firm living

Fanfiction - My Brother’s Lass (Part Twelve)

This isn’t a drill. It is, indeed, the long awaited penultimate chapter of MBL!! You can find all the previous parts here.

My Brother’s Lass (Part Twelve) – Redeemed

Dead bodies don’t talk – and yet, they scream.

There is something deeply disturbing about a corpse, which goes beyond the smell of rotten flesh and decaying things. Something that compels us to look away, to hide, fearing that we might get a glance of our own fate. To touch a dead person is to knock on a newly left home – still warm but jarring in its emptiness, vacant windows in the eyes of an elapsed soul.

It’s not the dead we fear, frightened beyond reason at the sight of a cadaver- but the line that separates us from them, getting thinner and more real with each spent heartbeat.

I could barely breathe underneath the pile of dead men, laying over me like grotesque blankets. I struggled to inhale in shallow and quick gasps, afraid I would start to retch and vomit, revealing my presence on the back of the wagon. And – I must admit – dismayed with the thought of my soul deciding to make an escape to join theirs.

It had seemed a daring but suitable plan, born in Claire’s mind as we scouted the outside of Fort William, looking for a possible entrance. A disjointed wagon, conducted by a cross-eyed man with a cleft lip, had chosen that moment to swing on its wheels towards the prison. A dark cloud of flies accompanied the march, as small widows immersed in grief, dutifully crying on a wake. Soon enough wee had been able to see the bodies stored in the back, collected over the barracks down the road, to be accounted for and dispensed by the garrison.

“Hm.” Claire had hummed, shielding her eyes from the downing sun to take a better glance at the sad procession, as we hid in the vegetation nearby.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to locate the redcoats on the niches – a well-guarded place, crawling with young soldiers, eager to prove themselves to their King. “I ken that sound means ye’re up to something.”

“Well,” She pursed her lips in thoughtfulness. “How do you feel about an early funeral?”

I gave her a half-amused, half-puzzled look. “Not even marrit yet and ye already looking forward to be a widow, Sassenach?”

“You did say the only way to get in is through the gate.” Claire shrugged and pointed vaguely to the wagon, the driver now saluting the sentinel to ask for permission to enter. “Unless you have a secret army you have been planning to tell me all about, this seems like a way to get in without being killed outright.”

“Are ye seriously suggesting I disguise myself amongst the dead to enter?” I raised a brow, aghast. She gave me a look of unwavering conviction. “And how do ye suppose we were to get out, if I manage to rescue my brother?”

“Haven’t got that far on the plan, I’m afraid.” Claire conceded. “But time is running out. The next round of executions will take place in a couple of days – we must act now or Willie will be forever lost.”

“Aye.” I swallowed hard, watching the wagon disappear behind the gates, one bare foot – almost grey in colour - dangling from the back as an uncanny wave of goodbye. “We’ll manage.”

“We have to do something about your hair. Red Jamie.” Her eyes bore into mine, concerned and supportive, silently apologizing for the harsh words. “If someone sees you helping William, they’ll know who you are instantly. Before you can say “Humpty Dumpty!” Lallybroch will be crawling with English soldiers and you’ll be the next one arrested, waiting for the hangman to tie his ropes.” Her hand searched mine and gripped it. “I can’t have that.”

“I dinna know about Mister Humpty Dumpty, but I ken yer meaning.” I nodded, my free hand mindlessly brushing the red cowlicks of my hair. “Give me yer wee knife, mo nighean donn.”

I recalled the feeling of misplaced tranquillity that descended over me that afternoon, while I sat next to the weeping stream, Claire’s hands upon me. Her fingers trembled a little – and yet her work was precise and decided, baring me of the red streaks that had defined so much of myself through my lifetime. My fallen hair sprawled at our feet, sometimes kissed and swept away by the breeze, a cloak I could no longer use for shelter because it was so strikingly associated with who I was.

When she was done, Claire had placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned over to kiss the naked top of my head – her lips parted and quivering, like a prayer. I held her waist and placed my forehead against her heart, wordlessly asking for her blessing. A warrior preparing for battle, already walking on the outskirts of afterlife - if not for the hold she still had over me, enough to keep me with her. Claire would always keep me grounded. The heart out of my chest, which I had chosen without a second thought.

I groped my bald skull and smirked, attempting to sound more cheerful than I truly was. “Red Jamie no more.”

“Always Red Jamie.” Claire caressed my lips and smiled, sheathing her sgian dubh in its scabbard. “Always my Jamie.”

