He looked oddly distressed at the thought of having to let you go.

“I know, I just…” he muttered, trailing off when he thought it necessary. You lifted a hot palm to his warm cheeks, a small smile on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Ratohnhaké:ton?” For a second, he didn’t look as if he was going to answer, his eyes flitting down to where your bodies were touching.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d have to be alone. And,” the intensity in his gaze when he looked up was startling, “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be without you.” Your heart clenched painfully, both arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

“I will never leave you.” You promised, resting your forehead against his. “So long as I walk this Earth, I will always love you, Ratohnhaké:ton.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, head moving up and down with his nod.

“May I please hold you?” He asked, voice light. It may be hot as hell, but you weren’t about to deny him that.

“Always,” you whispered, burying your head into his chest. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, the soft pitter-patter of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Before you drifted off, you heard him speak, tone barely audible.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Reasons to read my Noragami x Harry Potter AU

  • It’s Harry Potter everyone loves Harry Potter
  • Pureblood Slytherin Yato and Muggle Gryffindor Hiyori romance
  • Gryffindor Bishamon and Ravenclaw Kazuma romance
  • Hufflepuff Yukine and Suzuha romance
  • Slytherin Yato and Hufflepuff Yukine friendship
  • Gryffindor Hiyori/Bishamon friendship
  • Constant Yato fails
  • Daikoku and Kofuku as that Gross Teacher Couple
  • Kofuku as a potions teacher I mean what could go wrong
  • Takemika and Kiun also work at Hogwarts and the Tsundere is real
  • Hippogriff keeper Yato
  • Yato, Bishamon and Kazuma as their houses Quidditch Seekers
  • Making fun of Yukine’s height
  • Yato being a dork when teaching Hiyori stuff
  • Yato being Extra™
  • Tragic Past™ 
  • I’m not holding back on killing 17 characters 
  • So much planning, I’ve been working on this since September 
  • Lots of details like wands, patronus, houses, blood-type, teachers
  • Scenes from actual series included coughtrollscenecough 
  • It’s going to be a longass slow burn fic
  • I mean seriously I’m covering all 7 books this will be a slow burn
  • A N G S T
  • I’ve been coerced into writing fluff too so that’s nice *coughyuleballcough*
  • Multiple characters giving no fucks
  • Sass
  • P A R A L E L L S
  • I solemnly swear I will update every month (pretty much when I need to give someone a birthday present which is at least once a month)
  • Art work from my queens @eerna @paperypiper and @skyheaven1231
  • An AU of my AU by my queen @scarfblogs
  • I also try to draw stuff but that’s not important 
  • #spon
Writing about love

I am writing about love

You know the love that we do not speak of, but feel. This is the love the world does not know about. I wonder if it would ever comprehend, or accept.

We do not speak of this love. But, I am proud of it beyond words.

People crave shadows as the constant companion. They fail to see shadows abandon us in the darkness where we need the love to stay. In darkness and in light this love exists within my core, committed to memory – in silence.

Your skin embedded onto mine, beyond a moment. Like fingerprints it is a blueprint that is ours and ours alone. But, we do not speak of it. We cannot. We love in silence.

The three acts to a romance – love, loss and love again. This is no artificial creation. Time was never on our side. We cannot accuse it of having betrayed us. It held its stance firm. But love knows no bounds - a pre-destined collision course with the softest touch.

Embedded within my core in words we share and the silences we treasure.

I am writing about love

You know the love that we do not speak of, but feel. This is the love the world does not know about. I wonder if it would ever comprehend, or accept.

We do not speak of this love. But, I am proud of it beyond words.

