ya mate Ronnie just got confirmation that they’re moving into a sharehouse next week


Soothe my aching bones
Which creak and rattle
Before Your Throne.

O Lord
When will you come
Down from the heavens
So that Your will is done?

My saviour, forgive me
For I sin again against You,
I drown, rather than walk and sea.

Can I go to where Your cross stood?
And touch the sand or gravel or cement
Imagining it was blistered, splintered wood?

Glory to You, praise unto You,
I fracture but You reign
And Your gospel is still true.

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 25


I hear Snow before my eyes have even opened, his steps across the creaking floor too loud for the tranquility of the morning.  I don’t move, listening to the water run, to the soft sound of him brushing his teeth, and the familiar pang returns to my stomach.  If only I could keep this moment of perfect softness and live in it, never moving forward from it.  Just pure, quiet, contented bliss.

           But the pang reminds me that I have to get up, have to move from this spot, have to face another day of his hatred, of my family’s expectations.  That I can’t lie here and listen to him brush his teeth forever.  It’s the reason that the pang exists at all.

           I stretch under the covers as far as I can, my legs hanging off the end of the bed by at least a foot, my wrist banging the wall behind my head.  I turn over to glance blearily at the nightstand, my wand, the time on my clock…

           Hang on.

           My eyes dart back to the wand, because it sure looks shinier than usual.

           It takes my vision a few hard blinks to focus, but once I can see clearly my jaw drops open indignantly.  

           There’s a cross on my wand.

           More specifically, there’s a silver chain, sporting an all-too-familiar silver cross pendant, wrapped around my wand.

           I sit up and drop my feet to the floor, leaning closer for a better look.  Not only has Snow tangled my wand in his necklace, but he has gone far enough to secure it with tiny pieces of tape.

           Next to his little display sits a card, the kind people attach to gift bags.  Inside are two words.  Your move.

           I grind my teeth as he shuts the water off. I can’t tell if he’s made a stupid move or a clever one.  Snow makes vampire jokes all the time, like he’s trying to see if I’ll give myself away, but I didn’t think he was this serious about the theory.  

           Because if I’m not a vampire, this trick will only mildly inconvenience me.  If I am a vampire, I won’t be able to remove my wand from his necklace without burning myself.

           Either way, he’s about to have a very pissed-off roommate on his hands.

           When Snow emerges from the bathroom he leans against the doorframe and watches me, making no effort to be stealthy about this particular prank.

           I raise an eyebrow at him.  “Really?”

           “What’s the big deal?” he shrugs with a sly tilt of his head.  “It’s not like it’ll burn you, right?”

           I want to hold his gaze and show him I know exactly what he’s doing, but I can’t.  Not if I value what little secrecy I still hold over him.

           So I turn my face away from him and pick up my wand with a lightly trembling hand.  I don’t hesitate before peeling away each scrap of tape, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from flinching as the silver bites into my skin, leaving stings all over my fingers.  They won’t turn into scars, but they will burn until I can feed again.

           “I believe this is yours,” I say as the chain drops to the table, my wand free once again.

           “Toss it here.”

           I should drain him dry right here and now.

           But instead I take the cross fully in my hand, the shape searing into my palm, and toss it like it’s a ball or a key or anything that doesn’t burn.  I hold his gaze as he catches it easily.

           “You’ll have to do better than that,” I growl as he leaves without another word.


July 2017, Granite Falls

Heda threw the butt of her cigarette on the ground and used the tip of her combat boot to hide it between the tall grass under her feet. ‘Don’t smoke in front of the kids,’ said Shadow as she left and she realised it wasn’t a completely deranged notion. Her nicotine levels just didn’t have the time to make peace with it. Yet.

She lifted her overnight bag off the ground, watching an old, battered car crawl its way up the dirt path. She quirked an eyebrow, watching it sputter clouds of dark smoke before the engine gave up with a long, pitiful sigh. The door opened with a slight creak and a slim figure dressed in yellow summer dress exited the wreckage.

‘Heda! I’m so happy to see you!’ sang Laney happily, pulling a pastel pink suitcase off the passenger seat. She put it down next to her car, not bothering to lock it up before she rushed over to Heda and used her special Laney-fu moves to strangle the living hell out of her.