The wagon jostled along the path and I faintly heard the driver making his usual greeting to the soldier on duty, making a crude remark about his gruesome commodity. The sound of something heavy being open, more laughter, wheels complaining – and then we were across the short bridge and into the Fort’s courtyard. I sighed in relief and instantly regretted it, the moment my nostrils were filled with the smell of blood and loosened bowels.

When we stopped, I opened an eye to spy the ghastly driver heading out to an inner door, dutifully taking the documents he carried with the day’s account. Clenching my teeth, I rolled over like a conniving lizard and peeked through a crevice on the side of the transport. We had arrived during ration hours – no soul within sight. Regretfully smiling to my nearest companion – his eyes still open in shock, death coming much too soon to his expectations, his teeth the colour of old parchment – I slid from the embrace of the dead and into firm land of the living.

I knew where Willie was being kept – Claire had made me an accurate description, the same memory and confidence she applied to her treatments serving her well in that purpose. My heart jumped, hammering against my ribs every time I made a turn in a corridor, each time I dissolved against the shadows to avoid detection by passing patrols. I touched the hidden dirk against my thigh and prayed “Not yet. Please, not before I find him”.

I came to his cell, deep in the guts of the Fort. The guard in the corridor was lulled by prolonged inactivity – he barely struggled when I trapped his neck with my arm, pressing enough for him to faint. I knew the risk of someone discovering the intrusion was getting greater by the minute – expeditiously grabbed the chain of keys from his belt and headed towards the cell’s door.  

He had been left in complete darkness. I opened the locked door, holding the small candle I had recovered from the guard’s table.

Willie was asleep, curled in a defensive posture, his back against the door. I walked slowly, afraid of scaring him enough for him to make a loud noise. As I approached, I noticed the bruises on his face, the sickening array of green and grey.

“Willie.” I whispered, touching him on the shoulder – the bones protruding, closer to the surface. He came awake like a man coming for air after prolonged immersion, gasping with his eyes wide open.

“Dinna touch me!” William croaked, his hands shielding his head. “Let me be! Please! Please!”

Bi samhach!” I hugged him gently trying to silence him, crouching next to him on the filthy floor. “It’s me. Jamie.” And then, noticing his unhinged gaze, I resumed to talk in Gaidhlig, feeling that the soothing ancient words would distance him from the nightmares of his captivity. “Seas, a brathair.”

Sawny?” He sobbed, his hands turned into claws, seeking to feel the contact of my flesh. “Seamus, is that ye, a bhalaich?”

“Aye, ‘tis me – hairless, but me.” I held his face between my hands. “I told ye I’d come for ye.”

“I thought I’d never see ye again.” Willie confessed in a broken voice, hugging me with abandon. “Not in this life, at least.”

“Ye should have known I’m too pig-headed to allow such a thing.” I said in jest, helping him to sit up. “We have to go, Willie. There’s not much time.”

“I’m too weak.” He glared at me, his lips chapped. “Ye have to leave me here, Jamie. We won’t make it if you take me with ye.”

“I’m not leaving ye!” I retorted in an assertive tone. “Both of us will walk out of this prison or none of us will.”

“Ye have to.” He insisted, agitated, trying to force me to understand. “Randall – the English captain – he’s the darkest soul I ever encountered on this earth. He thrives on his wicked ways and his desires aren’t meant for this world. He’s the lowest of demons, a creature of destruction – he canna see ye, Jamie. If he’s made aware of yer existence, he’ll want ye.” He gulped, an intense tremor taking over his body. “Ye aren’t marked – not in a visible way, as I am. Ye are everything he wanted to be and isn’t and for that he’ll try to possess it – and when he discovers himself unable to, he’ll try to destroy it. Ye’ll destroy you.”

“I dinna fear him, Willie.” I assured him in a calm voice, even if every hair on my arms stood on end. “It’s leaving ye behind that would destroy me. Blood of my blood, aye?”

“Ye should fear him. The things he is capable of…” Willie said between clenched teeth, fighting pain as I forced him to stand. “Leave, Jamie. I’d only ask of ye that ye see Claire safe. That ye make her happy, for as long as she might want ye.”

“Claire loves ye too, a brathair.” I said with gentleness. “She would never speak to me again if I dinna take ye out of this place – probably would stab me herself. Neither of us would know a moment of happiness for the rest of our lives.”

“She sure is a fierce wee thing.” He offered me the ghost of a smile and walked by my side, dragging his left leg, his arm around my shoulders for support. He was indeed exhausted, spent from days of fear and hunger, his leg badly bruised – or even broken – from one of his last beatings. “Thinking of her – of ye both – has kept me sane between these walls. If I never see her again, please tell her that…”

“Ye can tell her yerself, brother.” I stopped him, giving him a lopsided smile. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it more coming from ye.”