The Daring Dance Professor

The Daring Dance Professor

College Professor: 7 of 7

Word Count: 575

You were in your college’s dance group and you had a show to perform. Not only did you do a group dance, but you also had a solo dance, and a duet dance with you Professor, His official name was Professor Jung Hoseok, but sometimes he would let a certain person, you, call him his nickname given to him by his friends, J-Hope. You had other plan though you had already given him a nickname, Hobi, but you wouldn’t dare use it around the entire group. Hobi was an amazing dancer and to him so were you. That’s why you got to dance the duet with him. He also was the hottest thing since sliced bread in your book, so having a duet with him was heaven for you. It was a few weeks before the show, but you were always in the dance room practicing. One night, while practicing your solo, which was a little number you choreographed yourself, you just couldn’t get your jumps down. You would either fall, or not get enough rotation. While repeating this jump over and over you heard someone enter the practice room. This happened often so you didn’t mind, and continued to practice your jumps. “You’re over rotating (Y/N) that’s why you can’t land.” You heard this familiar voice and you knew it was you Professor, or in your case Hobi. You turned to look at him and saw he was in his practice cloths as well. “Did you come to practice the group stuff Hobi?” you asked him. He replied by setting down his water bottle and walking towards you. “Well yes, but since you’re having trouble, I’m going to help you.” He said while smiling. You looked at him thankfully and bowed to thank him “Ah you don’t have to do that (Y/N) were only a year apart in age so don’t treat me like an old man.” Hobi said with a giggle. “Now let’s get this jump down.” You smiled and agreed. After an hour of constant explanation, jumping, and failing, you finally got the move down. “Finally! Thank you Hobi it would have taken me ages if I tried to do that myself.” You said as you gathered your things. “Where do you think you’re going (Y/N)?” He asked looking very confused, tired, and of course cute. “Well I was going to go back to my dorm, I’ve finished practicing what I needed to.” You replied. “But by the way you’re looking at me you have other plans.” You said with a smirk. “Well since both of us are here why don’t we practice our duet?” He said looking directly into your eyes. You saw a glimpse of something you had never seen before. It made your heart race and your face flush. “Oh…yeah…of course…the duet…” You avoided eye contact with Hobi the whole practice. You two were so close the whole time so when you took a wrong step and began to fall you instantly wished you wouldn’t have. You hit the floor first then Hobi on top of you He instantly pushed himself onto his hands while straddling you “Are you OK (Y/N)?” Hobi asked slightly panicking. “I’m fine, and so are you.” You blurted out, surprised by your own words. Again you saw that same look in Hobi’s eyes. “How about I show you how fine I can be?” He said with a smirk as he began grinding on you.

Originally posted by zutterv

Top 10 Stephen King Novels

1. The Dark Tower: Ok, that’s a series of novels but I honestly can’t help but think of them as one long continuous story. If I tried to break them out, they would end up taking up the entire top 10 list! But anyway…. I’m a total Tower junkie. I can never get enough. Currently in the middle of yet another read through! It’s hard to encapsulate what I love about the Dark Tower. I can never put into words the feeling I get when I read it. It’s like reading abut something I know. I pick it up and the words are how I see the world and how I feel about the world. In the character’s voices I hear myself, or who I think I am, or who I’d like to be, or who I wouldn’t like to be. I read it and it’s like I’m there. I can feel the grains of sand in the desert and I can smell the sea and I taste gun-smoke and I see an endless sky where clouds show the path of the beam. Over the years, I have struggled and my faith and belief in the world has been tested, but the Tower remains constant. It never fails me. And so I return, again and again.

2.IT: For many fans, the decision comes down to IT and The Stand for which is King’s best book. I love both books but IT is always better, in my opinion. When I read it, I just feel endless summer nostalgia. And I feel closer to my hometown.

3. The Stand: See above. The Stand is a book that stays with me in odd ways. It’s the goodness in the book I’m drawn to. People like Nick Andros and Tom Cullen, M-O-O-N, that spells Tom, who are flawed humans that are touched by something special and pure. The image of everyone in Boulder getting emotional at the first town meeting. And it’s also the emptiness that I’m drawn to. The empty roads and empty houses and empty skies. I live on a main street (haha) and it’s usually busy enough, but sometimes it’s quiet and there are no cars and no sounds of lawnmowers and no planes overhead and the there is a soft breeze and the flags on the telephone poles gently wave and I wonder what it would be like….

