a playlist for those who try to find beauty in their sadness and for dreamers made of stardust; inspired by vincent van gogh and his artwork listen here
we exist…arcade fire// grew up at midnight…the maccabees// myth… beach house // where is my mind (cover)…sunday girl // i hope time doesn’t change him…the drums // there is a light that never goes out…the smiths // riptide…taylor swift cover// earth…sleeping at last // weightless…city and colour // turn blue…the black keys // purple yellow red and blue…portugal. the man // where is my mind…pixies // follow…crystal fighters // cigarette daydreams…cage the elephant // kettering…the antlers // compass…zella day // the winner takes it all…the vaccines // between the bars…elliott smith // odyssey…dream koala // lazuli…beach house // undo…the 1975 //
water me…fka twigs // softly draining seas…jamie isaac // wash…bon iver // i found…amber run // happy…marina and the diamonds
I really enjoyed Night in the Woods, one of the best games from my opinion and not because I really liked the art or the story of this project, surprisingly, I identify with one of the characters and I saw the story of some of my friends too.
The only thing that I would like on this game was a more close friendship between Mae and Bea like it was with Gregg, and have money to buy the game too, but I really liked watch it with the voice acting of @therealjacksepticeye. Man, if you could do Bea’s route it would be AWESOME!
Enough branches had been removed from the roof to leave a smoke hole; I could see the evening stars, as I cuddled against Jamie and listened to him criticize his workmanship.
“Look at that,” he said crossly, lifting his chin at the far corner. “I’ve gone and laid in a crooked pole, and it’s put the whole of that line off the straight.”
“I don’t imagine the deer carcasses will care,” I murmured. “Here, let’s see that hand.”
“And the rooftree’s a good six inches lower at the one end than the other,” he went on, ignoring me, but letting me have his left hand. Both hands were smoothly callused, but I could feel the new roughnesses of scrapes and cuts, and so many small splinters that his palm was prickly to the touch.
“You feel like a porcupine,” I said, brushing my hand over his fingers. “Here, move closer to the fire, so I can see to pull them out.”
He moved obligingly, crawling around Ian, who—freshly de-splintered himself—had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Rollo’s furry side. Unfortunately, the change of position exposed new weaknesses of construction to Jamie’s critical eye.
“You’ve never built a shed out of logs before, have you?” I interrupted his denunciation of the doorway, neatly tweaking a large splinter out of his thumb with my tweezers.
“Ow! No, but—”
“And you built the bloody thing in two days, with nothing but a felling ax and a knife, for God’s sake! There’s not a nail in it! Why ought you to expect it to look like Buckingham Palace?”
“I’ve never seen Buckingham Palace,” he said, rather mildly. He paused. “I do take your point, though, Sassenach.”
“Good.” I bent closely over his palm, squinting to make out the small dark streaks of splinters, trapped beneath the skin.
“I suppose it willna fall down, at least,” he said, after a longer pause.
“Shouldn’t think so.” I dabbed a cloth to the neck of the brandy bottle, swabbed his hand with it, then turned my attention to his right hand.
He didn’t speak for a time. The fire crackled softly to itself, flaring up now and then as a draft reached in between the logs to tickle it.
“The house is going to be on the high ridge,” he said suddenly. “Where the strawberries grow.”
“Will it?” I murmured. “The cabin, you mean? I thought that was going to be at the side of the clearing.” I’d taken out as many splinters as I could; those that were left were so deeply embedded that I would have to wait for them to work their way nearer the surface.
“No, not the cabin. A fine house,” he said softly. He leaned back against the rough logs, looking across the fire, out through the chinks to the darkness beyond. “Wi’ a staircase, and glass windows.”
“That will be grand.” I laid the tweezers back in their slot, and closed the box.
“Wi’ high ceilings, and a doorway high enough I shall never bump my heid going in.”
“That will be lovely.” I leaned back beside him, and rested my head on his shoulder. Somewhere in the far distance, a wolf howled. Rollo lifted his head with a soft wuff!, listened for a moment, then lay down again with a sigh.
“With a stillroom for you, and a study for me, lined with shelves for my books.”
“Mmmm.” At the moment, he possessed one book—The Natural History of North Carolina, published 1733, brought along as guide and reference.
The fire was burning low again, but neither of us moved to add more wood. The embers would warm us through the night, to be rekindled with the dawn.
Jamie put an arm around my shoulders, and tilting sideways, took me with him to lie curled together on the thick layer of fallen leaves that was our couch.
“And a bed,” I said. “You could build a bed, I expect?”
“As fine as any in Buckingham Palace,” he said.
Drums of Autumn (Outlander series) - Diana Gabaldon
After weeks of having this blog, I finally decided to make a masterlist of all the fics I recommend. I will only focus on BTS fanfics, because they’re what I read most. Hopefully, you like the stories I recommend, some of them are very popular and a lot of people already know them since they’re by big writers in the community. However, I hope you find new fics here that you enjoy.
Just a little S7, CS drabble that’s vaguely spoilery for Regina and Killian’s new Seattle identities and jobs but nothing beyond that, and assumes Killian is cursed with no memory of Emma.
Monday is Pina Colada Night at Roni’s, when the bartenders wear plastic flower leis and serve $3 drink specials to help drum up business on the slowest night of the week.
John Rogers hates rum, hates bars, but he gets dragged along with the 8 p.m shift change that is as predictable as the tide. Clock out, change from uniform to civilian clothes, and go get shitfaced. Wednesdays at the Irish pub for Guinness and darts, Fridays at that place with a DJ and dancefloor and girls who liked cops (in that way that just makes him vaguely ill), and Mondays at Roni’s.