Slowly we climbed up the stairs towards the tower. I was grunting with the effort of almost carrying William on my arms – and acutely aware that only a miracle could make us avoid detection, given the pace in which we were moving.

As we came around a corner, an officer almost bumped into us. What followed was a short fight, awkwardly restrained on the small space of the corridor, ending when I clubbed him on the head with my dirk’s handle.

We could hear loud screams coming from downstairs, urgent and angry like a wild beast awakening, urging us to run away. I pulled William with me, ignoring his incessant pleas to leave him behind – I was determined to save him, even if it meant I’d lose my life or freedom. This was my road of redemption – the journey to regain the right to call him my brother, after all the deception and grievances I had inflicted upon him.

Eventually we stood on the battlement above the courtyard, soldiers gathering and screaming, pointing at our figures with accusing fingers. The frenetic sound of trained soldiers running up the stairs in our direction crushed the insides of my head, until all I could hear was the echo of the end coming, marching towards us with an English accent.

“Do ye trust me?” I asked roughly, my hand gripping the back of William’s stained shirt. His blue eyes bore into mine – a spark of past resentment and heartbreak, but then the limpid acknowledgment of earned faith.

A-chaoidh.” He nodded. Always.

I turned to the other side, facing the cold dark waters bellow us – menacing in their unknown depth.  William’s breathing was laboured and superficial, as he realized what I was about to do.

I took his hand, crushing it inside my own, and we jumped together, diving into a sea yet to prove itself merciful. And as we blazed into the sky, our joined hands exploded in heartrending pain, one single bullet shot through them – making us again one flesh, one blood.

GUYS. Shitty and Lardo have both graduated, Lardo has accepted a job offer from the Red Sox and was working her way through the upper management and Shitty had just passed his bar exam and got a starting job at a firm. They live together in a small apartment in boston that’s crowded by Lardo’s unfinished art projects and Shitty’s trove of legal books. 

Then bam. Lardo finds out that she’s pregnant. 

She tells Shitty, who freaks out and tells Jack, who freaks out and tells Bitty, who extra freaks and rushes into Boston from Providence and breaks into Shitty and Lardo’s apartment. 


“Please no loud noise, I feel like my whole life is a loud noise right now,” Lardo is sprawled on her couch with a throw pillow on her face. 

of written feelings and words with meaning

Summary: Recently, Dan’s become addicted to this writing blog. He’s so addicted to it in fact, that he might as well be in love with it. The writer seems to say exactly how it feels and he finds himself wishing he had someone who was so deeply in love with him to write for him like that. Little does he know that there is already someone doing that and he’s closer than he thought.

Phil, on the other hand, has his own feelings and secrets to keep.

Excerpt:  For he was more than happy to stand at the shore, watching the tide roll than to submerge himself into the water, get whisked away by the waves, and before he knew it, he’d be too lost to find his way back.

Words: 5k+

Genre: Fluff, Angst (??)

A/N: FOUR DAYS. THIS TOOK ME FOUR DAYS. Anyyas, this was a whole lot of fun to write and I guess this is my year-end gift as well as my HOLY SHIT GUYS THANKS FOR 1.4K YA’LL ARE AMAZING GIFT.

“his laugh was a work of magic
filling my lungs with fresh air
he brought colour to a life so tragic
and held a heart with utmost care

yet he was a hero who didn’t know he was one
a knight saving people he couldn’t see
i would gladly give him the sun
even if he wouldn’t know it was me

oh what a cruel god rules my life
i write for a man who doesn’t know
and despite it, i hold unto the knife
cause i’ve planted a seed that has grown

so, i sit back and watch him live
because many say we met through fate
and bit by bit my heart i give
although i won’t get it back, ‘till kingdom come i’ll wait”

Dan’s eyes were focused on the addicting blue of the screen (he could think of a blue that looked much better than that), scrolling mindlessly, occasionally breathing out through his nose as a desperate attempt of a laugh when he came across the poem. With text posts, he’d normally read it then just scroll on. However, this one managed to hold him captive, a whisper of his mind told him to pay it more attention.

And so he did.

The brunet clicked on the poem’s original poster. Immediately, he was greeted by a monochrome theme with the title Words Written with Feeling in Search of a Meaning and he must admit, it took a while for his sleep-deprived mind to understand it.

For hours, Dan read this writer’s words. From what he could gather, the writer was a man and most of what he’s written was so tragically beautiful. His way with words was astonishing. They made you feel as if you were the one who felt his emotions.

Granted, most of his writing was in first person but despite that, the way he described his thoughts danced on the line of vague and descriptive. It was symbolic. His words made you think of their meaning enough to get a grasp on the complications that were his feelings.