4. Salem’s Lot: It’s a classic, folks. I don’t think it gets more classic than Salem’s Lot. The only Stephen King book that made me sleep with the lights on when I first read it. I think what I like most is that the evil is a subtle, creeping darkness that slowly takes over and only becomes violent when challenged. It’s ominous. And creepy. And i love to be scared.

5. Rage/The Long Walk: Ok, so we have a tie. Both were written under the pseudonym Richard Bachman and both are rather cynical tales. I guess maybe I’m a cynical person, deep down, though I tell myself I;m a realist. I hope for the best but expect the worst and that sounds cliche but I really mean that I have hope, such hope, for good things but it is stained by the cold truth that it will be the worst. I think these books hold that quality…. some how.

6. Lisey’s Story: So now that I’ve bared my cynical soul, I will tell you that I love this love story. I like the retelling of their love because it’s a real love. It’s rough and imperfect and not some fairy tale. Which is wild because so much of Scott’s other life is a fairy tale (a dark one.) And man, I love Boo’ya Moon. It’s an other world unlike anything else I’ve ever read and I yearn for it’s purple hill and red sky. 

7. Desperation: I love that this book has a counterpart (The Regulators). But I read this one first and so for me, this is the one closest to my heart. I really enjoy the religious/spiritual aspect of the novel. Spirituality is an important part of who I am (though I never discuss it outside of my own self much) and I think this book made me think about God and my faith and my own place in the universe. 

8. The Talisman: This was my favorite book prior to reading the Dark Tower. I guess I have a thing for other worlds. If i could flip over into the Territories I would. In a second. Half a second, half a blink. And again, I love the goodness int he book. Especially in Wolf. This book has one of the most heartbreaking deaths in any book I’ve ever read.

9. The Regulators: So Desperation is close to my heart but this one ain’t so far behind! Man, this book is wild. A totally original concept that really kept me guessing at every turn. Beware though, it is high on the violence. although, even that is kinda great to read because you just never know when things are going to shift for good or bad.

10. From a Buick 8: I think one of the reasons I love this book so much is because I went to school to be a police officer and I loved police growing up.So this book is perfect for me. It has all of my favorite things: police, rural area, Dark Tower connection, other worlds. And I enjoy the way a close knit group of people can keep a secret. And how they pull together for their own.

So there you have it! What’s in your top 10?

In which Dean Winchester watches that show about ice skating because Charlie keeps bugging him about it, and Cas tags along. 

“Oh look, they kissed. I was right after all, Dean.”
“Jesus, Cas! That wasn’t a kiss, it was just a very dedicated hug, they were hugging.

Admittedly, the only reason Dean Winchester started watching that random anime that included ice skating, was because Charlie Bradbury -the sister he never wanted, but totally adored-, kept endlessly bugging him about it. Claiming that it had changed her life, or whatever. Begging Dean to watch it too so that they could geek out over it together, because she needed a buddy to fangirl with, doh.

It wasn’t Dean’s usual genre at all, but on a rainy Sunday afternoon when the bunker was quiet and boredom took over, he gave in and decided to give it a try. If only to make his friend happy, or to see what the fuss was all about.

He made himself comfortable on his bed, balancing his laptop on his legs, clicking on the first episode, rather skeptical when a cheesy song started playing as the intro began.

“What the-?” He sputtered to himself, but kept watching anyway.

Twenty minutes later, he understood, kinda. The show was strangely addictive. There was some humor, the main character was easy to relate to, and at some point Dean had a brief flashback to how he’d felt that one time when Gabriel let him believe that he was meeting his idol Doctor Sexy. Not to mention the other side of it all; the constant fear to fail or never being enough for anyone or anything.