‘Hey there, Kerrigan!’ gasped Heda, pulling away slightly. ‘Why you driving a car wreck?’

‘Neat isn’t it? I bought it extra cheap!’

‘That thing cost something?!’

‘Har, har! Stop mocking my car and explain why a stranger called me in the dead of night begging me to come help out at out old childhood camp.’

Heda smirked. ‘Good question. She said something about…’

‘Money problems,’ called a soft, melodic voice from behind them. It was sweet and accented. They both turned toward it, spotting a short, blond woman with the biggest smile they have ever seen. ‘Hi! I’m Silvia. We spoke on the phone.’

‘Right,’ started Heda, shaking her hand. ‘What about the money problems?’

‘Well, the money – and most of luck – ran out for this camp. It was supposed to be closed down last summer, but my hubby and me decided to save it. Last summer we barely did and this summer… Well, there is no money left to pay the salaries. We hoped we could get some of the old campers to volunteer. You see, My daughter has been going here since she was two years old. Seeing it closed would break her heart.’

Heda looked over at Laney. She had tears in her wide eyes as she glanced back, bottom lip quivering. ‘Right,’ sighed the other woman, shaking her head. ‘And why call us?’

Silvia quirked an amused brow. ‘Well, you are a famous rock star and you,’ she pointed at Laney, ‘are driving around the world, collecting stories. It’s bound to shine a spotlight at us.’

Hed looked back at Laney, who bit into her bottom lip, considering it. ‘So, whatcha sayin’, Kerrigan? Up for a few weeks of dirt, bugs and unpaid labour?’

‘Sounds heavenly! Which shack are we staying at?’

Laney belongs to @something-wicked-sims​ (as most of you know :D) 

Next >

Mahal Hates Me

Originally posted by tinysofia

Summary: You have a miscarriage and Thorin helps you through the pain.
Pairings: Thorin x Reader
Word Count: 881
Warnings: Miscarriage
Requested by: Anon; #67 and #77.

A/n: After starting this, I realized I didn’t have to take the sad route so I didn’t lmfao.

Master List

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Yet do not forget the simple hour!
When birds sing awake the world
And sunlight glints off fog choked grass
Drenched in a cool morning dew.

The decades old house spoke
Creaking of wood underfoot
Hidden pipes hissing for broke
Antique frames holding on to
Yesteryears memories true.

When father bade instruction
On daily chore and sweat of brow.
Mother hummed her tune
And attending to the garden
Laughter of young innocence
Sails in on wind swept curtains

I pray thee do not lose heart!
Do not forget the simple hour
Least memories dim and the
World is devoured in the dark
Hold on wildly with all might
Rage against a dying love
Bring back the sweet light.


it’s another evening of fading light
with another dip in the mattress, worn.
the body-shaped cavern misses your skin
in a way i can’t compete with.
another night of looking at the bookcase
and feeling the spines, the smooth ridges,
of watching sirens blink past the window
in satellite patterns, a new orbit
where no one gets hurt. in my sleep
i feel you sit on the end of the bed
and i wish you would not go.
i hear the tap on the glass, again,
the morning made solid by a world other than ours.
i look at the dip in the mattress for hours
and find it hard to separate it from its inherent
coffin shape, a cradle for a body now gone.
i am crowded by your presence. i feel you
back me into the corner of the room
with your swelling breath. i hear the floor
creak and the walls moan and i press my palms
to the drywall in an attempt to be read.
but it’s another night falling asleep to the rain,
the downpour of an earth shaken by you, too.
i think the window panes might shatter.
i think the house might float away.
i think i might never breathe again if i could reach for
that dip in the mattress and feel your weight.

where the f#ck is the mun?

if you find yourself wondering this on a regular basis, wonder no more. i probably should have done a post like this a little while ago!

john watson: pullingrank - { active }

small army doctor. anger management issues. loyal to a fault. handy in a gun fight.

hannibal lecter: - { selectively active }

large cannibal doctor. overly-fixated on haute cuisine and moist fbi dropouts.

tony stark, aka iron man: getinthefunvee - { selectively active/creaking back to active }

rich hot mess by day, super hot mess by night. tinkering as escapism. srs daddy issues. hides in tin cans.

james barnes, aka captain america: redwhiteandbruised - { semi-hiatus/semi-active }

needs to wash his mouth out with soap. 616 canon with mcu smoothing. winter soldier/mcu verses optional. really wishes he had a different day job.

dorian pavus: magisterivm - { semi-hiatus/selectively active }

best moustache in thedas. wears half his body weight in jewellery. likes when someone peels his grapes. makes necromancy necro-fancy.

if you follow me on any of these blogs and know me from another one, please let me know!