Besides, he found it ironic that the blog was monochrome for the words of the writer were so colourful. Iridescent hues lacing between the curves of every letter. Splashes of colour highlighting every word.

Keep reading

@frozen-delight I saw you were interested in the whole Dean as Other & Dean as Feminine parts of my thesis? :)

I’m making this as a separate post because I wasn’t sure if hijacking someone’s (excellent) meta wouldn’t be rude.

I can’t exactly copy paste from the thesis because unfortunately it was written in my native language. Also, the hypothetical reader of the thesis was supposed to be a person who is not familiar with the show so I had to bring up a lot of stuff that is very well known to us, fans, so that would be too much talking about the obvious, I guess.

Dean as the Other (and the outcast) 

The starting point to writing about Dean in terms of being the Other, was a comparison of similarities with Dean from Kerouac’s „On the Road”. It kinda went from there.

I focused on the society-related aspect of it within the diegesis, and because of that, I brought the most attention to the early seasons. I felt like later on the Dean – society dichotomy kind of went away within the narrative as progressively the Winchesters were mostly interacting with other people and beings that were related to the supernatural world.

Dean was both marked as the Other by society and by himself – from the outsider’s point of view, he stands against everything that constitutes the ideal american life style. He detests the middle class and the „values” it represents, which osciliate between consumptionism and superficial morality. The main and first reason why he’s marked as such, is of course, being a hunter of the supernatural, which, in his case, is related to socio-economical degradation: there was a peaceful, middle class-ish life in Kansas (a conservative state which only stronger resonates with the traditional american ideal) and suddenly there was no home, financial issues, constant danger and a dysfunctional family with the extra bonus of alcohol problems and violence. And it’s important to note that while Sam doesn’t remember the past and the change, Dean does. It only adds to his trauma and vision of self that completely differs from what is considered „normal.” Dean learns everything from John and excels at it – a history of violence, lack of a stable job and firm emotional connections, living on the Road, acquiring money through gambling, using fake credit cards and presumably even prostitution (not confirmed canon, just Jensen’s words) – all of that places Dean even below the „blue collar”. To add to that, most of the time he can’t even explain his action to people because that would mean having to explain the supernatural. All of it makes the society percieve him as unpredictable and dangerous, as something that disrupts he suburban life harmony, as a threat. Makes him feel like he doesn’t fit (as shown in “Bugs” and “What is and what should never be”, “Exile on main street”). People distance themselves from him (even Sam, who craved normalcy and upward mobility, and in no way wanted to become like his brother), Dean distances himself from them. In a way, he isn’t even a part of the family unit – Sam always was the son, Dean was the „tool.” In practice, until Sam left for Stanford, it wasn’t „John, Sam and Dean.” It was „John, Sam and that.” Inside the hunting community, he didn’t exactly fit either – didn’t fit the hunter ideal – too sensitive, too pretty, too different.

I also find it interesting how it’s only Dean who gets repeatedly pictured as an animal. Dog!Dean is the most blatant example but not the most interesting in the context of his otherness and attempts to evoke some kind of beast-related asociations in the audience. It’s one thing that Sonny’s called him Dee-dawg and that dog imagery is strongly related to Dean.What really gets to me is that in „Dream a Little Dream of Me” Dean circles dream!Dean (or should I say, the other Dean) like an animal that prepares for an attack (also, the exchange between the two suggests Dean doesn’t exactly see himself as human). And of course, there’s „On the Head of a Pin”, where Dean is not only referred to as „Grasshopper”, but is told that he’s been carved into a whole new animal. Also, I would argue that the fact only Dean was made to become a torturer on the show, amplifies his otherness, in a way. No other character can relate to this sort of damaging experience. That particular burden makes him different than any other human on SPN.

The narrative also presents him as the Other through making other characters the subjects that don’t get their basic agency get meddled with on every available occasion, while Dean has it denied all the time. His choices, emotions and reactions aren’t supposed to be independent, but always are meant to be relative to the rest of his family (mostly). In this aspect, he doesn’t get to be an autonomous being. His loved ones are the Absolute, he is the Opposite.

As for Dean seeing himself as something else – all of it is highlighted in „Skin”, both in dialogue between the brothers and by the shapeshifter!Dean revealing Dean’s secrets, which, literally presents Dean as the Other, seeing how it’s Dean’s skin the monster chooses and how it thinks Dean and it are very much alike.