He was about to eagerly click episode two, when a gentle knock on his door interrupted him, and Castiel walked in without waiting for a reply.

“Heya, Cas!” Dean greeted amiably, not bothered by it in the slightest; the personal space between them had gone out of the window altogether now that Cas was living in the bunker too. “Joining team bored?” He added, already scooting over to make room for the angel.

“So it would seem.” Castiel nodded, giving Dean an almost-smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes. “Or perhaps I just like spending time with you.”

Dean ducked his head to hide his blush as Cas made himself at home on Dean’s bed, right there beside Dean, their shoulders firmly pressed together.

“What are we watching?” Castiel asked as Dean clicked ‘play’.

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Afraid of Home

OneShot - DeanXReader

Warnings: slight angst, some fluff, all around feels

Overview: The reader turns Dean away. What happens when she’s the one that needs him?

Word Count: 1,124

I’d said no.

It had been a long hunt, the kind where you got out by the skin of your teeth and left too many bodies in your wake. We’d managed to save a few people, but the death toll was still too high. We should have found the case sooner, we should have noticed the pattern more quickly, we shouldn’t have taken that extra day to survey, we should have saved them… All of the “should have’s” weighed heavily on our minds as we made the long drive back to the bunker. No one wanted to sleep in the motel that night – no one wanted to dwell in the blood filled memories. So we left the town far behind us.

The gentle knock had woken me from a sleep I had barely been able to force myself into. I sat up, immediately tense as the remaining traces of adrenaline from the past few days pumped its way through my system. The knock sounded again, even softer than before. I could sense the hesitancy behind it.

“Who’s there?” I whispered. My voice carried through the quiet of the room. I heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door, and my eyes watched the faint shadows they cast through the small crack by the floor.

“It’s…it’s Dean.” He cleared his throat, his voice low and heavy. “Can I…is it ok if I come in?”

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anonymous asked:

At first the bargain between Rhysand and Feyre was something I considered romantic. Like coming full circle. But then the more I thought about it the more uncomfortable I was becoming with it. I do not know how to feel about it still honestly.

It does not sit well with you because it really shouldn’t. It is extremely problematic. It was detrimental to the whole evolution of the relationship of Rhysand and Feyre and honestly a very sour note.

And the underlined message of this conclusion is extremely unsettling. And the way it is presented even more.

Think about what that bargain actually meant. Yes Rhysand and Feyre have a very long life expectancy and are considered immortals however they are not. Not really. This is why they can procreate. This is why there is a history of many High Lords in the line of succession. Come to think about it both Rhysand and Feyre in a span of a year died. Life even for High Fae is not a certainty. Their mortality is not out of reach. And no one can predict the future. They could live for centuries, or forever or they could die tomorrow. This is the premise of their story. But according to that they made a bargain where they made a pact of death. A suicide pact in truth.

Just the idea that one person cannot survive the death of their beloved one (or of anyone for that matter) and wants to die along with them aka commit instant suicide so not to face a world without another person is beyond unhealthy. And it sends all the wrong messages. And there are people that consider it to be the highlight of a romance when it is really an abusive conclusion in a journey that was meant to be anything but such.

Also….MORONS! We are talking about MORONS. How these people survived is beyond me. Aside all of their melodrama and constant failed planning how exactly did Feyre and Rhysand survive? Let us think about it. Let us think about it HARD.

Feyre survived her death because Rhysand was alive to pull her back. Rhysand survived his death because Feyre was alive to hold on to him and force the others to bring him back. If they had already made that bargain before the final battle for example they would not be alive now. They would be dead. How romantic would that be.