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but life got in the way and so I’m carving out the time now. Follow up to the Dawn of Wyverns AU and for the lovely @touchreceptors. General warnings are for A/B/O dynamics.

Schneizel was woken up by three things in quick succession.

The first was a knock on his door, followed closely by the heavy wooden door creaking open.

The third was Kanon throwing himself bodily on top of him.

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thedupshadove  asked:


Peer into my muse’s memories || @thedupshadove

💛- A memory that makes them feel angry

A normal person might take the creaking of a door to be an ominous sign. One of foreboding, of terrible things to come. To a Warner sibling, it was just an excuse to hang onto the doorknob and make the door swing back and forth, giggling softly.


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honestly fuck kylo ren, if hayden christensen really does return in ep 8, presumably as anakin’s force ghost, i want him to be floating around with luke. i want him to be hovering over luke like ‘look at my son. look at MY SON i love him. luke, padme would love you so much. here are one hundred stories about how awesome your mother was. tell me more about your sister. i am a fucking fool’

I need to share what I found in my attic last night

By reddit user A10A10A10

I’m an old man living alone in an old house.  My wife and I bought it 10 years ago, just before she passed.  I don’t know how old it is.  If I had to guess, I’d say at least 150 years.  It’s your typical old house in back country southern United States, surrounded by forest and far from the closest neighbor.

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{PART 12} I Won’t Stop You (M) // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; After the best and worst day of your life to date, you find yourself back at Jungkook’s Manor. You hope your first night there will be a quiet and uneventful one; but Jungkook has other ideas in mind.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

Warning: This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature.

{Part 1}// {Part 11} {Part 12} {Part 13}

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childhood sounds

wind chimes, a creaking swingset, scissors cutting construction paper, “coming soon to home video”, barbie jeep motor, pool splashes, sidewalk chalk against pavement, the ice cream truck’s song, running on woodchips, bicycle spoke beads, jumping on a trampoline, popping open plastic easter eggs, hose water on backyard grass, lizzie mcguire theme song, opening a vhs tape case, playstation 2 start up, basketball dribbling in the driveway, zipping a lisa frank backpack, leappad book’s narration, playing with wooden blocks, walking down basement stairs, crickets at night, thermometer beeping

What We Deserve

[On Ao3]

“You wanted her to shoot you.”

Sherlock doesn’t look up from his phone, though his fingers go a little tighter around the plastic casing. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”

“No you didn’t,” John says. And yes, Sherlock heard John stop at the top of the stairs on his way to bed, heard the hesitant creak of floorboard on bare feet as he retreated downstairs to the sitting room. Sherlock flips a glance to John’s face; he sees the sharp line of his mouth and knows he’s clenching his teeth. Military stance.

Sherlock puts away his phone. He leans back in his chair and braces himself for an uncomfortable conversation.

“First you overdose on the plane,” John says. “Then you goad a woman into shooting you. Then you—turn a gun on yourself. In Sherrinford.”

Sherlock blinks. “I believe you used the phrase, ‘risk your life to prove you’re clever.’”

“No,” John says. “This isn’t about pride, Sherlock. Or the game. This is about—” John swallows. He leans forward to brace himself against the back of his armchair. “When I came back from Afghanistan—”



“I don’t want to die, John.”

“Maybe not,” John says. “But you don’t want to live, either. You don’t think you—deserve to live. Yeah?”

Everything stops. The traffic noise outside fades to a low-frequency hum.

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donghyuck: *sleeping*


jisung: *breathes a little bit too loud*

mark: *screams internally* *whisper-screeches* WHAT DID I TELL YOU

chenle: *opens a door and it creaks just a bit*