 Dean & Femininity

The most important and narrative-affecting part of coding Dean as feminine, is him being a victim of parentification (the mechanism affected Sam and John as well, but differently). Dean became Sam’s mother in all the possibile ways. In regards to John, Dean in many aspects stepped into the stereotypically female spouse’s place. In both cases it was instrumental and emotional: Dean was the emotional caregiver, the one who created the „homely warmth”, the one who passed on the tradition, the one who was supposed to keep Sam and John healthy, he was the one who prepared food and made sure there would be food in the first place. He was the mediator between Sam and his father. During conflicts between the two, Dean always shielded Sam with his own body. Symbolically, because of the deal Dean made, he not only gave his life away for Sam, he became his mother even in the aspect of literally giving Sam life.

Even Dean’s personal heaven is a part of the coding. The things that Dean’s soul craves for the most and what he remembers most fondly are things that are associated with women – his heaven consisted of having a happy family, of love, of giving and recieving care. It’s a stark contrast with Sam’s heaven which represented things associated with masculinity – aiming for independence and both social and economical success that would put him in position above other people, wanting to be respected, in general.

Dean i also almost always mirrored not by men, but by women (and also obligatory by mothers, like Linda Tran). Working kind of like Jung’s animas, the female characters are an expression of the emotions and behaviors that Dean doesn’t accept in himself, those he doesn’t want to talk about, those that are supposed to show not tell about his state and those that might also be seen as foreshadowing. Since I was looking into the pat tern with a very specific context in mind, I chose Betsy, Charlie and Suzie Lee as my examples. Since the first two have been analysed to death both in fandom and in my thesis, I’ll Just briefly bring up Suzie Lee since I’ve never seen her mentioned. I read her, in short, as a mirror to Dean deciding to return to his old behaviors and mechanisms, deciding to abandon his personal needs to again become an effective tool (part commentary, part foreshadowing; all of it due to guilt, as always. Because the day the spn narrative decides to not blame Dean for something and make him feel bad, is the day you have to yell ‘christo’ at it.  But that’s a rant for another time). Suzie’s shame about a successful career in the porn industry can be seen as a mirror to Dean exceling in hunting, in using violence, in using his body as a work tool, in general. Both are also a taboo. That would be the cliff notes version, I suppose.

I’m sure there were more instances in all the seasons, in all the possibile contexts, though.

A Hard Heart To Win (Part 3)

Maria watches Tony fidget in the leather seat of the Bentley, and wishes she could make his fears go away.

Tony’s always thought too much, which isn’t bad. His mind is beautiful, the way he can take in so much information and cycle through so many thoughts and ideas while keeping up an engaging conversation about a different topic entirely.

With a mind like that, he understands people all too well, which isn’t always good. Howard always told him that he was too sensitive, that he needed to man-up, to be a Stark.

She’s tried to erase those words, but it’s hard, cleaning the past remarks and hurt that’ve made themselves at home in his mind. She knows this herself, from every hateful remark Howard has thrown her way.

Keep reading

Until Dawn Headcanon Dump

¤(In accordance with @transchrishartley ’s step-siblings au) Everyone going over to the Hartley house for pizza and video games ever friday night (even the jocks who don’t like to game)

¤ Hannah and Beth being alive

¤ Josh and Sam dating

¤ Chris and Ashley dating

¤ Hannah and Matt dating

¤ Jess and Beth dating

¤ Emily being ace/slightly aro and is perfectly okay just being single. (She has cats and adopts a daughter later in life)

¤ Mike becoming a better person (helps at the animal shelter with Sam *and Josh on occasion* on Tuesdays and Thursdays)

¤ Everyone effectively getting therapy

¤ Josh’s anti-depressants and anti-psyches working/taking them regularly

¤ Everyone going to Matt’s football games to cheer him on

¤ Emily’s family offering scar removal surgery fir Jess as a peace offering

¤ They become better friends again, and Emily becomes a fashion designer who Jess models for

¤ Jess getting slight scrutiny for her relationship with Beth

¤ Emily telling them to piss off

¤ Chris and Ashley have four kids

¤ Sam and Josh only have one

¤ Matt and Hannah have three

¤ Mike being known as “Uncle Mikey” and Emily being known as “Auntie Em” from everyone’s children

¤ Mike teaches all the children basic survival skills

¤ Emily lets them pet her cats and has a soft spot for Chris and Ashley’s youngest daughter

¤ They still stay in touch

¤ Beth and Jess being the most “fuck you” gay couple ever

¤ Like they make out in front of gay marriage protesters

¤ And they don’t even care

¤ Sam reminding Josh to take his pills and driving him to therapy

¤ He really likes the snakes at Sam’s animal shelter

¤ He’s named quite a few of them

¤ Would you look at that Mike has a Wolf Friend™

¤ Ashley becoming a published author

¤ Chris becoming known as “The Next Bill Gates” in the technology world

¤ Sam becoming a veterinarian

¤ Josh becoming a special effects editor

¤ Mike becoming an actor (Johnny Cage level of sass)