Life is precious. When you love someone you want then to live. With or without you. Even after you. Life does not begin and end with a love story no matter how epic and powerful in might be. When you love someone you want the best for them. You want  them to truly live. You fight and you struggle and you make sure to love yourself too so to give love to others. You want those that you love to survive. You fight for them, and their happiness and their survival. That is the point of fighting. You fight for yourself and for those you love. If you go first you should want for those you love to find the strength to live and survive and move on from the pain and the loss and smile again. You want to be able to live through them again through every smile and memory and every act of life. You want them to build their life again. And if you are the one left behind then you honor those that have passed before by living. You honor the love you felt for them by loving yourself as they did you. And you live. First for you. Then for keeping alive those your love in memory and carry them with you. You mourn. You move on. You laugh and love again.

Otherwise what is the point? This story in the acotar universe was supposed to be a journey of love but also a journey of how survivors overcome their trauma and get to live. How they stand on their two feet. How they become strong individuals again and not just shades of people they used to be. Where did that go? Feyre loved Tamlin but no matter how much she loved him in the end she had to move on from him. For her own sake. So what is the message here? That Tamlin was an abuser but since Rhysand is not it is okay for Feyre to enter a controversial codependent relationship with him to the point where even her life will be forfeit without him? Vice versa the same counts for Rhysand. I am sorry but what the actual freaking bullshit is this?

Also should we talk about the promise of children. Both Rhysand and Feyre know that sooner or later down the road they will have at least a son. They have seen his face. How can you make a bargain that could potentially even leave your child an orphan down the road? What if one of them dies when their kid is still a child? What then? Oh how romantic for a baby or a kid or a teen to lose both of its parents because they got entangled to a toxic codependent relationship where they ended up making a bargain where the one party will practically commit instant suicide if the other one dies. THAT SHIT GOES UP AGAINST EVERYTHING ACOMAF SHOWED. Feyre and Rhysand went through abuse and PTSD and slowly tried to heal their wounds again. They wanted to teach each other how to be in a healthy relationship. How to stand on their feet and survive and move on.

And yes all romantic and nice but Feyre and Rhysand know each other for what? ONE YEAR? Where they got together under a lot of traumatic pressure only to jump to a traumatic war so to do what? Promise eternity or…death to each other? Really?

Their bargain ties each other beyond any future choice. It is actually abusive in its core. It leaves no opening for any life beyond their relationship.

All that build up and gone. Gone in the last two pages. I just. I can’t. I CANNOT!

And no one! No one ever dare to come and tell me that that shit was romantic! It was not! It was sick. This is not a re-edition of Mariah carey’s I can’t live without you!

This was a story that many people and especially teens looked up to. This was promoted as a healthy representation against domestic abuse. This was presented as the story of two SURVIVORS that now can’t survive without each other. Can’t live for themselves. They do not care about what they will leave behind. They do not care for life. They do not care for their friends. They do not care for their families. They do not even care for their duties. They are High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. They have responsibilities far beyond their selfish purposes. What if they both die and the mantle passes on to Keir for example or someone like him? What happens to their people then? To everything they fought for? All gone. Just like that.

And not to mention that if for example Rhysand for whatever reason dies tomorrow he will still be a dude that has lived several lifetimes. He is older than 500 years. He has lived his life. He is far more experienced. Feyre is younger than 20. A girl that has barely lived and loved and one that was abused in such a degree (by her family, Tamlin, UtM etc) so now feels blessed and gratitude that is loved by someone that actually cares for her and so she ends up making a pact with a very old dude to die if he dies. And it is equally dysfunctional for Rhysand too. He makes that bargain while he is in a mental state of being freshly released from 50 continuous years of imprisonment, torture and rape and after recently participating in a horrific bloody war with thousands upon thousands of casualties where he actually died himself too. He made the bargain while he is still dealing with this kind of PTSD when just weeks before he wanted nothing more than to fight in order to save Feyre and make sure that even if he died she would survive no matter what. That was his goal. To fight for her and to have her live to fight another day and live her life even if he would not. If push came to shove he was ready to sacrifice himself for her to live. And all of that suddenly shifted and… yay let us die together in the future.