¤ Hannah spinning blood at the test lab for a job

¤ Matt becoming one of the most aggressive players in football (but anyone who knows him knows he’s the BIGGEST softie ever)

¤ Josh setting both Jess and Matt down in a room and lecturing them in a creepy voice about the dangers of hurting his sisters

¤ Beth works as a mechanic, less interested in the spotlight

¤ Hannah sometimes guest stars in Josh’s movies

¤ Josh adapting some of Ashley’s books into movies

¤ Ashley not being able to see blood without passing out. But Chris gives chees commentaries to calm her when they watch horror movies

¤ Sam is the type of mom to let her kids learn from their mistakes instead of argueing

¤ Chris is the “I’m the parent I’m always right” parent

¤ Josh is the parent that gets suckered into buying their kid anything they want

¤ Hannah is the kind of mom to always embarrass her kids

¤ Matt is the kind of parent who is super attentive to his family and wouldn’t trade them for anything

¤ Ashley is the kind but firm parent



God’s Word is eternal, powerful, and true. It is our love letter from the Heavens. It is a living, breathing book that provides a firm foundation for our lives which transcends time, culture, and circumstances. The Word of God reveals to us His character and His nature. When believers wholeheartedly seek to read, meditate, and follow God’s Word simply to grow in the knowledge of our Father…not out of obligation, out of guilt, or out of habit…we seek Him with our whole hearts. Knowing God intimately is worth the investment in time, energy, and sacrifice it takes to study His Word.

What is your opinion of the Bible? Do you treat the Word of God as a love letter, as an ordinary book, or as a burden? Do your actions reflect your honor and respect for God’s Word?

Father God, I thank You for the gift of Your Word which reflects for me Your holiness and righteousness. I thank You that Your law demonstrates my utter need for You and Your Son, Jesus Christ because without Jesus, I could never be united with You. I thank You that even when I fail to keep Your Word faithfully, Your love never fails and never gives up on me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

—  From a bible plan - love God greatly
Ghosts Of My Being

Slow in the eerie morning
Beyond the bleary window,
A mist in silence slithers
About a world that withers
As life surreally dithers
And time is caught mid-tick.

Pale in the eerie morning
Against the bleary window,
The contours of a figure,
So sombre in his rigour,
Without a trace of vigour,
Can quickly be picked out.

I raise a hand, he follows;
I touch the pane, he too.
I boldly break the silence,
But he breathes not a word.
Instead, two other figures
Come forth as though on cue,
The three in spectral stances
Now seem no longer blurred.
The prayers that ne’er were answered,
The dreams that ne’er came true,
Resound with firm reminders
To live life undeterred.

And in the eerie morning
Between the bleary window,
I know the heavy sorrow
Is but a mood we borrow–
No ghosts need haunt tomorrow
The thickly sickly mist.


i finally changed my bed and my mom is proud👐

anonymous asked:

have you ever watched avatar the last air bender/legend of korra? if so, what type of benders do you think the members of twice would be?

Jihyo – A non-bender because who needs to be one when you’re already a naturally inspiring leader and all-around remarkable person like God Jihyo or Asami? She’s warm, responsible, and responsive. As a non-bender, she sees the talent that everyone has and is able to help them shine in their own ways, while at the same time unintentionally showing how great she is as a leader.

Mina – A loyal, observant, and kind but introverted and deep-thinking earth bender (who’s also a badass) like Suki. And yes, I’d date her over the moon any day.

Momo – An idealistic and supportive fire bender like uncle Iroh. She always seems wacky and childish even, but you never know when she’ll show random nuggets of wisdom. There’s much more still to be discovered about her.

Sana – A super outgoing, friendly, and accepting lover-of-life fire bender like Ty Lee. She is spontaneous and fun-loving, but don’t get on her bad side or else..

Tzuyu – An introverted yet independent fire bender who concentrates hard on her own pursuits like Mako. She is perceptive but may seem aloof because she’s often too deep in her own thoughts. (note: I was going to make her Zuko…but Tzuyu is too gentle for that despite what we may think XD)

Chaeyoung – A relatively quiet artsy fire bender like Mai. She’s sensitive, but committed. Likes to have her own space, but also secretly loves being around like-minded people.

Dahyun – An enthusiastic, energetic, and ambitious air bender like Aang! She’s super adaptable and a firm believer in living life to the fullest. And a pure child at heart, always.