And after all the messages ACOMAF promoted in the end what does this story say? Hey, find your love but if your love dies go and die too so to be together even in death. Suicide and unhealthy psychological reliance to each other FTW.

And you know what? I would not mind it half as much if this was presented for what it truly is. But this was glorified. Romanticized and worst of all presented under the guise of being a healthy representation of a balanced love story. At least with Romeo and Juliet you would tell that they were too young and too stupid …but here after the war and everything that happened they end on that note!

You have no idea how much I shipped them and still do and to end their story like that? It hurts! It really REALLY DOES!

Well done. Well FUCKING DONE! Way to go. 

How to study for exams with Anxiety

It’s coming around that stressful time of year for students, summer exams. As someone who has anxiety, I completely understand the stress and the constant “I’m gonna fail! I’m gonna fail!” voice repeating in your head. So here are a few tips to study for exams. DO NOT cram the night before. Cramming is bad in general, you actually don’t get that much information into your head and you will probably be exhausted the next day so try studying a few weeks before the exam, I know you don’t feel like doing it but trust me, you’ll feel better if you study earlier. Learn as if you’re teaching a class. I love this technique, this is actually a scientific fact that you’ll ace an exam if you study thinking you’re teaching someone. I do this a lot and I usually get either A’s or B’s. Record Yourself. If you are a learner by reading over and over, record yourself and listen to yourself over and over instead of reading. RELAX! It’s not good to be constantly stressed, especially with anxiety. TAKE A STUDY BREAK! this is so important! I did not take a study break today and my brain is just fried. Try going out for a walk, or just breathing. Listen to study music. All you have to do is look up “Study music” on YouTube and then listen to it while you study, it will help you concentrate. Make flashcards. These are so helpful! And if you are to lazy to make some out like I am, just download an app for flashcards and I kinda think it’s a fun way of doing it. Sleep. Seriously, the earlier you sleep, the more you’re brain will be able to study. Drink Tea. It can ge any kind, herbal, Chamomile (which is highly recommended for sleep and stress relief) green tea, raspberry tea whatever you fancy, but I recommend to stay away from English tea (unless you drink it early in the day) because it has a small amount of caffeine in it…also stay away from coffee near the end of the day) Watch videos for study tips. That’s how I learnt the method of acting like you’re teaching someone else. Get to sleep the night before the exams! Seriously this is important, you might end up sleeping in the middle of the exam so, you really should sleep. I recommend doing exercise the day before Good luck on your exams!

Originally posted by endocitosi

anonymous asked:

Scenario where Revali has a crush on his future s/o and literally everyone knows except s/o is totally oblivious? Ps I really love your writing <3

The Rito Village was quiet today. 

The little ones were asleep, all in their fluffy beds, and many-a folk were collected in the tavern, drinking and enjoying each other’s company. Or they would be, if a certain problem wasn’t persisting in it’s existence. 


More accurately, Revali’s constant failed attempts to woo (Name).

It had started out cutely enough. Brave, warrior Revali, falling for innocent (Name), the two spending time together… But then as time passed, and the flirtations seemed to stay at flirtations, the collective realized that (Name), sweet (Name)- was as dense a rock in romance.

They had laughed at the time a bit- the befuddled Revali was hilarious to observe- but that had been months ago. And now? Now Revali’s longful sighs and flirtations were starting to get old. 

Tonight was no different. There they were, the pair of them, and it had already begun. This time there was no flirtation though, only silence, as the rest watched on-

Wait. They’re moving their mouth at him. What are they saying-

Two of the warriors dragged the fool who was still talking over the couple, they were not missing out on this-


Did they just-..?


“Revali, why are they cheering..?”

“…Just.. Let’s just get going before they start praising the goddess…”


Samurai Jack Theory

What happens if the world’s deadliest bounty hunter in Episode 8 is ACTUALLY the High Priestess and she confronts Ashi and Jack and reveals to Ashi that Jack is her real Father and that he knew that he was and he SLAUGHTERED his own daughters despite this. Causing a deterioration on the bond that Jack and Ashi have and prompts Ashi to turn him in or allow him to be captured. 

Episode 9-10 are how Ashi realizing she is wrong and gathers all the people she encountered looking for Jack and his ‘army’ is everyone he ever helped over the past 50 years. 

The scene where Jack is hanging on the wall in Aku’s castle is in constrast to how Jack’s father was hanging in burning chains. Where Jack is constant guilt of failing his father, I think we’re going to see where Ashi does not fail hers.

NAME: Seong Jin-sol(First)  (Hangul:승한솔)

AGE: 27
BIRTH DATE: April 11

HEIGHT: 6'2 ( 187.96 cm )
WEIGHT: 175 lbs (79kg)

OCCUPATION: Co-owner of Haneul’s Bakery, ‘small time’ singer

| Positive | Charismatic  | Dependable | Expressive | Mischievous | Obsessive | Cynical | Cunning |

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My little test subject

Tomtord angsty fic with a little bit of Paultryk based on the theory that i made a while back about the monster. Here’s the link for the theory:

WARNING! This fic contains: Foul language, torture scenes, blood, use of medical tools, drug use, suicidal tendencies, self-neglect, violence, self-harm, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Inside a dark, secluded room; guarded by huge and heavy double doors, screams of rage could be heard. Inside; metal tables were turned, glass was shattered, strange liquids splattered the walls, various types of equipment’s were broken and papers were sent flying while being ripped apart. The whole room was a mess. And at the centre of the dark room, illuminated by a swinging, solitary light above his head, is the one responsible for said mess.

He is known by many names. For those who’ve heard of him, he is the infamous Red Leader; responsible for many invasions and mass shootings across Europe, and backed up by a loyal army of trained soldiers. But for those who got the privilege to know him better, he is simply known as Tord.

Tord was standing in the middle of the room, panting, trying to recover from his fit of rage. He clenched his fists, taking deep breaths while glaring at the walls. Gritting his teeth, Tord ripped out his eyepatch out of anger, and run his robotic hand through his spiky hair.

“Another death, another failure.” He hissed under his breath.

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Dating Tao would include:

-Frequent trips to the mall and ending up with 5 bags each (mostly his stuff)

-Getting teased by him and Sehun all day everyday

-Sassing the two sass masters showing them not to mess with you because you can play that card too

-Him coming up behind you and giving you little kisses on your cheek and neck 

-Laying with him on the couch watching movies while he runs his fingers through your hair

-Going out to restaurants together and he picks off your plate

-Him trying to teach you martial arts and getting teased when you fail miserably

-Constant selfies with you and him having to retake them because ‘he looked hideous in the last one’

-Having to deal with his little dramas, like if someone said something about him on twitter and he’d freak out 

-Him unconsciously staring at you at random times

-Him complaining he’s hungry in that annoying whinny voice he does  

-He’d attempt to be cute and romantic but it would sometimes fail horribly and would probably result in one of you getting hurt and the other constantly apologizing or the both of you looking stupid and dying in fits of laughter

- He’d clingy in a cute and romantic way

-He’d always have and arm around you or holding your hand

-He’d get jealous easily but only because he doesn’t want to lose you and he cares

-Him treating you like a princess and spoiling you, he’d always smile and be happy if you are and when you’re sad he’d do everything in his power to make you happy again and he’d treat you the way you deserve to be treated.


I Promise (Victor Zsasz)

Why did Victor become the cold hearted assassin he is today?

Thank you @oswald-cobblepot-is-my-addiction for giving me this amazing idea.

I thought I’ll give it a try to break everyone’s heart as well.

I tag my fellow Zsasz lovers: @aya-fay @taintedmarker @amandajuly81 @ascoolasathestral @misfitgirl3390 @cnygma

Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Death of a loved one, Mention of blood and murder.

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