Nayeon – An extroverted, warmhearted, and conscientious water bender like Katara. She has an amiable and pleasant attitude that draws people to her. She can be wild and silly at times, but she’s also the motherly friend who secretly cares a lot and doesn’t always know how to express herself.

Jeongyeon – a decisive and somewhat blunt but loving and loyal unexpected leader like water bender Sokka. She may seem wild and silly around close friends, but when facing challenges or looking for witty solutions, she’s the person to go to.

anonymous asked:

I read your post about religion, and I'm honestly glad I read it tbh. I see your argument, and I appreciate you not shoving it down throats! I'm not religious, but I understand your point!

Thank you!  Religion can be a tricky ground for discussion and debate these days, but I’m a firm believer in living by example and drawing people in as opposed to shoving stuff down people’s throats and pushing them away.

Thats My Little Sister (part 2)

Originally posted by teenwolfobsessed

Requested: no/yes

Writer: Athena 

About: your Scotts little sister (part one) (part 3)

Warnings: Swearing, smutish, rated r whatever idk if your 9 don’t read? lol 

(A/n: idk how to even describe this its like really cute  but i keep teasing because i’m mean i wanted to make this a natural as possible lol idk what i’m even talking about ill stop teasing in part 3 you’ll see. I just wanted to develop my characters a lil bit)

I walked through my front door making my way to my room to finish this school project in English about a mythical creature, I decided to pick banshee because on of one my best friends was one, I thought I’d represent. I was just finishing up on writing when Scott bust through my door looking around my room looking mad at something I didn’t do. I just looked over at him with a questioning look. 

“Are you looking for something, or are you just going crazy?” I said looking at him questionably

 “Just making sure that there is no one in here.” he said walking up to my closet pulling it open.

 “Got ya!” he yelled into my empty closet. 

“You want to check out the window too.” I said sarcastically motioning to the window. 

“No, its just i cant even stand the though of a guy touching my baby sister, ANYWHERE,” he said have a look of fear and disgust on his face.

 “Well ,now you know how Kira’s dad feels,” I said sarcastically, he just sighed walking out of my room.

 “I wont get pregnant!” I yelled over my shoulder 

 “Not helping the situation,” he yelled back. 

~Later That Evening~

“Hey, (Y/N)! i’m going out tonight with Kira, mom will be late tonight!” Scott yelled as he walked out the door before I could even respond. 

“Uh, okay,” I said mostly to myself before walking back to my room from where I was at the top of the stairs. I was watching one of my favorite movies when I heard my phone ringing, it was Stiles i slid my finger across the screen to answer it. 

“Hey baby,” he said into the phone

 “Hi, Stiles,” 

“Do.. you, um, want to come over?” he asked in a raspy voice which I found extremely sexy, i rolled over onto my back from where i was on my bed. 

“Yes, I do, when should i come over?” I asked sitting up

 “um.. now is good.” I could here the stupid smirk in his tone.

 “Did you just wake up?” I asked

“Yeah, why?” he asked sounding curious. 

“Nothing you just sound really sexy.” I said smirking into the phone.

 “Just get your cute ass over here.” I  laughed  “Okay i’ll be there in ten.” I said hanging up throwing on my sweats and heading out the door to my car.

 Ten minutes later I was pulling into Stiles driveway walking up to his door knocking. Stiles dad opened the door. 

“Hey, Sheriff,” I said walking in

 “Hi (Y/N), i’m headed to a night shift tell Stiles i’m leaving, okay.” He smiled at me.

 “Yeah I’ll tell him, be safe” I said making my way up the stairs. 

“BOO!” I yelled as rounded the corner into his room. I saw him jump as he was getting dressed.

 “What the hell!” he yelled, he was topless at the moment, holding the shirt to his chest looking scared.

 “Sorry baby,” I said laughing putting my bag down next to his bed.

“Yeah, whatever.” he said rolling his eyes pulling the shirt over his head.

 “Oh yeah, your dad is taking a night shift he told me to tell you.” 

“Okay,” he said as I made my way over to him wrapping my arms around his waist putting my head on his chest. 

“I missed you, its been so annoying Scott is all over me and checks on me like every five seconds,” I pouted 

“I know baby, but he’s just worried about you,” he said wrapping his arms around my shoulders pulling me closer to him. 

After a few moments like that, I pulled away walking over to his dresser looking for a shirt to put on.

 “Well, i would be worried too, if i were him.” I glanced over at him as he looking up at me from where he was sitting on his bed.

 “Why do you say that?” he said furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Because I want to fuck your brains out,” I said mater of factly turning around looking at him straight in the eyes. 

He just shook his head. “God, your a naughty little girl,” (GIF) he took a deep breath just staring at me with lust in his eyes. 

“Come here,” I bit my lip walking up to him standing right in front of his knees. 

“Yes?” I asked

“Why do you say such naughty things to me?” He said pulling me down onto his lap. 

“I don’t know,” I said running my hands through his soft hair.

 “On a serious note.” he said looking up at me while I was still playing with his hair.

 “Yeah,” I said still not looking into his eyes just playing with his hair. 

“Do you say those because i’m older than you and you think you need to say those things?” he asked grabbing my chin making me look at him. 

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you?” he asked again in a harsher tone.

 I shrugged placing my head on his shoulder. “Your kinda killing the mood Stiles,” I said into the crook of his neck.

 “Can you just answer my question please.” he pleaded 

“I did” I said my head still in the crook of his neck, I could feel him shake his head but all he did was lift my head up making me look into his eyes, giving me a sweet kiss pulling me closer to him by my waist deepening the kiss. I started grinding my hips on his making him moan into our kiss he pulled away slightly.

 “Your so beautiful” he whispered centimeters away from my lips. I smiled pecking his lips. 

“Thanks” I smiled leaning back in giving him a passionate kiss tangling my hands in his hair, he broke our kiss pushing me up the bed.

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked I just nodded my head in agreement after I did so he pulled down the grey fabric of my sweat pants leaving me in just my shirt and panties. 

His hands made there way up under my shirt.

 “No bra, you are a naughty little girl.” he practically growled as he pulled my shirt over my head tossing it off the bed leaving my breasts exposed. 

He just let out a low moan leaning down kissing me, he made his way down my body stopping when he got to my panty line. To say the least i was a nervous wreck and i think Stiles could tell, I wasn’t as confident as i seemed. He looked up at me running his hands up and down my thighs. 

“Baby, whats wrong.” He asked worry evident in his tone.

 “Nothing,” I said moving my hands to cover my breasts feeling to exposed. 

“Its just i’ve never done anything more that what we have already done, I know I make it seem like it with what i say but really you were only my second kiss.”  I said at a fast pace. “Can I put a shirt back on?” I said shifting uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said getting up off the bed grabbing one of his t-shirts from his dresser handing it to me, I pulled it over my head as Stiles came and sat next to me grabbing my hand.

 “I’m sorry.” I said playing with his hand. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asked

 “I don’t know i just feel like i’m being a tease.” I said sorry in my tone.

“No babe, its okay and i know you haven’t done everything. I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He smiled sweetly.

 “I know you wouldn’t” I said standing up from my spot on the bed making my way over to my pants that were on the floor putting them back on. 

“Do you want to spend the night?” I smiled at the thought.

 “Tomorrows Monday, also Scott would murder me.” 

Stiles was about to say something but was cut off by my phone ringing. “Speak of the devil.” I said showing Stiles my phone screen, answering it Scott spoke first.

 “Where are you?” I sighed knowing he would blow up. 

“Im at Stiles why?” I questioned 

“WHat!?” he asked sounding like I killed his dog. 

“I’m at Stiles,” I stated again.

“Yes, I heard you,” he said 

“Get home, right know,” he said in a threading tone.

  “Okay,” I said hanging up the phone.

 “What was that about?” Stiles asked 

“I’ve got to go, he’s really mad for some reason.” I shrugged 

 “Okay, um just text me when you get home,” he said standing up pecking my lips. 

“I Love You.” I heard him whisper when I left his room, I don’t think he released that i had heard him.

 “I love you too,” I whispered as I make my way down the stairs and to my car.

~At your house~ 

I opened the door to my house. 

“Scott?!” I yelled looking around for him.

 “Come here” I heard the firm tone from the living room making my head turn quickly. As I entered the room I saw it was him and Kira on th couch. 

“Are you serious right now?” I asked dropping my bag on the couch. 

“Deadly.” he said with a angry expression on his face.

 “Whats this even about?” I asked 

“You and Stiles.” He stated like it was obvious to me.

“Are you fucking serious!” I yelled 

“YES IM SERIOUS” he yelled back at me his eyes turning bright red.

 “Scott” Kira said grabbing his arm as I took a few steps back away from him.

 “Did you two have sex, (Y/N)” he asked I just rolled my eyes crossing my arms. 

“Why are you so admin about this, why do you need to know I don’t ask when you and Kira have sex so why are you so on my case about it?” I said in a angry tone.

 “It’s different.” he said in a firm voice.

 “how? how is it different Scott?” I asked fuming with anger.

“Because he would be taking my baby sisters innocence.” he huffed


 “(Y/N)” he protested.

“Fuck off Scott,” I said making my way up the stairs slamming the door.

(Part 3?? jk i know you want more already on it.)